So, I just had a tooth extracted, I'm ornery today.
We get to see more of the Pobeda and fgalkin's insert, as they blow up a prestige project super-transport the Cardassians built, then deal with the escorts sent after them. The latter part was added in the 5th Anniversary edition to give the characters more relevance.
On the Cardassian side of things, we get Relim Torcet trying to come up with a viable strategy, but he's facing stringent opposition from superiors more worried about saving face politically, opposition that's ultimately forced him to adjust his plans for less force so they can "attack now!". Plus we get another Cardassian atrocity, and this one I thought was particularly terrible given I wrote an entire sequence from the POV of a toddler just before she's vaporized in a mass killing.
On other fronts, Hanse Davion and the FedCom are considering throwing their hat in the war, the Alliance continues its strategies, and we see their efforts to support the besieged cities on Bajor, so as to prevent the outcome of the Warsaw Uprising from being repeated. A lot of readers were touched by the actions of the Spirit of Bob Hope's crew, comparing them to the "Candy bomber" from the Berlin Airlift.
The fate of that crew, in turn, has prompted the Alliance to move a bit more aggressively, giving us the liberation of Darane, the aforementioned atrocity by the local labor camp commander killing his prisoners instead of allowing their liberation, and showing the Cardassians aren't unified in this bloodymindedness: he had to threaten to execute his own XO over it, and his secretary defies him to save the children of one family.
And, of course, we finally see the TNG crew's reactions. Riker... well, a lot of people seem to have different views of Picard's Number One. I've heard him referred to as a rebel by some, by others as a steadfast loyalist to the Starfleet and Federation ideal. I tended toward the latter given all the "smug Riker" performances that still irritate from TNG (especially early TNG). Picard, OTOH, while also quite smug at times, was leavened by the superb acting of Sir Patrick, so I'm more lenient toward Jean-Luc and I tried to portray him as I think fits his character: the man of intellect trying to understand even with his fundamental disagreements.
And of course, on the lower decks, Cardassian War veteran Miles O'Brien is cheering the Alliance on.
We end with the first attempt at armistice negotiations, which end pitifully: the Cardassians still figure they don't have to give things up and can fight on, the Alliance wants to cut the Gordian knot by removing them from Bajor. This intransigence will, in various ways, bite both sides...
Washington D.C., Earth, Alliance of Democratic Nations
Universe Designate HE-1
19:56 GST
A handsomely-dressed figure walked into the waiting room for the Oval Office and smiled at the slightly overweight lady at the desk. To the eyes of Sir Peter Dresari, the younger brother of the ruling Duke Eric Dresari of Kentares in the Federated Commonwealth's Draconis March, she looked to be in her twenties at the most, but Sir Peter had long learned that amongst the extrauniversals looks could be deceiving. "Ambassador Dresari, Sir, please be seated," Ms. Henley said. "The President will be with you shortly."
Dresari nodded and took a seat in one of the plus chairs, looking over the artifacts in the room. Bronze busts of the American Presidents Washington, Jefferson, Lincoln, and both Roosevelts were on a few of the tables, while on the wall beside the doors to the Oval Office there was a hanging photograph of Tatyana Ivanova, the famous Russian President of the late 21st Century in Universe SE-1 that restored Russia to her pre-World War III power (Dresari figured that the ADN's first President, Rodislav Plotinikov, had left it and his successors hadn't removed it). The wall behind Ms. Henley had a framed picture of Mamatmas' inaugeration and that of his predecessor, Jennifer Verdes. Verdes, who had resigned upon her diagnosis with the terminal neurological disease Gephardt's Syndrome, was now dying in a hospice, reportedly suffering increased bouts of dementia.
Dresari could faintly hear shouting from inside the office, making him wonder just who was in there with Mamatmas. That question was answered when the door flew open and he could clearly see the dark-skinned figure in traditional Japanese robes standing there, his back turning toward Dresari and Henley so he could see Mamatmas. Ambassador Mitsuharu Toyama's voice, speaking in accented English, betrayed the anger obvious from his posture. "The Dragon will not forget this insult!" He slammed the door closed and turned to face Dresari. Briefly the angry expression turned into a sneer. "Ah, Ambassador Dresari."
"Ambassador Toyama," Dresari replied with a diplomatic smile. "A pleasure as always."
"I do not suppose you could answer the question that has occupied many minds on Luthien, Ambassador? We would all be most interested to know whom is who's lapdog!"
The smile slowly faded from Peter's face, though not from the anger that Toyama had sought to provoke. "Typical Kuritan thinking. Master and slave. No room at all for equals with shared interests. By the way, how is life on Luthien? Has Coordinator Takashi finished his investigation to find the scoundrels who slit his son's throat and put a knife into his daughter-in-law's belly? And then there was that horrible mishap with poor young Minoru."
Toyama's nostrils flared and he stormed off, Dresari allowing himself a small smile. Goading self-proclaimed samurai could be dangerous at some places, particularly places where they were allowed to carry their swords, but it was still amusing to see their blood rush into their cheeks from rage.
"Ambassador Dresari." Mamatmas' voice from inside the office prompted Dresari to turn. "Please, come in. And would you mind closing the door?"
Dresari walked into the Oval Office and closed the door behind him. "The Combine Ambassador seemed most upset. This is about Omi Kurita, isn't it?"
"Yes. The Combine seems to have very little tolerance for the way our government works. Ambassador Toyama and his masters back in the Imperial City think that I have the authority to easily overturn the ruling of an Alliance Court of Justice. They're not very happy that three educated judges ruled unanimously that Omi Kurita had proven her life would be endangered if she were returned to the Combine and that she be granted political asylum in the Alliance. Apparently, it's very embarrassing to Takashi Kurita that his own granddaughter needs foreign protection from his own supporters." Mamatmas motioned to a plush chair in front of his desk, which Dresari took. Left unmentioned was the recent abduction attempt on Rymorta, something Mamatmas didn't want to advertise and which, he suspected, the FedCom government would know of soon enough anyway. "So, Mister Ambassador, what can I do for you today?"
"This will only take a few minutes, as I'm sure you've got plenty of duties on your hand due to the war. In fact, it's the war that I'm here to talk about." Peter put his hands in his lap.
"I've heard the Estates General has had some debates about entrance into the war. So, the First Prince is in favor of such an entrance?"
"Naturally, for the good of his people, the First Prince is trying to consider and prepare for all options. But if the Federated Commonwealth were to declare war on Cardassia, would the Alliance allow us to stage from your territory? Perhaps even set up some kind of joint command to ensure we're not going to step on each other's toes?"
Mamatmas was silent for a moment, thinking. "Well, I'll have to get back to you. I'll need to talk to the Service Chiefs first, see if a Commonwealth entry would disrupt our operations. I'll be holding a full meeting with them in about an hour. You should have your answer by dinnertime."
"That's all I needed to know, Mister President. Thank you for your time."
22:19 GST
Inside the Pentagon, Mamatmas was listening to Minister Umachov finish his element of the briefing. The Klingons had not given any response, considering they were entering the final phase of their Succession for the Chancellory of the Empire. Neither was there a Romulan response. The Ferengi had merely asked the Alliance to confirm that it would honor the neutrality of the Ferengi Alliance and the rights of Ferengi merchants, which Mamatmas had instructed Umachov to do.
There were occasional notices of support. Murluno ke'Ytaklu, Lord Protector of the Talarian Steadhold, had extended the moral support of the Talarian Steadhold, which itself had been besieged by the Cardassians for six years in its Ulithra Sector. The Keloans were obviously friendly and the Tsen'kethi, while not outwardly interested in the conflict, had withdrawn a quarter of its forces on the border with Kelos, which the ADN was responsible for helping to defend, and thus removing the threat of a successful attack on Kelos. The indication was clear; they wanted the Alliance to feel secure enough to focus on the Cardassians, whom the Tsen'kethi had their own quarrels with.
With the briefing over, Mamatmas now brought to the attention of the assembled - the Service Chiefs, the Chairman of the Strategic Planning Staff Field Marshal Pollack, Ministers Rathbone and Umachov, Security Advisor Takahara, and Intelligence Director Bronson - his conversation with Dresari. "Ambassador Dresari expects a response tonight. I would like to give him one."
"It's a mixed bag, Mister President," Pollack remarked. "The Commonwealth's army is still in the midst of a massive upgrading program and the AFFC's naval contingent only has a few hundred starships capable of participation in a naval battle. We'd have to provide some backup. But, at the same time, if he commits sufficient strength, we could launch a secondary offensive to draw off Cardassian forces. For instance..." Pollack pointed to a starmap of the war zone. "Imagine if we diverted 4th Army and a task force or two from 9th Fleet to commit to an advance cutting across the Keloan border and the boundary of the Neutral Sphere toward Dervak and Pelikar. Hanse's forces could support our left flank, hitting Shervarak and driving toward Dervak while we go via the Rikeva Mini-Cluster. Possession of those worlds would make a valuable bargaining chip in peace talks and provide a distraction if the Cardassians decide to pull ships off their border with the Tsen'kethi."
"Mister President, Hanse is going to want something for this war." Bronson tapped the table. "It's my opinion that Hanse has been behind the growing pro-war movement in the Commonwealth from the beginning. He's ambitious and he recognizes the inferior position the Commonwealth enjoys in multiversal relations. A victorious war in another universe would improve his standing. Of course, he'd have to get something out of the war to justify the whole thing. I have no doubt he'll want to keep the planets he takes."
"Something like that could be fuel for the fire of a Cardassian Revanchist movement post-war," Takahara warned. "Hanse would inevitably have to draw us in to defending any annexed territory, unless he somehow manages to get the IUCEC to agree to build a gate assembly in them."
"Keeping the disputed systems will do the same. We should recognize that this war will likely create a Revanchist movement no matter what we do." Rathbone folded his hands together. "I think we should let Hanse join in. Cardassian infantry is lightly equipped and there's little that we've done that even the non-upgraded units of the AFFC can't. And the AFFC can contribute another fifty to a hundred divisions in the near-term if the war continues for a long term."
"How much could Hanse's entry disrupt our operations?"
Hollingwood was the first to speak up. "Well, the gate assembly remains the critical issue, Mister President. It's working almost 24-7 now for us to move in more ships, additional supplies, and troops without disrupting civilian traffic, which is rather considerable. We have deployed the Gateships Catalina Rousseau and Frederick Kingsley to bring in more military traffic, but that can only do so much. Still, I suppose that after two to three weeks, the Commonwealth would have enough troops and materials in position assuming they use the New Andalusia and Rasalhague Gate Assemblies."
"So, Admiral, do you agree with allowing Hanse to use Alliance territory to join us in the war? And what about planning? Against the Clans, we relied on liaisons for joint operations. But now we're facing an enemy far more potent."
"The establishment of a joint planning staff for FedCom operations should be possible," Commandant Tokugawa said. "As soon as they enter the conflict, work can begin on that."
Mamatmas looked at everyone else on the table. "Then it seems to me that there's no reason to say no. So, anything else?" When nobody spoke up, Mamatmas sighed and stood up. "Well, ladies and gentlemen, thank you for your time. I'll be sending a note to Ambassador Dresari informing him that we would permit the Commonwealth to stage from Alliance territory if they were to join the war. I hope you all have a good evening."
23:09 GST
Sir Peter was sitting at a corner table in Hampton's, a five-star restaurant about four blocks east of the Capitol Building in one of the rebuilt quarters of Washington. The salad he and his companion had been given as an appetizer was completed, leaving only the main course to come.
There were the occasional glances to the corner by other patrons, intrigued by the sight of two suited men standing to either side of the table to protect its occupants. Or rather, the occupant across from Sir Peter. Finishing a final bite of lettuce was the young woman of twenty years who was far more than Sir Peter's intern; her name was Katherine Steiner-Davion, the second child of five between Hanse and Melissa that had united the Steiner and Davion houses of the Inner Sphere. She had been assigned for three months to the Commonwealth Embassy in Washington as part of one of her courses in diplomacy, to return home with her mother when Archon Melissa made a planned state visit in the middle of January. Most of her fellow students managed little more than internships at Consulates and Embassies in their home universe, but there were perks that came with being high royalty and only a step removed from the throne (at least until her older brother married and fathered a child). Sir Peter had no doubt that there were two motivations for the glances, one being from those who recognized her or at least understood she was some kind of VIP from the bodyguards, and the other being from her loveliness, even if she was modestly dressed compared to the kind of fare she'd have at a court function back home.
"You did well in the meeting with Representative Higgins, Highness," Sir Peter said. "I intend to inform the Foreign Office back home."
There was a sweet grin on Katherine's face, which seemed very bright. Her blonde hair was kept back in a pony-tail, something Katherine had adopted from a popular holovid actress from Universe SE-1 named Jessica Lambert. Her business suit and knee-length skirt made her look modest while maintaining much of her youthful attractiveness, and unlike Sir Peter, access to the extrauniversal age-delay gene treatments meant Katherine would look that way for another fifty to sixty years. "I liked Representative Higgins. He was quite the gentleman. But the hat was a little out of place."
"It's about image, Highness. They call it the 'cowboy' look. And it seems to be working, since he's a popular politician from the Republic of Texas in AR-12 and was re-elected by sixty-five percent of the voting Texan populace." Sir Peter smiled and placed his plate to the side. "He did find you rather charming."
"If you say so." Katherine sipped at her drink before going on. "I'm still getting used to things here. Back home, people would stand aside on the street and would flock around when they heard I was around. Here, the most I get are scandalvid reporters and a few familiar looks."
"They call them paparazzi, Highness. And you have to remember that for all their society seems the same to our's, they have no reverence for nobility. Merely curiosity."
"Hmmm..." Katherine had no immediate reaction to that.
At that time their dinner was served, a filet mignon for Sir Peter and roasted duck for Katherine. Before they could begin eating, the maitre d' approached Sir Peter and handed him a slip of paper. "An aide from the Embassy asked me to give this to you."
Sir Peter read it, grinned, and handed it back. "Tell the aide to have this transmitted home ASAP. In fact, tell him I want it on the First Prince's desk within the hour."
"I will, sir." The suited man accepted the paper back and backed away to return to the door.
Katherine watched him go for a moment before turning to her dinner. "More diplomatic intrigues, Sir Peter?"
"Ah, the usual things, Highness, only the usual. Now, if you wish to say grace before we begin..."
Kensington Naval Base, Alliance Colonial Zone
Universe Designate ST-3
28 November 2153 AST
08:30 GST
Lt. Cmdr. Alexa Schmidt of Sculpin stepped into the office of Lieutenant Captain Marvin Hagen at her appointed time and greeted her commanding officer with a salute. The commander of the 4th Interdiction Flotilla, Lt. Captain Hagen was a slim figure, a native of the world Parkers' Planet in Universe SE-1. He appraised Schmidt closely with brown eyes and returned her salute. "At ease and bring up a chair, Commander."
Alexa did so, remaining quiet and waiting for her flotilla CO to begin speaking.
"I've gone over Commander Mayborne's report," Hagen began, "on your engagement near Jemik on the 23rd. While securing the attack route against Jemik your vessel engaged a force of thre Cardassian starships, destroyer grade, crippling one and destroying three, and taking thirty-four prisoners from a Cardassian ship left derelict in deep space.. Fairly decent performance, I agree. Save, of course, that your ship came home with damage from a direct hit, three wounded, one fatality." Hagen put his hands together on the desk. "Why, Commander Schmidt, did Ensign Druthers have to die?"
That made Alexa swallow. Sculpin was a small enough crew that everyone knew each other, and Druthers was, as Academy-fresh ensigns went, well-liked. "The responsibility is mine, Captain," Alexa confessed. "I made the decision to drop from warp in weapons range and finish off the final enemy with bow guns due to my concern for my torpedo load. I did not consider that their wing-tip weapons might have charged capacitors ready to fire."
"At least you know where you screwed up, Commander." His voice made clear his disapproval. "I considered having the JAG command prepare hearings for a court-martial. But you've learned your lesson, haven't you, Commander?"
"I have, Sir."
"A shame it took the life of a promising young officer to teach it to you." Hagen brought his hand to a piece of paper he had. "Commander, given the war situation and my impression that you will not repeat this mistake you've made, you will retain command of Sculpin. I have a condition, however." Hagen handed her the paper. "This is the phone address of Ensign Druthers' parents. I'm told that Druthers' younger siblings are there too. You will call them today, with full video enabled, and you will be the one to explain to them just why their daughter, their sister, died and who's responsibility her death was. You will tell them, Commander, and then you will sit and wait for them to say their peace to you. Is that clear?"
With the scrap of paper in her hands, the number listed upon it clear, Alexa felt a powerful lump in her throat. "Yes sir," she said hoarsely. "Crystal clear."
"We understand each other, good. You're dismissed, Commander."
Kasia and Delgado were in the promenade deck of Kensington Base's central structure, partaking of the atmosphere. The stores, restaurants, and especially bars were full of the newly-minted veterans of this "Winter War" with Cardassia, men and women drinking to survival, lost comrades, and future victories. Spirits and morale were high with the news of the liberation of Darane by Alliance forces, dampened somewhat by the sobering knowledge of not just the losses at Zygola but of reports of the slaughtering of innocent Bajorans in the work camps of Darane. Such news only served to harden the hearts of the uniformed men and women against their brutal, cruel adversaries. The Cardassian jokes were now bordering on tasteless and needlessly racist in content and various national groups couldn't decide on a humiliating, demeaning enough nickname (the English speakers were starting to favor "Cardies" even further, but a few had gone to "Spoonies"; the Russians preferred comparing them to lizards and other reptiles due to their scaly flesh).
The Russian bar on Level B, just down the way, was especially noisy. Filled with Russian Army troops held over in the Base and the crews of Russian ships, they were noisily celebrating the victory of the national navy vessel Pobeda, under Capt. Yefim Galkine, which had not only knocked out a troop convoy in the opening hour of the war but had also, it was now reported, torpedoed and destroyed the massive Cardassia's Pride, a 150 megaton transport that the Cardassians had built as a prestige project.
They made their way to Roscoe's Pub, a more multi-national themed establishment, where the liquors and beers were more diverse in choice and the clientele less noisy. No attention was paid to the Fox Interstellar newscast at the end (IUNS and Fox were proving the most popular of the news channels in the military, though the BBC held a close third and was favored by all the non-US Anglo nationals). "To Karla," Delgado said with his glass raised when they'd gotten their orders filled.
"To Karla." With a tear in her eye at the thought of the young, twenty-four year old woman and her loss, Kasia clanged her shotglass against Delgado's and downed a shot, both taking to bourbon this evening.
Karla Druthers, as the youngest officer on Sculpin (the ship's Asst. Ch. Eng, Ensign Yen Zemin, was ten years older), had been something of a joint project for the ship's other six operation officers. It was considered their common duty to help the bright young New Appalachian grow in skill and confidence as a naval officer of the Silent Service. And there had been promise there, sweet promise, but it was gone now. Karla had suffered a relatively generous fate by their service's standards. A body remained, if damaged, for her parents to place into a casket and put into the soil; more than usually granted to the slain of the Silent Service, who simply disappeared in atomized ships and were left to their Eternal Patrol.
"Carl is supposed to come by," Delgado said, "but he wanted to personally call Karla's family as her immediate superior. I do not know if it was wise for him to try alone. He's taking her loss rather harshly."
"He saw a lot of promise in her. We all did," Kasia lamented. She tried to empathize with the Druthers and it was excruciatingly painful to do so. The thought of losing any of her children as the Druthers had just lost their's was a possibility she did not want to contemplate.
The seat next to Kasia was taken the following moment by a pale-faced, distraight-looking Alexa Schmidt. She had dried tears and a dreadful look about her. "You spoke to Karla's family?," Kasia asked.
"I did." Alexa motioned to the bartender. "Scotch, neat. Bring the whole damned bottle." As he did so, she propped her head on the bar with her arms. "I told them what happened to. Why Karla is dead."
"You were following basic procedure," Kasia said.
"A first term cadet out of Weddigen knows to make sure that the enemy has no charged weapon banks!," Alexa barked. "But I was too damned eager. I let the combat rush get to me and closed in for the kill with guns before confirming their weapon status." Her drink arrived. Alexa provided her money-slip for the bartender to charge the bottle to and poured a glass full, which she downed in one gulp. "The Druthers are right. I killed their daughter. I am a murderer."
"Mistakes happen in war, Alexa," Kasia said in an attempt to re-assure her CO. "We all missed that call. We let our confidence get to us."
"Maybe Captain Hagen should relieve me after all. I'm just a stupid German bitch trying to be the next Werner Hartenstein." That accusation by the grieving Druthers had hit home hard on her. Alexa did, honestly, have the ambition to be another of the great commanders in the vein of the U-boat aces.
"Oh, quit yer damned belly-achin'," the bartender finally grumbled, revealing his full New Chatham accent, one of the more rough types. "Shit happens, get yer head back in the game and just keep it from happenin' again."
He went to settle another patron's order while the three Sculpin officers looked at their drinks. "To Karla?", Kasia asked Alexa, hoping a friendly toast might raise her CO's low spirits.
"Yes, to Karla, and to the crew of Sculpin," Alexa agreed. "We've got a lot of bloody work ahead of us yet."
Umiral, Darane, Alliance Liberation Zone
13:21 GST
The Bajoran town of Umiral was one of the few "legitimate" Bajoran settlements on Darane; an original colony and not a Cardassian labor camp. The farming town of 20,000 or so had only suffered some damage from the short siege of Umiral Fortress by troops from the 77th Division. Now the Fortress was being used as a barracks by the men and handful of women from the 832nd Mechanized Battalion and the 33rd Orbital Artillery Company.
With nearly three days having passed since the landings on Darane the troops were getting settled in well. Near Umiral, Bajoran workers were helping military people set up an airstrip for Aerospace Force bombers. Meanwhile the troops were enjoying themselves, indulging as many soldiers did during the quiet times in war. Beer flowed freely from the kegs that had been moved in by their commanders through various means against the regs, as well as a few attempts to try the leftover stores of Cardassian kanar.
Of course, the liquor wasn't the only thing that they technically shouldn't have had. Amongst the men of the 33rd Company, a number of the local Bajoran girls from Umiral had been invited to attend their small party in what was now a converted indoor gym and general meeting area. Some had come out of curiosity about their liberators. Some were simply glad to have some fun. And a few had been cajoled into it by concerned parents who wanted them to hook up with a soldier so that, at the very least, they'd get a shot at escape if the Alliance suddenly proved as weak-willed as the Federation had been.
There were, overall, about three dozen girls spread out amongst the 96 men. Some were shy and remained to themselves, unsure even with their translators active, while others happily played and joked with the soldiers and, of course, drank. Which helped to convince some to shed extra articles of clothing, revealing soft and fair skin. The Bajoran concept of the bra delighted the soldiers, since they were simply a cloth band around the girl's chest with tiestrings in the back like on a bikini top, and now about four or five girls had come to the point - due to inebriation - where they removed even that, baring their breasts to applause.
It helped that Bajoran religion itself didn't govern sexual conduct much. That was mostly governed by local culture, and the local culture of the Daranians had long been drudgery and terror of the Cardassians. Now that it was gone, there were many young Bajorans who happily enjoyed their taste of freedom. And there were thus many young Bajoran girls - innocent and curious and now ecstatic from feeling freed from terror - who were happy to show liberating soldiers just how grateful they were.
A few others were less open. Lekula Valys was one of those. Nineteen years old, Valys had long dark blonde hair and was wearing a modest short-sleeved blue and gray blouse and knee-length yellow skirt, both with patterns that her grandmother had sewn in. She was sitting in a corner, sipping on water while watching her cousin Demys climb into the lap of one of the soldiers and kiss him full on the mouth while he gripped her bare chest. Demys had drank too much of the "beer" the Humans had, Valys thought. She personally couldn't stand the stuff from the one gulp she'd sampled.
Seated by her was a young brown-haired Human male without a shirt but wearing his ankle length pants. He wasn't as physically strong as some of the other men and Valys thought he looked a little too thin, but he had smiled at her a couple of times while reading a book. Finally, she worked up the nerve to speak to him, remembering the English her parents had taught her in the past few years thanks to a book relatives smuggled out from the Federation. "I am Lekula Valys. I am happy to meet you."
The man smiled again at her and set the book down on the table to his left. "Russell Cornheiser. You can call me Rusty."
"Rusty?" Valys smiled sheepishly. "You do not look as big as the other soldiers. Do you have trouble fighting?"
"Oh, I'm not in the infantry. I'm the systems operator on one of those big mobile plasma cannon vehicles we have outside."
"I... I do not know what 'infantry' or 'vehicle' is." Valys lowered her head. "I was not given a translator, and I do not speak much English."
"Oh. Uh." Rusty scratched the back of his head. "Infantry are the soldiers who carry guns and fight on foot. The men who took this base. I don't fight like that. I, uh, I operate the computers on a moving thing with wheels that has a really big gun on it for shooting at ships in space above us."
That drew a nod. "I see. So, you are not really a soldier?" She saw him frown and quickly asked, "Did I say something wrong? I am sorry."
After the frown faded a little, Rusty shook his head and tried to smile. "No, no. It's just a thing, I mean, we have many different jobs in the Army - what we call our soldiers who fight on planets - and sometimes we argue with each other over whether some jobs aren't good enough for the people who do them to be considered soldiers. And, well, I get that sometimes."
"Oh. And I am sorry for being wrong."
"Don't worry about it." Rusty noticed her small glass of water. "Not enjoying the beer?"
"I... I do not want to get.... how do you say it in your language? Where you drink too much of something like kanar or your beer and it makes you dimwitted or stupid?"
Rusty laughed aloud at that, making Valys laugh too even if she wasn't sure why. "Oh, we have a number of names for that. We usually call it getting drunk. But we also call it getting plastered or getting tanked or, hell, a lot of other things."
"Well then." Valys grinned a little. "I do not want to get tanked. I might start taking my clothes off too."
"I can understand that." Rusty reached a hand toward her's. "Can I?"
Valys hesitated for a moment before letting him take her right hand. Rusty held it. "Um, oh jeez, I'm not very good at this kind of thing. I was going to compliment your skin being soft and all, but...."
Valys began to giggle. "You are very funny, Rusty. And you are nice. I like you."
"Well, that's... that's swell." Rusty swallowed. Valys wasn't the most sexually attractive girl in the room, but right now, she was the only one he had eyes on. His blue eyes met her's and he smiled sheepishly. "I'm just, well, I've never been with girls much, y'know? I mean, in trying to be romantic with 'em."
"I have never been with boys. Most boys my age have... had... to work hard in the mines because of the Cardassians."
"And what did you do?"
"I stayed home with my mother and grandmother. We made clothing and cooked dinner from what food we could get. My mother also taught me English so I would not need a translator if I were allowed to move to the Federation."
"Didn't get out much?"
Valys shook her head. "No. We were scared to be outside with Cardassians around. If we had to go out, we wore heavy robes with covering for our heads and faces. We did not want a Cardassian to..."
"I get the idea." Rusty was pretty sure just what she had been afraid the Cardassians would do. He had the idea that this wasn't the first time Bajoran girls were having a party with troops in Umiral Fortress, but it was the first time they were here of their own free will. "Well, I... I feel bad that you had to..."
The doors to the gym opened and First Sergeant Yuri Collins barged in. His troops sometimes made fun of the fact that he had a Russian first name - the name of his maternal grandfather, his mother being a Russian immigrant to America AR-12 - but when Sergeant Collins' booming voice spoke, every head turned, even the lieutenants of the company. "Attention everyone! Clean up and get into your gear! We've got enemy contacts coming into the system and you'd better be damned ready when they get here, just in case the spacemen can't handle it."
And just as quick as that, the party ended. Drinks were left to sit while the troops quickly ran here and there to pick up gear, get into their gear, and in some cases get some detox pills to sober up fast. Rusty was among them, but he took the time to wink at Valys, who smiled back before going to Demys, who was looking for her discarded bra.
DNS Musashi, Near Darane 4
13:35 GST
In the CIC of the Tirpitz-class dreadnought Musashi, Vice Admiral Dolores Smith was studying the readings of the incoming enemy force, roughly five hundred ships strong with an extra hundred fighter-sized enemy attack craft in formation with them. She had only one hundred and thirty on her side, the ships of Task Force 14.3 - which only included two battle squadrons - and the BatCarDiv formations of Kestrel and Shokaku. The rest of 14th Fleet and Task Force 5.4 were hours away. Closer and near the Badlands were the carriers Kaga, Enterprise, and Intrepid. They were nearly within strike range, the Audacious being about another hour out. Smith had asked all for immediate support given the numbers arrayed against her force.
As it was, all she could do now was gather her squadrons into formation and await the enemy attack. The odds weren't very favorable, but the Navy never ran from a fight, and Smith intended to make the Cardies pay dearly if they were to wipe out her task force.
Command Center, Cardassia Prime, Cardassian Union
13:40 GST
With Yatar and Kelataza both away, Relim was in overall control in the Central Command. On his screens, the six hundred ships that consisted of the Federation Frontier Fleet's detachment and the survivors of the Bajoran Sector Fleet and 1st Fleet were all taking position. Five hundred ships were assaulting Darane directly and the last hundred were moving into their launch positions for when the Alliance's carriers were detected. Relim would've preferred better intel on the carriers' positions, but Cardassian sources couldn't pinpoint them and Cardassian scouting resources in the area were being stretched thin by losses to Alliance stealth ships and interceptors. He was going to have to hope that the Alliance would not guess his plan and would have any carrier strikes against the main force come directly, allowing him to determine the approximate locations of carriers.
This was not what Relim wanted. He had wanted 2nd Fleet to be here to use against the carriers. A single, overwhelming fleet force to engage the overmatched vessels. But that damned Operations Commission had to get involved yet again. And now they were investing far more into chance and fortune than Relim liked. He'd lost too many good men and women to the fickle tastes of fortune already.
About an hour remained. An hour until the First Battle for Darane would begin...
DNS Musashi, Near Darane 4
14:40 GST
Admiral Smith, her staff, and the CIC operators were all buckled into their safety harnesses and ready when the Cardassians began to enter range. They'd learned their mistakes from Zygola, warping in with just one light second between their fleet and Smith's force, which had positioned itself about one quarter of an AU away from Darane 4. The two battle carriers were a bit further off, protected by their four escorts apiece and their fighters. The forty sublight-only F-29 Wildcats fielded by the carriers for close support were nevertheless superior in maneuverability to the incoming Cardassian fighters and were equipped with enough anti-fighter missiles to devastate them if they tried a direct attack on the carriers. The other two hundred and forty fighters of the fleet included eighty sublight F/A-35 Dragons, laden with anti-starship missiles, and a mix of F-30 StarRaptors, A-12 Marauders, and FB-34 Avengers. They were all tasked to supporting the fleet as a whole.
The 120 ships of Task Force 14.3 had formed into a rough Wall of Battle, the heavy cruisers of the component squadrons joining the nineteen battleships and the dreadnought Musashi as the center of the Wall. However, Smith had organized the divisions and squadrons of her force so that the light cruisers and destroyers could more easily intercept Cardassian ships attempting the suicide attacks that had been so deadly to Admiral Kentworth's force at Zygola. As a result, the unit was a little more spread out than a usual Wall formation and more flexible in potential maneuver.
The Cardassians came in with a "loose" formation, each ship spaced out by about fifty kilometers between them (by ADN comparisons this was actually a rather dense formation). They opened fire immediately with their torpedoes, countered by the weapons of the Alliance fleet. The Alliance fleet's point-defense weapons filled space with fire, shooting down every torpedo it could before they could make impact. When they did, the damage from the pure volume of Cardassian fire was considerable. Musashi rocked hard as two of her port deflector screens were simply overwhelmed. Near her, the Iranian (FHI-8) battleship Prince Amir lost all of her deflectors and had a Cardassian photon torpedo detonate in her stern section, blowing out one of her warp field generators. Prince Amir's main battery of gamma ray lasers sliced open a Galor in response and proceeded to kill four other ships in the following ten seconds. Musashi's mighty 290mm Particle Cannons were even deadlier, killing most of the ships they hit.
This was the key element for Smith's plan of survival. The Cardassians had the numbers, but their technology was inferior and their ships - like most of the locals - were horribly thin-skinned by Alliance standards. Puncture the shields and an Alpha Quadrant ship was easily destroyed, while Alliance vessels tended to be built with thick multi-layered armor plate made of various high-quality "superalloys" and ceramics. As a result, her battle line was capable of inflicting stupendous losses on the Cardassian fleet.
The British (SE-1) battleship Revenge, first of her class of new Royal Navy line ships, had a new weapon system that had never been fired in anger before. Her eighteen 400mm Hypervelocity Coilguns thundered in battle for the first time and produced results; one Galor was hit straight on by an AP round that wrenched her shield generators out of their moorings and produced a sufficient explosion to damage her bow. A Keldon disappeared when an AP round passed through non-existant deflectors and literally tore through much of the ship and hit her fuel bunkers; a second Keldon took severe damage to a wing from an AP round while an HE round fired from the Revenge's dorsal guns damaged her shields. In all, ten out of eighteen rounds had managed to hit targets in some way (HE rounds were more successful, as their fuses were set for proximity detonations).
Within twenty seconds of the first exchange of fire, Smith had outright lost ten ships and had another twenty-six damaged, including all of her battle line. The battleship New Jersey was the only battleship to have really suffered, losing two gun turrets and a warp field generator to a mass torpedo strike. Enemy losses were heavier; each ADN ship had targeted at least one enemy and in some cases several, and roughly twenty Cardassian ships had either been destroyed or crippled, with dozens more damaged in varying ways.
"Have the New Jersey and Prince Amir pull away a bit and present strong sides to the enemy. Order Destroyer Divisions Two One and Two Three to adjust position to cover their maneuver." Smith looked to another monitor. Twenty minutes until the first three carriers would be in position for a carrier strike.
"Sir, Shokaku and Kestrel are asking permission to engage with their Wings."
"Tell them to wait until the enemy comes to within one hundred fifty kilo-klicks. And for God's sake, keep the carriers as far away as you can."
Command Center, Cardassia Prime, Cardassian Union
Relim's jaw clenched at the loss figures appearing. His squadron commanders weren't being as careful as he'd hoped, and he didn't want to take too many losses with this distraction force.
"Order Gul Pekel to break off from the main fleet and bombard enemy positions on the planet," Relim said. "Even if they have defenses, the Alliance admiral will have to maneuver to engage them and present a weakness we can exploit." Relim was determined to do as much damage as he could, as he did not have much faith that his meager reserves would be as effective as they would've been if given the time for 2nd Fleet to arrive. "Any sign of the Alliance's large carriers yet?"
"No, Gul Torcet," an aide replied from his station.
Relim bit into a lip and clenched on the rail at his command station. He used his controls to alter the view on the main monitor, watching as his fleet closed with the outnumbered Alliance force. Twenty ships broke off and headed toward Darane 4. "Concentrate fire on their battle line. Gul Upar and Gul Tarel need to loosen their wing formations and try to get their fleet squadrons to the opposite end of the Alliance formation. Commit our fighters to screening attempts by the enemy's fighters to engage."
DNS Musashi, Near Darane 4
Admiral Smith noticed the detachment of enemy ships withdrawing from the Cardassian fleet's main body and heading to the planet. "Warn the Army. Have their defenses and orbital artillery batteries ready. And have our fighters engage those fleet wings trying to come around us."
With that order given, the fighter wings of the two battle carriers went into action. The two carriers' CAGs had already given the order for careful use of weaponry; there would be no "overkill" leading to wasted shots. Each Cardassian target only had one or two attacking fighters depending on their sizes.
Gul Upar's left wing was better prepared. Upar's ships met the fighters' torpedo and missile attack with their bow weapons set to low power and wide fire. Spurts of compressor energy caused the projectiles to explode and served decent purpose as rudimentary PD, attritting the salvo. The missiles and torpedoes that get through damaged shields everywhere. One Ikvak exploded from its shields collapsing from a proximity explosion and allowing a torpedo through, the only loss on that wing.
Gul Tarel failed to do so and died for his mistake. Three Mark XIV torpedoes hit his flagship Cevelik. The first two blew out a portion of the ship's shield grid and the third hit the exposed bridge of the Cevelik. The rest of his wing fared badly. Twelve ships were destroyed or disabled and a number took damage.
Some of the fighters of the Cardassian fleet now attempted to strike Kestrel and Shokaku, being met partway by the smaller, nimbler Wildcats. Their intermediate-range anti-fighter missiles twisted and turned with the slower Cardassian fighters, especially their "heavy penetrator" gunboats. Nearly every shot hit and three-quarters were immediately fatal to their targets. The pilots of the Wildcats fired another group of short-range missiles when the time came before moving head-on to engage the attackers in a direct dogfight. Cardassian fighters proved they had the firepower to kill the F-29s, blowing the tail off of one and blowing apart another as they continued on with dogged determination to hit the carriers. But the F-29s had the advantage in sublight acceleration and manevuerability, and many Cardassians would be lost in the ensuing dogfight, unused to fighting such nimble yet powerful foes.
In the end, only twenty fighters of the detachment actually attempted to torpedo the Shokaku. The Flight II Guardian-class destroyers Ashikage and Ashley Thompkins maneuvered to block their line of fire and opened up with their Stark-McNeal PP-10 and PP-11 batteries, designated Type 1 and Type 2 Pulse Phaser Batteries respectively in ship schematics. Thick pulses of nuclear-disruption energy met the approaching Cardassian fighters, punching through what they had for shielding and damaging or destroying them. Similar-capability weapons on the Shokaku opened up on the four fighters that managed to make it past, joined by light particle interceptor batteries. Fighter after fighter was picked off, until only the final one survived long enough to fire a torpedo that failed to punch through the Shokaku's shields.
Smith had other concerns on her hand now, though. Gul Upar's wing was "enveloping" the front line of her fleet. Upar had delegated several of his destroyers to be "point-defense" for his wing, using their weapons to attrit attempts by the fighters at bombardment. It would be possible now for Upar's wing and the main body of the Cardassian fleet to pummel her front ships on all sides.
Taking a gamble, Smith exploited the damage to the Cardassian right wing and ordered those squadrons to move closer to the center. She then commanded the other battle squadron in her task force to break from the Wall and "cross the T" of the Cardassian left wing.
Command Center, Cardassia Prime, Cardassian Union
"What is that fool doing?!"
Relim's angry shout echoed in Central Command as he watched the left wing's fighters head for the Alliance carriers. "Order them to stop at once and return to holding their screen!"
A Glin at one of the stations shook his head. "Sir, our data link slowed a bit. We're getting time lag of thirty seconds now."
"Dammit, Glin, get it back to real-time!" Relim pounded a fist on his chair. This was the last thing he needed. And he had no doubt that Upar and the others were behind this. Field commanders didn't appreciate someone sitting over seven hundred light years away telling them what to do.
His worst fears were confirmed when the data caught up and, indeed, that portion of fighters had been lost or were about to be. But immediately Relim's attention turned to the developing situation on the board. The Alliance admiral was adjusting his center, detaching twenty ships, including nine of his battle line, to put their flanks to the two enveloping wings of the Cardassian fleet. "Clever. Have Gul Upar come about and back toward the main body of the approaching fleet. Gul Yetek's squadron must move to hold the englobement intact." He could see a rough half-globe of Cardassian ships that, if he were successful, would become a full globe that could then direct their firepower to wipe out a quarter or so of the Alliance task force while their battle line was tied down fighting other elements of the Cardassian fleet.
Still, some doubt gnawed at Relim. Why hadn't the Alliance commander moved to intercept the ships he was sending to Darane 4? Clearly the Alliance couldn't allow Cardassian forces to retake it, or even worse, to bomb it to rubble.
"The Alliance's right is moving ahead to link with their center. Tighten the right wing up and put as much firepower as you can against those ships trying to get in the way of Upar's wing. Perhaps we can make this a complete englobement after all."
DNS Musashi, Near Darane 4
Admiral Smith was finding herself trapped upon the horns of a dilemma. The larger Cardassian fleet was clearly better led than what she'd been led to expect from their performance at Zygola. They were going to try and squeeze Squadrons 1 and 3 into a globe while the rest of their fleet concentrated on the center line.
To deal with the right, Smith signaled for the carrier craft to focus on that portion of the Cardassian fleet. Squadrons 1 and 3 were ordered to prepare to move ahead and break out of an enspherement, perhaps joining with Squadron 4 to cut off the Cardassian left wing.
Smith looked nervously at the clock. Reinforcements were coming, but would they come in time for her force?
CDS Hokarav, Approaching Orbit of Darane 4
The older Model 5 Galor-class ship was leading twenty vessels - all of them decades-old veterans of the fleet - into formation over the planet. On his bridge, Gul Pekel was ready to begin punishing the insolent Bajorans of Darane for their treason in supporting the Alliance invaders. "Enemy forces on-planet have raised some kind of regional shields," one of his officers reported. "Reading four distinct energy fields over the concentrations of enemy troops and planetary settlements."
"It makes no difference. Open fire."
The twenty ships had four targets, and five ships each fired upon them. "All enemy shields are holding, Sir, and..... we're getting weapons fire from the surface!"
At that moment a blue particle beam struck the shields of a Neterok-class cruiser beside Hokarav. The cruiser's shields flicked for a moment, at which time a second beam struck the shields and enlarged the flicker. Just as the beams disappeared, a third and fourth beam appeared, one missing and the other breaking right through the shields and scouring the ship's thin hull. The cruiser began venting atmosphere through its wounds for a moment. At that same moment, Pekel's bridge shook as three beams converged on its own ventral shields.
Umiral, Darane, Alliance Liberation Zone
Seated in the belly of an OAG-3SP, Rusty still found himself thinking about Valys in the spare moments as he directed his full attention to his work. Cardassian ships were overheard now and outside one could've seen the bright flickering in mid-air as their compressor beams were stopped by the theater shields. But those shields wouldn't last forever and it was up to Rusty and his comrades to drive their attackers off.
Rusty's job was primarily making sure all of the sophisticated computers were running right. There was a gunner responsible for actually firing and a commander - Staff Sergeant Rick Flagman - responsible for the order.
Right now they were battering a couple of nice targets in orbit. Rusty had an eye on the "scope" that actually provided the visual data for the gunner while crunching the hard data on the orbiting ships' movements versus that of the planet's rotation itself. They were now leaving geosynchronous orbit, clearly not wanting to remain in position to be battered by arty fire.
The scope showed a brilliant series of trails. SOMs (Surface-to-Orbit Missiles) had been fired by one of the other anti-orbit artillery batteries. He watched a ship explode spectacularly from a SOM hitting its reactor plant, tearing the vessel in half. Rusty hoped to Hell that those things didn't do much damage if they made planetfall. Darane was mostly uninhabited, fortunately.
"Charge back to seventy percent!" shouted Specialist Alex Higginbotham, the man responsible for monitoring the power intake from the battery's central fusion reactor. Soon the gun's capacitators would be fully recharged and they could fire again.
"Keep it going, men! We'll send these Cardies straight to Hell!" was Flagman's reply.
CDS Hokarav, Approaching Orbit of Darane 4
Feedback caused one of the control consoles to explode with a shower of sparks. Gul Pekel watched with impotent rage as monitors went red, indicating hull damage from the relentless surface-based barrage of fire. A missile had blown an impulse engine out before the ship could begin rotating. Damage to the power distribution system by a direct particle cannon hit on the Hokarav's main body was now reducing shield effectiveness, as evidenced by the damage they were taking despite their intact dorsal shields.
"Sir, receiving directive from Central Command. We are to break off orbital attack and commence attack on the two enemy carriers in-system."
Pekel growled. He'd effectively lost four ships now, three outright destroyed and one which was nothing more than an orbiting hulk waiting to be torpedoed. "Very well. Direct us to our new targets."
DNS Musashi, Near Darane 4
The enemy squadron had broken off its attack on Darane with light losses and was heading to engage the battle carriers. Smith contemplated how to respond and decided to trust that the battle carriers' defenses could last. For the moment had arrived, and on her board the clock showed that the carriers were in position and launching strikes that would be attacking in the coming minutes.
Squadron 1 was down to only twelve ships capable of movement when it finally broke through the Cardassian left wing, and all of them had been damaged. A Ramage-class destroyer blinked off of Smith's screens from a torpedo hit to its torpedo magazine; most of the crew of one hundred and eighty officers and sailors were killed instantly by the shattering of the destroyer's central keel and the flood of radiation and energy through the ship.
It seemed like the Cardies were everywhere. She was down to just over a hundred combat effective ships, including the two carriers, and each ship had taken some kind of damage. The Cardassians were still holding with about four hundred and sixty-four ships. Their tighter formation was enough to more easily direct firepower, while looser than it had been at Zygola to facilitate tight maneuvering to evade shots and to disperse Smith's fire.
Squadron 2 fared little better than Squadron 1, losing six ships outright and having the squadron flagship lose a warp field generator as they fought their way out through the attempted enspherement. Squadron 4 was hammering the Cardassian left wing for all they were worth.
Smith was suddenly forced against her restraints as the entire ship seemed to lurch more violently than it had before. Power blinked for a moment before going out completely, the emergency batteries kicking in within seconds. "What the hell?!"
One of Smith's officers replied immediately. "Deflectors just went down completely. Our MAM reactor was damaged and has been SCRAMed. The ship's taken heavy damage to the port side from mass enemy torpedo strikes."
Smith did not respond to that. Her attention remained on the screen as she ordered her fleet's tail to link with Squadron 4 while Squadrons 1 and 3 came about and compressed the Cardassian left against Squadron 4.
Command Center, Cardassia Prime, Cardassian Union
Relim was considering how to respond to the successful, if costly, breakout of the Alliance fleet's left when confirmation came in. "A mass of contacts has appeared on sensors, Gul. At least seven hundred enemy spacecraft are inbound and will be in weapons range in eight minutes."
"Track their courses and relay them to our reserve fleets. Tell Upar and the others to disengage before those Alliance fighters get there."
"Sending orders, Gul." About ten seconds later, he said, "Getting a signal from the Surbalar. It's Gul Jekacet."
Relim nodded and looked to a secondary screen, where the thin-faced woman appeared. "Gul Torcet, I do not understand why you want us to withdraw. We have the enemy at our mercy. They have lost nearly a third of their force while we have not yet lost a tenth." Jekacet stopped speaking for a moment while her ship shook. "Should we not press our attack?"
"Gul Jekacet, there are seven hundred Alliance fighters bound for your fleet. All of them are undoubtedly carrying full war lords, enough to destroy half of your fleet or more within the first two salvos. I cannot risk the loss of your forces. Attempt to inflict as much damage as you can upon the enemy and withdraw before those fighters reach firing range."
Jekacet nodded. She was a good fleet commander in Relim's opinion, if prone to moments of bull-headedness like that fighter debacle earlier, and she'd heard enough from the blow to 1st Fleet and the losses at Zygola to know the danger of Alliance fighters to their ships. Relim was very pleased to see her fleet pulling back, firing as they went. An Alliance battleship disappeared from Relim's screen, as did a few other contacts. By the time the Cardassian fleet went to warp, just ten seconds before the fighters reached firing range, they had destroyed forty-three of one hundred and thirty Alliance ships in the Darane system. The ADN fighter losses were about thirty damaged and twelve outright destroyed. The Cardassian fleet left behind the wreckage or crippled hulks of just fifty-one of their own ships, plus sixty fighters. So ended the main phase of the First Battle of Darane. It had been, in terms of losses suffered by each side, a tactical victory for Cardassia; it remained to be seen if the reduced carrier-hunting reserves forced upon Relim by his impatient peers would be sufficient to make First Darane a strategic triumph as well.
CDS Ducelik, Outer Band of the Badlands
Sitting silent, amongst one hundred of her number, the Dorkarak-class cruiser Ducelik powered up as soon as the order came and joined a part of the fleet in heading toward the suspected location of ADN carriers. The sleek warship didn't have as much of a hammerhead shape as other Cardassian ships; the older design moved the "wings" and their warp generators back further along the hull to the extent that some called them "Cardassian Warbirds".
The entire fleet cruised at max warp to get to their targets before they could begin escaping. Examination of the enemy fighter fleet descending on Darane showed that there were likely three carriers in the region, so the fleet split almost evenly into four squadrons of twenty-five ships, with one squadron to act as a mobile reserve for encountering the enemy.
It took about ten minutes to find the Alliance carriers, awaiting the return of their fighters after the main fleet had retreated from Darane. And the attack began.
DNS Kaga CVF-7, Near Darane
Line Captain Eric Weathers was in the CIC when the screen lit up with new contacts. The man operating the sensor station made a full report. "Enemy fleet inbound, speed varies between the ships, but the lead formations seem to be going at about seventeen point four lyphs."
The speed of the enemy fleet precluded escape at this range, since the Kaga could only manage seventeen lyphs as a maximum. "Then it looks like we're going to have a fight. Launch our remaining defensive fighters and close the blast doors on the armory lifts."
CDS Ducelik
Ducelik and twenty-four other Cardassian ships came upon one of the Alliance carriers, designated the Kaga according to their information. The lighter ships slowed a bit as they approached the carriers' escorts' weapon range, allowing the slower cruisers and one Galor to join them.
They were immediately hit by a hail of missile and torpedo fire. Ducelik's bow shields were dropped by half from a direct torpedo hit. The Ikvak-class destroyer on her left wing exploded from one of the 180mm particle cannons on an Alliance cruiser striking her hull. Three Cardassian ships died in the hail of fire.
They returned fire immediately, focusing initially on the escorts while the Galor's extra spread capability allowed them to strike at the Kaga. The Alliance fleet's point-defense responded, filling space with particle and phaser fire. Torpedoes exploded harmlessly everywhere, but some got through. One Alliance destroyer lost shields, to be gored a moment later by the Galor's main compressor beam. The Kaga took no torpedo strikes thanks to her own point-defense.
The defensive fighters the Kaga had held back joined the fray, firing short-range anti-ship missiles as the Cardassians came in.
On the bridge of the Ducelik, sparks flew as direct missile hits tore through the ship's shields and hull. Damage reports flooded in from everywhere to the station held by 6th Rank Gul Ikir Dukat (no relation to the Dukat who until recently was Prefect of Bajor). His ship operations officer, 2nd Rank Glin Olcet, listed out the damage to their ship over the crescendo of other reports on the battle. The loss of warp drive, the loss of weapons, shields down to one third power, hull breaches here and there with so many casualties, oh so many...
With his teeth gritted together, Gul Dukat did the only thing a Cardassian officer of his rank could do in such a situation.
He gave the order.
"Ramming speed!"
The engines on the Ducelik were pushed to their limits as the wounded cruiser suddenly sprinted ahead of her comrades and toward the Kaga. The Gul shared final goodbyes with his professional crew, each convinced that they were acting to keep Cardassia Prime from suffering the same fate of Felvar and the other border systems.
DNS Kaga CVF-7
"Cardassian ship on collision course, Captain!"
The shout filled Weathers with a sense of dread. His eyes were nervously intent upon the approaching Cardassian cruiser, intent on slamming into his ship. "Evasive maneuvers! Keep it from hitting anything vital!" Weathers shouted, knowing full well it'd probably be for naught given the relative size and mass of the two ships; the cruiser was simply too fast and maneuverable compared to Kaga. Kaga's escorts had noticed the danger and were directing weapons fire at the cruiser. The ship's tail was blown off by the particle cannons of DNS Krakow - a Dorsetshire-class cruiser - and a pair of torpedoes savaged its right side, knocking it partially off course.
But in the end it wasn't enough. The fires and debris streaming from the hull of Ducelik made it look all the more haunting as it continued on course. It slammed into the deflectors and transferred energy of the collision tore the shield generators right out of their moorings, unable to withstand a speeding mass of almost a million tons. Having been slowed by the deflectors, the Ducelik still slammed hard into the top hull of the Kaga. The mass and speed of the cruiser easily crushed the launch deck, killing the crew assigned there, and slammed straight through to the hanger deck. There were no combat fighters to be destroyed, but plenty of hanger crew that would also perish.
The Ducelik's mass and speed provided enough energy for it to penetrate through the armored hanger deck and into the outer areas of the ship. Bulkheads collapsed and more crew died while the cruiser continued its "descent", until finally its bow impacted the keel, the melon-shaped armored core of the ship in which the reactors, armories, and command facilities of the ship were placed. Enough momentum had been lost plowing through the armored hanger deck and the decks below that the strong keel stopped Ducelik immediately.
Then Ducelik's anti-matter reactor exploded, as did its torpedo magazine. The explosion threw crew across the entire ship off their feet. Those on the upper end of the ship didn't survive long enough to hit the ground. The explosion ripped through the outer hull area with terrifying speed, a wall of radiation and flame from combusted atmosphere engulfing vac-suit-covered bodies everywhere and consuming flesh and metal alike. Kaga's upper decks were blown away from the force of the explosion, sending millions of tons of debris into nearby space. The armored keel cracked under the strain of the impact and following explosion, exposing deck compartments within to vacuum, but it did not break.
The CIC was a mess. Seat harnesses had kept the command crew from being tossed about, but a number felt sick from the violent rocking of the ship. "MAM Reactor SCRAMed!" was the only thing immediately heard.
Weathers looked to the damage monitor for the ship. The entire upper hull was covered in red and yellow, indicating areas effectively destroyed or severely damaged. On the life sign indicator, where half of the ship's crew had once been now only scattered groups of blinking dots were showing.
Nor was the attack over. The vessel rocked again as the Cardassian squadron pressed home its attack against the wounded Kaga. Compressor beams sliced through the weakened upper hull, scorched armor on the ventral hull, and further weakened the ship's vital armored keel. A trio of photon torpedoes tore apart the warp field generator housing nacelle on the starboard side.
The ship's escorts now fell back toward Kaga to protect her. Cruisers Krakow and Townsville and the destroyer Thaddeus Storms took up positions to shield Kaga's weakened sides from fire. Their weapons fired time and time again, trying to drive off the Cardassians or at least stop torpedoes from getting through. Some of the Cardassians responded by focusing fire on the Kaga's bodyguards, an attempt to clear their attack route. After a series of compressor beam impacts weakened her deflectors, Storms took four torpedoes to her rear hull and was reduced to a drifting hulk of debris from the detonation of her fuel reserves. The French frigate Olivier Sainte-Martin moved to replace Storms, her 155mm particle cannons punching through the hull of a Cardassian Ikvak and detonating her reactor.
On the Kaga, Weathers continued to direct the escorts, watching the battle see-saw a bit. Townsville lost a dual particle cannon turret after her deflector failed. A Cardassian Dorkarak was destroyed by a salvo of torpedoes from the destroyer Lillian MacCallister. An Ikvak trying to hit the ventral hull of the Kaga was sliced in half by the 250mm particle cannons on the heavy cruiser Shiloh. And all the while, more damage was inflicted on the wounded carrier by the fanatical Cardassian attacks, killing surviving crew and worsening her grievous damage.
The battle came to an abrupt end with the return of Kaga's strike contingent. None of the Cardassian ships retreated; all of them determined to try and finish off the Kaga. The squadrons of Avengers, Marauders, and Thunderbolts came in like avenging angels, launching a mass salvo that simply devastated the battle-torn Cardassian squadron. Torpedos and missiles made multiple impacts without resistance, tearing the collection of squadrons and cruisers apart. Four Mark XIV anti-matter torpedoes impacted on the single Galor in the formation and tore its wing off, allowing the Shiloh to finish it off with a particle cannon broadside.
On the Kaga, the damage assessments were still coming in. Weathers was waiting when the ship's chief engineer, Lieutenant Commander Israel Williams, stepped into the CIC. His diagnosis was grim. "Sir, warp is impossible, and the ship couldn't survive the structural stresses from going to warp anyway. The keel has taken too much damage."
Just to hear the answer, Weathers asked, "How long would it take to restore warp and to repair the keel to survive warp flight?"
"It'd take hundreds, maybe thousands of man-hours of work to repair every stress fracture and crack and to rebuild enough of the external hull structure, sir, not to mention the work needed to restore warp capability." Commander Williams sighed. "As Chief Engineer, I have to tell you this ship is not spaceworthy and we should abandon ship as soon as possible."
Weathers nodded solemnly. "Very well." He looked to another station. "Give the order for all hands to abandon ship. Signal the escorts to begin picking us up. Commander Williams..." Weathers gave him a solemn look. "Set the scuttling charges."
"Aye sir."
DNS Shiloh CH-106
19:09 GST
Line Captain Weathers was sitting on the navigation bridge located at the bow of the Vicksburg-class heavy cruiser DNS Shiloh. The Shiloh was the fifth of the Vicksburg-class ships, the class of heavy cruiser that had been chosen to be the first original heavy cruiser design for the Alliance fleet. It had actually been designed under the auspices of the short-lived Alliance Space Force, President Plotinikov's bad joke of a navy force that was renamed and reorganized as the Alliance Stellar Navy following the election of the 2nd Alliance Council in 2147.
Weathers had used the time needed for evacuation to learn the fates of the other carriers. Enterprise had avoided attack entirely, having changed position after launching fighters. Intrepid had suffered some damage, but was still combat capable, along with twelve of her escorts. Audacious had arrived in time to drive the Cardassians out of the area and was now alongside the Kaga's escorts, most of the ship's survivors and fighters having been ferried to Audacious.
In the ship's command center in the armored keel, Lieutenant Captain Tricia Renault was overseeing the Shiloh's part in the picking up of the survivors from the Kaga. Out of 5,340 crewmembers on the Kaga's duty roster, 2,994 were dead, killing by the Ducelik's suicide ram or by the following enemy attacks that hit the hull. There were over a thousand wounded, ranging from various bruises and broken bones from being thrown around during the impact to severe radiation poisoning and burns or lung trauma from exposure to vacuum when their vac-suits were damaged. A hospital ship was being called to a rendezvous so they could help process all of the wounded and the dead bodies that had been recovered during the evacuation.
Now only one thing remained. Lifeless and abandoned, Kaga nevertheless could not just be left here. The Cardassians would certainly try to search the ship and examine its construction and leftover technology in any way they could, and with the Cardassian fleet having left Darane intact, their arrival could come at any time.
Weathers nodded his head and the communications man on the nav bridge sent the signal. Simultaneous explosions ripped through the Kaga's hulk along the lines of the outer hull and keel. The ship came apart immediately, and despite the power of the explosions there were still millions of tons of debris from the lost ship. A sad farewell to a young ship and to the crew who had died with her.
Still. there would be no trophy for a Cardassian Gul to return home with. The Kaga had been given the proper end to her short life and her comrades were still here to avenge her death in future battles. The war was not over yet. Not at all.
Honestly, not much to say about this one. The FedCom openly inquires about joining the war, and the complications and possibilities are discussed. The 5th Anniversary Edition added the Sculpin bits of course. And we get the introduction of Russell and Valys Cornheiser; they won't be big players, but they have a role with the story's framing device, one might say.
And, finally, the First Battle of Darane sees the Cardassians actually hammer the Alliance hard, but Torcet being forced to attack without that extra fleet clearly had an effect, as his strike force against the carriers was too weak to do more than claim one. It's a success - arguably the battle's a tactical Cardassian victory, if a strategic draw - but we'll see how his bosses take him pulling the fleet back to avoid the carrier wings coming down on them.
Command Center, Cardassia Prime, Cardassian Union
19:49 GST
"You... you incompetent coward! You worthless excuse for a 1st Gul!"
Yatar Hergata's face had changed color to an impressive red and he was nearly blubbering as he continued to vent and scream obscenities at Relim, the two men standing with Kelataza in a conference room near the Central Command. Kelataza finally calmed his subordinate with a raised palm, having decided the verbal abuse on Relim was enough. "Gul Torcet, please, explain to me why you deemed it necessary to withdraw our fleet at their moment of triumph?"
"There was not going to be any triumph, Legate," Relim replied. "There were over seven hundred Alliance fighters inbound, carrying enough munitions to devastate the fleet at Darane. A withdrawal was the reasonable thing to do."
"Do you understand how badly this makes the Union look, Torcet?! We were winning and we retreated! We're the laughing stock of the Alpha Quadrant! We would have been better off detailing those one hundred ships to joining the assault on Darane!"
"Yes, and then we wouldn't have even managed to get one of the Alliance's carriers. What you should have done, you fool, was wait until 2nd Fleet came so we could guarantee we would have the necessary force to overwhelm both the ships at Darane and the carriers. But instead you forced me to attack early, and now the Alliance knows we want Darane back and the Alliance knows we'll be coming after their carriers, so they'll keep moving them. You have squandered our one chance to stave off the Alliance onslaught!"
"I would shoot you for cowardice right now if only I had my pistol!" Yatar stuck a finger in Relim's face. "As it is, I'll have you tried, convicted, and executed in the public square! Your family will be deported and that bitch Bajoran housekeeper you keep sent to a labor camp!"
"Gul Hergata, calm yourself." Kelataza intervened once more. "Gul Torcet's actions were justifiable. He preserved our fleet." Kelataza sighed. "Still, the fact remains that our forces were winning at Darane when they withdrew. To maintain the reputation of Cardassia's military, Gul Torcet, I have no choice but to hereby strip you of all command authority over our military forces. You may continue in your current capacity as the government's senior military strategist."
Relim clenched his jaw before nodding. "Yes, Legate. You must do as you see fit, for the good of Cardassia."
Kelataza smiled and nodded back. "You're dismissed, Gul Torcet."
After Relim left, Yatar looked to Kelataza. "The Operations Commission is going to want more. We're going to have to try him for incompetence, Legate."
"After the war, yes", Kelataza replied. "Before then, we dare not. The last thing we need is to inspire more dissension in the ranks. If enough of the field military turns against us, we could very well suffer a coup."
"The field personnel would never dare move against us in this time of war!"
"If they feel that we're going to send them and their soldiers to death and defeat from incompetent leadership, there are millions of idealistic Glins who would gladly shoot us and then submit themselves for execution if it meant preserving their troops' lives and giving Cardassia better leadership. You underestimate the dissension already in the field ranks, Gul Hergata. You do not understand their impatience with the upper levels of governments, their contempt for our leadership. We must tread carefully. Work with Gul Torcet. Begin drawing up a plan for another assault on the Alliance forces in Darane. And it must be soon, before the Alliance can resume fortifying their position."
Sakata Estate, Rymorta, The Sphere
22:30 GST
The Sakata Estate, in a secluded area outside the city Kellerman, was an estate of some size, with four structures that included two guest-houses and the main mansion. The red dragon motif that Jane Sakata had adopted was prominent on the outside walls and the main gate. Up to date security systems protected the estate from attack or intrusion, as well as volunteer combatants under Jane's command.
It was all a very impressive site for Zachary Carrey as his aircar moved up to the central building. A short woman and a tall man girded in phaser-disruptive protective armor (the armor acted to disperse the effect of the nuclear-disruption beam, protecting the wearer briefly) welcomed him at the door and admitted him inside.
Jane Sakata was waiting for him, wearing a simple kimono in the Japanese style, unarmed. Kristin Ignacian was with her, dressed modest as she went with a sleeved purple-blue blouse and knee-length skirt. "Mister Carrey, it is interesting to finally meet you," Jane remarked. "Kristin tells me much about you."
Looking at the gorgeous, lithe redhead, Zack answered with a charming smile and accepted the offered hand. "As I've heard about you, Mrs. Sakata."
"This way."
The two women led Zachary into the living quarters area. Some of the rooms were occupied by children, adolescent and teenage, the orphans of people killed by bandits or seized by slavers and taken under Jane's care. Others had full-grown adults, mostly women, of varying ST-3 races, almost all with the markings and appearance of those forced into prostitution as sex-slaves by the Orion Syndicate and other criminal organizations of the ST-3 universe associated with the lucrative, expansive slave trade. Zack swallowed at the sight of them, thinking of the Vulcan girl at Bruno's and just how much humiliation and suffering these poor souls had endured.
They came to one of the rooms set up for medical recovery. A young Trill girl passed by wearing white, a nurse, and gave a soft smile to him as they passed. Inside Jane brought them to the bedside of a gown-adorned young Oriental woman with blue eyes, recognizable immediately as the exiled Omiko Kurita. She was awake and looked to them immediately, bowing her head respectfully to Jane. She spoke to her in Japanese, a language Zack had no experience in, addressing her as "Sakata-[/i]san[/i]" "You are, sir?", Omi said, addressing Zack directly.
"I am Mister Carrey," he answered candidly. "A consultant for Security Concept Enterprises, which was contracted to guarantee your protection by the Red Cross. I was asked to check up on your recovery."
"I feel stronger now, and better. I look forward to working on this poor planet to help the unfortunate." Omi gave a smile smile, a reserved content look, but there was something in those blue eyes that told Zack she wasn't fooled as to whom he represented. "I hope that those in the Alliance who are concerned for me will not begrudge me my desire to be of use. It is not right for the Keeper of the Family Honor to have idle hands, you understand."
"I do, Miss Kurita." Stepping up toward her - and admittedly a little interested in her personally, in the fashion that Zack usually had for lovely women - he took her hand and gave it a soft shake. "But you must understand now that Rymorta is not safe. The Red Cross believes that you might be better suited for caring for Bajoran refugees and, eventually, for helping in rebuilding efforts on Bajor should it be liberated."
"Yes, I had heard that war with the Cardassians had begun. I hope very much for the victory of the Alliance." She betrayed no response at being asked to change her plans. "If the Red Cross asks I will accept assignment elsewhere, though I am opposed to leaving Rymorta without being of some service to the people here. I have seen t0o much of the depredation they live in to leave in such circumstances."
"You can be of service to the people of Rymorta, Kurita-san, by helping us with what you saw," Jane spoke up. She produced a PADD from the folds of her kimono, on which was the picture of a green-skinned alien who looked mostly human save his skin pigmentation. "Do you recognize this man?"
"I do, my captors called him 'Chief Oloparatho'."
"Over subspace?"
"Subspace? As in your interstellar communications? Yes. A video call." Omi's eyes wandered a bit and she clearly had a less-than-pleasant memory in her thoughts. "Sanda had me brought out of my cell to be shown to him. He demanded I be... examined... for his benefit." Her voice weakened a little and there was a clear sense of humiliation.
"Examined?", Zack asked. "In what way?"
Kristin chose to volunteer the information, seeing that their guest would probably prefer not to. "Orion slavers like to see their merchandise, Mister Carrey, and to know there are no physical defects. It involves being stripped, physically groped and manhandled to look for physical imperfections and characteristics and to test... tenderness in one's figure, how pleasing it could be for a potential buyer," she answered. It was all he needed to know.
"He was impressed with me, I believe," Omi continued on her own, giving Kristin a carefully grateful look at her taking on the job of explaining the humiliation she had endured. "He told Sanda he would pay two thousand bars of gold-pressed latinum for me. Sanda convinced him to go to thirty-five hundred, stating the ISF's promised fee for my 'recovery' was worth three thousand such bars and that he was taking a risk of retaliation giving Oloparatho right of refusal."
Carrey did the math in his head. 3,500 bars, 7,000,000 slips, thus... $3.5 million ADN. God damn that's a lot of money, for one woman?
"After my... examination.... I was re-clothed, fed, and placed back into my cell," Omi finished. "The next day was when you arrived."
"Thank you, Kurita-san," Jane remarked politely. "This information may be of great use to us and is valuable to protecting the innocent people here."
"I am in your debt, always, Sakata-san," was the reply.
Jane looked to Kristin and Zack and they both followed her out into the hall. "Three point five million Alliance dollars for her?", Zack asked increduously.
"Oloparatho could have easily made twice that by selling her to the right people," Jane remarked bitterly. "Human women of Omi's age are 10 to 20 bars typically, as low as 5 in some markets, but since she's a virgin her value doubles, and then we get to the fact that she is the daughter of a noble Human house that rules its own interstellar empire, even if in a different universe. I could see him selling her to the Kunar of Tanar or the Great Chief of Saraspo for ten thousand or higher."
Zack almost asked how Oloparatho would know about Omi's virginity, but the thought quickly came to him on just what the demanded "examination" likely entailed and he remained silent. "The ISF really screwed the pooch," he sighed. "They didn't have the time to build the right networks and get to know the local environment, they just slapped together a half-assed operation to try and get some prestige back for their conservative faction back on Luthien."
"The yakuza here are tightly connected to the Orion Syndicate and the Alpha and Beta Quadrant slave trades, and aren't nearly as tame as the yakuza of the Inner Sphere," Jane explained. She spat a Japanese phrase out, clearly directed at the ISF, then for the benefit of her Japanese-oblivious guests she switched to English. "Dumb bastards almost got their precious princess turned into some misogynist Orion bastard chief's concubine. As it is she's been humiliated, shamed, by the examination process she was subjected to, and is going to need time to heal from that." Jane looked to Zack. "Mister Carrey, please tell your employers that several dozen highly-trained volunteer agents stand between your subject and further harm at the moment and that I am willing to assign two of my best bodyguards to her protection if expenses can be covered. No profit is requested."
"That is awfully generous of you," Zack replied. "And Oloparatho? You seemed awfully interested in what she had to know of him."
"And she told us a lot." Jane smiled wickedly. "Moving thirty-five hundred bars isn't easy, especially if he wants to avoid detection by various authorities. The money is still here. And I think it'll make a proper compensation for all the pain that son of a bitch has personally caused to my people."
Karlsburg, New Styria, United Federation of Planets
29 November 2153 AST
05:29 GST
Zandra's was a "gentleman's club" of some ill repute to the locals. An exotic nude dancing club, the proprieter - herself a former dancer and prostitute - maintained backrooms for drug use, prostitution, and various perverted activities in between. Of course, though the locals had a love/hate relationship with Zandra's, foreign shiphands found it a great place to come and view the finer specimens of native womenfolk, and sexual promiscuity was a vice that spanned universes.
The seductive gyrations of a topless Trill dancer, with short brown hair and possessing "natural" hormonal breast augmentation, drew hollers and wolf whistles from a crowd of "spacemen" from the Federated Commonwealth, crew on board the JumpShip Shackleton. The Shackleton and the four DropShips attached to it were stopping at New Styria to pick up about eighty college upperclassman and teachers - including the three young men at another table enjoying the sight of a naked Orion girl leaning her back against a pole - before making their way back to New Liberty and the Interuniversal Jump Gate Assembly there.
As the Trill danced closed to them, meeting their eyes often to ensure she was keeping their attention, they nevertheless spoke to one another. "I can't wait to get home. Seein' lots of different aliens and all is interestin', but not somethin' I wanna do for long, y'know?"
"Yeah, yeah..."
A third man, their DropShip's First Mate Alex Richmond, laughed at that. He invited the Trill dancer into his lap, slipping her several kroner coins "Ah yeah, got lots of aliens. And some of those Bajoran ladies on the Eckhardt would be cute if they weren't, y'know, starved and all. Though there is that one weirdo Bajoran with the scar who's staying on the Rasmussen..."
"Oh?"
"Yeah. Saw 'im at the last port when I had to go over and help move around some cargo. Don't ask me why the SOB wants to stay on a cargo hauler." At that point, First Mate Richmond concentrated on the Trill girl in his lap and said nothing more.
After giving Richmond his lap dance, the Trill girl finished her routine. She returned to the back, where she was met by a human and usual client. She told him in hushed tones what Richmond had said. He nodded and left.
About an hour later, a message was being sent to the local Obsidian Order handler about this newly-gleaned intelligence.
06:40 GST
First Mate Richmond was right on time to the offices of Universal Transport in Karlsburg. A company founded from investors from the Federated Commonwealth, Universal Transport was a growing business that was working tirelessly to expand the Commonwealth's trade links through the known multi-verse.
Once he arrived, he left a note to a Mr. Curtis that was immediately delivered to the branch manager's office. After reading the note in the security of the office, Mr. Curtis took out a small noteputer and typed a simple message to be relayed back home.
"Mr. Secretary, I have given your request all the consideration it was due. Sincerely, Mr. Curtis."
When he was done, Mr. Curtis made a call. "This is Curaitis. Ready the transport. We've done our work here."
New Liberty Station, Orbit over New Liberty, ADN Colonial Zone
20:12 GST
Rana Shaheen was sitting in the light-dimmed living room watching TV when the door opened and Danielle entered. She was still in her work uniform, the blue engineer's worksuit of a dockyard repair engineer covered in zipper pockets, and it was flattering on her in a modest kind of way.
"How was work, Dani?", she asked, and all Rana got was a low groan. Dani walked right by her and into the bedroom, where she promptly plopped herself onto the bed. Rana watched Dani curl her pillow up under her disheveled locks of dark hair and almost immediately go to sleep. Dani's sigh of exhaustion as she fell asleep was echoed by a sad sigh from Rana. Hackins, damaged at Zygola, had been routed to New Liberty along with some other ships due to Kensington being filled to capacity. Damage to ships in the carrier strike forces, at Zygola, and now Darane had every fleet station in the Colonial Zone filled to repair yard capacity, and every day a skirmish here or there along the fringes of the Cardassian-Alliance front brought in ships in need of some repair work. The Navy was trying to get them in and out as fast as possible, and so it fell upon the repair yard personnel like Danielle to maintain a fast tempo. Thirty-six hours on, eight hours off, with thirty minute breaks every six hours for a stim dose and refreshment. Sometimes I think I am the lucky one. The thought came to Rana's head as she stripped off her informal uniform and switched into a one piece nightgown, a spaghetti strap gown of navy blue made of replicated silk. She slipped into bed next to her fully-clothed lover and draped her arm around Danielle after slipping under the covers. Soon, to get comfortable, she shifted to lay directly on her back, staring at the ceiling as she waited for her body to be ready to sleep as well.
Afte ra short time, Dani turned in the bed, moving so that she was facing Rana and laying on her own belly. She laid her head over Rana's heart, made a happy-sounding sleep-moan, and draped her left arm over Rana's belly and up to where Rana carefully laid her own right arm. Sighing contentedly, even with the weight of Dani's head on her chest and Dani's tangled, unwashed hair close to her face, Rana laid her left hand on Dani's lower back and let herself fall asleep as well.
The Ikithra System, marked as Sydonis on Federation charts, was one of the systems that had been disputed when the ceasefire between the Federation and Cardassia was made. Colonized by the Federation first, in the 2330s, the Cardassians nevertheless claimed prior control and had seized two of the three habitable planets in the system, deporting the non-Cardassian population to labor camps deep within Cardassian space. A quarter of the Sydonians taken as such had never returned home and some remained imprisoned after all these years, more victims of Cardassian perfidy and the Federation's spinelessness. Not that this had stopped the Cardassians from claiming that all living Sydonians were indeed returned, a claim not entirely untrue as many Sydonians had died from brutal conditions in various Cardassian labor camps. As such, only one planet remained inhabited by Federation citizens, the other two home to Cardassians now.
It was in this system that the JumpShip Shackleton and its two escorts - the Fox-class corvette FCS Swiftsure and the British-built Type 298 frigate FCS Upholder - had arrived, to pick up a DropShip that had dropped off a load of grain for the Federation colonists on Sydonis 6.
They were halfway to Sydonis 6, on full impulse, when the interception squadron of ten Cardassian ships - led by a Dorkarak-class cruiser - made contact. The order was made to allow immediate inspection for Bajoran terrorists. The Shackleton refused and barely succeeded in sending out a distress call before jamming began.
On the bridge of the CDS Gorecet, Gul Makel was uncomfortable. The intel was supposedly good - the Bajoran terrorist leader Opel Nevis was on board the Rasmussen - but finding his location seemed too good to be true.
"Glin Ikim, I want to be sure we get Opel. Order all ships to target any of the outsiders' ships that have Bajoran life signs. We'll take a couple of ships and deal with those escorts."
"Yes, Glin, right away."
Avalon City, New Avalon, Federated Commonwealth
Universe Designate MWB-32
23:45 GST
The new Assembly Building for the Estates General of the Federated Commonwealth was one of the newest and most beautiful additions to the great metropolis of Avalon City. Built close to the Palace and the Davion Peace Park, the Assembly Building was just eighteen months old, placed so that the Estates General could meet on either capitol of the Commonwealth as part of Hanse Davion's steps toward a "more democratic" form of government. Along with the limitations on the nobility to seek seats - no noble higher than a Baron was permitted - the democratic voting process insured that the Estates were seen as the voice of the people in the government. A number of planetary, regional, and Commonwealth-wide political parties had seats. Royalist "Loyalist" factions controlled the Estates General with about thirty-three percent of the seats, but another fifth of the seats were taken up by the growing Coalition for Democratic Reform, a group of democratic parties from different regions and even of different specific interests that represented the growing pro-democracy sentiment of the Commonwealth, with the Alliance's existance and stability disproving the centuries-old notion that democratic government was unsustainable on the interstellar scale.
In the end, though, the Estates General were more form than function. Seen as necessary to mollify certain groups from the ADN that were uncomfortable with the heavy-handed rule of Inner Sphere nobility, the Estates General still had very little real power to enforce legislation and continued to act mostly as an advisory body.
Of course, such a body still had its uses, and Hanse Davion intended to have unquestioned support from them if he were to pursue war in another universe. The debate was now raging late into the day on whether the attack on the Hermocrates was sufficient provocation. Emotions were running high among some, as the confirmed Cardassian atrocities were being used as arguments for the moral necessity of war. Hanse had returned to the session to observe how the proceedings were going.
Currently the floor was being held Representive Annabelle Grassi of Kentares. A woman of Mediterrenean complexion and appearance, she was into her early fifties and a prominent lawyer from Kentares who was considered a "loyalist" to the Davion family while giving support for some democratic schemes. Of course, she was also a vicious anti-Combine speaker and something of a crusader for the downtrodden; during a visit to the New Liberty Zone she'd met Bajorans and had made them her personal raison d'guerre when it came to any issue concerning the Alpha Quadrant. As a result she was the "odd woman out" when it came to most of the Draconis March's representatives as they were generally isolationist when it came to extrauniversal affairs, preferring to focus upon local issues and especially upon the Draconis Combine.
"The pure barbarism of the Cardassian State and its disregard for the rules of civilized conduct are a matter of the public record. There is only one way to deal with beings of such cruelty, and that is to meet them in battle and rout them! I need not remind this assembly that Cardassia committed the most grave and barbarous of acts, the use of a nuclear weapon upon an innocent and unarmed civilian population, and has consistently violated the rights of neutral vessels to innocent passage through space."
"Mark my words!" Grassi lifted her right hand into the air, her index finger raised. "If you think we are immune to this war, that we can stand aside, remember that one day we will all be judged for our actions at this time! When History points its finger toward us and asks us what we did while Cardassia was committing genocide upon the Bajoran race, what will we have to say? Will we use the excuse of Thomas Marik and his ilk, babbling weakly about 'chivalry' and 'peace' to hide our cowardice? Will we sneer and ignore the issue like the autocrats on Sian and Luthien, confident that History's judgement can be kept from their own people whom they also butcher at their discretion? No!" Grassi slammed her right fist down upon her desk so hard it thundered throughout the chamber. "No, I want us to be able to look History straight in the eye! I want us to stand and say that we, the loyal subjects and retainers of the Great Houses of Steiner and Davion, drew our swords and fought as Knights of all that is good and noble in Mankind! Let History recognize us as honoring that which we claim to serve and believe in! Let it not be said that we cowered in the corner or stood silent in self-righteous false chivalry as innocent children were butchered by Cardassia!"
A roar of agreement came from various parts of the Estates General. The loudest roar was not from Hanse's pro-military loyalists but from the democrats, who usually opposed Hanse's military policies but were currently viciously anti-Cardassian and pro-war. Some political attacks had been mounted against them, accusing them of being puppets of the Alliance, but Hanse had used his influence to keep them low key. Right now, he preferred that support.
After order was restored the debate continued as usual. As Hanse watched the Representative from Freedom voice opposition to war, he was handed a note by an aide. He read it and, to observers, visibly sickened, as Hanse learned now of the fate of Shackleton in the ST-3 universe. He waited for the Representative to finish his comments, thinking of what he would do as ill disgust slowly turned to cold rage within him, before standing and boldly asking the Speaker to let him address the Estates General. His face looked paler than his usual color, filling the Estates General with dread.
"Representatives of the Commonwealth Estates General, I have just learned of another attack upon a Commonwealth ship by Cardassian forces. It is currently being reported on by a number of news services. With the agreement of the Speaker, I would like it if we could all observe."
There was a nod from the Speaker, and all eyes looked behind and above Hanse to the massive plasma digital screen built into the Assembly Chambers wall. The screen turned on and presented the live video channel of the Inter-Universal News Service and caught a reporter in mid-report, standing in a concourse somewhere on New Liberty. "...spoken to a Captain Edgar Matheson of the JumpShip Shackleton. They're still counting the casualties from the attack, but it appears that there are no survivors aboard the DropShips Rasmussen, Eckhardt, and Bountiful Harvest. The only ship not directly fired upon by Cardassian forces was the passenger liner Galax Eagle, which also suffered damage and casualties. The current count of dead is in excess of 1,500, including about four hundred Bajorans who were scattered around the three DropShips, most of them women and children."
A female voice - presumably from the studio anchor - asked, "So it was a Cardassian attack?"
"Yes, Maggie. It has been confirmed from numerous sources, including the Federation colony on Sydonis 6 and the Federation Starfleet vessel USS Hawk which responded to the distress signal of the Shackleton and her escorts. The attack happened about six hours ago as Shackleton was awaiting the DropShip Bountiful Harvest on its return flight from Sydonis 6. After being refused inspection, Cardassian ships engaged the Shackleton's military escorts and destroyed one while others opened fire on the ships attached to Shackleton. They retreated after destroying three DropShips which all were reported as having Bajorans aboard as passengers or crew. Again, the final death toll is 1,500, with about four hundred Bajorans amongst them."
"Do we know who these people were, Greg?"
"No, names have not been officially released. The authorities are compiling a casualty list now to officially notify the families of the deceased and the injured, but we do know that there were several groups from the Inner Sphere traveling aboard the three ships, including a tourist group from Saint Ives and three groups of college teachers and students from the New Avalon Institute of Science, the University of Tharkad, and the University of Donegal. They were on an extended field trip in the Federation that was commissioned by the Commonwealth Ministry of Education and the Elaine Welford Foundation." There was a sudden wail from someone in the Assembly, one woman closer to the back burying her face in her hands in an attempt to suppress agonized sobs. "I'm told that the Commonwealth Consul-General on New Liberty is in the process of authorizing a preliminary press release, which we will have soon hopefully...."
The signal was turned off. Hanse looked to the Assembly, his jaw locked tightly. He had an idea on what to say. There was no guilt to be shown in what had become of his carefully-laid plans, of his terrible miscalculation in having Curaitis set the Cardassians up to provide him with casus belli. The guilt would come later, in private, as he grieved for his innocent subjects, men and women he had failed; he had failed by getting them slain because he had yet underestimated the cruelty and disregard for life that the Cardassians possessed. For now, he hid any trace of that realization, in favor of the appearance he needed; the stern, commanding Sovereign of innocent people slain by alien barbarism. "As we can see, even as they are being pushed back in war, even as they are suffering defeat after defeat at the hands of the Allied Nations, Cardassia retains all of its cruel arrogance and disregard for the laws of civilization. They have attacked our ships and murdered citizens of the Federated Commonwealth in neutral space. I... I can no longer remain silent on this issue."
"What we have seen here is further proof of the insidious mindset of Cardassia. To them, other races fall under two categories. They are either slaves to Cardassia or they are enemies that are to be exterminated or enslaved in the future. Cardassia... holds no regard for any laws, any morals, any kind of restraint or code that contradicts their desires for conquest and power."
"The Federated Commonwealth cannot allow its rights to be so easily taken. We cannot allow the murder of our citizens to go unpunished. I now back Ambassador Grassi's eloquent call to arms. I call upon the people of this Commonwealth to draw their swords and fight this menace to the security and freedom of all nations, Human and Non-Human alike! The call to battle has been made and we shall answer it, in our ships, in our 'Mechs, in our tanks, and in our hearts! If this Assembly desires it, if it wishes to see proof that I believe this war is necessary and must be waged, I will go get into my 'Mech and fight Cardassia myself!" A thunderous roar erupted from the Assembly, silencing itself when Hanse continued to speak. "I now ask for you to vote on whether the Federated Commonwealth should declare war upon Cardassia."
As the Speaker came back to the podium to call for the official vote, the chanting began. The chant consisted of only one word: "WAR!" It erupted first amongst the Democrats and a split second later amongst the Loyalists, their numbers ensuring that "WAR!" echoed throughout the Assembly Chambers. Everyone else began to join in, swept up in their emotions, their anger for the crimes of Cardassia and their pride for their homeland, overriding any of their prior opinions on the matter. The chanting alone was deafening, but many of the assembled now added to the noise by slamming their fists upon their desks. The Speaker was not even heard at first, unable to quiet the Assembly for nearly a minute before finally gaining their attention with repeated hand gestures. "The vote shall be held by acclaimation!"
And the chanting immediately continued.
DNS Lexington CVF-4, Near Rekfeth System, Cardassian Union (Occupied)
Universe Designate ST-3
1 December 2153 AST
08:15 GST
Even in wartime, the crew of a warship still had to get off-duty time when not in combat, and fighter pilots were no different. This was the time when pilots sent messages home, played cards, watched movies, worked out, and the like.
Thanks to the movies, there was a persistant misconception about the average fighter pilot. Naval aviators would often laugh at viewing any such movies and seeing "pretty boy" actors and "super model" actresses flying fighters with seeming ease. The truth was, muscle power was necessary for good flying, and so pilots kept in shape with weight-lifting and other exercises.
On a bench in the gymnasium weight room, Lieutenant Anahita Razmara grunted with a bit of effort and lifted the bar and weights as high as she could. Her wingmate, Lieutenant (J.G) Linda Mackey, took the bar with her hands and brought it to rest on the hooks. They were clad in the usual combination of white sports bra and gym shorts, the white contrasting more with Anahita's bronze skin than Linda's fair complexion. Anahita was the senior pilot in their squadron, WFS-28, and unlike Linda had seen far more combat, being a veteran of the Tenth Euro-Iranian War (Universe FHI-8) ten years ago. Anahita was thirty-five years old, though with anti-aging treatments she still looked twenty, with a fit and muscled body like that of a trained athlete, not at all the kind of beautiful body the media would have preferred. The crescent moon brand on her right thigh and the scar that ran from her right temple to her right heel were leftover reminders of her time as a POW in the Euro-Iranian War. The fact that she had survived the mandatory execution that the Eurofascists of her universe ordered for all Muslims was in of itself a tale of luck that seemed to be a gift of Providence. Anahita had transferred from the Shah's Royal Navy to the Stellar Navy when her homeland, the Kingdom of Iran, officially joined the Alliance in 2150 AST.
On the other hand, Linda was a young pilot of twenty-three, only fifteen months out of the McNicholson Naval Aviator Training Academy in orbit over Monroe (Universe PA-6). Her violet purple hair was a result of exotic gene-engineering that had caught on as a short-term fad in PA-6 near the start of the "Interuniversal Era" in 2028 AST, Linda's maternal grandmother being the source of her strange hair color. Linda was not as muscled as Anahita, with a lithe body figure that was strong enough to do the job required of her. She was a runner and had been an important member of the Training Academy's swimming and track-and-field teams in her class days. "Anyone you knew on the Kaga?" Linda asked Anahita as the older woman sat up on the bench.
"No. Did you?"
"A pilot with a Marauder squadron was one of my classmates. I hear she's okay."
Anahita nodded. "I am quite sure that a number of admirals were not happy to hear about Kaga. But such are the risks of war, and I suppose we allowed ourselves to get overconfident after the opening attack on the Cardassians. As they get more desperate, they'll try things like that even more."
"My friend who works in the CIC says we might be heading to Darane soon." Linda noticed someone changing the channel on the TV screen on the far wall. "Captain looked over an intel report and even told everyone that we'd be seeing action if the Cardie fleet moved again. And.... hey, what's this?"
Noticing something on the screen she was interested in, Linda went to the closer one and changed the channel to IUNS. The screen flashed to show the studio, where a male anchor was speaking. "So far, no official comment has been issued by the President on the Commonwealth's declaration of war on Cardassia. Sources close to the White House say that the President has been in contact with First Prince Hanse Davion on the matter of Commonwealth troops deploying from Alliance territory. Now we will be going live to Tian-tan and our Saint Ives correspondent Zhu Xiao-Mei."
The screen changed once again to an open street in the capitol city of the Saint Ives Compact. A small Chinese woman was on the screen and began to speak in the majority Han dialect, which the channel auto-translated into English. "Here in Tian-tan the mood is one of outrage and anxiety. There were approximately three hundred citizens of the Compact killed on board the liner Eckhardt when it was struck and destroyed by Cardassian weapons fire during the attack at Sydonis. But even the pro-Alliance rallies held outside the Alliance Embassy have not been able to cover up the deeper concerns of the people here, namely, if they too will be going to war with Cardassia. Many Compact citizens still fear the power of the Capellan Confederation and the continued rhetoric by Chancellor Sun-Tzu Liao at his intentions to push for reunifying the Compact to the Confederation. The sentiment is mostly one that if the Compact joins the war, it should contribute money and advisor roles, not troops, which would be used instead to free up some of the estimated two hundred thousand Alliance troops that are currently stationed in the Compact. Either way, there are some sources close to Duchess Liao that say a declaration of war is imminent and will be announced within the hour. We will keep you posted. Live from Tian-tan, Saint Ives, this is Zhu Xiao-Mei, InterUniversal News Service. Back to you, Richard."
Back in the studio, the male anchor began speaking again. "Our final note from Universe MWB-32 comes from Terra. The Military Governor's Office announced that two dozen Blakist insurgents were killed or captured in a home near Lakeland in the Florida Peninsula by Alliance occupation forces and local authorities. This was the terrorist cell apparently responsible for the rash of car bombings and ambushes that have killed three hundred people and wounded over a thousand in the Orlando-Tampa Bay corridor in the past month. On the other side of the world, one Alliance soldier was killed and three injured last night in Mesopotamia when Blakist insurgents in Fallujah opened fire on a foot patrol, bringing a total of ten thousand soldiers killed on Terra MWB-32 since the President officially announced in April that all ComStar military forces had been eliminated. Now we go on to news from Universe SE-1..."
Linda turned the TV off and looked back to Anahita. "Looks like the Cardassians shot themselves in the foot again."
"Given the quality of Humanity in this universe, it's easy to see why they think they can push us around and get away with it. So, off to the showers?"
New Tel Aviv, New Israel, Alliance of Democratic Nations
Universe Designate FHI-8
13:40 GST
One of the non-descript buildings in the National Defense Complex of the New Israeli capital was dedicated to perhaps the most well-known, if secretive, government entity in the State of New Israel: Mossad. The Mossad had for centuries been one of the finest intelligence organizations in Universe FHI-8, the first and final lines of defense for the organized, powerful, yet beleaguered New Israeli state after the Great Exodus from Earth in 2095. Today they were an integral element to the Alliance's overall intelligence network, providing analysts and contacts to AID - the Alliance Intelligence Department - and directly working with the Alliance on matters of internal and external security.
In the bowels of the central offices of Mossad was a non-descript group of offices and rooms for Cryptography. Among the Alliance's many intelligence services Mossad Cryptograph stood out, to such an extent that they had agreed to assume a fearsome task from Director Sir James Bronson of AID; breaking Cardassian military codes.
For months a team of experts, given hypnocram-assisted crash courses in Cardassian language and linguistic patterns, had taken up the duty under the charge of mathematician Dr. Givon Levitch. The vagarities of Cardassian language had been a difficult hurdle, as the work of what was called "xenocryptography" required an innate understanding of an alien culture's functional use of numbers as well as the mathematics understandings usually associated with cryptography.
Among the cryptographers, forty-two year old Hibah Haswari was busily studying the basic element of the Cardassian codes, part of the unit working on the all-important naval code. He was a unique figure in the unit; the only Muslim Arab present, descended from the Palestinians who joined the Great Exodus, taking the bold decision to try and co-exist among a people they generally despised in order to survive. These days those old hatreds were gone; Jew and Muslim alike had lost their homeland and now had a new one, with plenty of space for all, and co-existence was the norm. That he was the only Palestinian in the unit was not from any discrimination but simply the demographics of the population compared to the majority; his presence alone actually meant his people were overrepresented compared to their percentage of the population.
Hibah had a first-rate mind when it came to numbers. The Cardassian numerical systems, particularly their use of separate measurement and organization bases for civilian and military use, had been a challenge in of themselves, and now he had to combine that with needing to determine how they coded and decoded their language into numerical and lettered form. It was a daunting process, made easier recently with the cracking of the administrative codes to give insight on how Cardassian cryptographers did things.
A new calculation was running, being tested to see if it worked as a decryption algorithim, and Hibah was watching it intently. He felt he was close to a breakthrough, he had to be. He'd invested so much time in this, had seen the pattern in the Cardassian code begin to emerge, and found it hard to believe it could long deny him.
The initial result wasn't successful, but he was clearly close. Hibah modified the decryption algorithim and let the powerful quantum-scale computers go back to work, their isolinear-based processing working at a scale that was mind-boggling in terms of speed and complexity. Feeling tired and knowing his shift had another four hours to go, Hibah secured his workstation and went to the replicator to make coffee. Replicated coffee was free for them and, while not nearly as good as the actual stuff - he preferred the Arabica-style Pomerantz coffee, from a New Israeli grower in Equatoreal Judah - it still had all the kick necessary to keep someone awake and functioning.
He returned and restored his workstation, taking a sip and letting the caffeine work to his brain. As he brought the cup down with another gulp of coffee in his mouth, its cheap flavor a way to help bring him back to full wakefulness, his eyes moved over his screen.
At seeing the successful result, and a completely decrypted Cardassian communication now flashing on the screen, Hibah nearly choked as he forced the coffee down his throat - lest he spit it out instead - so he could let out a full-throated whoop of joy. "We have it! Allah be praised we have it!" Not that he was entirely religious, but in his joy Hibah was quick to revert to the religion he'd been raised in and to call out to God in a moment of triumph.
The others noticed his reaction and came over, Dr. Levitch among them. His eyes went over the results on Hibah's screen and he happily clapped his subordinate on the shoulder. "Well done Hibah," Levitch proclaimed. "We've got it! We've got the Cardassian naval code!"
Washington D.C., Earth, Alliance of Democratic Nations
Universe Designate HE-1
2 December 2153 AST
01:04 GST
President Mamatmas was in the den of the White House, seated withthree of his grandchildren by his adopted children. After he and his wife Karyn had their only child Kevin, Karyn had developed an illness and required surgery had left her infertile, requiring adoption for the expansion of their family. Together they watched a computer animated kids' show playing on the den's television, a pre-ordered program from a digital database provider. Five year old Tamika cuddled beside him on the couch while seven year olds Michael Jr. and Evelyn sat in other chairs. Mamatmas watched patiently, not really enthralled by the very childish antics of the characters - if pressed he could barely remember which was which - but happy to be with his grandkids whom he saw so very little of.
Of course, as there was a war on, Mamatmas could be called away at any time, and his grandkids became very apprehensive when the phone beside the couch started ringing. Mamatmas nodded at Michael, who dutifully paused the show while he reached for the phone. Underneath its slot in the base were two lights, green and red, and it was the red light showing, telling him it was a secured line. Seeing this, he pressed a finger to the base of the phone, allowing the electronics built in to scan the DNA of his skin cells to determine who he was. "Hello?" he answered when the light on the phone changed from red to green and confirmed he'd been cleared.
Director Bronson was on the other end. "Good evening, Mister President. I have a piece of good news for you."
"And that would be?"
"I just got a report from New Tel Aviv. Our Mossad cryptographers have broken the Cardassians' naval code. They're working on interpreting the latest comm intercepts now."
"Wonderful news. Keep me appraised." Mamatmas turned the phone off and looked back to his grandkids. "Don't worry, kids, I'm not being called away yet. Turn the movie back on."
Michael Jr. dutifully obeyed.
Ikila, Bajor, Cardassian Union
01:45 GST
The holy city of Ikila was the spiritual center of Bajor. Though there were far larger cities elsewhere, Ikila stood above them all, for it was the home of the Kai and the Great Temple of the Prophets, a structure that had stood for millennia as a testament to the beauty of Bajoran architecture and the skill of her ancient engineers.
Ikila's population numbered about 300,000 Bajorans. Counting all of the towns and villages around it, the entire area had a population of about half a million, and in fact there was farmland all around it, for the Bajorans had long ago decided that it was not proper to bring the natural life of Bajor too far from the Great Temple. And it was usually during the muddy winter rains that farmers were out digging and planting that which was best grown in the mud and cold, plants like the vegetable opila, which restored the rich soil for the main crops to be planted later and gave them additional foodstuffs as spring planting began.
But now the farmers and their families were digging for something else entirely. In the towns and villages outside of Ikila - in Ikila itself - Bajorans flocked out to the mud and ignored the cold rain to begin digging furiously, and they weren't digging plots this time but trenches. The people of Ikila were preparing for war.
At about 1:15AM Alliance GST, Opel Nevis and his guerrilas had struck the local Cardassian offices and field base. There were not many targets for them to deal with, thankfully. Ikila had a Cardassian garrison of only one hundred or so soldiers in a small field base outside the city and only about fifty Cardassian inspectors for its spaceport. The Cardassian presence was purposely light because the Cardassians believed the Kai and the Bajoran clergy pacified; they also had a massive force of elite mechanized troops, over 100,000, less than a day away that would viciously suppress any attempted rebellion.
Dealing with this force was going to be the real challenge for Opel. But he and his supporters had spent a year smuggling weapons in, using bribery of the local Cardassian officials and forged documents to prevent inspections, once even smuggling in the weapons with other contrabands the local Gul and his officers wanted. Opel himself had come with the last load, just a day ago, having been smuggled through the Badlands to Federation space for transfer to a freighter of Federation nationals sympathetic to the Bajoran cause. And it was all for the purpose of defending Ikila when the day came to rise up in defiance of their hated oppressors.
As soon as the rebellion began there was some chaos. Opel and his people were quick to raise a shield dome - powered by the city's fusion reactor - to protect from orbital bombardment. The Cardassians managed to get warnings out before being overrun, provoking some fear in the populace as a number of them became faint-hearted at their fear of provoking Cardassia, and thus contributing to some of the chaos in the opening hours of the Uprising. Finally, the Kai was asked to weigh in on the issue, but Kai Opaka merely responded that she would have to go speak with the Prophets on the matter. She was walking a fine line; opposing the rebellion would only hurt the Temple by making them appear to be collaborators and potentially divide the Bajoran people as liberation seemed nigh, while open support might prompt the Cardassians to begin killing temple clergy and taking prisoner the civilians that they, to this point, had left alone as under Temple protection.
The panic and chaos ended as Opel Nevis' voice boomed throughout the area, his image soon appearing on viewscreens as far as four thousand kilometers away. "Sons and daughters of Bajor, I beg your attention!" the sixty-five year old rebel shouted. Opel, the writer the Cardassians could never silence and the dissenter they could never kill, the man now credited with founding the Resistance, drew the attention of millions of Bajorans. "I come to you now to tell you that the time of liberation is finally at hand! Cardassia, in her blind pride and arrogance, has provoked a power greater to her own and is now being repulsed! The Cardassian fleet has even chosen to flee rather than to give battle to their new enemy!" There was a roar from the crowd. "People of Bajor, throw off your terror for your oppressors! Work with me, work together, and we shall be free! I ask you to fight! I ask you to dig! I ask you to do everything in your power so that, with the blessing of the Prophets above, we can free our native soil!"
The speech alone might not have done the work of persuading enough Bajorans, but Opel had already arranged for news reports from the Alliance to filter in. The Cardassians no longer had one foe but three; the Federated Commonwealth and the Saint Ives Compact of Universe MWB-32 had declared war on Cardassia. This news, and the news from Cardassian sources that an "error in command" had led to the withdrawal of Cardassian forces from the fight at Darane, fueled the hopes of the Bajorans in and around the city. Cardassia's hold on them was finally at an end, and now thousands of the Bajorans were willing to risk it all if it meant they could finally be freed from the terrors Cardassian used to keep them down.
And so the work on the trenches continued. Three trench lines in all, circling Splendid Ikila, to be defended by a people invigorated by their faith and hope.
Space Station Terok Nor, Orbit of Bajor
02:00 GST
Uvil Koral, a 2nd Rank Gul of the Cardassian Defense Forces and Prefect of the Cardassian Oversight Authority of Bajor, was rubbing his forehead in irritation at the reports. The eastern continent of Bajor was now ablaze with a rebellion centered around Ikila. Koral cursed those incompetent fools at Central Command and the Obsidian Order who had now provoked a war with two more extrauniversal states when the man they were trying to kill had been on Bajor all along. Had the Obsidian Order really gotten that soft?
Koral now had to deal with the rebellion. He called down to one of his lead subordinates, 3rd Rank Gul Sevarak, who commanded the Central Mechanized Detachment, made up of seven of Cardassia's best-equipped and trained Orders. It was the Central Detachment that was responsible for keeping the knife at Kai Opaka's throat, and now that she had proven incapable of keeping her flock in line....
"Prefect Koral, what do you wish us to do?"
Koral's jaw clenched. "Wipe them out, Gul Sevarak. Every living Bajoran within fifty kilometers of Ikila is to be put to death for this act of outright insurrection. The severity of our response should keep the others in line." And hopefully the Central Command will deal with these damned Humans and end this spark of revolt once and for all, he added to himself.
With Severak's orders given Koral returned to other work until a figure stepped through the door to his office. The being before him, while humanoid, only adopted that figure as a way to interact with his environment. Koral showed none of his general dislike for the shapeshifting biology sample called Odo, made security chief on Terok Nor by Koral's predecessor Gul Skrain Dukat, whom Koral regarded as too soft toward the Bajorans (just as he regarded Dukat as having been too soft). "Constable Odo?"
"You called, Gul Koral?"
"There's an uprising in Ikila. I want you to triple security patrols and institute a station-wide curfew of all personnel. Bajoran worker dependents are to be confined to the habitat ring until further notice. Any violation of curfew is to be dealt with by summary execution. Is that clear?"
Koral cursed at seeing Odo's reaction, or rather, apparent lack of one. The shapeshifter's flawed facsimilie of a humanoid's facial structure made him hard to read which, in turn, frustrated Koral and contributed to his mistrust. "It is, Gul. I'll begin the curfew immediately."
"See that you do." Koral watched Odo leave and put in a private call to Glin Durel, Odo's second in command, and as for as Koral was concerned, the proper security chief of the station. His orders would be repeated to Durel, with an additional one: Odo was not to be informed of Case Red, Koral's plan to blow the station up in event of imminent invasion... with the troublesome Bajoran population still aboard.
Rouen, France, Alliance of Democratic Nations
Universe Designate AR-12
03:12 GST
At the age of twenty-one, Mathias Malenfant had recently achieved the rank of Caporel in the Sixth Republic's Armée de Terre. Unlike many young men who proudly served the French nation upon conscription into the National Service, Mathias had decided to remain for a longer term and had proven himself capable of higher service, being assigned to train as a member of the elite 8ème Division de Chassuers d'Air (8th Air Cavalry Division).
Now that the Alliance was at war, the French Republic had ordered a partial mobilization so to maintain defense against the Japanese, Russians, and Germans, both on Earth and in her interstellar holdings. Reserves were being called up while various French Army units of sufficient skill were being assigned to the Alliance Army to fight Cardassia. The 8th Air Cavalry Division had been one of those units.
Now young Mathias was hugging his father goodbye. His father Pierre, who lost an arm fighting the Aggies sixteen years ago in Universe HM-1, slapped his son proudly on the back. His mother Marie handed him a final package of things she wanted him to have, and his younger sisters Marie-Anne and Caterina gave Mathias hugs on his way out.
Leaving his family's apartment in Rouen, Mathias took a taxi toward the bus station for his trip to beautiful Paris and the marshaling center chosen for the 8th Division. As he waited at the bus station, Mathias met a few other soldiers from the 8th Division or other units being called up, exchanging greetings with his comrades while waiting patiently. He looked toward the wall in the station and frowned at the propaganda poster recently put up for the war. It was a sad sight - the now-famous Bajoran mother at Gytep, covered in burns from the atomic explosion there and cradling the charred body of her dead child - and with it was the caption that read "Sons and Daughters of France, arise and avenge!" Mathias much preferred the poster that showed Marianne, Uncle Sam, and John Bull plunging rifle bayonets into a Cardassian soldier's chest with the flags of the Alliance and France above them all, an accompanying caption proclaiming "In Unity We Will Win Victory!". It reminded him that France was not alone, that all of the Allied Nations were in this fight together and that they would drive the Cardassians back with their combined strength. Of course, Mathias placed his faith mostly in French élan, which would certainly carry the day if all else seemed to fail, just as French courage had once held the lines at Verdun and Pithiviers.
Thinking of la gloire, as young soldiers and sons of victorious war veterans were prone to do, Mathias passed his boredom in waiting for the bus by humming and singing to himself...
Allons enfants de la Patrie (Arise children of the fatherland!)
Le jour de gloire est arrivé! (The day of glory has arrived!)
Contre nous de la tyrannie (Against us tyranny's)
L'étendard sanglant est levé! (Bloody standard is raised!)
Wexford Naval Headquarters, New Liberty, ADN Colonial Zone
18:10 GST
Again in meeting with his commanders, SACST-3 Fleet Admiral Simonov wasn't sure how to respond to their intelligence liaison's delivery of Cardassian naval orders, fully decrypted and translated. "These Cardassian reinforcements are heavy. Another five hundred naval ships of their 2nd Fleet, to go with the five hundred or so ships that were used in their last operation at Darane." Simonov continued reading. "And another attempt on Darane?"
"According to the intel, yes. We have a number of messages between a 3rd Rank Gul Kevem and Cardassian Central Command indicating they're going to hit Darane again within 48 hours."
Simonov rubbed his forehead. "We are supposed to begin a bombing offensive on the Cardassian siege forces around Dolan and Salmio in thirty-nine hours. If this is true, those bombers will come right back into a mess of a battle."
"I'll arrange for an earlier launch, Sir," Air Marshal Polk said. "It'll take some doing..."
"Considering the secondary objective of the bombings, can we alter the time table that greatly?" General Crawford asked.
"It should be doable. Give me a few minutes and I'll have the order sent to change the time. Messages will dropped with the special load to Dolan."
"Has the 14th LR Fighter finished deploying yet?"
"Yes Admiral," Polk answered. "Two of its Fighter Groups are ready for operation. The 7th LR Fighter Group will be heading out with the 3rd Special Transport Group for the drop at Dolan."
"Good. Hopefully we can curb some of these transport losses. And that concludes this meeting, if you will excuse me, I must go arrange a few things to maintain the security of our code-breaking accomplishment and to prepare a proper welcome for the Cardassians at Darane. You are all dismissed."
WTC-3 Mother Goose 35, On Sub-Orbital Approach over Bajor
3 December 2153 AST
00:13 GST
Another group of WTC-3s was coming in to Bajor on what was being called the "Coffin Run" by cynical transport crews who'd seen too many of their own go down in flames from Cardassian attack. As they disengaged their ECSes and began their runs, eyes went nervously to the screens to watch the Cardassian attack craft scramble.
But there was to be a new element today. In formation around the transports were the sixty F-33 Spitfires of the 7th Long Range Fighter Group, now stationed on Darane for the "Dolan Run" as it was more positively called. The bulky aerospace fighters looked more like American F-14s of the late 20th Century than their more famous British namesakes of the Second World War, with swept back wings to be fully extended for atmospheric flight. Seated in the head of one of the formations, Wing Commander Greg Marshall flipped a switch on his controls. "Release drop tanks."
At that mark, all of the F-33s released the drop tanks that, now empty, had provided the anti-matter fuel to warp to Bajor, allowing the internal tank of the fighters to fuel their return flight. Unlike the naval escorts the WTC-3s had been given in their prior sorties, the F-33s had an advantage that would soon be clear to the Cardassian interceptors.
On cue, the reinforced Cardassian attack craft squadrons rose to deal with the transports. They had taken to remaining below the transports at all times, keeping the transports between them and escorting starfighters in orbit. But that was a tactic that no longer worked, as evidenced when a squadron of the F-33s plunged into the atmosphere along the WTC-3s, saying, "Feet hot" over their radios as they dove toward their prey. The Cardassian pilots were surprised by the arrival of these newcomers and some broke off to cover the others in their planned attacks on the WTC-3s.
Wings extended, the F-33s drew first blood with the use of their AIM-300s. The air-to-air missiles detached from their firing points on the underbelly of the F-33s and tracked down their targets. Shield flares appeared as they detonated against the deflector screens of various craft. In several cases the shields were not up to deflecting the energy of the explosions, leading to crumpled hull plating or even heavier damage, thus reducing the effectiveness of the craft. One exploded from a missile hitting too close to its fuel tanks and another began to plummet from losing an engine.
More F-33s plunged down to meet the initial attack while the Cardassians sent orders to scramble more attack craft. The initial squadron got close enough, in relative terms, that a dogfight broke out in the skies over Dolan.
Still watching their screens carefully, the crew of Mother Goose 35 opened their bays and began jettisoning their SHALO drop pods. It would only take a few minutes and then they could begin their climb to, in the words of the craft's commander, "get the hell out of here".
With a hand firmly on his flight stick, Flying Officer Quenton Lake pulled his Spitfire upward to keep his sights on one of the sleek Cardassian fighters burning hard on the WTC-3s. His HUD's targeting icon slipped upward toward the fighter as he pulled in behind it, until finally the fighter slipped into the box on the HUD and the targeting icon turned red while a buzz sounded in his ear. His finger pulled the trigger on his flight stick and two crimson beams of nuclear-disruption energy stabbed the Cardassian fighter. They lasted just long enough to bring down the craft's shields and slice open its rear. Flames erupted from the craft as it stopped ascending and began to plummet.
A warning light on his HUD told him he was being painted by a Cardie fighter. Lake spun away and raced his Spitfire down, trying to shake the Cardassian off. "This is Archer 3. I'm being targeted."
"I see him, Archer 3," his wingman answered in an Irish lilt. Pilot Officer Cera McGinnty's Spitfire followed them both while Lake evaded a shot from the Cardassian fighter's compressor beams. "I'll get him."
3rd Rank Glin Pela Uvek kept her Dagger-type craft behind the Alliance fighter, doing everything in her power to keep the enemy fighter in her sights. It twisted and weaved, heading downward at a faster rate. A female voice called out, "Uvek, break off! You have an enemy on you!" The young Cardassian pilot did so, twisting hard and now noticing the new enemy following her on her sensor screen.
Coming around, Uvek focused her sights back on her original foe, who was now twisting to intercept her wingmate. But her craft now flashed a warning that she was being targeted just before another target appeared on her screen. Uvek realized it was a missile and immediately maxed her engines out, racing downward to try and evade. She twisted hard, seeing the target get closer and closer and closer.... She slammed on the retro-engines, slowing and twisting even harder! The missile overshot her and continued on, finally colliding with the ground and sending up a massive plume of flame.
Uvek was just recovering and speeding up when Cera McGinnty's phaser cannons tore into her craft. The hit was on her cockpit, vaporizing three quarters of Uvek's body and leaving her dead craft without guidance as it fell toward the ground.
A feral grin was all the celebration Cera allowed herself before the dark-haired native of Sligo twisted her craft away from her target. A third fighter had descended from the fight above in a failed attempt to save Cera's target, while said target's wingmate was being chased by Lake. She turned toward him and switched back to her AIM-300s, of which she had four remaining. Crying "Fox One!" aloud and into her helmet's receiver, Cera's finger tensed on the trigger and sent the missile toward her target. He began to maneuver hard to avoid it while Cera returned to Lake to keep an eye on his six.
Lake was still trying to get a solid lock when Cera's warning lights went off. She evaded the shots against her just in time, twisting away and warning Lake that she had someone on her six. Her exact words were, "Get the bastard you're on, I'll take this ass on."
In Dolan, the streaks in the air had again sent Bajorans not fighting the Cardassian siege forces scrambling to make ready for the arrival of more supplies. But the new sight of many explosions and additional streaks brought some curiosity.
The curiosity increased as small craft could be seen twisting and turning about in the air, firing on one another with phasers and missiles. In one particular incident, two craft - one Cardassian, the other presumably Alliance - came low enough to be fully visible, with the roar of jet engines becoming very audible. The sleek Cardassian fighters were something the Bajorans in Dolan were regrettably familiar with, but the Alliance fighter, with its wings and tail fins, was certainly a new sight. The Bajorans watched anxiously as the Cardassian kept shooting at the Alliance fighter, who was dodging wildly, twisting here and breaking to the side there until.... Ah ha! A cheer came from several Bajorans as they saw the Alliance fighter shoot upward, slow, and cause the Cardassian to overshoot!
Within a moment the Alliance fighter pulled back downward and drifted to the side, getting right on the Cardassian fighter before it could move away. The hunter had become the hunted! Now it was the Cardassian's turn to try and escape, with the Alliance fighter staying on it fiercely, the two craft coming so low that the jet engines were starting to become deafening.
Suddenly there was a high-pitched repeating sound in the air as the two 20mm railguns in the Alliance fighter's chin came to life. Tracer fire streaked through the air, clearly hitting the Cardassian fighter. Even before the first tracers hit, flame began erupting from the rear of the Cardassian craft. An explosion consumed the rear half, causing the fighter to plummet downward with a sound that grew louder and louder until BOOM! The fireball of the crash erupted from the side of Mount Deyis to the east. A roar came from the Bajorans as they wildly celebrated the Alliance fighter's victory. The fighter raced overhead at a safe altitude, spinning and answering their roar with its own to the continued cheering of the Bajorans.
Which was when a solid beam came from the nearby forest, spearing the fighter's rear.
Cera McGinnty giggled to herself, having seen the cheering Bajorans below, and did a quick spin to show off. She was about to pull back on the stick to return to the upper atmosphere when her fighter rocked violently. Warnings went off all around her as her HUD displayed the damage to one of her engines and a wing. There was no way she was going to make it back to orbit. Growling to herself, she shouted, "Archer 4 here, I've taken a hit. I have to bug out!" She pulled the fighter toward Mount Deyis and then pulled the eject lever. The cockpit and the anti-matter tank was tossed out of the frame of the fighter by their built-in thrusters. The computers had already been programmed with the "safe" landing areas - being Dolan and territory outside the Cardassian siege lines - with Dolan being the optimum landing site and thankfully in range. Cera watched her craft fly on to the mountain, where it went up in a plume of flame.
Normally not religious, she had been raised Catholic nevertheless and Cera whispered a few prayers of thanks to God and to Saint Patrick, glad her homeland's heavenly patron had seen fit to yet again get a little help from the Big Guy Himself in keeping her safe, no matter how long it'd been since she'd last been to church or given confession and the like. She smirked and wondered how good rations would taste, since it looked like she'd be living with the besieged Bajorans for a while.
Gobens was directing the redirection of the supplies coming down when his lieutenants brought him to a particular set of pods, larger than the others.
Soon it was clear what had arrived; Alliance truck vehicles. Smiling thinly he looked over the rugged trucks, which all contained the necessary instructions for operating them and a set of instructions, coded in High Bajoran with a code he'd already been provided with, informing him of a change in intended plan for the "special operation" arranged with the Alliance Aerospace Force. With decoder in hand he looked over the data and grumbled at the moving up of the schedule. His own preparations would have to be hastened...
Capital City, Cardassia, Cardassian Union
10:00 GST
The meeting had begun as soon as Legate Kelataza had arrived, again late from what Relim suspected was a rendezvous with his mistress. Gul Kevem sent them a message to the effect that 2nd Fleet was in position and that they would be launching a full sortie in thirty hours.
Now the discussion was directed toward deciding if Relim's strategy from before should be repeated. Yatar declared it a failed plan and insisted that all forces be placed into a knockout blow against the Aliance fleet at Darane. "Even now, we are developing counter-measure tactics to deal with Alliance fighters," Yatar informed them all. "Outer screens of our lighter warships can be used to keep enemy fighters distant through the use of their main weapons. Then we can use superior numbers to overwhelm their fleet."
"Those numbers will not remain superior for much longer," Relim retorted. "Our losses in each engagement have been staggering. The Alliance's ships carry more weapon emplacements than our's and they have superior alloys for crafting armor that easily trumps the hulls of our ships. If you would bother to look at the footage from the battles, Gul Hergata, you would see that direct hits capable of crippling our ships or a Federation starship are in fact absorbed by Alliance vessels of the same type." Relim slammed a hand on the table. "Our one hope is to hit them in such a way as to make them overly cautious, giving us time to recover and perhaps bring them to the negotiating table. If we destroy more of their carriers, the importance they place in them will serve that purpose. Having our fleet gutted in another direct naval confrontation will not, even with your proposed countermeasures, which I doubt will work to the level needed to nullify the Alliance's advantage."
"We cannot allow this war to linger for much longer," he continued, now addressing everyone at the table. "Though this war is not yet two weeks old, we have lost two billion tons of shipping capacity, including the loss of the Cardassia's Pride and all of the troops and supplies aboard it. We have been unable to effectively counter the stealth ship threat, with which the Alliance has been cutting away at our lines of supply. It is like we are fighting the mythical Horvik, and even as our blades press against each other, the Horvik's other hands are at our throat."
"How do you suggest we end the war, Gul Torcet?"
"Maintain a plan to maintain reserves to hit their carriers, or redeploy portions of the fleet in strikes against their bases in their colonial zone," Relim replied. "We must do something to give them pause in this war. Anything to remove the pressure upon us."
"And if we fail?" Relim noticed the sharp gaze of Gul Keve. "What shall we do then, Gul?"
"There is only one thing left then." Relim returned the gaze. "We sue for peace."
"Even if it means giving them Bajor?"
"Yes. Every man at this table knows how little Bajor is actually worth to Cardassia. The decision to remain there and to pursue Bajoran expatriates was motivated by reasons of pride that, while freely entertainable in peacetime, must be put aside in war for the good of Cardassia."
"Gul Torcet, to give up territory is a... dangerous course to take," was Keve's reply. "Our subjects are kept in line with the knowledge that Cardassian Will is indominatable. This may change if we willingly hand over Bajor."
"Gul Keve, if we lose the fleet we've gathered, they will take Bajor anyway, and we will have lost the prize of the war. In our hands, Bajor is a negotiating chip to win concessions in other areas. Once we lose it, we have nothing with which to negotiate."
"Then we should not lose it." Keve rose from his seat. "We will not peddle our rightful territories away like some spineless Federation diplomat! We will make them fight for every inch of Cardassian space!"
Relim scowled. "If we lose our fleet then we will not have the weapons with which to fight for every inch of our space! The combat power of the Alliance fleet is unrivaled, we cannot simply blunder about with numbers and hope to win!"
"There is Third Fleet," Yatar suddenly said.
Both looked to him. "Third Fleet is still monitoring our frontiers facing the Ferengi, Klingons, and Federation," Relim said. "I'll remind you that we placed them there to serve as heightened border defense after our setbacks."
"Our intelligence states that the Klingons will likely have a succession problem. The two sisters of Duras have been hiding a nephew and son of Duras that they intend to hold up as a legitimate heir and claimant to the Chancellory. We will risk no threat from that quarter. And the Ferengi and Federation are no threats at all. Our reinforcing squadrons from Home Fleet should be more than enough to cover the border. If we move Third Fleet to Kurvak, then there is a force that can oppose Alliance landings on Bajor with enough strength to repel anything but the strongest Alliance fleet."
Relim scowled. "Why was I not informed?"
Yatar looked at him and smirked. "Currently there are no military applications to the information. There was no need to inform you."
Kelataza slammed a fist on the desk to get everyone's attention. "It is time to get back on track. I, personally, see no reason to reject Gul Torcet's plan. Given the appropriate number of ships, it should work."
Gul Keve nodded in agreement. Now it was Yatar's turn to scowl.
"As for Bajor, we shall see how the battle goes. Even if we lose, certainly the Alliance will accept an alteration to the Bajorans' legal status in our empire and the granting of self-rule. We will even offer to pull our troops off-world and to keep them out unless they're needed for security reasons."
"The Alliance will not be satisfied by anything less than Bajoran political independence."
"This would be independence, Gul. A compromise position, one I do not think the Alliance can lightly pass up. After all, who knows what could happen in war." Kelataza stood. "Our plans are fixed. For the good of Cardassia, we must prevail in the coming battle."
So we see the consequences of Relim's pragmatism, namely, demotion. Meanwhile the Cardassians' naval code has been broken by New Israeli Mossad (an ADN member state, from the same universe as the League of East Africa); the 5AE added the scene of that Palestinian-descended guy being the cryptographer to accomplish it because who doesn't mind a little pie-in-the-sky thinking sometimes? This will likely not bode well for them.
The scene at the Sakata Estate is also exclusive to the 5AE.
Caporal Malenfant is from the "France Kicks Ass Again" universe, as I call it, where the French became a leading power again after some lucky breaks in space exploration, defeated a neo-Fascist Italy with it, and are one of the ADN's more military-ready nations. Plus I wanted to indulge in those old, WWII-era style propaganda posters.
But, of course, the real event is the expansion of the war. Hanse Davion tried to be tricky, and he got what he wanted... but at a steeper personal price, as he's now caused the deaths of hundreds of innocent civilians. Either way, the Federated Commonwealth is in, ready to engage in its first extraversal war, and St. Ives may be following. We'll be checking in on them again at some point.
Simultaneously, to really rub the Cardassians' noses in their mistake, the leader they wanted to kill so much they provoked the FedCom declaration of war wasn't there (since it was a trap by Hanse). Instead he's on Bajor, having just sparked a massive uprising around the Bajorans' holiest city (basically their Rome/the Vatican - and yes, I know the books gave the city a different name, I didn't know it). And he's got some help. If you want some mood music for this...
...let's just hope the "help that never came" line doesn't come true this time, eh?
Of course, the Alliance is actively supporting the other cities that rose up, as we see with Pilot Officer Cera McGinnty's scene. I thought it'd be interesting to show aerospace fighters operating in this fashion, and it gives a fun dogfight. And, heh, I did later find use for the basic character concept, as anyone who's read my "Breach of Faith" novels knows (the first one's free right now HINT HINT).
Anyway, next time, we get the biggest naval battle of the war, the initial FedCom arrival, and best of all... the return of Squadron Leader Ryan Sheppard and his B-202 Atomic Dolphin!
It's possible that some of it will feel dated, and I'll come right out and say that I regret some of the cynical deconstruction of the Federation that I pursued in this (my fandom certainly grew divided over it by 2013). But I'm not here to rewrite it, just to re-post it. I hope it entertains you, at least.
To be honest, I found your "deconstructed" Federation to be very intriguing - and enjoyed TGG very much at SD.net.
I think it would have had a lot of trouble had it come across other, dynamic societies, and it would have come into conflict with them.
Pure good vs. pure evil is not as realistic - or as interesting - as two sides, each pursuing what they think is good, and run by good people, who reach a point of conflict they cannot resolve without feeling they are compromising what they hold as moral absolutes.
The besieged city of Dolan was within a small gap between forested mountains in Bajor's northern regions. It was easily-defended as such, as the Cardassians had now learned, but at the same time it was easy to block off. Only three roads led out of the city, and only one - heading southeast - came to a town within a two hour driveby powered vehicle.
Sitting on that road was the Ikor Pavak Provisional Group, a force of about 500 Cardassian men who had been placed into the army as a result of committing crimes. The Cardassians used their convict-soldiers as cannon fodder in most cases, and as such used them widely on Bajor, since it was better for the convicts to get killed than trained professional soldiers. This policy had backfired in one key area; the Ikor and their criminal compatriots were prone to committing vicious atrocity after atrocity. These men had often served time in labor camps and prison mines themselves and had no compunction about doing to others what they'd had done to themselves, especially since they were still subject to the same punishments they'd been under while in confinement. Ikor Pavak had a reputation among the people of Dolan already. Their forward position was within eyesight of several Bajoran observation posts, and it was here that the Ikor placed their prisoners... after they were through with them, and the screams of their victims were often audible to the Bajoran defense lines when the guns were silent. After the Ikor finished amusing themselves by gang-raping and torturing their prisoners - usually Bajorans from outside Dolan who foolishly tried to break through at night with handfuls of supplies or news pamphlets - they often killed them by cutting open their bellies and pulling their intestines out, hanging their expiring victims from nearby trees and posts with their own entrails and always ensuring that the Bajorans in Dolan could see the fate of their countrymen.
Atrocities like this usually stiffened Bajoran resolve and instilled anger at the same time, while for other Cardassian units, it increased contempt and hatred for the "convict-conscripts". There were long-running hatreds between the convict troops and the main army, the latter blaming the former for the vicious insurgency they often had to die fighting against, while the former simply hated the latter simply out of their own condition.
Members of Ikor Pavak bragged often that they had no fear of death. And their questionable valor was about to be tested in a way they hadn't yet imagined....
Bomber Atomic Dolphin
Miles above the Ikor Pavak, sixty B-202 aerospace bombers dropped into the atmosphere. F-33 Spitfires plunged down once more to intercept Cardassian attack craft while naval F-31 Hellcats and A-12 Marauders from the carrier Audacious dealt with targets that might strike from space.
At the piloting controls for the B-202 Bomber called the Atomic Dolphin, Squadron Leader Sheppard took a drag from his lit cigar while the bombardier reported that they were ready to drop. "Okay Cardies, here's yer wake up call. Hope you like yer breakfast hot."
From the bellies of all sixty bombers, tons of napalm explosives poured out. Each bomb was guided in the same fashion as a SHALO transport pod, with clearly delineated areas programmed for impact: the southeast road and the areas around it. From his pilot seat, Sheppard lifted the B-202 out of the atmosphere as soon as the bomb bay emptied and was closed, all the while ensuring the bomber's recorders were keeping a record of what hit where for use in the after action report.
The bombing was something the Cardassians had simply never dealt with before. They'd been given little warning, as their commanders assumed the craft above were simply more transports dropping more of those damned weapons to the Bajorans, and were mostly out in the open as the bombs went off about them. The napalm burned hotly, made of various synthetic petroleum and other chemicals turned to jelly form. Those who survived the explosions ran and crawled about in horrific agony as their very flesh was burned off of their bodies, coated as they were by the burning material. They finally died, one at a time, screaming until their brains were literally cooked within their skulls or their bodies shut down from shock. A few suffered a particularly grueling fate, the napalm making its way down into their airpipe. Even the bodies of their Bajoran victims were quickly consumed by the cleansing flames which simply engulfed the entire area southeast of Dolan. Cardassian fire suppression units were called in to combat the fire before it could spread through the forested areas to other Cardassian positions. When the fire died, it would be found that every man in Ikor Pavak had been killed, many of them burned alive.
The Cardassians, led by Gul Odar, were not sure what had begun. Oh, they knew the Alliance had performed this attack, but the enemy intentions were not yet clear.
They were still in this state of uncertainty, even confusion, thirty minutes later when another bomber group of sixty bombers arrived. Again the Cardassian attack craft scrambled and again the bombs fell, this time plasma explosives that hammered the troops around the western roads out of Dolan. Just after the bombings the Bajorans used heavy mortars and some light 75mm artillery that had been dropped to them to begin a limited offensive against the Cardassian siege forces, concentrated on the western road. The shelling was followed by teams and groups of Bajorans in ragged clothes carrying their AK-90s and newly-furnished MP-10s into range to lay down suppressing fire. Gul Odar assumed it was an attempt to break the siege and deployed troops toward the west to pinch off the Bajorans and stop the breakout.
In truth, dozens of Bajorans were going to sacrifice their lives for an entirely different reason. As the Cardassians pulled toward the west, a second force raced out of the southeast as soon as the Cardassians had finished suppressing the fires immediately upon the road. Mounted on the trucks air-dropped in the last few runs by Alliance forces, only the outer edges of the formation contained the fighters intending to occupy the road. In the middle vehicles, crammed in as tightly as possible, were dozens of the smallest Bajoran children in the city.
From above more craft appeared; A-11 Tornados newly deployed to the bases on Darane. The tactical bombers flew low and strafed and bombed Cardassian forces attempting to intercept the convoy while further above, fresh squadrons of F-33 Spitfires continued to viciously dogfight with the Cardassian attack craft. There was the usual push and shove as fighters on both sides went down. Some of the A-11s gave support to the beleaguered Bajorans in the west, all of them volunteers who had offered their lives for the chance to get their children out of the siege, allowing for them to slowly extricate themselves from the vicious Cardassian counterattack. One A-11 was hit by a stray Cardassian shot and its pilot and Sensor Officer forced to eject as the craft slammed into the ground east of the city.
After four hours of vicious fighting, the short-lived breakout ended with Cardassian troops again reclaiming both the western and southeastern roads. Dead Bajorans and Cardassians lay everywhere, but the Bajoran dead would have the claim to victory. Their sacrifices had not been in vain; over five hundred children had been evacuated successfully, to be dispersed immediately to prevent Cardassian authorities from finding them. Four B-202s were shot down, along with ten F-33s and four A-11s, leading to about thirty Alliance fatalities in their part of the operation.
Finch Army Base, Corworth 3, ADN Colonial Zone
4 December 2153 AST
04:15 GST
The Finch Army Base landing tarmac had an entire area cleared for the incoming shuttle, which was being welcomed by an awaiting party of officers led by Lieutenant General Chad Dahlstrom, commander of LXXXI Corps. The vessel touched down and a side door opened, allowing for officers to step out. The first one was a woman with a bionic arm in the AFFC uniform, her rank insignia that of an AFFC Field Marshal, accompanied by a Marshal and other officers. General Dahlstrom saluted the Field Marshal. "Field Marshal Bisla, Marshal McFarland, welcome to Finch Army Base. I'm General Dahlstrom."
"General Dahlstrom, a pleasure," Vanessa Bisla replied. "I look forward to working with the Alliance military once again."
"Pleasure's mine, ma'am. Allow me to introduce Colonel Isabelle Sampson, my chief of staff, and Lieutenant Colonel Alexander Jones, who will be senior liaison to your command." Dahlstrom indicated the two officers closest to him, a woman of mostly Caucasian complexion and appearance and a man of dark African complexion. Moving on to other officers, the introduction continued. "And this is Major Tyrone Lawson and Captains Reiko Tokugawa and Henry Frost, the commanders of our junior planning staff."
Bisla introduced herself and James McFarland formally before moving on to other officers, including a young Oriental man with gray eyes and dark hair. "...and Hauptmann Kai Allard-Liao, the head of our junior planning group when he's not in his company command in our 2nd Battalion."
With introductions finished it was time to show them about the base, which was done in a convoy of open jeeps. One of the things shown was the third flag pole that had been added to Finch Army Base's main offices. Already the flags of the Alliance and the United Kingdom - the legal authority of the Corworth system - had flown there, and now the flag of the Federated Commonwealth joined them.
Later on came the staff meetings, the establishment of a joint planning staff headed by Major Lawson, and other sundry things associated with establishing quarters for the thousands of Commonwealth troops incoming. Ten divisions worth of Commonwealth and mercenary troops as an opening wave, including crack units like McFarland's 10th Lyran Guards, the 1st Davion and Heavy Davion Guards, and three regiments of Wolf Dragoons, accompanied by one hundred and fifty combat starships of varying type and class, all assigned under the banner of the Federated Commonwealth Expeditionary Force (FCEF) with Field Marshal Bisla in command.
Within that first day, the plans were being prepared for Operation: Percival and the Commonwealth's official entry into the fighting. It was well known to them that this was a secondary front - one that the FedComs hoped could be made more prominent anyway - and that while the Federated Commonwealth prepared to strike its own blow against the Cardassian Union Alliance soldiers would be fighting and dying on the other fronts.
East Landing, New Liberty, ADN Colonial Zone
10:20 GST
The East Landing Spaceport was a smaller facility primarily used for private craft and some light transports. Located away from the growing urban region of Wexford it was a tad less hectic, more laid back in environment... well, except for now. With a war on and the planet under a 24/7 moderate defense alert, security had been stepped up to deal with the threat of Cardassian saboteurs and ships were rather more common, the result of the traffic increase to support the military's efforts.
The security guards, augmented by planetary militia, waved through a non-descript sedan to the hanger area. Adorned with no markings it was still clearly a rather official vehicle, and the driver inside had shown then impeccable ID.
Inside the sedan, Police Agent Nick Hartford, New Liberty Criminal Investigation Department, brought the vehicle to a stop near the large hanger they were interested in. Nick fit some of the stereotypes one had for older English policemen: cleanshaven, a bit rough in language at times but not overly passionate and aggressive, and with a penchant for heavy coats to fit his burly frame. At six foot three feet he could be fairly intimidating as cops went, though his mind was a more methodical one. He brought up a set of binoculars and looked at the rear of one of the Max-sized Hangers, from which the rear engine assembly of a massive ST-3 indigenious ship was visible thanks to the internal lights. "Aren't they supposed to keep ships that big ported at the Orbital Station?", he asked pointedly, his English accent one of the less refined types, though not to the slang-filled tones of Cockney.
"Depends on her atmospheric stability, not size," his partner remarked tiredly. Agent Mayuko Burley - May to her friends - was a Yank in a CID brimming with Brits, slipping into an open agent slot after a failed bid to get into the FBI and four years of detective service with Schwarzeneggerburg PD, one of the major cities on her homeworld of Pacifica (Universe GS-42). She was half-Caucasian and half-Japanese, the latter evident by the slight colored tone to her skin and a bit of slimness in her eye structure. Physically she contrasted Agent Hartford's burly frame with a smaller, if solid figure on the athletic side, having some curves of attractive quality when they weren't obscured under an agent jacket or coat. The most striking thing about Mayuko was the highly rare condition she possessed: complete heterochromia of the eyes, with the right one green and the left blue.
As the senior Agent, Nick went first. "Oh bloody hell, we've got a long enough day as it is and a five hour drive on the H2 to get back to Wexford. I say we get this business over with."
"Your call, Nick." She let him get out of the sedan first before emerging herself, checking habitually to ensure her sidearm - a Glock-Hollings 9mm particle charge pistol - was in place. It was still new to her, as the Schwartzer PD (as it was called back home) had still been using chem-propellant semi-automatic pistols for officer sidearms.
"I can't believe we're doin' this for the bleedin' Feddies," Nick complained as they walked toward the hanger. It was dawn in this time zone of New Liberty, the system's sun beginning the lit portion of the planet's twenty-four hour 32 minute day. "They've just got their panties in a twist over the war."
"Bank robbers are bank robbers, Nick," May answered. "We've got to give them an interview and check out their stories. Last thing we need is for some glorified pirate band to set up shop here on New Liberty, right?"
"Sure, sure. All I know is that I had to get up far too early for this shit."
Mayuko cracked a grin at that and stepped up to the door. A makeshift paper adhered to it listed the bland, ultimately forgettable name of "Ogawa Transport". She pressed on the chime button beside it while Nick looked around, irritable and in very clear need of coffee.
The door opened and a bleary-eyed young woman answered them. She looked Human - though in ST-3 looking Human didn't always mean being Human - with a mess of blond hair cascading around her shoulders. A Federation-style civilian jumpsuit was something in clear contrast to the multi-piece garb of the two police agents, though it was rather flattering on the girl. "We don't open for another hour," the girl said, stifling a yawn.
The two presented their credentials. "Criminal Investigation Department, miss," Nick said. "Agents Hartford and Burley. We need to speak with you."
"Me?"
"All of you," Mayuko added, after which a disgruntled snort came from her partner. "But we can start with your boss. Yumiko Ogawa?"
The woman gave a nod. "She's in the office, follow me." She turned and led them in.
For all his tiredness, Nick did clearly give a leer toward the curved backside of their guide, visible as it was with her tight jumpsuit. "See anything you like?", Mayuko said in a soft, low tone, but with a bite to it.
"Maybe."
Flashing him a smirk, she replied, "Yeah, it is a nice view, isn't it?"
Now it was Nick's turn to look at her quizzically, even as they stepped out into the main hanger. The starship within was, truly, one of the larger planet-capable vessels, twice the size of a large scale atmospheric passenger liner (the modern equivalent to the 20th Century's "jumbo jets") with a fair degree of cargo space. It was also at least seven stories, so it was at least a seven deck craft, the hull a green color the like that Romulans preferred on their ships. The Cochrane drive nacelles were built into the frame along the "wings" of the ship, one directly overhead of them with a couple suited people crawling over it.
The blonde girl led them on, trying not to smirk as she overheard the police agents' discussion. Nick, after fumbling for a moment at his partner's words, started to say, "Known you for a couple months, May, I didn't know you... y'know... kept an eye out for your own."
The younger woman rolled her eyes. "It's the 25th Century, Nick. I find the whole "sexual preferences" label a bit... old fashioned."
"Actually, it's the 24th Century," the young woman ahead of them stated. "At least... it is here."
"25th Century for GS-42, Miss....?"
At the prompting, the blonde girl stopped and turned. "I am called Larrisa. I am... was... of the Edo. Pleased to make your acquaintance, Agent Burley."
She answered Larrisa with a polite smile and then looked back to Nick as they resumed their trip.
"Looks like you're not the only one with an eye for..."
"Ah ah ah, Agent Hartford. We're here on business, remember?" Mayuko allowed herself a bit of a smirk. Tweaking her uptight partner was a bit of fun for her, especially exploiting the "Yank vs. Brit" cultural differences.
Larrisa brought them to the corner office. It was rather spartan in furnishment at the moment, with just two desks, both occupied. One occupant was a dark-haired woman of tan complexion, hair cut neck-line short, wearing a blouse that Mayuko considered one size too small and a pair of knee-length ladies' shorts. The other, Oriental in appearance and more modestly attired in jacket and trousers, was clearly the boss. "Miss Ogawa? There are police agents here to see you," Larrisa said from the office door, in a tone that made both detectives think this wasn't the first time such had happened.
"Ah, welcome, please," Miss Ogawa - Asako t'Prinn sliding easily and swiftly into her civilian alias - stated. "May we get you something? The replicators aren't in service yet, but we do have a coffee machine."
"No, it's fine," Mayuko said, cutting off Nick before he might insist on a cup of joe. "I'm Agent Burley, this is Agent Hartford, New Liberty Criminal Investigation Department." She motioned to Nick while retrieving her credentials to show Asako. "We're here following up a case. There was a bank robbery of sorts in the Federation a couple weeks ago, on New Styria. I believe that is the planet you last visited before coming here?"
"Why, yes, I remember hearing that on the planetary newsnet before we departed," Ogawa stated.
"Starfleet Security has determined by witness statements and forensics that Bajorans were responsible for the heist. And as anyone with a TV or holo-set knows, your vessel took on a couple hundred of them on New Styria. We'd like the names and locations of the Bajorans you took aboard and genetic samples to compare them, and your crew, against those provided by Starfleet."
Asako had a bemused look on her face. "Is that all?"
"Well, we also want to interview the members of your crew, see if any of them overheard anything," Nick said, taking over, picking up on Mayuko playing the hard-nosed young bitch cop by slipping into the place of the older, world-weary, easy-going cop. "It's just a routine thing, Miss Ogawa. The Feddies sent us your info, thought you needed checking into, and our bosses are just following up. The fact it took us this long to get out here, well, with the war on and all, it's no big deal, just something that needs to be done."
At that Asako grinned. She was no stranger to police behavior either. "Well, Agent Hartford, you can feel free to ask my crew anything you desire, and I'll have Sophia give you a list of our Bajoran passengers to look up, but I'm afraid I have to pass on the genetic samples. Unless, of course, you have a warrant?"
"Do we need to get one?," Mayuko asked, in a rather aggressive tone. "Something you think you need to hide?"
For a moment Asako didn't answer. Then she pleasantly put her hands together and leaned forward. "Agent Burley, you may take for granted life in a society of law and of rights, but we did not have that luxury. We have lived in societies dominated by the state exercising power, legal or unofficial, to monitor and spy upon its citizens, to take genetic material and all such things at will without our consent, even without our knowledge. So I hope you'll understand if we clasp hard onto the rule of law now that we enjoy it here in the Alliance, even if we have nothing to hide."
"The interviews will be fine, for now, Miss Ogawa," Nick answered, sparing Mayuko the need to continue her hardcore approach.
"This is my partner Sophia," Asako stated, motioning to Sophia in the other chair. "She will arrange the interviews you have requested and provide you the names and listed destinations of the Bajorans we had aboard. Is there anything else you would like?"
"Nothing else for now," Mayuko remarked. She kept the edge to her voice for effect, though it was clear now they were dealing with a cool customer, involved with the Styrian heist or not. She gave Nick a look that indicated her doubt that they'd get anything useful. He returned it; he could tell they were in for a tough time on this case as well.
But the job was just that; the job. They'd follow through on it - you never knew what might come loose on accident - and pursue the case from other directions.
DNS Suffren CVF-2, Classified Location
12:00 GST
It was noon general-time on the carrier Suffren, newly arrived to the Alpha Quadrant and now close to the location it had been ordered to in preparation for an operation against the Cardassians. Seated in the carrier's CIC, Line Captain Emily McGruder and her ship's CAG, Commander Pierre du Plessis, were going over the final details of the operation while awaiting the final launch authority from command.
"Given what happened to the Kaga, it's no wonder they assigned an extra division of destroyers to our task forces." McGruder shook her head. "Something of a waste, though, and I don't like having extra ships that could get us detected."
"The Admirals are nervous from losing Kaga. They know the Cardassians are finally recognizing the danger of our fighters and that they'll be looking to take us out."
"They got lucky." McGruder sighed and looked to the comm station. Any time now, the order to sortie could come. It all depended on what happened over at Darane.
CDS Strovek Ikav, Near Darane
15:12 GST
The Model VII Galor was racing toward Darane at cruise speed and was not racing alone. 3rd Rank Gul Kevem was in his command chair, staring out at the grand fleet assembled around him.
Never before had the Cardassian Empire amassed such an armada. One hundred and sixty ships from what remained of the Bajoran Sector Fleet. Seventy-five survivors from the 1st Fleet, plus the entire 2nd Fleet of five hundred ships. Following behind them were three hundred ships from the Federation Frontier Fleet, their losses at the first fight of Darane replaced by incoming squadrons and elements of Home Fleet as it, in turn, was reinforced by yet other units in Cardassia's far-flung reaches. One thousand and thirty-five ships in all. Seven hundred would strike the enemy at Darane, while the others remained behind as a reserve for attacking carriers.
Or so was the plan from Central Command. Kevem, however, had his doubts as to their necessity. He was at the head of the greatest fleet ever assembled in Cardassian history. Its pure weight should be enough to shatter the fleet opposed to it.
"We're coming into range of Darane, sir. It's time to break off the reserves."
Kevem heard his subordinate's report and looked to his sensor officer. "What is the enemy's strength?"
"One moment, running through spectrums.... Sir, reading over five hundred enemy contacts."
"We outnumber them two to one, then. With a fleet of this size...." Kevem put a hand on his chin for a moment. "Detach the three hundred reserves. All other ships are to enter attack formation. The battle begins now."
DNS Sam Houston, Darane
15:15 GST
The twenty year old Texan-built heavy dreadnought Sam Houston, now in Alliance service, was the chosen flagship of Admiral Helen Davis of the 14th Fleet. The "heavy dreadnought" had been an attempt to mimic the first "superdreadnought" of the Multiverse, the Israeli Tikvah. Admiral Davis, a native of the rich world of New Midland in the Republic of Texas (Universe FHI-8), had served on the Sam Houston as an officer during the Aggie War and had seen the great Allied victories against the Agresskan at Alpha Droxi and Korv'veka. Now she would again be fighting an alien threat unknown back in her home universe.
14th Fleet's strength had been effectively reduced by the First Battle of Darane. After the hammering taken in the last battle, all damaged ships able to withdraw were sent back to Kensington and New Liberty for repair, reducing Task Force 14.3 to about fifty ships. Ships like the Musashi had been patched up in space with the help of dockships but had not regained warp capability yet, so they too were stuck and would be forced to fight.
However, all of 14th Fleet had gathered now; four task forces with about 400 ships, reinforced by most of Task Force 5.4. The Alliance battle line now possessed fifteen dreadnoughts and seventy battleships as part of a five hundred ship force. Kestrel and Benjamin Disraeli were still present as well, their fighters launching even now.
"Enemy fleet approaching, Admiral. Seven hundred vessels on intercept course. The Delium reports that an additional three hundred contacts are hanging back."
"Waiting for our carriers." Davis bit her lip. She knew the carriers would come, but not at first. Command had something up its sleeve, she was sure. A nasty trick... and all she had to do was play pin cushion until the carriers were permitted to attack. "Okay everyone, this is what all our training's been for. Let's give them a pasting."
CDS Strovek Ikav
With training-honed precision, the Strovek and the other ships of the Cardassian armada dropped out of warp together in such a way as to maintain their formations. The impulse engines on the ships fired and accelerated them forward toward the waiting Alliance fleet, half a million kilometers away. The distance was considered a dangerous one, but Zygola had proven to the Cardassians that if they came in too far out an Alliance fleet could whittle them down before they could close.
Immediately there was a hail of fire from the Alliance fleet. Missiles were now being countered by ships from each squadron with weapons set for low-powered rapid fire, filling space with fire as missiles were shot down everywhere. The other ships in the squadrons opened fire with torpedoes and compressors. Kevem had left the formation loose, another lesson from Zygola, which reduced losses from the fire.
The pure volume of fire from the Alliance fleet took out twenty-five of Kevem's ships and damaged dozens more to varying extents, but that was to be expected. As they closed within 100,000 kilometers the Cardassian fire was becoming more effective. Kevem's fleet barreled right into the center of the Alliance battle line, and as he'd hoped, the enemy admiral split the Alliance fleet to repeat Zygola.
"Are they inbound?"
"Yes sir." His aide, 6th Rank Gul Durek, looked uncertain. "Won't the Central Command be angry with you for this?"
"So long as I win, they will not care," was Kevem's reply.
DNS Sam Houston
Admiral Lewis' seat shook a little under her from the impact of four photon torpedoes on the Houston's dorsal and port shields. The Cardassian fleet had forced her to split her force, as they'd done to Kentworth at Zygola, which only aided the overall plan.
Light years away from Darane, covered by ECM and activity in the Badlands, were the carriers Enterprise, Akagi, Lexington, Audacious, and Formidable. They were awaiting a go code that would come from Command as part of a larger diversion op coordinated with some battle carriers and, if Lewis was right, two more of the fleet carriers. It was hoped that whatever diversion was being called would lead to the enemy bringing in their reserve meant for the carriers.
Which meant that for now her fleet had to take the hammering from the sheer numbers of the Cardassians. They had clearly learned from Zygola, coming in even closer and with a wider formation, and now assigning ships to be point-defense and shoot down incoming missiles.
A rumble through the deck told Lewis that the Houston's powerful 600mm mass drivers had just fired. They were built into the broadsides and bow of the ship, unable to be turreted, with two facing forward and six facing to the port and starboard. The slugs they tossed relied a lot on KE, though each had a plasma warhead or a smaller high-explosive one with AP cap. She watched with satisfaction as one of the Cardassian Keldons took a direct hit from two slugs, including one to a warp nacelle that caused the plasma circulating through it to explode. The ship rocked from the force and its pilot lost control, causing him to collide with a Model VI Galor. The two ships survived for a moment before four 290mm particle beams from the Vaclav Havel sliced them apart.
The Cardassians were still giving them good, of course. With a grimace on her face, Lewis watched the valiant Musashi get battered yet again. She had evacuated Admiral Smith from Musashi, fortunately, but the rest of its crew proved very unlucky as torpedo after torpedo pounded the wounded and crippled dreadnought to scrap until it literally came apart.
By this point her fleet was divided and was moving to link up again at the tail of the Cardassian formation. The Cardassians avoided the disasterous maneuver at Zygola that had cost them so many ships, remaining spread out enough that they didn't lose nearly as many ships.
So far the Cardassians had lost about fifty ships, with her fleet down thirty-four. This was not the pace she wanted, but she'd expected to get hammered before the distraction worked.
The ship shook again from two Galors pouring compressor fire at the Houston. Her secondary batteries of pulse phaser cannon turrets opened fire, pounding on the Galors' shields until they gave away. One was crippled by direct hits while the other twisted away, only to have its tail hit by the Prince Amir.
"Admiral! Three hundred more enemy contacts coming out of warp at six hundred kilo-klicks!"
Lewis bit her lip. That was way too early. Nevertheless, it was what they'd wanted. "Signal the carriers, tell 'em the reserve's here!" The thin Texan brunette stabbed a finger at another station. "Have Task Forces 1 and 4 speed up and cut through the enemy fleet! They're trying to isolate them!"
It was at that moment that everything became clear to Lewis. The bastard Cardassian had never intended to hold his reserve back! Even now she could see his main fleet concentrating between the halves of her fleet, isolating Task Forces 1 and 4 to hammer them with impunity.
"Sir, we're having a little trouble getting through the Cardassian jamming. But.... a reply from Enterprise! 'Have not received go command. You must hold. Over.'"
"To hell with that!" Lewis' angry shout echoed in the command room. "You tell that Yankee sonovabitch to get his fucking ass here now!"
CDS Strovek Ikav
Kevem watched with satisfaction as his reserve came down on nearly one half of the Alliance fleet, isolating and hammering two hundred and forty-three of the enemy's ships while his main fleet easily kept them seperate. This had worked for the Alliance at Zygola; now it would work for him. Contact after contact began to wink out on his screen as one half of the Alliance fleet was mercilessly squeezed between hundreds of Cardassian vessels. His losses were creeping near one hundred now, counting both outright destroyed ships and those that had taken some kind of crippling damage, but he still had nine hundred warships with which to pulverize four hundred and thirty.
No, four hundred and twenty-nine.... twenty-eight.... Kevem smiled. This would be his hour of glory. He would prevail here, drive the Alliance out of Darane, and turn the tide back to Cardassia's favor.
Four hundred and twenty-five...
DNS Patrick O'Neill DD-248
The Patrick O'Neill was a newer Callaghan-class destroyer, armed primarily with nuclear-disruptor weapons (known as phasers in the ST-3 nomenclature) and torpedo launchers as well as point-defense weapons. In its inner keel, Commander Roger Wolsely was doing his best to keep his ship alive in the fracas. Patrick O'Neill's weapons were firing everywhere and concentrating on the smaller Cardassian ships trying to make torpedo runs on the French battleship Jeanne d'Arc. Nearby the Russian battleship Admiral Pavlov took five direct hits to her weakened starboard shields and suffered armor damage.
Three of O'Neill's phaser beams converged on a Cardassian Ikvak and cut through its damaged hull, allowing the pulse phasers on the bow to hit cleanly and take out the Cardie ship's left nacelle.
"Sir, more destroyers!"
Wolsely's English accent echoed in the command center. "Turn to starboard! Fire torpedoes!"
The Patrick O'Neill and the three remaining destroyers in her division turned toward the incoming Cardassian pack and fired their Mark XVs. The anti-matter torpedoes, a new generation meant only for ship use, packed a wallop that would become evident when six out of eight made contact. Every first hit knocked down the bow shield of a Cardassian ship; the two cases of a second hit blew out entire portions of the ships' hulls and effectively removed them from the battle.
Immediately after this the destroyers opened up with bow energy weapons, as did the Cardassians. Patrick O'Neill took three beams to her bow, being the focus of three of the survivors before two died from Alliance fire. The ship rocked violently and pulled every officer and NCO in the command center against his or her harnesses. "Direct hits, bow quarter! We've lost Torpedo Tube 2!"
"Emergency forcefields in place!"
Even as these reports came in, O'Neill continued to fight. Her phaser weapons sliced into a Cardassian cruiser trying and failing to engage the Pavlov in a gunnery duel. Pavlov's 290mm particle cannons retorted and tore the Cardassian apart.
Immediately behind it, two more Cardassian Dorkaraks poured fire into Pavlov's wounded starboard. Compressor beams flayed armor away that photon torpedoes then pulverized, creating gaping holes in the Russian battleship's hull. Her destroyer screen was gone now, all lost to the press of the Cardassian fleet.
Wolsely wanted to come to the ship's aid, but his place was with Jeanne d'Arc, which needed his help. However, Jeanne d'Arc proved to not be blind to her comrade's distress. The ship's graser battery turned toward the Cardassian cruisers and raked them with fire.
As she did so, O'Neill and her division were faced with another ten Cardassian ships. The destroyer Zhang Yu-Lin blew apart under sustained fire while O'Neill kept firing despite taking hits. One hit destroyed the navigation bridge, killing all in it, including Wolsely's XO, Lieutenant Commander Travis Pierson. One of Wolsely's officers asked if they should begin abandoning ship. Wolsely's reply was short and sweet: "Shoot her until she blows!"
About forty seconds later, the crippled and dying Patrick O'Neill was torpedoed by a Cardassian destroyer. Her weakened hull could not stop the torpedo from hitting the damaged inner keel, blowing the ship apart and leading to the deaths of most of her crew, including Commander Wolsely.
DNS Enterprise CVF-1, Near the Badlands
In the CIC of the Enterprise, Line Captain Frank Mitchell was watching the feeds from Darane nervously. Behind him, Line Admiral Matthew Stark was hovering over the comm station, making the Petty Officer seated there very nervous. "Sir, I have a message from Admiral Lewis."
"What does it say?"
"Request for us to engage."
Mitchell saw his chance to speak up. "Sir, roughly a thousand enemy vessels have engaged so far. It looks like they committed their reserves."
"So it appears," was Stark's non-committal reply. He knew what was riding on his engaging at just the right time and he would be damned if he allowed another carrier to be lost because the Cardassians had played tricks with their reserve units.
Mitchell, carefully toeing the line of what was appropriate from a subordinate to his superior, remarked, "So we should engage, sir."
"No, Captain Mitchell, we should not." Stark looked away from the screen, standing tall at six feet two inches with a head of graying black hair. His blue eyes were the same color as Mitchell's, and right now the mood they conveyed was that of the irritated flag officer. Irritated at a battle that had to be arranged in this fashion, irritated that he would have to put more carriers at potential risk to fulfill the "Wall Admirals"' desire for a "decisive fleet battle" as opposed to what he and some of the other carrier commanders had asked for; a pre-emptive carrier strike on the enemy fleet while it was still gathering. As it was, there was no way he would let the blame of another lost carrier rest on his shoulders by moving too early and without the okay from Command, the confirmation that the entire Cardassian reserve had indeed been committed. "Not until we get the go order from Command."
"Sir, Admiral Lewis is your superior officer. She's ordered us to engage!"
"Fleet Admiral Simonov is her's, and his orders to me are to remain here until the go order is given. So we're staying here." Stark eased back into his seat. "Keep monitoring the channels for the go order."
"Sir, what shall we tell Admiral Lewis?"
"The same thing we did before."
DNS Sam Houston
Sam Houston was now in the middle of an inferno. Desperate to free the half of her fleet that was trapped, Admiral Lewis personally commanded the two squadrons around her to follow her squadron into the enemy fleet to force their way through. Fire converged from all corners and erupted in the same angles, the Cardassians desperately trying to pummel through the defenses of Lewis' ship and that of her comrades while she was just as determined to punch a hole through the Cardassian formation to extricate Task Forces 14.1 and 14.4.
The Alliance fleet was now down to about 400 combat-effective ships in varying condition. The Cardassians had lost about a quarter more, but still had over eight hundred and fifty combat-effective ships in their fleet. The battle was clearly in their favor.
"Send to Admirals Kazinsky, Richardson, and Maynard. Concentrate fire to the enemies on our port!"
"Sir, our reply has come from Enterprise. It is a repeat of the last transmission."
Lewis slammed a fist onto the chair of her arm. "To hell with that bastard Stark! Send a priority message to Admiral Simonov and ask for the go order!"
As her comm officer did so, the ship rocked violently again as damage was done to her starboard by intense enemy attack. The mass drivers retorted and one slug ripped through a Model V Galor. The covering destroyers darted in to torpedo another Galor that had been gored by Sam Houston's pulse phaser cannons. One received a crippling torpedo hit to its dorsal hull while the Galor's last shot took down another's bow shield. Two Mark XV torpedoes hit the Galor in her damaged side and blew the ship in half.
Lewis' tactic of concentrating fire on the ships at the bottom of the forming "H" shape was starting to work. A portion of the Cardassian fleet was now coming under fire from three sides.
CDS Strovek Ikav
Kevem was observing the maneuver of the enemy fleet. A decent strategem, all thing said, as the Alliance fleet could only hope at this point to isolate and hammer portions of his fleet enough to change the tide.
"Pull those squadrons out of that area. We'll let them make their union. All the easier to trap the entire fleet as they are bunched together."
"Wait.... sir, those middle formations are turning to port!"
"They're going to try to run?" Kevem tapped on his tactical screen. "Assign these squadrons to block them as well as possible. All ships are to maintain fire and pick off stragglers. I won't let them get away without a fight."
DNS Sam Houston
Lewis' screen showed the Cardassian fleet start to break up and reform in front of her force as the three squadrons she'd led into the middle bar of the "H" shape now formed turned to part. It was time to make a breakaway attempt.
This was part gamble; running meant that ships with damaged engines might not keep up and could be picked off. But Lewis thought she had the grasp of this Cardassian now. Tough and aggressive, but too aggressive. He hadn't even bothered to attack the planet yet; he focused everything on her fleet. He wanted her fleet wiped out, and it stood to reason he would pursue even after she broke out.
Now if only Simonov would send the damn go order!
Wexford Naval Headquarters, New Liberty, ADN Colonial Zone
Simonov was pacing in the command facility at the silence coming from Darane. They had expected that the enemy would jam and contact would be lost, but this didn't leave his job any easier. He knew full well that this battle would determine the pace of the war, perhaps its outcome. If the fleet there was crushed, even if it inflicted stupendous losses on the Cardassians, it would be the end for any plausible victory in the war for the near future and would place the Alliance into an uncomfortable position strategically.
Everything was riding on the bold plan, formulated by Simonov with the present admirals (only Admiral Stark, placed in charge of Carrier Strike Group 1, had stood against it, with the support of subordinate admirals in favor of another carrier strike mission), to convince the Cardassians to draw their whole fleet into a fight by having carrier strikes commenced elsewhere, in an attempt to convince them that there were no nearby carriers for them to hold a reserve in the hopes of drawing carriers into the open for direct attack. Then the carriers could strike directly and, with Admiral Lewis' forces, smash the Cardassian fleet.
"Status on Suffren and Kuznetsov?", he asked a subordinate irritably. "Have they attacked yet?"
"They are still maintaining radio silence, by time table their attacks will come in ten minutes."
"Admiral!" Another officer, a Lieutenant, looked up from the communications stations. "We are receiving a coded message from Admiral Lewis. 'Enemy reserves committed. Overwhelming enemy force has divided fleet and is inflicting great loss. Carrier support urgently requested." But our diversions have not yet launched! Simonov wiped his forehead. It was possible the Cardassians were not replaying the last battle and were simply out to annihilate the Alliance forces at Darane. But could he take the risk? The carriers were a military asset of great material and morale value, even if their usefulness versus that of the 40 megaton dead-weight-tonnage rated battleship (past 40DWT they were called "dreadnoughts") was sorely debated within the Navy ranks. As it was, losing Kaga had been a painful thing but had not unduly effected morale; losing more carriers, however, was something Simonov did not want to report to Washington.
But neither did he want to report the obliteration of the 14th Fleet with part of the 5th. Swallowing, hoping he had read the Cardassians correctly, Simonov nodded to the communications officer. "Give the go order to Admiral Stark on Enterprise."
DNS Enterprise CVF-1[, Near the Badlands
A beeping sound came from the comm station. "Sir, high priority burst transmission from Fleet HQ. 'Go Order is given. Commence attack.'"
Stark replied, "Authenticate it."
"It's authenticated, sir."
"Authenticate it again." Stark stood from his seat. "I want to see it myself."
Captain Mitchell hid his discomfort at his superior's almost bureaucratic insistance on the order being given and confirmed. Stark again hovered over the signals man's station, watching the computer re-authenticate the transmission. "We have the go order. Transmit authority to all carriers to move into launch position and prepare for immediate strikes."
"Yes Sir."
DNS Sam Houston
The Alliance fleet had now lost an entire task force worth of ships. The battleships Jeanne d'Arc and Admiral Pavlov were among the dozen battleships crippled or destroyed, as were the dreadnoughts Musashi and Yitzakh Rabin. Sam Houston had lost one of her armor layers on the starboard side and several more of their capital vessels were in increasingly severe states of damage.
Nevertheless, Lewis pressed forward. With the enemy having cleared out from her immediate front, she was able to re-organize her fleet into something of a melon-shaped formation, though wide enough that most ships still had very clear lines of attack, with the least-damaged ships slipping outward while those with heavier damage moved closer to the center. Cardassian ships trying to penetrate the formation were blasted mercilessly.
After all this time, only now were the wings from the Kestrel and Benjamin Disraeli finally making themselves known in a decisive way. Having not been numerous enough to be effective in stopping the Cardassian press, also harrassed by the Cardassian tactic of assigning ships to anti-fighter duty by using their main weapons on lower-powered rapid fire settings, the surviving fighters now served as the spearpoint of the fleet, opening fire from range - some of the fighters using their last torpedoes or missiles - to break the Cardassian ships trying to block Lewis' fleet.
With her fleet's losses now over one hundred and thirty ships crippled or destroyed, Lewis' force plowed through the Cardassian fleet. The Cardassian ships veered out of the way to prevent collisions, often raking Alliance ships with their compressor beams and torpedoes even as they were subjected to intense fire. A Dorkarak that tried to get in front of the Sam Houston was blown apart by a direct hit from the dreadnought's bow guns; the helmsman maneuvered the Houston "down" and avoided a collision with the dead hulk.
Breaking free of the Cardassian fleet, Lewis ordered all ships to go to warp; those with disabled warp drives were given the order to conduct evasive maneuvers and do their best to survive. She didn't expect that to be hard; this Cardassian commander wouldn't waste time picking off a dozen or so destroyers and cruisers when he could pursue her fleet.
CDS Strovek Ikav
Kevem was quite irritated to see the Alliance fleet get free, but the battle wasn't over yet. He gave the pursuit order immediately with a force of 798 ships, leaving behind those with disabled warp drives to continue to skirmish with the Alliance ships in the same situation.
As the fleet jumped to warp, Gul Durek spoke up, protesting, "Sir, shouldn't we begin bombardment of Darane 4?"
"To hell with Darane 4. That is not the prize of this battle, Gul Durek. That Alliance fleet's destruction is the prize."
"We chased them off, though. Clearly they are defeated!"
"No, it's more likely the Alliance Admiral simply pulled back to quickly re-organize and attack again while we moved toward Darane. But now they cannot restore their formation freely, and enough of their ships have suffered damage to their warp systems that they are slow. Some of our ships may suffer the same, but we have enough ships at full capacity to hit them immediately." Kevem dug his fingers into his chair. He wasn't about to let his glorious victory get away like that. No, he must be remembered as the Gul who crushed an entire fleet of Alliance ships. Only then was his rise to power assured.
DNS Sam Houston
About two parsecs away from Darane, with the Cardassian fleet starting to enter range, Lewis brought her fleet to a stop and was re-assembling them into a wall formation when the Cardassians came out of warp, this time at 700,000 kilometers. This slight error was taken advantage of by an immediate missile barrage from the fleet's missile ships. Since the Cardassian fleet had gone to warp hastily and were not drawn up in proper formation yet (nor could they do so fully with ships lagging behind due to damaged warp systems), so their anti-missile tactics were reduced. Twenty Cardassian ships in varying states of damage were destroyed or crippled by the attack.
Lewis waited for the enemy to get into combat range and had her fleet, again, unleash its full broadside barrage on them. Fifty-six battleships and thirteen dreadnoughts of the Allied Nations were an impressive force to behold, and this was their primary element. Heavy weapons fire lashed out at the Cardassians once more, taking advantage of the last moments of incohesion before the Cardassians managed to properly re-assemble their formations on approach. Another twenty ships were destroyed.
The Cardassians entered range and returned fire. Again their greater numbers, if reduced by the furious assault, were quite capable of causing extensive damage through volume of fire. One battleship, the Italian (SE-1) Conti di Cavour, took a hit that broke through the armored keel and hit a fuel bunkerage; the explosion it produced blew the ship to pieces and damaged nearby ships with small but fast debris.
The Cardassian formation now split itself into two, beginning to englobe Lewis' fleet. Which was precisely what she wanted them to do, considering the message she had just gotten.
CDS Strovek Ikav
Kevem watched his fleet begin to surround the Alliance fleet and he waited. He knew the commander would not remain in such a compromising position forever, which is why he was holding back 200 ships of 2nd Fleet to again harrass them upon breakout. Kevem sensed that the victory was here for the taking. With their fleet annihilated, retaking Darane - or wiping out all life on the planet - would be a simple task. Certainly the Alliance would be so demoralized from such a defeat that they would sue for peace, and if they did not.... well, they would have to be dealt with more firmly, and the Cardassian Empire would do so without any pause or mercy.
Of course, he was a little concerned with the absence of the enemy carriers. He presumed that the loss of one of them had unnerved the Alliance command and they'd been pulled back to Alliance space, perhaps placed in a position to cover the other borders or kept as a reserve. It didn't matter, in the long run. Kevem's victory here would decide the entire war.
Still.... best to be safe. "Maintain sensor sweeps, I do not want to be taken unaware."
"We are, sir, but there is a great deal of interference from jamming on both sides."
"Then form up ships to be a protective anti-fighter screen! It is not that difficult a task!"
"Y...yes Gul!"
With those maneuvers done, Kevem nevertheless decided to commit half his reserve to the attack. Strovek and the other ships joined the attack now, battering away at the Alliance fleet. They were now down to 336 effective combat vessels, a growing number of them damaged in various ways. He was down to 749, having maintained four-fifths of his initial numerical superiority. Though, granted, the need to maintain a tight enspherement would probably whittle his fleet down as they tightened their formation as closely as they could...
Another Alliance dreadnought blinked off his screen, pounded to death by his fleet. Kevem placed his hands together and was thinking of just what kind of position he would ask the Central Command to grant him when his sensor officer started shouting....
Lt. Anahita Razmara was among the leading craft of WFS-28 when they came out of warp. Her F/A-32 raced forward, one among over a thousand sent from the five Alliance carriers in the area.
Anahita's squadron commander now received attack orders from Admiral Lewis. Her computers waded through the hundreds of contacts - far too many for her to personally sort through - to find her squadron's assigned target choices. She fired her engines on full, keeping an eye out on the Cardassian ships acting as screens, which it was her job to destroy. Finding one such destroyer, which was trying to kill some of her comrades, Anahita called into the comm "Fox One!" and fired an ASM-4 that was one of two to strike the destroyer, blowing its bow off. She moved on to the next target, her squadron having been assigned to deal with enemy ships acting as anti-fighter defense so that the A-12s and FB-34s could hammer the enemy.
The fighters descended upon Kevem's formations like a ravenous horde of insects. Missiles and torpedoes closed the range quickly and tore apart ships already weakened by the fight with the Alliance fleet. The Alliance fleet noe concentrated its fire against the enemy on its starboard, literally catching a large portion of Kevem's armada in a multi-sided vice.
From his place on Strovek's bridge, Kevem was trying to account for the sudden arrival of a thousand enemy fighters, shielded from detection by effective use of ECM and the already-reduced effectiveness of sensors in the jamming used in a general fleet melee. He ordered the other side of the sphere to try and come to the aid of the side being attacked, but the Alliance fleet's formation remained such that the penetration was only causing them damage. Meanwhile the fighters were free to unleash their attacks on Kevem and the majority of what was 2nd Fleet.
"Sir, shields down to twenty percent!" a cry came out after a vicious tremor that rumbled through the Strovek. "More enemy craft inbound!"
"Evasive maneuvers! Damn you all, we can't let this stop us!"
"We need to escape!" Durek shouted. "There are too many of them!"
Kevem drove a fist into the arm of his chair. Now it was his fleet's contacts that were rapidly blinking out on his screen. It was sheer pandemonium as several squadrons were simply annihilated and others lost their command ships. The order of an entire Cardassian fleet had been reduced to frantic maneuvering and firing as small, swift Alliance fighters tore through their formations, striking with their deadly torpedoes and missiles at ships already weakened by a heated naval engagement.
His victory had been robbed from him. Kevem was too intelligent to allow himself to be deluded from that sad fact. The fighters had too much relative firepower and were able to direct it against a portion of his fleet that had drawn together to hold the enemy fleet. Even now his fleet had been reduced to less than seven hundred vessels, and many many more were becoming more and more damaged by the moment.
"Order our ships to break off. We have to regroup at the edge of the enemy fleet formation and fall back to...."
A torpedo slammed into the Strovek's bow at that moment. Kevem and his bridge crew were annihilated in a single burst of radiation and energy from the explosion the torpedo's anti-matter charge produced. The ship itself was destroyed a moment later by a missile from an A-12.
CDS Iravak
Upon the destruction of the Strovek, 5th Rank Gul Orel Kerecet became commander of 2nd Fleet. With due consideration to the newly-developed situation, her orders were immediate. "All ships retreat! Fall back!"
"Sir, Gul Palek is ordering us to hold!"
"Palek is not a commander of this fleet. Fall back to Telkur!"
DNS Sam Houston
Lewis watched the disintegration of the enemy fleet become total. In individual formations, the enemy to her starboard broke and fled. The other half of the enemy fleet was now open to attack by the fighters, which had not yet used all of their anti-ship weapons.
This second half of the fleet did not last much longer. Lewis' fleet focused its fire on them, with far less of a numerical disadvantage now, and after their fighters came up and took out another couple dozen or so of them, the second half of the fleet disengaged toward the nearest base. The fighters followed them until they went to warp before stopping.
Lewis took a moment to think about the situation. 14th Fleet had been hit hard. Little more than 260 ships remained combat effective and warp capable, with much of Task Force 5.4 also reduced in effectiveness. She was down, overall, to just about 320 ships that were still functional, though some were without warp propulsion, plus or minus a few that would be combat effective within an hour or two of repair, which she was not too concerned about.
However, the enemy had taken a hammering as well, losing a little over 360 ships in this engagement and with most or perhaps all of their ships having suffered damage ranging from weakened deflectors to lost systems and other hull damage, all of this thanks to the vicious fighter attack and the concentration of fire on the second half of the enemy after the first half retreated.
Perhaps more importantly, they were split for the moment. Roughly 375 ships had retreated back toward the main Alliance-Cardassian border region, the rest toward the Cardassian bases nominally in support of their positions in Bajor and on the Federation border, and her fleet roughly between them.
Which meant there was only one real option to take.
"Send out a request to have all stealth ships operating in the area harass the two fleets' retreat. I want all squadrons of 14th Fleet reformed immediately and focus given to patching up battle damage as quickly as possible. Re-assign ships of the 5th Fleet where it's necessary to restore the proper strength of a squadron."
"What about the carriers?"
"The carriers must remain in Darane to present an effective blocking force to prevent easy reunion of the enemy fleet. But that's not enough." Lewis put her hands together. There was too much risk that a reunion of the enemy fleet could, with reinforcements, deny the invasion of Bajor. The victory here was an empty one if she did not shatter one half or the other, and it would be better to take the half heading back toward the the Alliance-Cardassian border. "Inform HQ that 14th Fleet is pursuing the enemy and requests carrier support, likely in the area around the enemy naval post of Telkur."
"Yes Admiral."
Lewis nodded slowly and brought up the greater strategic map and a display of her surviving assets. She still had 320 ships, of which she would bring 240. Twelve squadrons to provisionally divide into two task forces, as her skillful subordinates were arranging now. Given the experience of the last three naval clashes between the Alliance and Cardassia, she would have an advantage.
Of course, she had no doubt that her Cardassian counterpart had felt the same two hours ago when the battle had started. In war, intangible variables were often the deciding factor in victory and defeat. All operations, all actions, were acts of risk. Defeat was still a possibility, but Lewis' fear of defeat would not keep her from making her victory here total with the annihilation of another Cardassian fleet.
There was a rumble through the Sam Houston as her powerful warp drive was energized. The 14th Fleet jumped to warp speed in pursuit of the enemy.
The Second Battle of Darane had ended. The Battle of Telkur had yet to be waged.
Wexford Naval Headquarters, New Liberty, ADN Colonial Zone
17:37 GST
The moment the word came from Admiral Lewis, cheering erupted in the HQ's war room. Simonov breathed a silent prayer of thanks and permitted his subordinates their joy for a moment before restoring order; their work was not yet done. Lewis had reported the division of the enemy fleet; one half retreating toward bases in Cardassia's sectors near the Federation, the other fleeing toward Telkur. She was now in hot pursuit of the latter and needed assistance.
Simonov could have ordered her to break off. But like Lewis he knew this day's victory would be hollow if they didn't render the enemy's defeat total. The initiative of the war demanded the Alliance to attack wherever possible and inflict as much damage as it could. So, with the order restored to his war room, he issued new directives. Interdiction Command's stealth ships were to harass both retreating forces while Suffren and Kuznetsov would come about and be ready to engage the enemy fleet when it got to Telkur.
DNS Suffren CVF-2, En Route Back to Alliance Space
17:42 GST
The Suffren and her escorts were returning from their successful strike on the Cardassian naval base at Telkur. The base had survived the strike that opened the war, but now it was reduced to debris. The other surviving post, Verpar, had been destroyed by Suffren's sister carrier, DNS Kuznetsov, with other attacks being carried out by the battle carriers James Doolittle, Shokaku, Frank Fletcher, and assorted lighter carriers. The attacks had been a diversion, to convince the enemy at Darane to commit his reserve and thus opening their entire fleet to one overpowering carrier strike.
Now Captain McGruder was in her office, sipping on coffee and looking through the first after-action reports to be submitted. Her XO, Commander Regina Martin, was a very thorough and punctual woman, even if McGruder didn't like her attitude at times.
A call came to McGruder's desk unit. "Captain, receiving ELF from Command."
"I'll be right there."
McGruder stood from her chair and made her way back down the hall to the Suffren's CIC. There she was met by one of the senior watch officers, Lt. Cmdr. Richard O'Connor. He motioned her to the comm, where the ELF message had come in. "These orders have been authenticated?"
"Yes Sir," the Petty Officer at the Comms replied.
"Then send short-beam transmissions to our escorts. We are to turn around and head back to the area of Telkur. Signal the Evelyn Carver to begin wide-area jamming. Command's already got jammers up all along the border again to keep the Cardies in the dark."
"Sir, why are we going back to Telkur?"
"Because it looks like the Cardies took off from Darane with their tail between their legs, not realizing that Admiral Lewis is a true-blooded Texan who won't rest until she's blown them out of the stars. She's chasing the enemy fleet back to Telkur and Command wants us there to hit them when they arrive."
O'Connor nodded. "I'll alert Commander du Plessis."
DNS Noelle Cale SS-19, 29 Light Years from Darane, Cardassian Union
19:12 GST
The Valiant-class stealth corvette was on standard patrol when the order came in from Interdiction Command to harass an enemy force fleeing from Darane toward bases in the Calrel Sector. The Noelle Cale responded immediately, and travelling at her max ECS-active speed of eleven lyphs, she soon intercepted what seemed to be a very large fleet. Easily three hundred ships too.
The ship's CO, Lieutenant Commander Eliza Roth, gave the order to attack. Alert klaxons sent the crew to their battle stations. The enemy fleet was only traveling at eight lyphs, their commander clearly concerned with not abandoning ships with damage to their warp systems.
As their attack range closed, the enemy formation began to alter. A contact blinked out on the screen. "Sir, one of the others is in range," her sensorman reported. "A Cardie destroyer just got torpedoed."
"Warp-capable torpedoes loaded, Sir," the weapons officer added. "Formulating firing solutions for potential targets."
"Enemy fleet is dispersing a bit, looks like some of their lead ships are picking up speed!"
"Increase speed, even if it means possible detection! Lock torpedoes on the heaviest enemy ship we can hit in the first five seconds! Helm, prepare for evasive maneuvers!"
The Noelle Cale increased speed immediately.
CDS Kolarak
Gul Palek responded to the report of a destroyer being torpedoed by ordering, "All ships to full speed! Prepare for evasive maneuvers!"
The Cardassian formation began to loosen as those ships that could accelerated and maneuvered to pass ships that could not. As they did so every ship also began to scan actively for enemy ships.
"Sir, picking up unknown contact heading for us!"
"Open fire!"
DNS Noelle Cale SS-19
The Cale's helm began weaving as the ship came under fire. Two torpedoes came at them and missed. But the Kolarak's neighboring ships were starting to target the Cale as well, so they had to act fast. Two warp-capable torpedoes erupted from the main tubes and headed for the Kolarak. One torpedo missed and instead re-acquired another target and impacted on a nearby Dorkarak's shields, while the other torpedo slammed into the Kolarak's shields, reducing them. A flurry of Cardassian torpedoes raced out to try and hit the now-gone anomalous reading on their sensors that had been their only knowledge of the Cale's presence. None of the shots succeeded, thankfully.
Lt. Cmdr. Roth now turned her attention back to her original target, which would be out of range in a few moments. "Fire Tubes 2, 4, 5, and 6!"
Four more torpedoes raced out of their launchers, all heading for Kolarak. Again, one missed, this time not hitting a single target. The other three, on the other hand, made impact one after the other; the third faced no shields and detonated against the port warp nacelle. In warp flight, those nacelles were filled with plasma carefully contained within magnetic fields and special alloy substances. The torpedo destroyed that containment and the plasma quickly expanded, looking very much like a conventional explosion. The Kolarak shuddered violently from the ferocious blast while, simultaneously, its warp field failed and it dropped out of warp. Ships behind it attempted to evade, but one Galor was not so lucky and plowed into the Kolarak at warp speed. Subspace physics prevented the kind of extremely catastrophic explosion that normally would have been the case with a superluminal object striking a subluminal one, but the Kolarak was still packed with anti-matter in its torpedoes and fuel bunkerage, as was the unfortunate ship that collided with it, and the resulting explosion ranked well into the gigaton range while vaporizing both vessels.
The Cale moved on to its next target. There were still a few dozen enemy ships that could not muster the speed to outrun them at safe speed, and a third and fourth ship in their wolf pack joined the attack. Some of the Cardassian squadron commanders now made an attempt to cover their slower friends, dropping back and exposing themselves to fire while trying to torpedo any anomalous reading on their sensors. The other squadron commanders, however, did not come to the aid of their slower, damaged comrades; they remained at high speed, getting out of range as quickly as possible.
The Cardassian ships had another disadvantage; they were low on torpedoes, having already expended most of their loads in the prior battle. Some of the ships were already out, having not been fully replenished prior to the battle due to a shortage of torpedoes in the base lockers; a consequence of the Alliance Interdiction Command's effectiveness. Compressor beams were virtually useless at warp, so once a ship was without torpedoes they could not fight back against the stealth ships. When able, they too went to full speed to escape the growing carnage as ship after ship was subjected to torpedo attack.
On the Cale, Lt. Cmdr. Roth was merciless in directing her ship's attack. A half-dozen attack ships were present now. Then seven. Finally one dropped off, having expended all of her warp-capable torpedoes due to her prior patrol successes. A second, the Keith Oppenheimer, met a sadder fate, getting hit by a lucky Cardassian torpedo that took out her ECS and revealed her for the Cardassians to kill with two more torpedoes.
Soon the Cale dropped back, low on warp-capable torpedoes. Others did the same. Some returned to base to rearm, others went back to their patrol. When the attack ended, forty Cardassian ships of varying class had been destroyed.
CDS Iravak, Near Telkur, Cardassian Union
22:12 GST
Gul Kerecet was now very leery. There was heavy enemy jamming everywhere, keeping them from getting comms from the Central Command. There was something very wrong, she sensed.
"Anything yet?"
"Negative, Gul. Telkur is not responding, but the enemy jamming is be interfering with both subspace radio and subspace sensors.
"Keep looking. There is something very wrong here. Get me Gul Korep of 1st Fleet."
A few moments later a static-filled image of a Cardassian man popped onto the screen. "Yes, Gul Kerecet?"
"Gul Korep, I want you to take your fleet to Tervar and see if that gets you outside of the jamming field."
"Yes, Gul. Korep out."
The 1st Fleet's surviving 68 ships broke out of the formation, leaving Kerecet with 307 warships. "Keep your eyes open...", Kerecet said to her crew.
Several minutes later, at about 22:24 GST, the Cardassian 2nd Fleet dropped out of warp. Kerecet was horrified by what popped right onto her screen.
Telkur had been a base designed to dock up to one hundred Cardassian warships, plus berths for civilian ships. Now it was nothing more than a twisted field of scorched debris. "Picking up hundreds of impulse trails," the Iravak's sensor officer reported. "It looks like it was an enemy carrier attack."
"Dammit. All ships, prepare to..."
"Enemy contacts coming out of warp above!"
In tandem, two hundred Alliance fighters exited warp about 600,000 kilometers from the Cardassian fleet. A rain of ASM-4s came down on 2nd Fleet, which now maneuvered to evade the attack.
Another two hundred fighters came in from another direction now, this time at a range of 635,000 kilometers and on the Cardassians' port/ventral arc. Again there was a flurry of ASM-4s to pummel the unprepared Cardassian fleet.
"Form anti-fighter lines! We have to break out before..."
A crash of Cherenkov radiation behind the fleet flooded the Cardassian sensors. The 14th Fleet had arrived.
DNS Sam Houston
Lewis had restrapped in her seat just minutes before the fleet came out of warp. The Cardassian fleet had split up, but there were still over three hundred targets ahead of her.
Well, not three hundred anymore. The fighters had closed rapidly and were hammering the Cardassian formation. Ship after ship, having not been given proper time for repair, suffered crippling damage.
Now the 14th Fleet added to the carnage. She split the formation in two and brought them up toward the Cardassians, angling to the sides so her heavy ships could present their powerful broadsides while lighter ships darted ahead to interfere with Cardassian attempts to break free. The mass drivers on the Houston thundered once more as space filled with the fury of the Alliance fleet.
The enemy began to try and break away, even as their numbers were swiftly cut down by the fury of the fighter attacks. Lewis ordered pursuit, naturally. She hadn't come all this way to let them off that easily.
CDS Iravak
Kerecet's reaction to the arrival of the Alliance fleet was to have her fleet break to starboard. Those ships no longer warp capable were given the order to hold fast and delay the enemy so that 2nd Fleet could make good their escape.
In response to this, Task Force 14.2 accelerated to cut the Cardassians off. Kerecet's ships focused all firepower forward, ignoring for the moment the deadly stings of the Alliance fighters so as to force a breakout. The Alliance ships were thankfully damaged as well from the fight at Darane, and a number took severe damage from Cardassian attack; Squadron 14.1.2 was swept aside as the spearhead of the Cardassian fleet broke through.
Still, the fighters buzzed about, often targeting the warp drives of their foes, and the other Task Force of the 14th Fleet adjusted to the maneuver to chase the escaping Cardassians. Kerecet kept losing ships for every shot fired, their shields long reduced from the two combats this day.
Finally she sighed with relief when Iravak was able to go to warp. A Galor beside them was torpedoed just as its warp drive energized, tearing the ship apart. But the relief turned to dread when she looked at her numbers.
Three hundred and seven ships had warped into Telkur. One hundred and twenty-four escaped.
DNS Sam Houston
Eighty Cardassian ships had been deprived of warp capability before they could flee, not counting the ships outright crippled and destroyed by attack in the short engagement. These vessels now did the one thing they could do; they kept fighting. Sam Houston rocked from a pair of torpedo hits that battered down her second-to-last deflector layer. Lewis ignored the shaking and continued to issue orders, pulling her fleet together to contain the Cardassians.
At that point the Cardassians turned to their last option: suicide. Each ship fired its impulse drives as fast as they could force them, racing toward the largest ships in the Alliance fleet. Seeing the danger already from what happened at Zygola, Lewis had arranged lighter ships to create kill zones of heavy firepower around the battle line. These proved most effective, and as the Cardassian ships were not "fresh" but heavily worn down by battle damage, most didn't even come close to succeeding. Three ships alone managed to penetrate the defense lines; only one, a Dorkarak, collided with the shields of the battleship Cutler, penetrating through and blowing out the entire starboard side of the American battleship.
With this final act, the Battle of Telkur - the epilogue itself to the great Second Battle of Darane - ended.
Command Center, Cardassia Prime, Cardassian Union
23:24 GST
Faces were somber in the meeting of the Cardassia's great war leaders. Guls Hergata and Torcet, with Gul Keve and Legate Kelataza, were standing in a central room as the final figures came in.
Gul Kevem's grand armada had been the greatest naval force Cardassia had ever sent into a singular battle. Her crews had sent letters home boasting of the victory to come, and even the demoralized veterans of Zygola and First Darane had been reassured by the size of their force. Victory had seemed pre-ordained.
But now those dreams were ash. The Bajoran Sector Fleet had been completely annihilated. 2nd Fleet had only 124 ships left, of which only about 30 did not require extensive repairs of one sort or another. 1st Fleet had survived with 68, with 40 not needing extensive repairs. The Federation Frontier Fleet had suffered the least casualties, with 42 ships lost, but again many of their number would require some repair.
One thousand and thirty-five ships had left the bases in the Calrel sector. 450 of them had survived. The disaster equaled that of the first day of the war.
"Darane is lost for good," Kelataza sighed. "We have not even begun to assess how long it will take to get the damaged ships from this defeat back into operation. We're still repairing the ships damaged in their accursed first strike and Zygola!"
"What will we have the Information Ministry say? Can we hope to effectively cover this up?" Yatar Hergata's face was paled. Relim wondered if he finally accepted just how bad the situation was and if he'd cease with his political maneuvering. "Nearly six hundred ships lost for good. Dozens, hundreds more damaged. Can our shipyards even hope to repair that many ships in any kind of effective time?"
"The strategic situation is not totally lost," Kelataza insisted. "Third Fleet is heading to Kurvak, and our fleets hammered the Alliance fleet as well. They might not be able to muster an assault on Bajor."
"Assuming, of course, that they don't simply have another fleet coming!" Relim slammed his fist on the table. "We have no true idea of their full potential!"
Keve, so far, was the only one who seemed unperturbed. He, like Relim, was a combat veteran. He knew how to remain cool under fire, real or metaphorical. "Then, Gul Relim, what do you suggest? What should we do now?"
"What do I suggest? What should we do now?! Make peace you fools!" Relim swept a hand outward. "Bajor is worthless to us! Offer an immediate, unconditional withdrawal from Bajor and the Bajoran-inhabited worlds of the area in exchange for an armistice! That is an offer the Alliance cannot turn down! Do it now, before they take Bajor themselves and we lose our one valuable bargaining chip!"
"I... I will instruct Ambassador Kercet to amend our offer to the Alliance. We will withdraw troops from Bajor itself and grant them self-autonomy in the Cardassian Union. We will keep all troops off-planet unless we need them to enforce payments of tribute."
Relim gawked at Kelataza. "That will not be enough! Give them the damned Bajorans, wash our hands of them!"
"I will not just voluntarily give up worlds held by Cardassian troops, worlds on which Cardassian troops have bled." Kelataza glared angrily at him. "Nor would the Central Command."
"Give them Bajor now before they take it!"
"Third Fleet will prevent that. It is fresh, undamaged, and the Alliance fleet is battle-worn. No, I will not give away our territory so easily."
"Legate, with all due respect..."
"Silence, Gul Torcet! Do not forget your place!" Kelataza turned to Keve. "Gul Keve, any ideas on redeployment to make up for losses?"
"We could pull out of the Ulithra Sector, leave the ruins to the Talarians. I'm also attempting to organize a 4th Fleet, but it won't be ready for another three weeks. Until then..."
"Until then we have only 3rd Fleet. It will have to do." Kelataza and Relim exchanged another glare before Kelataza banged his hand on the table. "You are all dismissed to return to your duties."
As they left, something occurred to Relim. Something that he'd been waiting for, yet dreaded.
For the first time, Kelataza had not ended the meeting with an exhortation presuming Cardassian victory.
So here we go. More fighting at Dolan, with a bombing operation calculated to help evacuate the city's children to reduce strain on their food supplies, and coincidentally to inflict more loss on the Cardassian siege lines. It could also be called "Big Steve thinks of another way to introduce modern-style warfare to make Cardassians die hideous deaths".
The scene of the police detectives interviewing Asako and Sophia was added for the 5th Anniversary, to elaborate on the plot involving ARAL and to set up what became "Where Trust Lies". By this point I'd decided on Mayuko as the other protagonist of that story. In keeping with a playful habit of mine, she's physically a homage to the character Yuna from Final Fantasy X and Final Fantaxy X-2, with the complete heterochromia of her eyes and such. Fun fact: I'd initially considered her for a Dominion War story where she'd be one of the ship COs in a flotilla of ADN attack ships like the Sculpin and Pobeda. Said story was inspired by reading Clay Blair's works on the U-Boats and the US Pacific submarine campaign... and because I was conceiving of stories for the aborted "A War Like No Other" anthology based on Sabaton music. (Said anthology had only one entry, "The Thundering of Guns", about the start of the Interuniversal War that would've been the focus of the anthology).
But the crux of this chapter is the Second Battle of Darane, the biggest naval battle of the war. The Cardassians gave themselves an unintentional boost by deciding to throw Torcet's strategy to the wayside, thus underming the ADN's own trap given the ADN is reading their naval code. They were further aided by the overall commander of the carrier force being immensely cautious and conservative, refusing to commit his fighters until the time was right even though all indications were the enemy was not fighting according to expectation.
The 5th Anniversary Edition elaborated upon Stark's behavior by highlighting the internal politics of the ADN Stellar Navy, namely the infighting between "Carrier Admirals" and "Wall Admirals". The latter favor battle walls of dreadnoughts, believing that point-defense systems can blunt any attempted carrier strikes, while the former believe that carriers should be the point of the spear with even newer technology making them more formidable too. In fluff I would go even further on this and other inter-service rivalries, like the Stellar Navy building a carrier specifically to steal the operational role of the Aerospace Force's Bomber Command (@Tyanna of Pentos provided the quotable line of "A class solely designed for interservice warfare"). The next chapter will reflect on it as well.
Of course, in the end, the Fleet Admiral intervened, the carriers launched their sorties, and once again, carrier fighters dispensed an ass-beating. The Cardassian fleet's division further ruined it as it allowed Lewis to pursue one section and, with the aid of other carrier forces, further damage that partition of the Cardassian force at Telkur. The Second Battle of Darane thus goes down as a major victory, albeit a costly one, for the ADN. And now the road looms open for Operation: Crusader and the invasion of Bajor.
Well, presuming the Cardassian 3rd Fleet doesn't interrupt.
Next time, we get more bombing, more failed peace attempts, Federation peace activists acting like, well, like militant peace activists we're familiar with (and apparently I birthed an entire anti-UFP fic meme with this too), the introduction of another likeable Cardassian commander, and finally.... for your humor, a Feddie reporter meets the USMC.
Wexford Naval Headquarters, New Liberty, ADN Colonial Zone
5 December 2153 AST
01:30 GST
Admiral Simonov and the other service chiefs in Universe ST-3 were holding their usual post-battle briefing, enjoying a breakfast due to the time in Wexford. "Losses were... severe," Vice Admiral Conrad Poniatowski, Simonov's Chief of Staff, informed them. "One hundred and eighty warships alone were lost in the general engagement at Darane. 14th Fleet lost another forty-eight ships at Telkur. Large portions of 14th Fleet are going to need serious repair work done."
"Kensington and New Liberty bases are still working on some of the ships damaged at Zygola. We'll have to send them back through the New Liberty Gates." Simonov frowned. "This will interfere with our timetable for the invasion of Bajor."
"We must invade soon. I sent the order for deployment to Darane out right after we heard of the Cardassians fleeing from the main battle." General Lumet took a sip of coffee while eyeing his unfinished crossiant. "No later than the 12th."
"The 10th would be better," Polk insisted. "My people are ready to commence bombings on their attack craft bases on Bajor. And according to what we've heard, the Cardassians are finally breaking through the first trench line around Ikila. If they sack Ikila, the morale blow to the Bajoran Resistance would be devastating."
"Can we make the 10th with so many assets from 5th and 14th Fleets out of action?" Crawford looked to Simonov with skepticism. "Intel says the Cardies are moving another big fleet up to Kurvak. We'll need firepower to take them out."
"Don't worry about the fleet at Kurvak, my bombers will deal with them," Polk said.
Simonov steepled his hands together. "As we speak, additional ships meant to form 9th Fleet are starting to transit. Given 14th Fleet's current position, we should pull them back to Corwich and allow 9th Fleet to take up the position at Darane."
"I suspect the High Command won't be very pleased if we let 9th Fleet get smashed up too," Crawford muttered. "Battleships don't grow on trees!"
"We still have enough to bloody the Cardassians again, and I think they'll be licking their wounds for a long time after this last fight," Poniatowski replied. "And in a week or so, some of the ships damaged at Zygola should become available again. The crews at Kensington and New Liberty are working around the clock to get those ships back in action."
There were nods all around. After some more considerations were discussed, Simonov came to the most important item of the meeting. "So, shall we ask Washington for a preliminary green light on Operation: Crusader?"
Every head nodded. In five days, the liberation of Bajor would begin.
Before his day could end, Simonov had one more matter to attend to. He made his way to his office and was present for the private communication coming from the Sam Houston, currently on its way home from the Battle at Telkur. Admiral Lewis appeared on the screen, looking tired with her combat rush over. "Admiral, my congratulations on your victory," he said cheerfully. "You will win the Navy Cross for this."
"I thank you for your consideration, Sir. However, I didn't call to receive your accolades but to make a request of you."
"Yes, Admiral?"
"Line Admiral Stark." Lewis' expression darkened. "With due respect on the issue of authority to do so... I want him court-martialed for what he did."
Simonov frowned deeply. "What do you mean?"
"You know perfectly well what I mean. I requested, twice, carrier support. The enemy reserve had engaged. Despite this, and despite the fact that I issued him an order as his superior officer, he refused to attack, insisting he needed orders from you first, and through his petulant behavior he caused unnecessary losses to the fleet. Thousands of good men and women died because of that son of a bitch."
"He was actiing under orders, Admiral. Now, I am going to be charitable and I will presume the adrenaline rush from battle has ended for you, leaving you tired and not thinking things through. I will not tolerate attempts at backbiting each other. Admiral Stark's actions will be considered during review of the After Action Reports. Until that time I expect you to behave appropriately, Admiral, otherwise I will find a new commander for the 14th Fleet. That is all." He killed the line before Lewis could say anything, and thus mandate that removal and all the horrible repercussions that would come from it.
Had Stark acted inappropriately? No. Had he acted properly? That was debatable. Simonov had felt doubt too on whether the Cardassians had truly engaged their reserves but, when it came down to it, war was about making gambles and taking calculated risks. He'd made it clear to Stark that he should move if the circumstances demanded. That he hadn't, well, Stark would be back soon and Simonov could discuss the matter with him privately.
Simonov saw something more dire in this than just the disagreement between Stark and Lewis. They each represented one half of the growing divide in the Stellar Navy, the "Carrier Admirals" versus the "Wall Admirals". It was a result of the diversity of universes where different forms of superluminal drives, different technological paradigms, had developed. His own home universe of SE-1 was at about the mid-point in that particular spectrum, but in the others, the ongoing conglomeration of technologies from every nation in the Alliance had sparked the heated debate on whether carrier-centric forces or battle line-centric forces were the appropriate path to take. Stark, in his position of using carriers for strike missions instead of a direct, open battle, had gone into the tactical and strategic thinking of the former camp. As an admiral of the Texan Star Navy of Universe FHI-8, Lewis had been trained and educated in an entirely different environment, one that emphasized the clash of mighty dreadnought-starships. Not too surprising for the first of the known universes to develop warships of over 50 megatonnes dead-weight-tonnage.
If Second Darane became yet another point of contention between the two camps, well, that was not a division the Stellar Navy could easily afford, not when it was fighting with the Aerospace Force for funding in various roles that both services laid claim to, nor when it was trying to win the support and closer cooperation of the national navies which tended to support one side or the other. Simonov could only hope they managed to avoid such an outcome.
With the day having been long, it was time to retire, and so Simonov did, arranging transport to his nearby quarters for a good night's rest. He would be able to sleep soundly all things considered, as he knew that with their costly victory at Darane the Alliance was well on the way to winning the war.
Cardassian Mechanized Detachment Field HQ, Bajor, Cardassian Union
01:50 GST
Forty kilometers to the northwest of Splendid Ikila, Gul Severak surveyed the ruined husk of the Bajoran farming town Keytala. In front of him, his troops surged forward toward the Bajorans' second trench line. He smiled smugly, even if Prefect Koral had chewed him out a mere half day ago about how long it was taking to get to Ikila.
The Bajorans had used weapons from all corners of the quadrant, including - most devastatingly - munitions and weapons from extrauniversal sources. Anti-tank weapons, mortars, and heavy machine guns had repulsed every attempt by Severak's forces to break through upon their arrival at the trenches. They even had some light artillery that had devastated his first initial attempt to break the trench line ten kilometers to the northeast.
But the Bajorans were not professionals and allowed their emotional attachments to get the better of them. Instead of placing their line more firmly in the farmlands to the southeast of Keytala, they had tried to defend it long enough for the children and infirm to escape. Severak had exploited this in the past day by using small teams of his best troops to infiltrate their positions and destroy machine gun nests, mortars, and other key parts of their defense, after which his forces hit the city with three waves that finally broke the defenders. Now the survivors were fleeing to the second line while Severak's forces poured through the gap, spreading out to cut off the other sections of Bajoran trench from Ikila and forcing the evacuation of those trench sections.
Still, there were two trenchlines to go, and the terrain for the second was even better. Severak would have to find a way to break the lines quickly lest he lose more men.
Paris, Earth, United Federation of Planets
08:29 GST
President Tobis' face turned pale as he read Dayton's preliminary report on the second engagement at Darane. "That many ships lost?"
"At least five hundred if you count the Cardassian 2nd Fleet's apparent losses at Telkur. We're not completely sure yet on the total scale, of course. That could take a few days."
Tobis turned to his media head, Corina Montelbano of the Press Relations Secretariat. "How will the Cardassians respond to this? A cover-up of losses?"
"Perhaps. They may exaggerate Alliance losses as well. I would suggest we do the same, unless you want people to think it was a great Alliance victory."
"Yes, public acknowledgement of the fall of Cardassian power might interfere with our negotiations with the Cardassians. If the public loses their fear of Cardassian power they might not be as amenable to the planned terms."
"Still planning on giving up systems to the Cardassians?" Dayton's voice betrayed his dislike of the policy.
"If it is the price of peace, so be it. The idiots should've known better than to move to that region or to stay there, especially with what happened during Jirvshk's reign." Tobis sighed and put his PADD on his desk. "In other news, Admiral, we need Starfleet Intelligence to help back our new approach to the Gytep business."
"Oh? In what way, Mister President?"
Tobis looked to Montelbano. She looked to Dayton in turn and said, "The idea is to tell the people that this was the fault of the Alliance. Their government sent weapons to the area of Gytep to convince us that Gytep was a terrorist camp, knowing we would tell the Cardassians and the Cardassians might try something that could be used as pretext for a war. This way the Alliance Government would get the war with Cardassia it wanted but without being seen as overtly aggressive."
Dayton's expression changed to show bewilderment. "What? That's preposterous! There are far better ways they could have done that than setting up Gytep!"
"Clearly they underestimated the Cardassians' capabilities," Tobis said.
"I've told you before, those weapons were sent to Mwinyiburg as a matter of law!"
"The people of the Federation don't know that," Montelbano pointed out. "And even if they did, it just goes to reinforce the image of the Alliance and extrauniversal Humanity as being a pack of brutal savages thirsting for war and killing. In fact, we intend to emphasize that their Humanity is inherently violent toward alien races in our press releases. This has the further benefit of being potentially harmful to Alliance interests in other non-human states."
"Furthermore, in the matter on hand, it would look convenient to the Alliance plot anyway, if weapons had to be sent to Mwinyiburg under law. It gives them plausible deniability."
Dayton sighed. Some things never changed, and he knew at this point that Tobis was desperate to deliver a success to the Party Central Committee to keep them from removing him later. "Anything else, Sir?"
"Nothing at the moment. Now, if you'll excuse me, Ambassador Kercet will be here later. He wants me to arrange another meeting with Ambassador Parmika. You are dismissed, Admiral."
Washington D.C., Earth, Alliance of Democratic Nations
Universe Designate HE-1
18:50 GST
Mamatmas was at his desk in the Oval Office, Defense Minister Rathbone and Security Advisor Takahara seated in front of him. On his desk was the Alliance Council's newest resolution, a defense budget increase of $250 trillion ADN for the war effort. Mamatmas' signature was redundant - it had passed overwhelmingly and was beyond his power to veto - but there was no reason for him to not sign it.
Of course, the budget made him think of other things. This was not what he had wanted. The Alliance's long-term defense planning centered around the ten year program of infrastructure upgrade and R&D projects. There were still dozens of new technologies, particularly in the naval fields, that were going to come on the line in the next ten or so years, and it had been deemed better to invest in the long-term capability for a buildup with a modernized fleet than to pursue a larger fleet in the short-term and risk it being technologically inferior within a generation.
As Chancellor, Mamatmas had led the Council in establishing the short-lived Commission on Naval Strategy, bypassing the obstructionist and overtly anti-navy Plotinikov Administration, chaired by a personal acquaitance and respected naval officer from the USSN (Universe HE-1), Vice Admiral Robert Dale. The "Dale Commission", as it had been called, spent the entirety of 2148 researching the Alliance's known and potential defensive requirements and recommended to the Council the partial naval re-armament, infrastructure upgrade, and R&D funding that was adopted in bits and pieces under Plotinikov before Jennifer Verdes became President and implemented the entire measure. The goal was to be ready to implement a full-scale naval mobilization with an upgraded, state-of-the-art fleet by the 2161 Fiscal Year.
But now that could be placed in jeopardy, if the war lasted too long or too much damage was done to the Alliance fleet. Yes, contingencies had been made in the plan to raise the actual fleet and military by up to fifty percent for emergencies, but nearly half of that contingency had already been put into use in the previous year after Wolf 359 and the perceived need to increase the fleet. The sum before him would completely fill the contingency and then some.
Mamatmas did not want to place the long-term security of the Alliance in jeopardy. As such, the war had to be brought to an end as quickly as possible, with preferably as few losses as possible. "Gentlemen, is the assault on Bajor do-able?"
"For the moment, yes. Yesterday's battle has eliminated the bulk of the Cardassian fleet in the region."
"Yet there were fleet movements to Kurvak according to our intercepts. Another five hundred ships. Are we in shape for another fleet fight?"
"Marshal Polk is planning an attack by aerospace force assets to hit that enemey fleet before it can interfere." Rathbone sipped at tea. "And elements of 9th Fleet are transiting the New Liberty Gates. Admiral Simonov and staff are assigning them to Darane and redeploying 14th Fleet's functional ships to Corwich. There might be some further shuffling of ships down the line, of course, but right now we're looking at three to four task forces of ships from 5th and 9th Fleets being available to support the landings at Bajor. And the distance between Bajor and Darane is small, so an enemy attempt on Darane during the landings can be dealt with."
Mamatmas nodded. "And all of the troops will be ready by then?"
"They're on the way to Darane right now."
"But they want to move the landing up to the 10th. We're making the schedule tight as it is. I'm not sure haste is the answer to this situation."
Takahara spoke up now."We should consider the situation on Bajor, Mister President. Dolan can possibly hold out with continued transport drops, but Ikila is under a direct assault by a large, professional Cardassian force, and in terrain that doesn't limit their movement greatly. Even with the weapons they managed to smuggle in and whatever we can bring in, they'll be lucky to hold out a week."
"Can't airstrikes blunt the Cardassians?"
"The Aerospace Force is running at maximum tempo already and the Cardassians' elite forces have far more heavy weapons that could be used in an anti-aircraft fashion. Airstrikes are not considered likely to stop the Cardassian advance without supporting ground forces."
Mamatmas nodded. "Well, that's everybody then. The Service Chiefs have signed off on Simonov's request to set the invasion for the 10th of December. Tell him he has the green light."
Paris, Earth, United Federation of Planets
Universe Designate ST-3
6 December 2153 AST
12:29 GST
Ambassador Kerecet and President Tobis were both rather surprised to hear the cackling that came from Ambassador Parmika. The Greek-born British ambassador tossed the PADD back to the table. "Gentlemen, is this some kind of bad joke?"
"It's no joke Ambassador."
"You could have fooled me, Ambassador Kerecet." Parmika's grin faded. "How is this much better than what you showed me last time? 'Self-autonomy'! Please! You'd put your flunkies in charge and then move troops back in the instant the Bajorans did something that displeased you."
"Our terms have not changed, Ambassador Kerecet." Parmika stood. "Your government will be well-advised to accept them now, before this war continues and we can find any more... questionable things that could make us rethink our terms. Good day, gentlemen."
Parmika left as he had done before. Kerecet turned to Tobis. "Are you going to allow them to get away with that?"
"I'll file a complaint with the Alliance Foreign Ministry. If Ambassador Parmika's behavior continues, I may demand he be recalled."
"I'm not talking about that pompous fool, President!" Kerecet placed his hand on the table. "The Alliance is a threat to both of us! You need to bring the Federation into the war on our side!" Kerecet tapped the PADD on the table. "We may even cede some of our claims on the border if the Federation sends Starfleet to fight beside us."
"I'll have to talk to the Federation Council about it, but I can't make any promises."
Kerecet responded to that with a sneer. He knew full well the Federation would never intervene in the war. The pacifists that Cardassia had so adroitly exploited this past decade had no stomach for war, and the other factions had no love for Cardassia to support such a conflict. It was a sad irony to him that the very timidity and craven behavior that Cardassia had found such use for was now backfiring on them, leaving them alone to fight the Alliance. "Then I'll be speaking with you again sometime, President." He walked out, leaving Tobis to brood.
San Francisco, Earth, United Federation of Planets
13:15 GST
After catching another suborbital shuttle from Paris to San Francisco - he hated METting or "beaming" as the locals called it - Ambassador Parmika was in an aircar twisting through the streets of San Francisco.
When the Alliance Embassy came into view after a turn, Parmika sighed. Dozens, perhaps hundreds of PAPAL activists and protestors were milling around the Embassy, nearly barricading its doors. Parmika rolled his eyes at the various anti-war placards - "End the racist war against Cardassia!", "Alliance Leaders = War Criminals", and such were prominent - and watched as the protesters started throwing things at his aircar while it slipped past. Starfleet Security had set up a forcefield along his entrance route, meaning nothing could actually hit the car. Nevertheless, it was irritating.
Far less fortunate were the people trying to enter the Embassy. Some were from the Alliance, on Earth for various purposes, and others were Federation citizens either coming to work as native embassy staff or looking into visas to enter an Alliance member nation. The crowd showed no restraint, screaming abuse and hurtling small objects and such at the people while they strained against the physical barricades that Starfleet Security had erected. A platoon of Starfleet Security officers were present everywhere, monitoring the protest and keeping the protesters off the barricades. Inside the Embassy walls there was better deterrent to the protestors; a squad of Alliance Marines carrying MP-10s, which the protesters also screamed hatred for. The Alliance had, after all, "desecrated" the peaceful sanctity of Earth and its paradise by bringing "weapons of hate" to their Embassy, making a "mockery" of diplomacy - or so was being screeched by the PAPAL activist currently leading the revolt. "Say 'No!' to Racism!" the young man screeched, a fist raised up. "Say 'No!' to War! Say 'No!' to these brutal warmongers!"
This had been the status quo at the Embassy since Gytep had been attacked. And Parmika didn't see it ending any time soon, though he was going to call up Starfleet and once again demand forcefield protection for people trying to actually enter the Embassy. This time he figured he'd put a little more threat behind it, since by interstellar law they had to ensure the Embassy could be peacefully operated, and it was clear that physical barricades simply wasn't cutting it.
Camp Goodman, Krellor, ADN Colonial Zone
15:00 GST
Some of the officers and men of the 3rd Marine Regiment, 2nd Marine Division of the United States Marine Corps (Universe SE-1), were seated in their barracks' rec room. About forty Marines in all, with every eye turned toward Peter Crocker, a reporter from the Federation State Press. Though most Federation reporters had been denied permission to become embedded journalist, considered unreliable for their service's clear political leanings and some potential connections to Cardassian intelligence, they were allowed to conduct interviews with personnel not yet in combat or deploying for combat.
Crocker was seated with a platoon's Gunnery Sergeant, Jules Gibbons, while the other men watched or chipped in answers. Gibbons' skin was several shades darker than Crocker's, and his apparent youth belied the fact that he'd been a Marine for something on the order of thirty-five years. He and his men were all in normal uniforms as opposed to BDUs, wanting to look somewhat good for their host. Gibbons hid his own disagreement with his officers' decision to accomodate Crocker as well as he could.
The discussion had initially been simply on what the Marines did, but now Crocker was asking, "So, you are not specifically Alliance Marines?"
"That is correct," Gibbons said slowly and deliberately, hiding some impatience. "We're United States Marine Corps, not Alliance Marine Corps."
"What's the difference, if I might ask?"
"Well, for one thing, no Colour Sergeants. The Alliance Corps chose to use that since it's a British Royal Marine rank and they wanted to give the Brits some little token since most of the AMC was gonna be American anyway." Gibbons smirked at that. "We call E-6s Staff Sergeants."
"And?"
"Furthermore, in peacetime we do not answer directly to President Mamatmas and the Alliance military. Our Commander-in-Chief is President Lucas Trimble of the United States of America Universe Designate SE-1. Our senior officer is Marine Corps Commandant Patrick Jones and, unlike our AMC counterparts, we are not an independent service but operate under the jurisdiction of the Department of the Navy. You gettin' all of this, son?"
"So.... you didn't sign up with the Alliance military?"
"Nope."
"Then why are you here?"
"The laws of the Alliance clearly state that in time of war the Alliance Government can call upon the national armed services for duty under Alliance command."
"And how do you feel about that?" Crocker was jotting something down on his PADD. "Your government didn't declare war but you're being forced to fight anyway."
"The United States Government did not have to declare war, as the duly elected Representative of the United States to the Alliance Council voted on our behalf. The same representative half of the men in this room re-elected a month ago."
"Still, your national leaders didn't get a say in this war." Crocker continued jotting down notes. "Clearly you must feel a little apprehensive that your government was forced to go to war by the decisions of others."
"That's how the system works, Crocker. Our voters knew that when they voted to accept the Alliance Constitution. Besides, some of us voted for Mamatmas too when he was running for Chancellor, so it's not like he's an unelected official like, oh, your President Tobis?"
"Come on, you must feel something about being compelled into this war. It's not your own, your nation doesn't even have holdings in our galaxy!"
"But other members of the Alliance do. That's all that matters. The Allied Nations have to stick together."
"Seriously, you're being forced to fight Cardassia! Their army is one of the most feared in the entire quadrant!" Crocker scratched at his forehead, as if he were trying to get a certain response. "Don't you have anything to say about that? About being forced to risk your lives against all of those elite Cardassian soldiers?"
Gibbons smiled at that. It wasn't a pleasant smile, but a predatory one, as if he'd just been given an excellent opening to devour some kind of prey. "Well, Crocker, I'll tell you what my Marines and I think about having to fight the Cardassians. It has to be between you and me, now. No babbling to our superior officers. Okay?"
Crocker's nod was almost too eager. He leaned forward, hungry for what he thought he was going to hear, some material to send back home on anti-war sentiments in the Alliance military or such.
"I think.... THAT WE'RE GOING TO KILL THOSE CARDIE MOTHER FUCKERS!!! OOH-RAH!"
The shout literally threw Crocker back into his seat. Gibbons jumped to his feet as his men chanted "OOH-RAH!" over and over again. "We're gonna make those mother fuckers wish they were never fucking born! We're going to kick their asses across the fucking quadrant!" He pointed to one of his men, who turned on a music system which began to blare a military march soon identifiable as "The Marines' Hymn."
"From the Halls of Montezuma,
To the Shores of Tripoli;
We fight our country's battles
In the air, on land, and sea;
First to fight for right and freedom
And to keep our honor clean;
We are proud to claim the title
Of UNITED STATES MARINES."
And at that Gibbons was smiling. It wasn't every day a Gunny got to pull a prank, after all, and getting to lure and reel in a Feddie reporter was certainly an occasion that would make for good barracks fodder one day.
As for Crocker, his reaction - upon his recovery of breath - was to turn a bit pale and to be in a state of utter disbelief. "Fanatics," Crocker breathed to himself as they continued singing.. "They're worse than Klingons!"
13th Provisional Order HQ, Bajor, Cardassian Union
23:12 GST
Seated alone in his command office was an older Cardassian man of respectable height and build. 4th Rank Gul Ikval Luvar was a hardened veteran of many wars against foreign enemies and rebels alike. A stern disciplinarian, he was nevertheless respected by the men under his command, a motley mix of raw conscripts from various colonies and older professional soldiers without the benefit of battlefield exploits or political connections to bolster them to higher command. He kept them sternly drilled, having the older veterans teach the young soldiers appropriate battle tactics and firing discipline, and was known among the rough 10,000 men of his unit for walking around with a stick to support his limp right leg, a stick he often lifted and swung around while speaking to his troops.
Luvar himself had a few political connections, mostly in the field personnel who knew of his abilities as a commander, which was why he was in command of an entire Order despite his personal lack of "political qualities". These connections also ensured him protection from his known resistance to Cardassia's less... dignified orders toward the Bajoran population. He had forbidden the establishment of "troop service" that the other Orders were known for; the controversial practice enraged local Bajorans for its theft of local womenfolk to be forced into what amounted to sexual slavery - in other jurisdictions the taking of women and young teenage girls had usually led to violent resistance. Instead he encouraged his troops to nurse relationships with other Cardassian women instead or to abstain until their tours ended. He had also done his best to protect the Bajorans of his region - the Kevima Valley - from higher authorities seeking to conscript labor or worse. The local Resistance cells had a grudging respect for the man and often left his troops alone, concentrating on other Orders with lesser commanders.
His secretary beeped in to inform him of a new arrival. Gul Luvar stood and returned the salute of his new Chief of Staff, 1st Rank Glin Kavel Damar. Damar was a younger officer, formerly in starship service but without any strong political connections. Luvar had liked his record for loyalty and competence and had asked for him after Damar's ship was lost to Alliance attack ships a week ago. With the Central Command convinced an invasion was imminent and the supply lines to Bajor nearly severed by the Alliance's infernal cloak ships, all available personnel had been diverted to the army. "Glin Damar reporting for duty, Gul."
"Welcome, Glin. I take it you've had time to look over my standing orders to the 13th Provisional Order?"
"Yes, Gul."
"Good." Luvar returned to his seat. "Please, come and sit. I have jevel, the finest grown on Ibaravak."
"Thank you." Accepting the mild stimulant drink Luvar offered from the pot beside his desk, Damar took his seat. "I want you to know, Sir, that no matter what happens, I am honored to serve with you. The 13th Provisional Order has the best rating of any provisional unit in the Defense Forces."
"Thank you, Glin." Luvar sighed. "Damned fools in Central Command. This world is not worth a war, and certainly not now, with our fleet badly damaged and our reputation ruined."
"But if we withdraw, certainly other worlds would be emboldened to revolting."
"Let them. We could easily defeat those revolts, and on many of those worlds our supporters have far better appeal than our supporters here on Bajor."
Damar nodded. "I don't take it the Prefect agrees. And I heard grumbling on Terok Nor that you were too soft on the Bajorans around here."
"You mean I don't let my men seize every pretty Bajoran wench they find for their personal pleasure. And I don't let the labor conscriptors take away workers in this area. And, finally, I make my men pay for their goods instead of stealing them." Luvar snorted. "This isn't some poor urban city, Glin. Kevima Valley is a patchwork of fishing and farming villages and towns. The locals here care more for their soil than they do for Bajoran independence, at least right now, and every man and woman is crucial to maintaining their way of life. They don't have teeming masses of unemployed or barely employed urban-dwellers to haul off to the factories, farms, and mines. So long as we let them live in peace and buy their goods fairly they will be content and we will have no problems."
"Until the Alliance invades."
Luvar smiled and nodded at that. "Yes, until the Alliance invades. Then, I fear, we might very well die for the pride of the Central Command."
Bomber Atomic Dolphin, Near Bajor
7 December 2153 AST
03:15 GST
The Atomic Dolphin and her squadron came out of warp some distance from Bajor, approaching from the system's zenith point with ECS systems active. In the cockpit, Sheppard finished securing from warp flight and orientated the bomber properly. "Pilot to Bombardier, program weapons."
"Aye, Sir."
Inside the Atomic Dolphin's bomb bay, three impulse boosters had been loaded. Each carried five re-entry missiles with non-atomic warheads meant for surgical strikes. The boosters were locked on specific areas, the missiles on specific targets: enemy bases and attack craft facilities. "Weapons programmed."
"Open bay doors. Launch when ready."
Kevep Sor, Bajor, Cardassian Union
Kevep Sor was a base near the city of Luvia, the home of the Cardassian 1,329th Planetary Defense Force and the 203rd Provisional Order. Altogether, some 25,000 Cardassians lived and worked in the facility, as well as an additional few hundred "native" workers, mostly of half-Cardassian and half-Bajoran heritage or "trusted" Bajorans (not counting the two hundred or so Bajoran girls forced to live in the base bordello).
The base was on medium alert now, contending both with the threat of invasion and the Alliance sorties to support the Bajoran rebel cities. Most of the native workers were now under close watch and would soon be dismissed. Even the bordello was to be closed down, though not before one last night of carousing by the troops in the base, who were taking the time to make some final use of the Bajoran girls they had available.
But suddenly, all activity was ended by the shrill cry of an alarm. A shield dome popped into existance over Kevep Sor as everyone rushed to evacuate the base or to launch the attack craft. There was a sudden explosion in the air over Kevep Sor, from a missile warhead hitting the shield dome. Then another explosion, and another...
The shield finally gave; three missiles came down through the dome and toward the base. Multiple explosive warheads were fired out just as the missile came into optimum height, raining a series of vicious explosions that spared nothing. Buildings, unshielded attack craft, and living flesh were vaporized, blasted apart, or scorched by the tremendous blast.
The saddest thing is that the explosions did not discriminate in their killing. In the barracks building holding the troops' bordello, which was hit directly by one of the warheads, Bajoran girls weeping at their renewed humiliation died along with the Cardassians who were violating them.
Within minutes, Kevep Sor had been turned from a thriving military base to a mix of ruins and structures lucky to survive the blasts. Thousands were now dead and the base no longer had worth to the Cardassian defenses.
Camp Gapaka, Darane, Alliance Liberation Zone
12:15 GST
Camp Gapaka was the prefab barricks facility set up by the 555th Division when it arrived on Darane on the 6th. It was named after Vedek Gapaka Levip, the founder of the first Bajoran expatriate community in the Federation and one of the spiritual founders of the Bajoran Resistance, making the intent of the unit clear.
The unit was only half disembarked from the troop transport assigned to it, the Francis Conway, giving all of the troops sufficient room while maintaining readiness to launch the instant the order was given. The unit was on constant standby for re-embarkment and the mood among the soldiers was optimistic.
One irony of the situation was that roughly three-fifths of the unit's Bajorans had little to no memories of Bajor at all. They had either moved to the Federation with their families while they were still young or they were born in the Federation and had only heard stories of Bajor. To them, Bajor was semi-mythical, some unreal place their parents or grandparents longed to return to. It might have well been Heaven to them, albeit a Heaven currently controlled by demons. A Heaven they were about to reclaim.
Laying in a prefab barracks just outside the Conway's main hatch, Private Lorva Korvys was typing on a personal laptop, writing a letter to his wife back in the town of Little Hook on Corwich. Above him on the upper bunk, Private Opel Tevil was just laying and toying with his unloaded sidearm. Finally Tevil twisted to look down and said, "Korvys, still writing home?"
"Yes."
"Ah." Tevil turned again and faced the low ceiling. "I wonder how much longer until we go?"
"Beats me."
"You've never been to Bajor, right?"
"I was three years old when my aunt and uncle smuggled me with them to the refugee settlement on Sovel. I can barely remember anything about Bajor. Devys, though, she was almost a teenager when she left. So she remembers a lot more than I do."
"Devys being your wife?"
"Wife of four years, yes." Korvys sighed. Tevil heard one last tap of the keyboard before the snapping sound of the laptop computer closing. "From Little Hook, right?"
"No, I settled with the parents in Wypl Losa. A hundred or so miles up the coast from Little Hook, right on the sea."
"Ah. So you didn't see many of the local Humans?"
A sly grin crossed Tevil's face. "Oh, I did. Wypl Losa might be a bit isolated, but we have a small Human population, mostly the people responsible for setting up the local schools and such. And some of them brought very beautiful daughters."
A chuckle came from below. "Ah. So you're into Human girls?"
"Not too different from our own. And they love wearing very little when they're at the beach." Tevil had fond memories in his head of a couple of those girls he was most successful with, a blonde-haired beauty and a spunky, short brunette.
"But no family for you yet."
"I'm only nineteen, I'll get to it."
Korvys finished packing his laptop away and laid on his bunk, arms under his head. "Devys and I got together when we were eighteen. We had Uliya about a year later."
"If you've got a little girl, why'd you enlist?"
"Because I, well, I..."
"You got caught up in the 'We'll free Bajor one day!' sentiment, I guess?"
Korvys grinned at that. "Maybe a bit. But I also felt that I'd be helping to protect my family and maybe get some good pay in the process. And when I was eligible, I was going to sign up for OCS so that I could get transferred to the Corwich Militia as an officer."
"Oh, that's nice. Get some bars on your shoulder."
"And what about you? Why'd you enlist?"
Tevil shrugged. "Recruiter talked me into it. Said I could get a free college education, and the signing bonus they offered helped pay for my family's new home."
"Didn't bother with the charities?"
"Nah. Besides, things were boring at home anyway."
At that moment their Staff Sergeant, an older Human of light brown complexion named Weathers, entered and announced the daily mail call, leading to everyone standing and saluting. The soldiers had very limited real-time communication with their family, and almost no access to A/V comms due to limited communication bandwidth for the unit; such was the drawback of being in the field.
After some other names were called, Sergeant Weathers bellowed, "Lorva! Korvys Lorva!"
Korvys got off the bunk and accepted the small slip of paper from Weathers. He pulled it open from where the Division Postmaster had applied adhesive to seal it upon printing and sat down on the bunk. Tevil peered over the side. "Letter from the wifey?"
Korvys didn't reply at first. Instead he slowly lowered the letter and stared off into space. Some of the other soldiers laying and sitting nearby noticed the look on his face. "Hey, Korvys, what is it?" one of them said.
"It's a letter from my wife Devys. She's.... she's pregnant."
Applause came from all corners. Tevil reached down and slapped Korvys on the shoulder. Korvys just continued to stare blankly, coming to grips with the happy but unexpected news. He reached into his things and brought out the picture he kept from the day he finished boot camp and saw Devys for the first time in weeks. He was in uniform, she was in a sleeveless blue blouse, and their little girl Uliya was in his arms, wearing a cute little yellow dress and with the same dark blonde hair Devys had.
Tevil reached back down and put a hand on Korvys' shoulder. "Hey, Korvys, you're gonna make it. Don't worry."
"Yeah." He continued to look at the picture some before getting his laptop back out to redo his letter to Devys, taking into account this news.
Ithol Valley, Bajor, Cardassian Union
8 December 2153 AST
07:15 GST
Kira splashed another handful of cold water into her dirt-covered face and pulled the heavy woolen coat a little tighter over her thin, nearly mal-nourished frame. A fully-loaded AK-90 dangled from her shoulder, the steel weapon starting to catch a reflection from the dawning Bajoran sun. Behind her, in the trees and rock outcroppings of the mountain, were about sixty-four fighters, including the five Star Marines led by Lieutenant Korolev. Kira had sadly lost three of her comrades in the two week march; one killed when ambushed by a rather large shalkur and two lost in their passage of the more severe mountain trails from the bitter cold or slipping over the edge. But they had survived. After a grueling fifteen day march through the Gorlin Mountains with only basic nutrition rations and shalkar meat as food, Shakaar and his cell had arrived in Ithol.
The scenic Bajoran valley had a temperate climate, being warm in the summer but potentially cold in winter, something like Upstate New York on Earth. Fresh snow coated the ground from last night's snow shower, though the temperature was still high enough that this small mountain stream had not frozen over. Here, at the northern edge of the Gorlin Mountains, they were within a ten hour march to the Cardassian communications facility at Ithol, a comm facility that coordinated Cardassian ground troops for the entire Valley plus the prairie and steppes outside the valley on all sides. It was the major comm hub for the area, and without it the Cardassians would be forced to realign all of their communications to the other half of the Dakhur network, which was currently being utilized to deal with the siege of the valley city of Salmio. As soon as Korolev got the signal, they would begin their march and attempt to take the base by surprise. The timing was crucial, since it was not good defensive ground and there were about a thousand Cardassian troops in the area who could lay siege to them within two hours; another thousand and a half within six. So they would have to be supported quickly if they were to avoid annihilation.
"Damned cold. If we're not sweating like collaborator whores in the summer, we're freezing in the winter." Kira's irritated mumbling drew a laugh from nearby. "What's it to you?"
Corporal Nimenez looked up from where he was sitting. He was just as haggard looking as she was, with hair growing on his chin, but the young soldier shrugged. "Nothing, actually. But why that term? I thought the Bajoran for 'whore' was kefipi?"
"I'm talking about Cakefipi."
"Ah. The Bajoran prostitutes who service Cardassians."
"More like the ones who do it willingly and who even have their children."
Nimenez looked back down at his gun, which he was cleaning. "And what would you do if a Cardassian forced himself on you and got you pregnant?"
"Carve out my own womb," Kira spat. She noticed Nimenez frowning. "You have a problem with that?"
"I suppose it's my beliefs showing through. I believe that Life itself is sacred. Even if it's Cardassian."
She smirked at that. "You've never dealt with them before."
"Not like you have, true. But I don't think they're all evil either. Evil transcends simple matters of race. So does Good, and the promise of redemption."
"Oh, don't give me that metaphysical crap," scoffed Kira. "You're a soldier. Your job is to kill your enemies. How can you reconcile that with your beliefs?"
"The Church calls it 'Just War', that is, a war where a Christian can fight and kill without violating Christ's message of love and forgiveness or the sanctity of Life. And while I will not lie and say I am an utterly perfect Catholic, I do believe very strongly that killing is a wrongful thing that can be justified only in certain circumstances. I became a soldier because I believed that if I had to fight and to kill, I would do so in circumstances that would justify these things and that I would be defending the things that I cherish." Nimenez put his AK down and placed his hands together. "What do you believe in, Nerys? I am not very familiar with your people's teachings and the divine revelations from those you call the Prophets, so I don't know how they compare to the Church. So you tell me."
"I, well...." Kira sighed and then sat down near him. "I'm not sure."
"Not sure?"
"We're all taught to believe in the Prophets from an early age, and we learn some of the basics about them, but... Sometimes I don't know. What if it's all some ancient fairy tale? What if there are no Prophets, no Celestial Temple? No happy land to which we will go when we die, free from the Cardassians? And when I think about how I don't know for sure, I always decide that it doesn't matter. I am here, Bajor is here, and the worst of all, the Cardassians are here. So I fight to get them out of here so that we can all live in peace." Kira saw Nimenez shaking his head. "What?"
"We Humans have often learned that there is never peace. It's a part of the nature of living things. We're so random, and we let our emotions and our beliefs carry us away so often, that there's always some form of conflict between two different groups, or even the same." Nimenez put his hands on his knees. "Even Bajor is like that. According to what I've studied, your people have their own ethnic divisions, cultural differences, and rivalries for land between those lines."
"Under the Kai's rule, Bajor was united in peace," Kira countered. "We argued, yes, but we didn't go around killing each other."
"The Kai has not ruled Bajor in decades. Your people's very culture has been changed since the Cardassian takeover. You cannot simply remove the Cardassians and return to the old ways. It's not possible."
"Then what will happen to us, hmm? Maybe you Humans can come and 'teach' us things, just like the Cardassians said they were going to?"
Nimenez saw the fire that was starting to kindle in Kira's eyes and sighed. "I understand why you might not trust us, Nerys, and I sympathize. But could you perhaps find it in your heart to be a little trusting. My people, the Humans from other universes, had no ambitions in this universe when we arrived, we simply wanted to find new avenues for trade. We, like you, were forced to fight by Cardassia. We have no desire to control Bajor or the destiny of the Bajoran people, only to help you if you would let us. That's for you to decide. Your people have to want us here if our help is to last."
"You say that. But what about your leaders? You've admitted yourself that Evil is something that is possible for us all. What happens if your leaders decided they knew what was best for us? Then we're right back where we started."
"I do not believe it will come to that."
"And what is that worth, coming from you and not your leaders?"
"Perhaps not a lot," Nimenez admitted. "But I'm afraid that for now, it will have to be enough." At that point, he stood to his feet and picked up his gun. "Have a good day, Nerys."
Kira watched him walk off and looked back at the others. No matter what doubts she had, she knew these things: this world was her home, and the Cardassians had to be driven out of it. And that was precisely what she intended to see done.
So, a few different things here, with the Alliance giving the green light to the landings on Bajor coming early. We see the Cardassians are reeling from 2nd Darane but still refusing to give up entirely on holding Bajor, fearful that it will undermine their authority over other subject species. We're introduced to Gul Luvar, another sympathetic Cardassian senior commander in the vein of Torcet. I've seen people compare him to nBSG Adama, while I admit I was a little inspired by Mustafa Kemal Ataturk myself.
As for the Alliance, its Bajoran exile recruits are readying for action, and we meet a couple of them. Meanwhile a US Marine Sergeant whom I patterned after a certain actor who likes to play BAMFs joins his troops in screwing with the head of a Federation reporter looking for juicy, ideologically-supported stories to send back home. Instead, well, Marines gonna Marine.
As for the PAPAL posters, I'd initially intended to name the group ANSWER after the real life group, but one of my other chatniki proposed PAPAL - Progressive And Pacific Action League - from bemusement of the acronym if anything. Apparently my depiction of the Federation became memetic on SB and SDN corners, enough that over on SV I've been blamed for the "PAAP" (Peace At Any Price) negative portrayals of the Federation in various fics, in my case as a specific attack to prop up my "Clancy Competent" faction. The usual counter to what I've said is that the Federation swiftly fielded weapons to fight real threats like the Borg, hence they're clearly not nutso pacifists.
And that's true. They're not. But when you consider early TNG especially, it's clear there was a major sea change in how Starfleet thought of itself during that time. Riker openly dismisses tactical exercises to improve fighting capability as pointless and declares that combat is a "minor province" in the makeup of a starship captain. And there are other incidents I'm sure people will point out.
As I said before, I do regret some of my deconstruction of the Federation. I think I took it too far. But I didn't invent this out of whole cloth, I simply tried to explain how it came about (if poorly, perhaps), and TGG even included material for the Federation stepping away from the pacifism when the time came, just as in canon.
Anyway, with that said, that's all for this commentary. Next time, the fighting on Bajor escalates, and we meet some of the luminaries and volunteers helping Opel Nevis' uprising. I think BattleTech fans will enjoy it especially.
Stellar Navy Army Aerospace Force Marine Corps
O-15 Chief Admiral General of the Army Marshal of the Commandant of the
Aerospace Force Marine Corps
O-14 Fleet Admiral Field Marshal Air Chief Marshal Fleet General
O-13 Admiral Colonel General
O-12 Vice Admiral General Air Marshal General
O-11 Line Admiral Lieutenant General Air Vice-Marshal Lieutenant General
O-10 Rear Admiral Major General Major General
O-9 Brigadier Air Commodore Brigadier General
O-8 Line Captain Senior Colonel
O-7 Captain Colonel Group Captain Colonel
O-6 Lieutenant Captain
O-5 Commander Lieutenant Colonel Wing Commander Lieutenant Colonel
O-4 Lieutenant Commander Major Squadron Leader Major
O-3 Lieutenant Captain Flight Lieutenant Captain
O-2 Lieutenant J.G. 1st Lieutenant Flying Officer 1st Lieutenant
O-1 Ensign 2nd Lieutenant Pilot Officer 2nd Lieutenant
New Liberty Criminal Investigation Department had been given its main headquarters in a common building with the Wexford Metropolitan Police, an organization still in organization after being created six months ago in light of the burgeoning population of Wexford and the Wexford Borough Police being overextended. The reorganization had assigned the latter to the larger borough area in which Wexford was the center; Wexford itself was to be the jurisdiction of the Metropolitan Police - both still retained Police Headquarters for a central office, the Borough Police not yet finished in their move to the outlying suburb of New Krinot (named for a Trill town - the population there had become overwhelmingly Trill in the past eight months).
There were those who complained about "putting too many eggs in one basket", but it did permit a great deal of easy coordination between the three law enforcement bodies, and it permitted a kind of camaraderie to develop between the organizations instead of the kind of rivalries and contempt that could divide other such groups, like the notorious dislike that the American FBI and various city and even other federal police agencies had for each other in virtually every universe.
It was within the offices of CID that Mayuko Burley found her partner Nick Hartford, standing over a replicator unit and ordering from it. The unit was set into the wall of a break room away from the squad room, next to the locker rooms from which Mayuko emerged in a sleeveless blue blouse and matching black trousers. She watched a donut materialize alongside a cup of coffee before turning her attention, briefly, to the note above it left by CID Human Resources, reminding users of the replicator system that it was "a privilege, not a right" and to "not exceed your daily usage cap". "You know," she started to say as Nick retrieved his breakfast treat, "there is a cafe down the road a bit, run by some immigrants from the Federation, that makes some good breakfast meals. And they use real coffee too."
"Maybe so, but is it free?" Nick smirked as he took a swig of his replicated coffee. "Why pay three bucks for something like this when I can have it every morning for not a dime?"
"It's not free, Nick, its our tax dollars at work. Why else do you think they put up the sign reminding us of daily limits?" Catching the smell from the cup in his hand while he took a bite of the donut, Mayuko curled her nose slightly and continued, "Besides, replicated stuff can't beat coffee actually made from real coffee grounds."
"Eh, so you all say. Me, always been the same." Nick got back to his desk, which like Mayuko's was fairly cluttered with digital notepads, the standard issue computer, and assorted papers for their open cases. "So, was thinking of heading out to Dolan today. Do some interviews on that Styria heist the Feddies have us looking into."
Mayuko slipped into her chair and activated her computer. She rubbed at her forehead after glancing at the case file. The interviews with Ogawa's crew had gone nowhere and the Bajorans they'd carried had dispersed across the Colonial Zone since their arrival. The few they had interviewed had not been helpful while the similarity in their stories did have Mayuko quite suspicious. Though they didn't have any evidence, she was quite sure there was more to Yumiko Ogawa's outfit than there appeared to be. "You know, I wonder if we could cause the Vesey crew to slip a bit if we got them isolated," she remarked to Nick as he wolfed down his donut. "Nothing we can charge them with, but if we called some of them in for individual interviews?"
He finished chewing but the look on his face told Mayuko he wasn't particularly enthused with the idea, especially the prospect of another drive to East Landing. "Maybe, but I think we're wasting time. Even if Ogawa and her crew are guilty, proving it will be hard, and the only proof we really have to go on was sent by the Feddies. Not going to impress the extradition judges, you know?"
Sighing, she nodded in agreement. "I know, but I don't like the idea of letting local bandits make a mockery out of us. I think we should shake the tree, see what falls..."
"Hartford! Burley!"
The stern voice was that of Inspector-Captain Abigail Morse, their immediate boss. Mayuko had only recently broken herself of the habit of trying to call Inspector Morse "Lieu" or other derivatives of "Lieutenant" due to how she saw the older Englishwoman. She looked to the short, thin woman standing at her office door and stood, Nick following suit. Inspector Morse re-entered her office, a sign she wanted them to follow. They moved around a couple unoccupied desks and entered, taking the seats Morse offered. "You're still looking into the Vesey and a connection to the New Styria robbery?"
"Yes ma'am," Hartford answered, being the senior agent.
"Well, don't bother any longer," Morse answered. "I got another call this morning, this one from Planetary Councilman Morris and Deputy Chief Nichols. Seems the Bajorans you sought out for interviewing started telling people you were looking to arrest refugees for a bank robbery in the Federation. He was quite irate about it, asking if the CID was going to join Starfleet and Federation police services in 'racial persecution'."
"We were given the case, ma'am, we have to follow where it leads," Mayuko spoke up.
"I'm telling you where it's leading, Agent Burley. It's leading to a situation where the New Liberty Government Council might start to ask just what the CID is spending millions of pound sterling doing, beyond following evidence hand-gifted to us from the Federation which conveniently implicates members of a race the Federation has been treating like crap lately." Morse sighed. "I got the word from DC Nichols while talking with Morris. The case is being closed."
Nick made a "hmph" sound and gave a bit of a shrug. Mayuko looked more bewildered in her response. "Ma'am, I think it's premature to close the case..."
"What you think, Agent Burley, is not of consequence against DC Nichols' order. The case is being closed. You and Agent Hartford will focus on other, more fruitful cases, and we'll inform the Federation that our investigation of Denmark Vesey and her passengers and crew showed no evidence of their involvement in the Styrian robbery." Morse motioned to the door. "Hartford, you can go, but I'd like to speak to your partner for a minute."
Whistling with some amusement, Hartford looked to Mayuko and muttered, "I always told you that you should know when to let it go," before getting up and leaving. He closed the door behind him, leaving Mayuko to face her boss directly.
For her part, Morse didn't seem to be any harsher in demeanor, and there was no clear indications of an imminent scolding. "You don't seem willing to follow Agent Hartford's example and let the case go. Why is that?"
"Nick's got experience, ma'am, but he also likes to concentrate on the short-term cases, things that are easier to prove and deal with," Mayuko answered. "Back at Schwarz PD I was trained to follow a case to its natural conclusion, whether it meant arrest or being put into a cold case file. And this case has not been given any kind of conclusion."
"Agreed," Morse stated. "You know, Agent, with the population expanding so heavily CID is getting stretched thinner and thinner in manpower. The cases we're getting from other towns and cities sprouting up across the globe is getting to be too much for our handful of offices. Word is that Chief Denton is going to be announcing a few annex offices to be opened around New Year's, maybe afterward. I was wondering... would you be interested in such a position?"
Mayuko blinked in surprise. "Well, um, I would, though shouldn't Agent Hartford....?"
"I'll offer him one too.... fat lot of good it'll do, that's a man who's never met a promotion he liked," Morse remarked candidly, with a bit of humor. "It wouldn't be a full office, just a field office. Two agents, one assistant, to handle cases in your area. CID would dispatch further agents to your assistance if certain cases required it. How does East Landing sound to you, Agent Burley?"
Under ordinary circumstances Mayuko would've been delighted to hear it. As much as Wexford reminded her of her bustling hometown on Pacifica GS-42, East Landing was a gorgeous boom town full of immigrants, a warm subtropical climate, and a beautiful coast with beaches for relaxation and swimming. Even with a case load like the one she'd expect, off-time would be made available, and such a city provided plenty of opportunity for enjoying it.... more so than the rapidly-industrializing, chaotic Wexford.
But that wasn't all there was to it, she realized. Mayuko gave a look to Morse that showed she knew there was something else up. "You want me to keep an eye on Ogawa?", Mayuko asked.
Morse smirked. "Why, Agent Burley, I have no intention of giving you such an order. The case is closed, after all." Letting that remark hang in the air a moment, Morse continued on. "Though, of course, as our main agent in East Landing you could 'keep an eye' on Ms. Ogawa and her outfit as you see fit, so long as you do so without stepping on any toes or lines and without ignoring open cases. Who knows, you might even have a chance to learn about things like her business relationship with individuals like that Ferengi broker from New Norwich she visited immediately upon arrival in the Colonial Zone, to whom she transferred a cargo that was verified electronically as miscellaneous consumer goods and which just happened to match, roughly, the mass of fifteen million Alliance dollars worth of gold-pressed latinum."
That, of course, was all Mayuko needed to hear. It was clear that there was something going on higher up that led to their case getting pulled out from under them and that Morse wasn't any more willing to give Ogawa and her people a free pass as Mayuko was. "Maybe," she said, with some casual lack of interest in her voice. "Provided it doesn't take into the time I could use to get a nice tan on those beaches." Smiling widely, she stood up and gave a nod to Inspector Morse. "Thank you for the offer, ma'am, I look forward to filling the position."
"I'm pleased to hear it, you'll do fine in East Landing."
Mayuko smiled and left. Morse gave a thin grin. She knew the Yank girl would do a good job on her own, and with less scrutiny from Deputy Chief Nichols. Morse knew the man from Scotland Yard, and she also knew he had other old friends and contacts from his Yard days as well, including those in MI5 and, nowadays, Alliance Intelligence. But no matter what the spooks were up to, Morse wasn't about to let them let criminals run free in her jurisdiction without some kind of observation.
Ikila, Bajor, Cardassian Union
13:09 GST
Kai Opaka's expression was stoically neutral when the viewscreen flipped on to show Vedek Winn Adami, standing in a Cardassian military office. Opaka hid her feelings for Winn, which mostly consisted of some minor contempt and irritation at Winn's fence-sitting and politicking. Though representing a conservative branch of the Bajoran clergy, Winn was in fact an opportunist who played the factions of the Temple against one another, even as she vacillated in support to the Cardassians, carefully toeing the line between collaboration and subtle opposition. Opaka didn't doubt that Winn was sincere in her devotion to their faith, however, it was simply a case of Winn's desire to preserve her life and what power she had being more important and, in fact, wrapped up in her sense of importance to their faith. "Kai, Prefect Koral desires your response to this... unwise uprising in Ikila. The casualties on both sides are increasing by the hour. Surely the Prophets have revealed their wisdom to you by now?"
"The Prophets work on their own time, Vedek, not our's," Opaka chided her, somewhat gently, perhaps in a sense of pity for what she suspected would be Korel's response to her message later. "Revelations cannot be rushed."
"Oh, yes, of course. My apologies for my presumption, Kai."
"Tell Prefect Korel that I shall shortly be revealing the will of the Prophets to the people of Bajor."
"Yes, Kai. I will do so immediately."
Opaka watched Winn disappear from the screen. From behind her, a young nineteen year old acolyte stepped forward, her cherubic face full of concern. "Kai, what shall we do? The Cardassians are going to slaughter us and burn the Great Temple."
"Prefect Korel has said that if I manage to end the uprising he will spare the Temple and those of our city who are not fighting."
"But that will still condemn hundreds, thousands of our people to death." The acolyte's lip trembled. "And, how can we trust the Cardassians? They may sack Ikila anyway."
"Yes, they would." Opaka put her hand on the young woman's cheek. "Calm your pagh, my child. The Prophets have revealed to me the future and I know now what must be done."
Space Station Terok Nor, Orbit of Bajor
13:20 GST
Prefect Korel was in the Ops center of Terok Nor, Vedek Winn's image on his screen. "So the Kai will denounce the uprising?"
"I am certain of it, Prefect." Winn smiled diplomatically. "The Kai has too much love for the people of Bajor to let them waste their lives in this hopeless act of violence."
Korel nodded. "Then for their sakes, they had better listen to the Kai and stop this pointless struggle." Korel tried to hide his own apprehension. Central Command had just issued an invasion warning, believing that the Alliance would attempt landings within four days. The last thing he wanted was the Central Detachment hotly engaged with enemy troops coming down on top of them.
"Sir, signal coming from the Great Temple."
Winn's image flicked out, replace by Kai Opaka. The older Bajoran woman seemed deceptively serene as she began speaking. "People of Bajor, please hear my words. The Prophets have spoken to me these past terrible days, revealing to me the course our people must take to avoid destruction."
Opaka's expression hardened. "For many decades, Bajor has been under Cardassian rule, and it has not been pleasant. The Prophets have always counseled restraint, knowing that our people could not overthrow the Cardassian control of our world. But that has changed. The Prophets have promised us deliverance, my children! They have consoled us to wait no longer, for our time has come! Cardassia's new enemy has crippled her strength and has opened the way for our...."
At that moment Korel's comm officer cut the channel from Ikila and severed the Great Temple's connection to the rest of the planet. Korel's expression was one of rage. The screen now reverted back to Winn, who had lost much of the color on her face. "Prefect, I... the Kai must have been coerced by the rebels! Perhaps I can persuade the other Vedeks...."
"Spare me your platitudes, Winn! Your Temple has betrayed us! The rebellion will only grow now!" Korel snarled. At this moment what little tolerance he had for the Bajorans snapped; he would, if possible, kill every single one of them, and only wished he could annihilate this pathetic race of religious fanatics who dared to yet again cross Cardassia. "I see the only way to bring you pathetic wretches to your knees is to destroy you utterly. I'm ordering the execution of every member of the Bajoran religious orders and the extermination of the population of any city that supports the rebels!"
Winn shook her head. "Please, Prefect! Show mercy! There are Vedeks who will support you, who know that resistance only means..." At that moment one of the Cardassian soldiers in the room with Winn walked up behind her and, without hesitation, pulled the trigger on his pistol. Winn was not even given the time to turn around before the energy beam struck her. She screamed for a brief moment as her body was disintegrated into nothingness.
"Send final instructions to Gul Severak. All Bajorans in Ikila are to be executed. No exceptions. Burn the Great Temple to the ground!" Korel pounded a fist on his table. "Get me the Central Command. And prepare to initiate Case Red by evacuating all non-Bajoran civilians from the station."
Cardassian Mechanized Detachment Field HQ, Bajor, Cardassian Union
13:24 GST
Severak shook his head at Korel's image. He knew appointing the man had been a mistake by the Central Command. Dukat could be soft, but he was far more intelligent a Prefect, while Korel's default policy was to kill first, ask questions later. "Rescind the order, Prefect. It's bad enough that the Kai has backed the rebellion. If we start slaughtering their clergy the entire planet will rise in revolt!"
"And why should I care? Our troops can slaughter them all. Our troops should slaughter them all."
"Don't be a fool, Prefect. According to our intelligence the Alliance will be attacking any day. Do you really want all of our troops to be caught in a killing spree when their troops land?" Severak pounded a fist on his table. "Prefect, let me take Ikila. I'll have Opaka's head beamed straight to you and you can direct the Vedeks to elect a new Kai to reverse her decree."
"You've had six days, Gul Severak. Yet you're still thirty kilometers away from the city's outskirts!"
"Initial attempts to quickly overcome the rebels' second defense line failed, so I held back to give time for one great push. It is my intention to launch an overwhelming offensive and to begin shelling their third line immediately thereafter. In fact, the offensive kicks off in precisely five minutes."
"Why bother? I'm having preparations finished to demolish Ikila, and all the other major temples, by orbital bombardment. Their shield will likely not withstand a full assault from Terok Nor and the orbiting ships I'm gathering."
Severak felt a chill go through his spine, and it wasn't just the cold Ikila winter. He had the rank to see reports on Alliance announcements and public policies. If they commenced photon torpedo bombardment on Bajoran civilian targets, the Alliance would most assuredly retaliate, and had even expressly promised to launch its weapons on Cardassia Prime. The Central Command wasn't too worried about that... but with his family back on the homeworld, and plenty of understanding of the kind of power they were dealing with, Severak damned sure was. "The Central Command ordered no bombardments. They don't want to give the Alliance pretext for another wave of nuclear attacks."
"They're just bluffing. The Alliance, being Humans, are too squeamish to actually retaliate against population centers, and even if they could, Cardassia Prime is far from the war front, there's no way their craft could attack it and survive the attempt."
"You don't know that! These Humans have already shattered much of what we believed true about war and it's not your place to risk the lives of Cardassians to appease your ego and your hatred of Bajorans! At least give me time to remove Opaka!"
Several moments passed, in which Korel seemed to be weighing his options. Severak was coming dangerously close to the line of insubordination, which could get him vaporized and his family disgraced, but he had a fairly good idea of the actual line's place and how valuable he was to Korel, a life-long space service officer who knew nothing about planet-side combat. Nevertheless, Severak nearly let out a sigh of relief at seeing Korel visibly relent. "Very well, I will retract the order," Korel stated hesitantly "You have three days. After that, if the Kai is still alive, I suspect we will have no choice but to deal with the Bajoran Temple permanently. Which I intend to do by any means necessary, the Alliance's threats be damned."
Outside Lelipa, Bajor, Cardassian Union
13:29 GST
The rain had turned the dirt of the trenches into cold winter mud. The mud was no new thing for Oleri Gevia. The nineteen year old farmer's daughter was used to it from helping her father tend their land after her older brothers had died of illness or disappeared to join the Resistance. Gevia was only about five feet tall, needing a box to actually stand high enough over the trench for her to aim the Cardassian phaser rifle she'd been given when she volunteered with some of her schoolmates to fight. For her, it was a chance to lash out at the people who took her older sister away to be some Gul's whore and who killed her beloved grandfather so many years ago.
Or so she'd thought at the time. But after days in the cold rain wearing only a cotton vest and torn jacket with trousers and having to watch three of her friends die, she had come to realize that she had been premature in volunteering. In fact, Gevia was terrified, and with every ounce of her soul she wanted to run and save herself. But she couldn't bring herself to, not in front of her friends, not knowing that they would forever remember her as having abandoned them in their moment of need.
So she remained at her place, carefully holding the Cardassian weapon to shoot at any Cardassian trooper who appeared. Whenever she saw them she felt terror in her heart. If they captured her, would they simply kill her? Would they rape her first like they had probably done to her sister? Maybe she would get sent to Gallitep! The possibilities were horrible and weighed in on her mind as much as the fear of death.
Trying and mostly failing to calm herself, Gevia focused her rifle on the thickets that she knew some of the Cardassian soldiers were hiding behind. She heard something overhead at this time, something she wasn't quite sure of for a moment until she realized what it was: plasma charges! The Cardassian artillery had opened fire!
There was nothing to do now. Gevia simply stood there as the first charge went off about thirty yards in front of her, the heat of the explosion warming her skin and blinding her for a moment. Explosions were going off everywhere and she could hear cries of fight or of pain as some of them detonated near or even in the trench.
Now the Cardassians emerged from the thickets; grim-faced men carrying rifles bigger than her's with side-arms on their hips and some with communication gear on their heads. Gevia leveled her weapon and began to open fire on them. She wasn't a good shot - very few of her friends were - but together their massed fire managed to hit a few.
Suddenly there was an explosion beside Gevia which threw her off the box she was standing on. Her entire right side had been struck by plasma, burning much of her skin away and leaving her right arm, leg, side, and most of her face a pulp of blackened, charred flesh. Gevia began to moan and a tear began to roll down her surviving left eye, her right eye's tear duct having been destroyed. She began to cry out in her mind, begging for her life as she lay dying in the cold winter mud, soil that her family had farmed for generations. I don't want to die! I don't want to die! Prophets help me, please don't let me die! Save me! Save me please!
Gevia continued to plead for her life until everything faded into black, her heart gripped in a hand colder than the mud that she died in.
Space Station Terok Nor, Orbit of Bajor
15:30 GST
Korel was finally satisfied, to an extent, with how things were going. Severak's offensive had already broken through the second trench line around Ikila and again the Bajoran rebels were falling back to their third line, already under artillery fire. Severak had planned his attack well, holding back sufficient reserves that when his forward units were forced to stop at the third trench line, backup units would surge forth under artillery support to begin piercing it as well. In about thirty hours or so, Ikila would be wide open to attack.
Rebellions were springing up elsewhere now, though, and some in areas long presumed pacified. Korel had ordered his troops to do what was necessary for their own self-defense, which in same cases would probably be slaughtering every Bajoran near them (something he didn't care about). But such was the price the Bajorans would pay for their fanaticism, and Korel did not care how many of them died or how many of them would be killed despite being no threat to his troops. The life of a Cardassian was infinately more valuable than the life of a Bajoran, after all.
Glin Durel walked up beside Korel. "Prefect, the first phase evacuation is complete. We are preparing to evacuate non-essential personnel. The Bajoran workers and their families have been confined to the Habitat Ring and the work facilities."
Korel nodded. "Very good. Commence Case Red immediately."
Further down, in the Promenade level, Odo was finding himself in the middle of a bad situation. His lieutenant, Durel, had gone off to Ops and not returned, and the evacuation of the non-Bajoran civilians had expanded to non-essential personnel; even those essential to station operations were beginning evecuation procedures.
It was not unexpected; the Alliance was expected to commence an invasion of Bajor any day now, and such an invasion would quickly see Terok Nor destroyed. But what was unexpected - even if it shouldn't have been given Korel's bloodymindedness - was that he saw no indication of evacuation of the Bajorans. Instead they were all being confined to their quarters or the working areas.
Odo's monitor flashed on. It was Korel. "Constable Odo, I will have you beamed off in the last batch of personnel very shortly. Can you confirm that the Bajorans are all confined?"
"They are, Gul," Odo replied in a monotone fashion. "How are you going to beam them off the station?"
"Oh, I'm not, Constable."
Korel was undoubtedly pleased to finally get an apparent reaction from the shapeshifter, one of some bewilderment. "You are leaving them aboard?"
"Yes. A few hundred Bajorans is not a large number, truth be told, and I'm already killing that many every few minutes, so I have no problem adding more when I blow this station up."
"But, you can't... They are innocent people, Gul Korel, we've cleared out the suspected Resistance..."
"There is no such thing as an innocent Bajoran, Constable, just those that are too cowardly to attack Cardassians," Korel retorted. "And I don't intend to let them get their courage up given the current tide of the war. Be prepared for beamdown shortly, unless you'd like to see if you can survive the station's fusion reactors being overloaded?" After Odo was uncomfortably silent for a moment, Korel flashed a small grin. "I thought not, Constable."
When he disappeared from the monitor, Odo found himself wondering what to do about this. He'd always had qualms about the Cardassians, but Korel was severe even by their standards. Now Korel intended to murder every single Bajoran on the station from sheer bloodymindedness. And, Odo hated to admit, there was not a thing he could do about it.
Not that he didn't try. He'd been the head of station security long enough to learn his way through the computers. He attempted to use the security systems to access other functions but found that Gul Korel had locked him out, likely long ago. Without that access, there was nothing he could do. Not a thing at all.
The door to his office swished open and a figure stood in it. "Good day Constable. Might I be of assistance?"
Odo looked up and let out a guttural sound at the figure before him. "And I thought they evacuated all the Cardassian civilians."
At that remark, a sly grin came to the face of the station's tailor. Known to Odo only as "Garak", the Cardassian took a few more steps in, enough to prompt the door to shut behind him. "Yes, well, you never know when you will need a tailor, even in a crisis," was his reply, oozing with that usual charm he employed to be disarming. "Besides, I didn't want Glin Durel to decide my price for his mistress' gown was too steep and that he could help himself to it behind my back. A craftsman like myself does deserve honest compensation for his labor."
"Of course," Odo answered, drawing out the end of it to try and make clear his disbelief. Garak was something of an enigma, the whispers of his past being anything from a disgraced Gul in Special Operations to a banished agent of the Obsidian Order. And if he was staying, he had a good reason for it. "Well, Mister Garak, I think you should report for evacuation, the station is to be destroyed shortly."
"Ah, our good Prefect Korel has decided not to try and hold it. A wise choice from a military perspective. I suspect that he has implemented Case Red and is leaving our Bajoran neighbors to be atomized with the station?"
"And how would you know about the Gul's 'Case Red' when I didn't?", Odo asked pointedly.
"It's surprising to some how boring the process of having a suit tailored can be for the customer, especially for a fidgety, ambitious staff officer of the Cardassian military," Garak replied. "And given my singular charm as a conversationalist - and a bit of a raconteur I admit - you'd be surprised about how much a tailor like myself might learn. Anyway, I suspect we don't have much time left to do something about Korel's rather distasteful behavior."
"There's nothing I can do about it," Odo retorted. "He locked me out from all non-security functions long ago. Even some of the security programs have been routed to Durel."
"Yes, well, I believe I may have a solution to that. Computer?" Garak waited for an affirmation beep, reflecting that the computer was ready to accept verbal input. "Commence selective command program Black-491004. Authorization Code Black-441256."
Odo looked with surprise as his computer displays responded immediately. Every program and function on the station was now in his control. "What did you do?", Odo asked Garak pointedly.
"I heard that code from a computer programmer from back home who had come to update Terok Nor's systems," Garak said, in a fashion that was all charm but no truth. "I'd always wanted to see if it'd work."
Odo made another "hmph" sound and found he could access the transporters remotely. "I can start beaming people off, but Ops will detect the transports..."
"Actually, my dear Constable, that program was designed to make whomever was in the location it was activated capable of performing operations without alerting Ops. So long as you time transporter use with the rest of the station I believe you can remain undetected."
Odo nodded stiffly. He didn't have a lot of time. Working quickly, and with Garak literally observing over his shoulder, he worked the station's backup transporter systems, those tied into the cargo bay that were no longer being utilized for the evacuation. Wherever internal sensors confirmed Bajorans, he would snatch them in the transporter and send them down, directing them to the countryside where, from his knowledge of the operations below, there was little risk of facing Cardassian troops.
He continued doing so until a transporter beam enveloped him and Garak, whisking them away from Station Security and down to Bajor. Ordinarily they would have materialized in the Planetary Command Center at Renmakal - where Korel would undoubtedly soon discover their actions and enact retaliation - but while Odo's back was turned Garak had performed his own activities on the computer systems and enabled a safety protocol within the program he enabled, meaning that as soon as Korel's officer in Ops locked onto them and beamed them down, the computer systems re-directed the transport to the countryside where they were sending the survivors.
At that, the remaining ten or so Cardassians on the station made their way to the transporter pad on Ops. Six beamed down first, leaving Korel, two aides, and the transporter operator. Korel waited for the operator to finish his preparations and then gave the command. "Computer, this is Gul Korel. Commence self-destruct sequence with a delay of one minute, initiation code Gray-3394483."
"Self-destruct sequence set," the computer replied.
Korel stepped on the pad and nodded to the transporter man, who activated the delay-set transporter and walked to the pad. As he did so, Korel said, "Begin countdown."
The operator stepped on the pad and they were beamed down three seconds later.
Those of the station's Bajoran population not rescued by Odo and Garak remained huddled in their quarters or stuck in the processing centers. They wept, cried, and prayed as they waited, helplessly, for the end. For some there was only the terror of an imminent doom they could not avoid, for others, anger that they had not been spared when those beside them had been whisked away, and finally, those who could die with some peace, knowing that at least one person dear to them would live on.
Fortunately this final act of torture by Gul Korel to his Bajoran charges did not last long. When the computer timer hit zero, the station's massive fusion core went into an intentional overload, timed with explosive charges in key structural members in the hull. Something on the order of one hundred Bajorans died from the explosive force or the released radiation as the explosions tore the station apart.
From the surface, Korel stood in the main courtyard of the Planetary Command Center as hundreds of people looked up to see the bright explosion in the sky. Terok Nor was gone.
Gul Pecel, the female commander of the center, looked to Korel. "Why did you destroy the station?"
"Without the fleet to protect it, Terok Nor was doomed. Better for us to concentrate ourselves on holding out here, on the surface of the planet, until Central Command can rescue us." Korel looked at all of the soldiers around him. "Tell every Cardassian you see that there is no escape. We must hold our ground or die trying. There is no other possibility."
Kevima Valley, Bajor, Cardassian Union
22:15 GST
The Bajoran survivors from Terok Nor were moving quietly through the valley. The Province was a rural one, nominally pacified under the policies of Gul Luvar, and his troops were too busy preparing to enact his plan for self-preservation against invasion to interfere with the movement of the hundred or so survivors Odo and Garak had saved.
The two were conspicuous in the mass of Bajorans, Odo for his strange facial structure and Garak for being Cardassian. Garak especially had gotten some rude looks but Odo's reputation was one every Bajoran on Terok Nor had known; if he was here, with them, and so was Garak, that meant Garak was not a threat to them.
As they walked, looking for a town to find respite and sustenance, Odo allowed his curiosity to come to the fore. "Tell me, Garak... why?"
"Why what, my dear Constable?"
"You didn't have to do what you just did," Odo pointed out. "Risking execution to help me save these people? Why?"
"Oh, I wouldn't worry about reprisal from the military, they might see the logs and realize something odd happened, but with the forged records that the program created, it's just as likely that whatever overworked Glin looks over the sensor logs will easily come to the conclusion that it was a computer error."
"That doesn't answer my question, Garak."
"Well, how about this then? I detest Korel. The man is an unimaginitive brute unfit to command a salvage vessel and, why, the mere thought of his reaction to being defied makes me smile." And Garak did, indeed, smile, and it was a particularly wide smile. "I may harbor no strong affections for the Bajorans, but unlike Korel I am quite capable of trying to live with them in a relationship beyond 'ruler' and 'ruled', and I find the prospect of letting them get slaughtered needlessly to be quite distasteful."
"Really." Odo stopped for a moment, prompting Garak to do the same after he took an extra step. "You know Garak, I almost believe you when you say that."
"You may believe as you wish, dear Constable, but whether what I spoke is the truth or a lie is irrelevant; it's still an answer, and that's what you asked for." With that remark given, Garak walked on, leaving Odo to consider the enigmatic figure for a brief moment before continuing on himself.
Kurvak, Cardassian Union
9 December 2153 AST
03:16 GST
4th Rank Gul Ivirak stepped onto the bridge of his flagship, the Leverat, and his crew immediately stood to full attention. The Betreka Nebula veteran had a solid frown on his face, the kind he always had, as he nodded and thus ordered them back to duty station.
Kurvak was not a major fleet base and did not have the berths to hold but ten ships out of Ivirak's fleet of five hundred. But a major fleet base was not needed at the moment; the Alliance invasion of Bajor would come soon and it would be up to Third Fleet to somehow prevent it or at least make its cost prohibitive to the Alliance's forces, giving Cardassia an opening to regroup the other fleets and restore its fighting power. Ivirak had given several addresses these past day to remind his crews that the Alliance's fleets had been damaged by the brave sacrifices of other Cardassians. Reminding them that the Alliance's insistence on taking Bajor could be used against them, causing them to expose their forces to attack where they would least expect it. In that advantage was their key to victory, a victory Cardassia desperately needed.
Ivirak watched the blue and green world of Kurvak spin in the distance, a 3D display of the system beside it on the screen. "Assign scouts to each spherical quadrant of the heliopause and two light years outward. Maintain active sensor sweeps for any intruders, real or imagined. I do not intend to get caught unaware."
Ikila, Bajor, Cardassian Union
18:16 GST
Opel Nevis felt twice his age as he walked into what was an impromptu hospital for the battle wounded that Bajoran fighters had managed to get back to Ikila. Limbs were missing or badly scorched on some while the more fortunate had far less scarring compressor beam wounds, though all had been badly wounded. And every hour, the death count grew.
For a moment Opel stopped to give words of comfort for a dying man. The middle-aged Bajoran spoke mostly of his small grandchildren and wife, hiding in the Temple now, and Opel listened patiently, his heart threatening to shatter from the pain he felt at all of this. Was he not responsible for this man's death and the deaths of so many others? He had sparked this uprising because he sensed that the time had come and they would be able to hold the Cardassians long enough for the Alliance to land. Now, for the first time, he felt doubt.
Beside him, the poor man finally died, the death rattle of lungs damaged by the intense thermal damage of a plasma explosion finally ending within the grotesque remains of what was once a decently robust chest. Opel raised the sheet over his head and looked away, tears rolling down his eyes. This blood was on his hands. So much of it.
A gentle hand touched his shoulder. Opel turned and was quite stunned to find himself facing the Kai. "Your Eminence." He dropped to one knee, an act that surprised him a bit. For most of his life Opel had not been terribly religious, but habit was habit, and he now had a respect for the Kai that he had never possessed before.
"Stand, my child." Opaka reached down and brought him to his feet. "Why did you come here? Are you not needed to lead the defense?"
"No. The Humans I brought with me are more than capable of overseeing the matter." Opel's eyes looked down. "I have not been able to check up on news elsewhere, but some have told me that uprisings are spreading across Bajor and that the Cardassians are now resorting to slaughter."
"I have heard some similar things."
"Perhaps you should have not supported us, Your Eminence."
"I did not make that decision, my child. I am merely a messenger of the Prophets. It is they who decided the time had come and revealed to me the future."
"And what is our future, Kai?"
Opaka smiled serenely. "The Prophets blessed me with what I saw. I saw the fires of this war die and the shattered cities rebuilt. I saw Bajor and her people blessed with a prosperity we have never known. Bajor will be reborn, Opel Nevis, and it will be a Golden Age for our people."
For a moment Opel said nothing. He wasn't quite ready to believe it - he had been a rationalist for far too long - but in his heart he felt a sense of ease. "Then, for the rebirth of Bajor, we will persevere. Please excuse me, Your Eminence." Opel bowed his head respectfully and stepped away, leaving Opaka to tend to the spirits of the wounded.
Opel returned swiftly to the Cardassian HQ that they had converted to their command center. A holographic map on the central table showed the Cardassian forces quickly pushing in on Ikila's western outskirts, held only by the final trench line. "The reserves are in position, Commander Montecuccoli?"
The slightly-tanned young Human, an officer of the Free Worlds League nobility who was officially "on leave", turned from one of the stations and nodded. "The best men we have left will counterattack the Cardassians as soon as they break the trench line."
"At best, they will be a delay. We may only have twenty-four hours until Ikila is wide open."
The slightly-accented voice made Opel's head turn. A single figure dressed in combat fatigues emerged from a side room where he had been discussing things with subordinates. The Human was older than Opel and was missing his right eye, now covered by a patch. "Has there been any word on the arrival of Alliance forces?"
"None, Marshal."
There was only a grim expression on the face of the "Marshal", known to Opel Nevis and many others as Anastasius Focht, the former Precentor-Martial of ComStar, once known in life as Frederick Steiner. "Given the many months the Alliance military has had to plan an invasion of Bajor, I expect it will come soon."
"I would think it would take weeks, at least, to prepare an invasion of Bajor," Montecuccoli said.
"Ah, but that is not how the Alliance thinks, Force Commander." Focht finished walking up to the display, running a finger over the symbols representing the ad hoc battalions that had been formed since the uprising began. "They undoubtedly began preparing to liberate Bajor as far back as the first incidents in June. And remember the lessons of their wars against the Clans and ComStar, not to mention the opening of this war. Many in their leadership are married to the concept of seizing and holding the initiative. It has worked against them, yes, as we saw with their first attempts to deal with ComStar, but that alone will not change their way of thinking and they will want to land on Bajor as quickly as possible."
"Hopefully they will land before Ikila is a flaming ruin," Opel said.
Focht nodded briefly at that, studying the board. "Here. Move Colonel Wilkens' troops to the west as a secondary reserve and shift all forces away from the east toward the west. Gul Severak is massing entirely on the west and, I think, will not bother with an attempt to outflank upon the eastern side of the city."
"How can you be sure, Marshal?"
"Because, Commander Montecuccoli, he does not want to waste time. Severak's offensive is entirely focused upon massing firepower and troops to force a breakthrough. He wants to get to Ikila to kill the Kai as quickly as he can, so that the Cardassians can force the appointment of a pacifist Kai to deflate the uprisings. And just in case he does try to flank us, Oberst von der Goltz's unit is in position to contain a breakthrough in that area." Focht turned to one of the Bajoran aides in the room. "I want constant updates from Commander Na'Toth. The instant the Cardassians begin pouring through the last defense line, her forces are to launch their counterattack."
Opela, Bajor, Cardassian Union
19:43 GST
Opela had been a prosperous town, even in the midst of the Occupation. On the southwestern coast of the main continent of Bajor, in ancient times it had been a thriving trading city for ocean-going traffic, and now it was known for producing some of the best seafood catches on Bajor. The terrain around Opela was open and flat, with many farms dotting the landscape.
Now it was in flames. A city of a quarter million Bajorans had been literally depopulated overnight. Following the Kai's declaration, the Resistance had sparked an uprising in the city that led to the deaths of all four hundred Cardassians in its center. The 935th Provisional Order stationed outside the city had fought it's way into the city to try and save its comrades, and when it failed, the panicked Cardassian conscripts had turned to the only tactic they believed would work: killing everything. And so they had started shooting everything while setting fire to the buildings to root out Bajorans who were given the grisly choice of jumping to their deaths or getting burned alive. Those in the streets were given no chance to surrender or prove peaceful intent. They were simply killed out of hand.
5th Rank Trooper Perek and some of his men were walking around some of the burned out remains now. Dead Bajorans lay everywhere from where they and their comrades had shot them on sight, whether they were armed or not. As far as Perek was concerned, none could be trusted now. Any Bajoran could be a fanatic with a bomb to throw or a dagger hidden to slice the throat of a Cardassian. "Damn these fanatics," he muttered as he looked at the charred remains of two younger Bajorans near what had once been a twenty-five story apartment block. Their hands were together from leaping to their deaths at the same time, undoubtedly young sweethearts. "It's not like the State treats us much better. But you don't see us rebelling!"
One of his 6th Rank Troopers beside him nodded. "We should've gotten off this fucking planet. It isn't worth this."
"Yeah, yeah, but Central Command is Central Command. Buncha desk rats who think they know everything. They fuck up and we're the ones who get vaped."
"Trooper!"
Hearing the cries of one of his men, Perek walked over to what was once a primitive Bajoran aircar. Two of his soldiers were gathered around it's rear compartment. "We heard a noise, sir."
Perek nodded to them. "Grenade."
One of the men removed a grenade from his belt while the others stepped back. He pulled out the firing pin and rolled the grenade under the vehicle before running for cover. An explosion engulfed the vehicle, throwing it into the air a few feet. When the blackened hulk landed, the rear compartment came open. Inside of it was what looked to have been a young Bajoran girl, or rather what was left of one, considering her skin had been charred black and her clothes and body were still burning. "One less Bajoran to worry about," Perek muttered as he led his troops on.
Pelika, Bajor, Cardassian Union
20:10 GST
Inside a school auditorium in the mostly-abandoned town of Pelika, a crowd of Bajorans were gathered around one non-Bajoran, the very fierce-looking and scowling Na'Toth. The Narn woman stabbed a finger at the display in front of her. "The enemy has forced breakthroughs in three areas simultaneously and the trench defenses are crumbling. We cannot allow them to advance much further."
"We intend to counterattack them along the road here," one of Opel's lieutenants said.
"And this force? It is advancing on our northern flank toward Okyva."
"Captain Fetladral's unit is waiting for them, Commander, with a force of irregulars. They will not get far."
Okyva, Bajor, Cardassian Union
20:21 GST
The lead formations of a battalion-sized unit of Cardassian mechanized troops entered the abandoned town of Okyva, cruising silently with guns ready to shoot at anything that moved. In one of the Revarat vehicles, 2nd Rank Glin Erekat kept scanning for life signs. "A few trace readings here and there, but no mass of enemy ahead. Keep going and be careful," he ordered his driver. Inside of the vehicle were ten Cardassian soldiers who would be helpless if the vehicle were to be targeted before they were disembarked.
The Cardassians crept along the road while Erekat kept a careful look on the trace readings, though not quite knowing what they were.
He found out a moment later when he saw the missiles.
"Now!"
The shout was not heard save over a specific short-wave radio frequency, but it nevertheless triggered a barrage that came down on the advancing column of Cardassian troops. Two missiles impacted on Erekat's vehicle, knocking it over. A small blue energy beam sliced out and cut into the vehicle's batteries, blowing it apart.
Four vehicles were lost in the ambush, and the others disgorged their troops quickly to find the culprits. The culprits turned out to be something the Cardassians hadn't quite expected. Twenty-five individual enemies that looked incredibly alien, at least until the Cardassians realized that they weren't the actual bodies of their enemies but powered armor.
Evantha Fetladral had not fought a battle in Clan Elemental armor in over two years. She had been captured out of armor when the Wolf flagship Dire Wolf was taken by an Alliance boarding force during the disasterous Alliance counter-attack against the Crusade. In those years she had been a POW and then a civilian, never able to reconcile herself to that life. The chance to help the Bajorans was something that she could not pass up, and neither could the Elementals with her, all of them being her fellow Wolves or former Jade Falcons or Ghost Bears, warriors captured in the Inner Sphere before the Alliance's government opted to annihilate Clan society and thus provoked the suicidal fight to the death that the warrior caste had waged to the bitter end. For these men and women, there was no other calling in their hearts but that of the warrior, and so they had volunteered to fight for a cause they deemed worthy; a race needing liberation from an evil that rankled even to the unique sensibilities of Kerensky's Clans. At first they were to command infantry due to the difficulty of acquiring Elemental suits, but after the start of the war the Alliance Government had finally acquiesced and permitted models to be taken out of militia storage back in the Kerensky Cluster. Now Evantha and the others were back in action and had a chance to fight once more, even if not for the society that they had been raised to lead nor with the divisions between Clan they had once known. Here, on this alien battlefield, the Jade Falcons were not her bitter rivals, they were her distant kin, and together they would again know battle.
Evantha tracked some of the pale-skinned Cardassians as they tried to take cover. Having no more missiles, she switched to her suit's laser and ran a blue beam across a retreating unit. They had no armor to protect them from the laser's power and the weapon sliced four of them apart, wounding a fifth before he took cover.
Screams filled the air from Cardassian soldiers being killed by the machine guns built into five of the suits and, more sickening, from the Cardassian soldiers being set alight by the flamethrowers on the other suits. Evantha watched one of her comrades, a Jade Falcon named Taman of the Malthus line, jump behind a squad and set all ten alight with a sweep of his arm. She triggered her own laser again and killed another Cardassian.
The Elementals' ambush had allowed them to make casualties of an entire company before the units further back reacted by opening fire. Artillery support was called for but was not needed as the Cardassians found their rifles' higher settings were capable of penetrating the Elemental armor with direct hits. Evantha watched a fellow Wolf, Adrianna, die under concentrated fire from four Cardassians. She avenged her comrade with a blast from her laser and immediately took a near-direct hit that burned through her left arm. She grunted in pain, losing half the sensation in the arm. "Pull back! Pull back now!"
The Elementals began to retreat even as the artillery landed ahead of them, but not all were successful. A Ghost Bear named Gideon was struck down by multiple rifle hits and a former Falcon - Julius, Evantha believed his name was - was blown apart by the large cannon on one of the Cardassian APCs. Evantha saw two more claimed by the Cardassian artillery. Eighteen of them managed to pull back further into the city.
But that was the goal all along. The Cardassian battalion entered the core of the city, using its weapons to burn down the temple and other nearby buildings in an attempt to deny the Elementals cover, and advanced onward.... right into the trap. Evantha triggered the device with a command from her suit and a single relay transmitted detonation orders to dozens of vibrabomb mines and other munitions spread around the area. The explosions were everywhere, tearing apart the Cardassian APCs and their passengers. The stench of burned flesh would soon fill the air.
The chaos was joined by mortar fire from nearby Bajoran fighters, who laid down such a barrage that most of the Cardassian survivors abandoned their vehicles just to be picked off by the Elementals, who carefully outflanked and shot up the Cardassians in such a rapid, overwhelming fashion that they took no more losses.
And thus ended the short battle for Okyva, a massacre of a large Cardassian force to a mere two dozen infantry foes; the last recorded victory for Clan Elemental troops and thus a glory for a society that no longer existed... and for the nascent Bajoran nation that was being painfully born.
DNS Okinawa CVP-1, Darane, Alliance Liberation Zone
23:00 GST
The last of the troop transports was entering the protective formation of destroyers and cruisers. A million men and women of the Alliance Army and Marine Corps with their lives in the hands of Vice Admiral Travis McKinsey, commanding from the assault carrier Okinawa.
The Okinawa was the first of her class, a design meant for overseeing and supporting planetary assaults (in many ways, the successor of the American Wasp-class LHD "Gator Navy" carriers of the late 20th Century). It could carry two Marine PARs and had an even larger fighter wing than the Enterprise and her sisters (though unlike Enterprise and other "fleet" carriers, the Okinawa could not support warp-capable fighter craft, possessing mostly aerospace fighters for supporting planetary assaults with a small complement of four squadrons of sublight starfighters and fighter-bombers for defense against starships). Currently she was in the middle of the invasion armada, consisting of her PABG (Planetary Assault Battle Group) and three battle carrier divisions (centered around three battle carriers; the Kestrel, the John F. Kennedy, and the Foch), not to mention dozens of smaller transports that were preparing to land or were beaming down supplies for the invasion force as planet-side depots were thrown up.
The ship had a large command center within its keel, not just for naval operations but for an invasion commander to oversee everything while he awaited the selection of an appropriate HQ site and it's establishment, which could take hours. That commander was an Army officer, General Pauline Lecroix from Noveaux Bourgogne, who would soon be marching about the command center getting updates on the invasion's progress while her naval and Marine Aviation counterparts, Vice Admiral McKinsey and Colonel Larry Crawfield, oversaw the naval and Marine Aviation elements of the invasion.
Lecroix was not present yet, nor was Crawfield; it was just McKinsey, speaking with his fleet CO Admiral Kentworth from Kentworth's repaired flagship the Pearl Harbor. "The bombers are en route?"
"They'll arrive four minutes ahead of schedule," Kentworth confirmed. "It's time for your fleet to get going. I'll be following you with 5th Fleet as soon as 9th Fleet's first detachments arrive."
"Launching this quickly is a mistake," McKinsey stated. "It wouldn't hurt to wait half a day, and it'd give us more ships in position."
"Ikila might not have half a day according to our last reports," Kentworth replied. "It is imperative that the Rome of Bajor be spared a Cardassian sack."
"Very well, Sir. McKinsey out." When Kentworth's image disappeared, McKinsey settled back into his chair. "Send out the general order. Operation: Crusader has been commenced."
"Yes, sir."
As the order was transmitted, and the fleet responded by verifying course to Bajor and going to warp, McKinsey tried to settle the bad feeling in his stomach that they were doing this too fast, that they were relying too much on the bombers to catch the Cardassians napping when the Cardies, not being stupid, were going to be looking for just such an attack. "Deus Vult," he remarked sarcastically as he felt Okinawa's warp drives charge up and fling the great vessel into warp velocity.
Ikila, Bajor, Cardassian Union
23:09 GST
Focht and Opel stood side-by-side as the snowy holographic image of Na'Toth continued to speak. "The counter-attack has managed to pin the Cardassians in place for the time being, but we cannot maintain it. There are simply too many of them coming through our broken defenses now."
"Do what you can."
"Yes, Marshal." Na'Toth disappeared from the screen. One of the technicians quickly replaced her image with that of the active situation, and it wasn't a good one. The Cardassians were past the third trench line and driving hard for the Great Temple. Their troops, Bajorans and advisors-volunteers, were tired from days of fighting while the Cardassians were circulating in the reserves of their Mechanized Detachment to maintain vitality in their advance. Ammunition and energy sources were running low and food was becoming an issue with the loss of the agricultural stocks in the west. It was clear to all present that if something didn't happen soon - preferably the arrival of an Alliance invasion force - Ikila would fall, and the result would be devastating to the Bajoran people.
"I should warn the Kai to flee," Opel said. "We must evacuate as many people as possible."
"You know as well as I that she will not leave. As for an evacuation, begin the preparations as soon as possible."
"My apologies to you, Marshal Focht." Opel looked down. "I brought you here to die on an alien world for a cause that was not your's."
"Considering I have not had a cause for some time, and have fought for worse causes in my old life, I cannot accept that apology," Focht replied. "I had my reasons for coming to your aid, and I do not regret them."
"So, what shall we do now?", Montecuccoli asked.
"We shall pray, Commander. We shall pray." Focht looked to him. "That is all we can do now."
Kurvak, Cardassian Union
10 December 2153 AST
01:16 GST
Gul Ivirak was on the bridge looking over the sensor returns when his sensor officer began speaking up. "Sir, the Pokel is reporting anomalous readings about one light year out."
"Oh? What took them so long to see it?"
"They just had a shift change, sir, and apparently the sensor officer who came on was the first to notice it."
"So, what kind of anomalous reading is it?"
"Subspace distortion. It appears to be moving slightly."
"On course for us?"
The officer looked again for a few minutes. "Yes, Gul."
"I see." Ivirak put his hands together. "How long until it gets here?"
"Twenty minutes."
"I see." There was a smirk on Ivirak's face. "I want Squadrons 10, 15, and 20 to move into a position to fire on the anomaly at all sides when it comes within the range for Alliance missile attack. And they are to do it as discreetly as possible. All other ships are to prepare to raise their shields at a moment's notice."
"Yes, Gul."
Bomber Beta-One, Nearing Kurvak, Cardassian Union
01:37 GS
Secure in his seat, Flight Lieutenant Patrick Keller kept his B-195 on course with the rest of the 10th Aerospace Defense Bomber Group. The older bombers were all loaded with impulse boosters carrying anti-ship missiles, enough so that sixty bombers could target over three hundred enemy ships with at least two weapons. The plan was a simple one - do as much damage to the enemy fleet at Kurvak as possible, thus preventing them from easily interrupting the invasion of Bajor.
"Prepare to secure from warp flight. Ready weapons."
"Yes sir. Securing from warp flight now..."
The bomber came out of warp in sync with the others. Right after it did, the Corporal at the sensors station started shouting, "Sir! Detecting enemy fire on our pos...-"
At that moment a photon torpedo detonated right on top of them and blew the bomber to pieces.
CDS Leverat
Ivirak's plan worked flawlessly.
The instant the anomalous readings "disappeared", a storm of torpedoes and compressor cannon fire came down on their position. Multiple explosions occurred then and debris began to shimmer into sight, as did some damaged Alliance bomber craft.
Immediately the sixty Cardassian ships tasked to attacking poured on their fire, increasing the amount of debris. A few unseen bombers managed to deploy their impulse boosters laden with missiles before the very act led to their destruction. The boosters themselves were easily picked off and not a single one deployed their missiles.
"Detecting anomalous readings again, sir," Ivirak's sensor officer reported. "They're fleeing back to Darane."
Ivirak's lieutenant looked at him. "Sir, shall we pursue?"
"No. I have bigger prey in mind." Ivirak got into his chair. "This was no mere raid, but a deliberately planned operation to reduce our numbers. They wanted us out of the way to commence the invasion of Bajor. So they will have all of those troops and all of those support vessels out in the open. We must hit them before the enemy fleet arrives in response to their bombers' failure here. All ships are to enter warp formation now. Forward deploy the scout squadrons and set course for Bajor. They have made an error in underestimating us, and I intend to use that to my full advantage."
At Ivirak's command Third Fleet arranged itself for warp travel. Every commander and bridge officer in the fleet knew the stakes and the opportunity; if Third Fleet could slip in and decisively crush the Alliance invasion, it would be a great boost to national morale and a blow to the enemy's. In one swift stroke the defeats at Darane and Zygola would be redeemed with the annihilation of the Alliance's troops for invading Bajor, giving Cardassia time to strengthen defenses. It might even turn the tide of the war into Cardassia's favor.
All this was well known to Ivirak, who's grim smile grew into that of an ambitious predator, sensing his moment had come.
So, after we get some set-up again for what became "Where Trust Lies", we delve into the ongoing fighting over Bajor, and the result: Bajor Rises, and the blood flows. Opaka declares for the rebellion and, coincidentally, gets a certain political cleric executed by Dukat's vicious successor. Unfortunately, Cardassian conscripts are the type to decide the RoE is "kill every Bajoran we come across as a potential threat", as we see.
The 5AE added Odo and Garak's scene because the originally actually had people wondering what happened to them, and I decided neither was the type to do nothing. Odo, obviously, would try to avoid such an injustice, and Garak did have something of a weak moral compass, but practicality also calls for him to endear himself to the Bajorans.
Meanwhile the fighting on Bajor gives us a nice plethora of guest-stars from the Multiverse. Opel's commanding general is none other than the Hammer himself, Frederick Steiner, now known as Anastasius Focht. Force Commander Montecuccoli is a reference to a friend's BattleTech works involving such a family in the FWL (he would later return a quarter century later, in fact, for "The Last Woman Standing" as an FWL delegate to the IUCEC). Among the commanders Focht brought with him is G'Kar's old aide Na'Toth, since the Narn would be far more likely to sympathize with the Bajorans, and Evantha Fetladral (with Taman Malthus along), who lead Clan Elementals into a battle two years after their own society was crushed and outlawed (as seen in "The Wrath of Paradise" and referenced again with Trajan Osis in the "55 Days in Kalunda" story).
Focht is doing everything he can, but Splendid Ikila's defenses are faltering, and massacre looms for its people even as blood spills across the planet. The Alliance is coming... but with its bomber strike smashed and the Cardassian Third Fleet still intact and heading to Bajor too, the fate of Bajor is clearly undecided...
In our next Chapter, we'll see how Gul Ivirak's ambition serves him...
Flagler Harbor, New Liberty, ADN Colonial Zone
02:13 GST
The city of Flagler Harbor had been founded two months after the Alliance purchase of the sector from the Federation. It was placed on a thin two mile wide south-facing peninsula on the island of Korovolos, one thousand or so kilometers south-south-east of the planetary capitol Wexford. Korovolos was in the northern tropics of New Liberty as part of an archipelago about twice the area of the Lesser Antilles, with one island about as large as Earth's Jamaica and the others varying in sizes comparable to Oahu down to half the size of Guam (Korovolos was within horizon sight of the latter, called Hathaway, Korovolos being about a quarter of the size of Viti Levu in Fiji). Flagler Harbor and it's environs had been founded by a group of investors, developers, and various private individuals to turn into a tropical resort, with Seaside Resort Ltd. also owning a stretch of coast on Hathaway that it used for a private retreat for wealthier clientele.
Right on the beach of Flagler Harbor, just a quarter mile down from the marina, was the Carlton Resort, a decently-sized (and pricey) beach hotel with a few private cottages, a private stretch of beach, and the usual hotel amenities like a built-in bar and restaurant, swimming pool, and massage parlor.
In one of the corner tables was a woman in her mid forties, fit in body and looking a bit younger than she really was, with long red hair down to the base of her spine and blue eyes. Marina Lenarova was a Federation merchant ship captain, currently residing on Novya Moskva - about one hundred and fifty light years away inside the Federation - when she was planetside. The Starfleet-trained engineer had been out of the service since being forcefully retired from her resistance to the much-maligned Miller reforms, her offer to return to duty for the Federation's wars in the late 2350s having been refused and leaving her to carve out a life in a private economy that was being crushed under the growing weight of the Federation government bureaucracy and its insatiable hunger for resources and shipping capacity. Like many other small ship-owners, Marina had transferred the registries on all three of the ships she had title to, flagging them in the Alliance to protect them from seizure under the BLN Support Act.
This was no business trip, of course, but a much needed vacation. And though Marina was now alone, reading a book, she would not be for much longer. When the door on the other side of the room opened, she would look to see who was entering from one of the resort's inner hallways. And when she saw Valentyna, her wife of fifteen years and soulmate for twice as long, she lowered the book and stood. Valentyna was her age but had aged better (At least in Marina's view), with the same healthy and beautiful figure she had as a young girl. She was wearing a flattering blue strapless tube top adorned with tropical flowers, and a cheap Hawaiian hula skirt of plastic-masquerading-as-grass. Marina herself was wearing the same kind of skirt - solely as a concession to Valentyna, given her own personal preferences in public wear - and a modest sleeveless halter top that went down to her belly.
A couple of male heads turned to Valentyna as she walked up and slid into the table beside Marina. The two held hands and kissed softly, nothing too sensual but enough to make the nature of their relationship clear to any onlookers, before Valentyna picked up a menu. "I'm sorry it took so long."
"Nothing to worry about, love."
"Still reading that Proctor book?"
Marina placed the book - "Memoirs of a Traveler, Volume 2: The Road to Hell" by Sara Proctor - down on the table. "It's an interesting read. The universe the book is from, I believe it's called CON-5, is the kind of universe that would make a Millerist's head explode. Which is why it's so interesting."
Valentyna shook her head, giggling softly. "Politics on a vacation, dear?"
"Oh, forgive that, but it is habit."
"I read the first book after you." Valentyna picked up the book and looked it over. On the back was the picture of a well-dressed young woman with brown hair and a pleasant smiling face. She looked to be in her twenties, but Valentyna had learned enough about the other universes to know that in many, Humans used genetic alterations to prolong their life spans. "So this explains more of that smuggling ship she ended up living on?"
"Actually, they don't end very well. Most of them are slaughtered when they are betrayed to a Chinese crimelord that Comeau had secretly double-crossed. Sara ended up being sold into sex-slavery on what was supposed to be the capitol world of a civilized interstellar society. It's a rather horrible read, clearly traumatizing to the poor woman, and I think if I'm ever given the offer of running a load to this 'Gilead' I'll turn it down out of hand." Marina smirked. "Though there was a note attached to the book when I bought it about how there were reforms implemented to prevent this kind of thing from happening. Apparently the Gilean Tourism Association has even issued lawsuits against her and her publishers, claiming the book is damaging their industry and is 'maliciously inaccurate'."
"I imagine they would say that."
"Anyway, it's a very depressing book so far. I hope it lightens up." Marina took Valentyna's hand. "So, tonight we take the shuttle to Wexford to see the New Sydney Orchastra?"
"Yes. I will fulfill my end of the bargain. Though tomorrow, I expect you to try on that swimsuit."
"Oh, love..." Marina cringed. "I will, but I still think you flatter me too greatly."
"I do not. You are simply too modest and self-critical."
At that moment someone turned up the one vidscreen in the establishment, which was currently on the BBC. "Fighting broke out today in the Klingon Empire," an English anchorman with graying hair said, "between rival factions for the Klingon Chancellory. In an official press release, the Duras Family denounced the Arbitration of Federation naval captain Jean-Luc Picard as 'unfair and poisoned by the material interests in the Federation'. We have received a press release from the Ministry of Foreign Relations announcing the issuing of a Travel Alert to all Alliance citizens, warning them to stay out of the Klingon Empire for the duration of the hostilities."
"Good thing I don't have any clients that trade there," Marina muttered while accepting a salad from a waitress. "In other news, scattered reports continue to come in from Bajor, indicating that Cardassian forces have begun to actively kill Bajoran civilians in retaliation for the mass uprising that began over thirty hours ago in response to the Bajoran Kai's call for resistance to the Cardassian occupation. There are few press sources in Bajor to confirm.... Hold on." The man pressed a hand against his right ear. "I have just received a report that Alliance troops have landed on Bajor. We are starting to receive an open transmission from one of our embedded journalists, Nathan Cutter. He is with a battalion of the 23rd Marine Planetary Assault Regiment, which just hit the ground on Bajor. Switching over now... Nathan?"
The screen abruptly changed to show a man in a full military suit, complete with clear face plate in what was presumably an air-tight suit to protect from chemical or biological weapons. His face was not easily seen due to the darkness around him and the light mounted on the camera. Some of the picture had static and there was some commotion around the reporter. "This is Nathan Cutter, BBC News, reporting live from a position on the southern secondary continent of Bajor. We just landed about eight minutes ago - I cannot tell you where for certain - and..." The camera shook and Cutter brought his arms up instinctively from a nearby explosion. "...about three minutes ago we came under artillery fire from the nearby hills. It looks like some form of rapid-reaction force used MET devices to deploy as soon as our landings were detected. The landing zone is under heavy shelling. Some of the Marines around me are setting up their own mortars..." - another shell exploded nearby - "...and others appear to have begun advancing on the Cardassian guns. Wait... turn the camera! Over there!"
As Cutter shouted, the roar of jet engines could be heard. The camera whipped around to show a dark hillside some distance away. Fast-moving flares of light could be seen racing over and then away from the hillside, after which explosions flowered up from the hillside. After the explosions ended the camera turned back to Cutter. "It looks like the Marines managed to call in air support from their fighters. It looks like it was bloody effective too."
"Nathan, are those the only troops that landed?"
"No, there were many other landings I'm sure, though I can't tell you where. And this was just the force to secure the LZ. An Army transport is coming down right now. Mike, I need you to raise the camera up to there..." The camera moved skyward, showing a dark silhouette coming down slowly with some lights on it's surface. "That's a huge transport right there, carries thousands of soldiers. They'll be landing soon."
“Any last word for the viewers, Nathan?”
“Yes. Given what I’ve seen here so far, I think it’s safe to say that the liberation of Bajor has finally begun. Back to you, Charles.”
The picture flipped back to the BBC News studio, but the words from the anchor became drowned out as applause and cheers broke out amongst the diners and the employees of the establishment. Marina and Valentyna eagerly joined them.
DNS Pearl Harbor, Darane, Alliance Liberation Zone
02:15 GST
Admiral Kentworth kept his jaw tight and his expression blank as he received the news from Air Vice Marshal Dupont. “How many bombers survived?”
“Eight out of eighty.” Dupont’s face was grim. “The enemy fleet did not suffer any apparent damage.”
“Then they’ll certainly be heading for Bajor to stop the invasion.” Kentworth sighed. “I’ll signal ahead and warn the invasion fleet.”
“It’s too late to call off the invasion now,” Dupont said. “The landings have already begun.”
“Then we’ll just have to beat that fleet. Excuse me, Vice Marshal, but I must be going now.” Kentworth nodded to a comm officer to cancel the connection. “Pah! Bloody idiots and their old toys. I’m sure the Cardies saw those bliddy slow bombers coming a sector away.” Kentworth now looked intently at the force listing displayed on the main command screen.
He was technically commander of 5th Fleet only, but 9th Fleet’s intended CO - Admiral Kevin Schafer - was still waiting to come through the New Liberty Gates, leaving the task forces from 9th Fleet already on station without a commander. He had Task Force 5.1 on station now, having exchanged some of the surviving ships from Task Force 5.4 with 5.1 to give it three battle squadrons, as well as Task Force 9.1 and 9.2. If he dragged every ship capable of warp and some combat function with him, Kentworth could arrive at Bajor with 400 ships in about two hours.
“Re-organize all available forces as indicated,” he said to the CIC staff while tapping the appropriate buttons. “Set formation and course to Bajor and go to warp speed as soon as we are ready.”
Purek Kor, Bajor, Disputed Space
02:45 GST
Purek Kor was the base of the 129th Provisional Order, one of the conscript units assigned to Bajor and tasked with security in the region of Solifpa. The vast majority of the unit was out in the field currently, suppressing the uprisings in Solifpa Province with a fair degree of brutality.
The base, however, was no longer their’s. During the landings an entire battalion of Marines assaulted it straight from their craft, taking advantage of Purek Kor’s lack of a defense shield to land directly in the base. A short firefight with the base guards had been waged, leading to some casualties on both sides, but the issue had not been in doubt due to the firepower the Marines had versus that of the Cardassians.
Now an entire Marine regiment was in and around the base, securing it from the approaching 129th Order, which itself would be attacked by the 315th Division within a few hours. Sergeant Kevin Waller was with his squad in the barracks, securing the area and eventually finding themselves confronted by a secured door. At Waller’s command, a Cardassian soldier was brought up. The young Cardassian was ordered to open the door, but all he did was smirk and say, “Open it yourself.”
“Open the fucking door!” one of the Marines bellowed, slamming the prisoner up against the wall.
Waller pulled the Marine away and sent for another prisoner. This one was not an actual combat soldier but a janitorial conscript who’s nose ridge and skin complexion indicated he was half-Bajoran. He didn’t seem anywhere as defiant as the Cardassian but rather frightened. “Open the fucking door,” one of the Marines commanded him.
When the janitor obeyed, the Cardassian growled at him. “Fucking bastard! Your Bajoran mother should’ve never spawned you, you little coward!”
The door slid open and the Marines stepped in. The janitor turned the light on for them and stayed to the side, his head kept low. Waller walked in, looked around, and muttered, “What the fuck....?”
There were about sixty beds in the entire room, crammed as close together as elsewhere in the barracks. On each bed was a Bajoran girl, none looking older than their thirties and some looking as young as fourteen. Each one had her wrists tied together by a cord tied to a bed headboard. Some were naked, some half-naked from the waist up or waist down, and others barely clothed and in easy-to-remove garments. About ten looked malnourished and almost all were sporting bruises, cuts, welts, and burns on their visible bodies, including several with black eyes, broken noses, or swollen lips. They all looked toward the Marines entering the room. “Holy fuck,” one of the soldiers said.
Some were clearly frozen from fear, not quite knowing what to expect of their liberators. A few, however, knew that their ordeal was at an end and began pulling against the cords binding them, begging in their native language to be freed. Waller put a hand to the side of his helmet. “This is Sergeant Waller, Platoon B. I need a corpsman down here ASAP. Hell, get all the corpsmen you can get. We’ve got wounded Bajorans here.”
There was commotion from the other room. One of the Marines who’d entered and seen the girls returned through the door and attacked their Cardassian prisoner. “You sick mother fucker!” He knocked the soldier over and began to kick him before two more Marines pulled him away. “Let me the fuck go and look in there! You’ll want to kick his ass too!”
“Marine that’s enough!” Waller’s bellow calmed the soldier a little and pointed to the Cardassian soldier. “Get that piece of shit and the other one back to the holding area. We’ll stay here and wait for the corpsmen.”
Near Ikila, Bajor, Disputed Space
02:43 GST
The Bajoran sun was high in the sky as 2nd Rank Glin Rukat and his troops continued their advance east to “Splendid Ikila”. As they rode along the road they sometimes found the dead bodies of Bajoran fighters struck by artillery or shot by Cardassian troops as they attempted to resist the inexorable Cardassian advance on their holy city.
“About time,” one of Rukat’s troops muttered from within the APC. “We’ve been slogging through these dumb fanatics for days now, and only now are we getting to their precious fucking city to burn it to rubble.”
“We’re not burning the Temple,” Rukat told them. “Prefect Korel decided to keep it off-limits so we can put another Kai in.”
“Ah, forget that. We should just kill Bajorans until we wipe ‘em all out or they stop fighting and go back to doing what they’re told to do.”
Rukat shook his head. In a way the Trooper was right, but orders were orders. Rukat looked east and saw, in the distance, a tall spire. “There it is, the Bajorans’ Great Temple. We’re almost there!”
Some movement to the side made Rukat turn. He swung his rifle over and leveled it at just the right time to shoot a Bajoran moving in a bush thicket, killing him instantly. He kept looking around him. “Not much farther to go, men.”
Shakaar Peitel remained hidden in the bushes near the road, watching the Cardassians drive by. His friends were all dead now, leaving only him to lay and watch in fear as the Cardassians advanced onward.
They had failed their people. The young man, just past nineteen, thought of his family in Ikila and hoped they were among the refugees that would be fleeing east to escape the Cardassians. But what good would that do, as he supposed the Cardassians would simply keep advancing until every refugee column had been overrun and slaughtered as punishment for the uprising.
Peitel pulled his rifle closer. The AR-20 was an old Human rifle, like thousands that Opel Nevis had smuggled into Ikila in the past months. He still had three clips of ammo. Perhaps he could try to hold off the Cardassians by firing from cover? No, they’d just sweep their rifles over the bushes and get him that way. Or.... Peitel went to reach for his clips to remove the bullets. He could gather all of their chemical propellant together and use it to make a bomb. He would sacrifice himself to hold the enemy off a moment longer. Perhaps the moment necessary to save his family.
But before he could begin working, an explosion made his head turn. And he was surprised to see a Cardassian APC in flames. What caused that? he wondered, even as he heard a distant rumbling sound through the ground.
Rukat saw one of the vehicles ahead explode and looked down to his driver, who was already looking at his instruments. “What is that?!”
“Several contacts are showing up ahead of us, coming along the peripheral road of Ikila. It’s... What are those? I’ve never seen them before.”
Rukat brought up binoculars and looked to the distance. He spotted things - vehicles - coming out of the city. They looked a little low compared to his APC and had very large, ominous guns sticking out of their turrets.
He saw what looked to be a massive eruption of flame from the gun and lowered his binoculars just in time for his vehicle to be hit by a round that blew it apart, throwing Rukat many feet away.
Sergeant Peter Teller watched the Cardie APC explode from a direct hit by a HEAT round. “Damn, are they supposed to do that? What the hell do the Cardies make their APCs with, soda cans?” He looked back at the gunner, who had set the auto-loader to load another HEAT round. “Got a new target, Private?”
“Yes sir.”
“Fire when ready.”
Teller looked back to his viewer as the tank rumbled again. The HBT-1 Patton’s 150mm coilgun thundered once more, and in the distance another Cardassian APC exploded. He could see the Cardassian column stopping and some of its troops dismounting in reaction to the attack. He brought up the controls for the three anti-personnel weapons - an 8mm coilgun and grenade launcher on a cupola mounting with his thermal viewer and a second 8mm on the opposite side of the main turret from the cupola.
Nearby were other tanks, all HBT-1s. The HBT-1 was a brand new heavy tank, the first being built in 2148, and was considered the “best of all worlds” in design, having been commissioned at the founding of the Alliance as a means of showcasing the combined talents and expertise of the Allied Nations. The chassis was Russian and based off the successful T-205, the 150mm main gun was a German Rheinmetal-Borsig tank rifle, and the 8mm railguns were an American Colt-designed gun, the electronics and point-defense phaser being American mostly and the microfusion engine being a design of a French company, Bussard-Guillan Inc.
“Hey, they’re running!” Teller heard his Lieutenant say over the radio. “The rat bastards are running!”
“We can’t let ‘em run,” the company’s commander answered. “Keep up the advance. We’ve got to pin them down.”
And so the tanks rumbled on.
Dazed and injured, Rukat forced himself to begin standing. Flames licked skyward from the shattered bulks that were once several top-of-the-line Cardassian armored infantry carriers.
Though without his binoculars, Rukat could still faintly see approaching vehicles emerging from the city. He looked around the area he landed and found the binoculars where they’d been thrown, fortunately not broken. He brought them up to his eyes and looked on, again seeing the treaded vehicles with the massive guns. There were other vehicles coming too, with smaller guns on their turrets but yet far larger. Infantry carriers, obviously.
Rukat strained to see if there were more guns, but he didn’t get the chance. A bullet tore through his lower back, hitting his spine and effectively paralyzing him from the waist down. Rukat turned as he fell, landing on his back and allowing him to look up as Shakaar Peitel walked up. The young man kicked Rukat’s sidearm out of his hand before he could grab it and placed the gun squarely at Rukat’s temple. Fear flickered in the eyes of Rukat as much as hate did in Peitel’s eyes. Before Rukat could say a word Peitel’s finger pulled the trigger, putting a bullet into the middle of Rukat’s brain and thus killing him instantly.
There were no other Cardassians nearby, as even the ones who had jumped out of their vehicles were running to get away, and failing if Peitel was hearing things right. Screams and shouts to the west along with the continued rumbling of vehicles and thundering of guns to the east were enough to tell him that the tide may have turned. He smiled bitterly, thinking of all of his friends who had died by Cardassian hands.
The Alliance had come. Now it was the Cardassians’ turn to be slaughtered.
Ikila, Bajor, Disputed Space
02:59 GST
Opel had been ecstatic when the Alliance transports had begun landing at and around Ikila. Shortly thereafter the commander of what the Alliance called the III Armored Corps - Lt. General Oscar Whitman - had arrived.
Now Whitman and Focht were going over the rapidly-changing battlefield. About ten minutes ago, the forward units of the 2nd Armored Division had counter-attacked the Cardassian forces advancing on Ikila, striking on both major roads and launching small company-sized flanking attacks along minor routes. Meanwhile the 9th Armored Division and 410th Infantry Division had landed north and south of Ikila and, with their support forces establishing base camps, had already begun advancing to outflank the Cardassian forces. The crushed town of Torvel, where the rear-most Cardassian reserves were placed, had been directly assaulted by the Marine 3rd Division, cutting off the main road back to the bases which the Cardassians had deployed from. They too were moving to hold the territory around Torvel, within an hour of linking up with the 9th Armored and 410th Infantry.
“The encirclement should hold,” Focht agreed after they received the latest report from the 410th, moving it’s marker even further to the west to show it’s controlled area. “Granted that it requires the 2nd Armored to maintain it’s counter-attack to pin the Cardassians in place.”
“I’m only a bit worried that the Cardassians might try to dig in or even use what’s left of your trenches. But our artillery should neutralize that threat.” Whitman pointed on the map to the leftover battalions of ad hoc Bajoran fighters. “How about your units?”
“I’m pulling out what’s left of our eastern defenses in light of your arrival and the lack of other Cardassian forces in the immediate area.” Focht pointed to portions of what was to become the Allied encirclement line. “We can use them to plug any gaps that appear.”
“I dunno, most of them are pretty worn down I imagine. You might want them to just sit this one out.”
“We will not, General Whitman,” Opel spoke up. “Bajor is our world, and we have to help free it.”
“I understand that, Mister Opel, but your people have been fighting for eight days straight. A lot of ‘em are hungry and some are probably wounded. You’ve done your part already, forcing the Cardies to stay nice and bunched up to force their way through your defenses and making it that much easier for us to give ‘em hell.”
At that point one of Whitman’s officers looked up from a portable phone. “Sir, artillery battalions are ready.”
“Tell ‘em to open up, Captain.”
Cardassian Mechanized Detachment Field HQ, Bajor, Disputed Space
03:04 GST
Gul Severak’s fist slammed on the table. His troops had been within sight of that damned Great Temple and now this!
Communications with Prefect Korel had alerted him to Alliance troops landing on Bajor, but he had hoped to get into Ikila to dig in to fight a defensive battle with any attackers. They were quicker than he’d anticipated, unfortunately. His spearheads to Ikila had all been blunted by a powerful enemy counterattack rolling right out of the city, using powerful armored vehicles unlike anything in Cardassia’s arsenal.
An artillery bombardment was now being prepared to thwart the enemy counter-attack, or at least hold him down long enough for Severak to bring enough forces ahead to resume the offensive. But there were other developments concerning him now. Cardassian forces had been expelled from Torvel in the rear by direct enemy landings, threatening to cut off Severak’s route of escape. And there were now reports of enemy forces moving along the flanks of his forces, not directly engaging so much as harassing (and causing damage with just that!) and moving to link up with the enemy that landed at Torvel, completely encircling over 80,000 professional Cardassian troops.
He had two options. Attempt to force his way through the newly-arrived Alliance troops to enter Ikila or turn his troops in another direction and attempt to break out. So far his best choice seemed to be pressing ahead, considering the orientation of his troops. And this was what Severak decided he would do.
That’s when the explosions began.
Behind the advancing Alliance forces were over two hundred artillery pieces and MRLS vehicles that had been disembarked from the transports they were carried in on. They now opened fire, as did the artillery weapons built into the frames of the Alliance's larger landing ships, directing most of their firepower on what looked to be the Cardassian artillery units in Severak’s unit and also on what field command centers they could find. Entire units were simply wiped out by the massive explosions. Some of the incoming shells released submunitions that created dozens of smaller but deadly explosions, others were themselves massive explosives - including thermobaric rockets - that flattened buildings and trees. Fire directed against Cardassian HQs or infantry positions consisted heavily of submunitions, conventional artillery explosives, and fuel-air explosive rockets, killing and wounding hundreds.
One shell directly hit Severak’s HQ before detonating it’s chemical charge. Half the building collapsed and the blast wave knocked over everyone, including Severak, who at least had the fortune of the table and a wall being between him and the blast. It killed many members of his staff, though, and wounded others.
Other shells exploded nearby and even overheard. As Severak walked about in a daze, trying to work with the surviving staff to find what equipment still worked, he smelled something in the air. He began to cough as a horrible burning sensation filled his nostrils and mouth and worked down into his lungs.
“Gas,” he rasped as he struggled about, looking for something to hold over his mouth. “Where.... where are the gas masks?!”
A surviving subordinate, coughing horribly, got into a small trunk and pulled several out, giving the first to Severak. He struggled to force it on, and even then it did not make the burning go away, as he had inhaled too much of it. With pure willpower Severak managed to ignore the pain enough to oversee the rest of his staff getting the masks and going back to work.
Within ten minutes it was clear the Alliance bombardment had not been sustained; it had been very short term, likely only a minute or two of firing before the ammunition on hand had been exhausted. But it had done enough, causing horrible casualties amongst Severak’s forces and further enabling their main thrust to continue crumbling Severak’s frontline.
And though he would continue leading his men to fight as well as they could, Severak could see now that this was a hopeless battle.
DNS Okinawa CVP-1, In Orbit Over Bajor
03:19 GST
Okinawa maintained her position near Bajor, deploying and recovering aerospace fighters to conduct air support missions on the planet below. Within the ship's armored keel, General Lecroix was in the command center getting updates while Admiral McKinsey and Colonwl Crawfield performed their own command duties.
"The 13th PAR is assaulting Mount Tevis near Salmio," one of Lecroix's aides reported. "And we have a report from III Armored Corps. General Whitman reports that Ikila is out of danger."
"All divisions are either fully deployed or in the final stages of disembarkment. Supply transfer to the surface has begun...."
Lecroix nodded. A moment later a voice came from the other side of the CIC. "Sirs, we have enemy contacts inbound at high warp. Reading no less than four hundred and eighty contacts, probably about five hundred. They'll be entering range in ten or so minutes."
"This must be the fleet from Kurvak that we were warned about." McKinsey looked to Lecroix, the look on her face betraying the fears of what the Cardassian fleet's arrival meant. Returning his attention to the officers and personnel operationing the naval section of the command room, McKinsey said, "We'll have to draw the enemy away from the planet. Have all ships go to full combat alert and the carriers launch all fighters. Someone get a signal out to Darane before they begin jamming..."
The mood in the room chilled considerably as Comms started to work. Over a million Alliance military personnel were here, out in the open, ships still in the process of landing, and a force sufficient to destroy them all was heading straight for them.
The liberation of Bajor had barely begun and was now being faced with abject failure.
DNS Pearl Harbor, En Route to Bajor
03:24 GST
Kentworth listened to the report from General Lecroix and Admiral McKinsey carefully. "I'm en route with everything I could get. But we're still fifty minutes out."
"We'll try to delay them as much as we can," McKinsey said. "Our carriers might be enough to blunt them."
"If not, do everything in your power to preserve the support vessels for our invasion and to ensure the troops deploy their anti-starship artillery as quickly as possible. Good luck and Godspeed, Admiral." Kentworth cut the comm. "Status on ships in formation?"
"Division 1-3-3 reports that the Iowa is still suffering drive difficulties and cannot raise speed. At least forty-four vessels are incapable of higher warp."
Kentworth nodded in reply. As he thought hard on the situation, his comm officer made a report. "Sir, signal from the Ronald Reagan. It's Vice Admiral O'Bannon."
"Put him on."
A moment later an American-accented voice from New England spoke. "Admiral, at this rate we won't get to Bajor before the Cardassians blow the invasion force to pieces. I respectfully request permission to go to full speed."
"Permission denied, Admiral O'Bannon. I want to maintain the fleet as a whole force. We've taken enough losses in this war already and I will not risk 9th Fleet getting chewed up as well."
"So we'll sacrifice all of those troops instead?"
"No. We will simply trust Admiral McKinsey to do what is necessary to delay the Cardassians until we arrive." "Sir, with all due respect, five hundred ships will make short work of four carriers and their escort screens. It's not a matter of skill. It's a matter of sheer weight. Please, sir, let's take all the ships that can go to flank speed and get there quickly. Otherwise, we'll be wasting all of our troops' lives!"
Kentworth shook his head, thinking. There was so little time left, and the lives of millions of people would be saved or doomed on the next decision....
CDS Leverat, Entering Bajor
03:31 GST
As one cohesive unit the Cardassian Third Fleet came out of warp in a wide formation. The fleet moved en masse toward Bajor, coming "down" on the invasion fleet from the zenith point of the system. "We have dozens of enemy contacts spread out about the system, Gul," Ivirak's sensorman reported. "Going by power signature and mass, I'd consider about ninety to one hundred of them to be combat vessels."
"Any major vessels?"
"Detecting a number of ships matching the general profile of their carriers, Gul. Including a very large one."
"One of their carriers." Ivirak's expression changed into a smile. "Very good. Have all squadrons form attack formation with tight spacing."
"Sir, standing fleet orders mandate wide formation to disperse enemy fire," one of Ivirak's aides reminded him.
"I know that, Glin, but we are not facing an Alliance battle fleet. We are facing a collection of light warships with their carriers, and the primary threat is their fighters. In tight formation, we can more easily fill the space ahead of us with fire and nullify that threat."
DNS Okinawa CVP-1
McKinsey was now in full control of the invasion's covering forces and the fighter wings. Okinawa's defensive starfighters added eighty to the one hundred from the older John Kennedy and Foch and the one hundred and fourty on the Kestrel. "Transports are landing as quickly as they can, sir," one of his officers reported. "The others will try to keep the planet between them and the fleet."
"They can only do that so long as the Cardassians don't split up. I doubt they're going to send all five hundred of those ships after us." McKinsey directed his attention to the officer at the Fighter Command station. "Direct all fighter squadrons to launch an immediate attack on the Cardassian fleet. The rest of the fleet is to break orbit. Set course on an outer angle away from the Cardassians."
"Aye sir."
CDS Leverat
"Enemy fighters inbound!"
"All ships open fire when ready. Detail half of our squadrons to reply specifically to enemy missile fire!"
The Cardassian fleet advanced onward, one great horde heading toward the swarm of Alliance fighters racing to challenge them. A mass of missiles came from the hardpoints on the Alliance fighters and were immediately answered by compressor beam fire from the Cardassian fleet. The Cardassians had set their weapons to their widest, most effective setting at range, and the result was a relative blanket of energy that took out virtually every missile before they could hit; a couple managed to hit and do shield damage to some of the big ships.
When the range was right, the other half of the Cardassian fleet opened up with similar fire against the fighters themselves. The pilots nimbly dodged and weaved as best they could but still took hits, many of them fatal from the sheer power of the enemy weapons.
With the enemy's fighter screen dispersing, Ivirak was open to begin the pursuit of the enemy carriers. "All ships, pursue and destroy the enemy carriers and their escorts."
"Sir, shouldn't we detail ships to destroy their invasion's support vessels?"
Ivirak shook his head. "Standing orders are to engage enemy carriers on sight. We'll get the invasion forces after we get those carriers. I don't want them to escape, not like they did at Darane."
DNS Okinawa CVP-1
McKinsey watched the Cardassians pursue him with all of their force. It made sense to him that the Cardassian commander would want to take out the Okinawa and the other carriers. He, in turn, was determined to do what was necessary to keep the Cardassians from either destroying the carriers or annihilating the support vessels for the invasion. That the Cardassians were deadset on destroying him and ignored the support vessels was a small blessing in of itself.
Needing time, McKinsey put his ships on course to round a rogue moon that was in a rough orbit around Bajor. The translation of the moon's Bajoran name was simply "The Prodigal". They were running out of time rapidly, with the Cardassian fleet closing with it's superior sublight speed compared to the massive Okinawa. He would have to squeeze every second out if they had a hope of surviving.
CDS Leverat
Ivirak watched the Alliance force attempt to take refuge around the Prodigal and smirked. To think such a small moon could cover them from five hundred Cardassian ships? The Alliance commander was clearly trying to buy time. "Send out light warships to engage the enemy on the other side of the moon. All squadrons, round the moon and engage."
The Cardassians closed quickly, their lead formations swiftly rounding the moon and exchanging fire with the Alliance units. Ivirak expected them to take a hammering from the heavier Alliance escorts, but their purpose was to delay while his hammerblow moved up.
"Sir, the enemy fighters are coming at our rear."
"Detail half of our squadrons to maintain fire from their aft weapons."
Energy fire from the Cardassian fleet was like a wake to mark their passing, the result of their attempt to lay down another barrage to dissuade fighter attack. Some of the squadrons fired their missiles once more before breaking, the others not wanting to take the risk and preferring to wait for a better opening. At this rate, so long as the Cardassians' attention was not diverted it would be simply impossible to maneuver without the Cardassian squadrons being able to thwart their approach.
Even as the rear squadrons kept firing on the fighters to keep them from trying again, the Cardassian fleet began to round the moon. The Alliance force on the other side was hotly engaged with the squadrons of light ships Ivirak had sent ahead, though those squadrons were taking hard hits of their own and would soon need support.
"Sir, detecting subspace disruption. I didn't see it before due to the radiation."
"What kind of disruption?"
"Consistant with Alliance jamming, sir. It's large enough that I think it's masking an enemy fleet."
"Where are they?"
"Twenty minutes away."
"Good. We'll have time to deal with these ships first."
"Sir, squadrons beginning to move around the moon. Forward Galor and Keldon divisions will be in firing position in 10..... 9..... 8..... 7.... 6...."
"Sir! Radiation spike! Ships coming out of warp!"
Ivirak began to shout orders. He was dead ten seconds later.
DNS Pearl Harbor
Kentworth couldn't believe the opportunity.
En route, he had ordered the fleet's jammers to hang back and continue to project a broad jamming field, hoping that the Cardassians might think the entire fleet was at the center of the resulting distortion. It had been a slight gamble, but a decent one, and it was now going to pay off handsomely.
The order to fire was given. Not that it had been necessary, as every skipper in the fleet had been ready to engage. Three hundred and forty-two warships had exited warp in various positions to effectively pin, with the cooperation of McKinsey's force, the entire Cardassian fleet against the Prodigal.
The positions of his fleet and the Cardassians were fortuitous for more than one reason. The Cardassian fleet was now in a confined space, more tightly formed than they'd been at Zygola. In this confined space, the general superior maneuverability of the lighter Cardassian ships over the Alliance battle line was nullified. In addition, they had been orientated to face McKinsey's force, meaning that for these critical initial seconds, most of Kentworth's fleet was free to fire without reprisal from the powerful bow arcs of the Cardassian fleet.
The area of space between the Prodigal and the Alliance fleet was filled with fire now. The Alliance ships opened up with a devastating initial barrage. The effectiveness was compounded by the initiative of squadron gunnery officers across the fleet. Reading their instruments, they identified in many cases the ships for the Cardassians' squadron commanders - the Cardassians had not yet found a way to mask the comm traffic and resulting electronic emissions that maintained the tight command links they favored for fleet operations - and accordingly assigned targets to the vessels in their squadrons to optimize the bombardment. Gul Ivirak would join many of his twenty-five squadron commanders in death, the Leverat being blasted apart by the 290mm particle guns of the Ronald Reagan and one of the 460mm mass drivers on the Texan FHI-8 Bexar-class heavy cruiser Abilene.
Command confusion now compounded to the chaos of the Cardassian fleet, trapped as it was. Some ships continued forward, attempting to attack the carriers. Others turned toward the Alliance fleet to return fire and attempt to break out. Surviving squadron commanders tried to assert control over the fleet, but there were none with sufficient seniority and the chaos was so great that there was no chance to enforce any kind of uniformity. Returned fire from weapons mounted on the flanks and sterns of the fleet did do some damage when properly targeted, but it lacked the coordination that was devastating the Cardassian fleet.
As seconds passed, more Cardassian ships were taking crippling hits. There was nowhere to run. Fire from the omnipresent Alliance fleet was everywhere and hitting everything. To add to the carnage, the carrier fighters joined the fray, torpedoing a Cardassian fleet now robbed of the cohesion needed to effectively lay down the fire that had kept the fighters suppressed before. Vessels exploded or simply died from lack of power, some due to the Alliance attacks and some from their own skippers performing their duties and refusing to have their ships fall into enemy hands.
Finally some ships began to escape. This was easiest for the light ships sent to attack the carriers at first; ironically they, the ships Ivirak had been willing to see destroyed to delay McKinsey, would be the ones to escape in the greatest numbers and with the best order. The other ships were not to be so lucky, facing the full wrath of the Alliance battle line, composed of ships from the 9th Fleet that were untried in the war and 5th Fleet vessels like Pearl Harbor and Karol Wojtyla, the veterans of the brutal fleet collisions at Zygola and Second Darane. Here and there, the faster warships with the best helmsmen managed to break out of the killing zone, but they had no thoughts of trying to counterattack on the enemy's sides. Rather they would jump to warp as soon as they could, determined to flee and survive where so many comrades had not.
The killing did not continue for long. A few Cardassian commanders chose to flash their surrender to spare their crews. Most, however, refused to do even this, ordering only the abandonment of their ships and choosing to stay and die rather than risk a charge of cowardice that might spell disaster for their families. After about ten minutes the firing ended. The space around the Prodigal was filled with the shattered husks and debris of the Cardassian Third Fleet.
Kentworth had a bemused smile on his face as the shooting stopped. Reports on damage were coming in; McKinsey's force had lost three destroyers with damage spread through the rest of his force. Kentworth's relief fleet had only some minor damage, with only one destroyer and one light cruiser lost from Cardassian suicide attacks (or simply helmsman that lost control of their fleeing ships and plowed into the unfortunate Alliance vessels - there was no way of knowing just yet). The enemy fleet was gone, with losses that his aides were now estimating to be at least 450 and perhaps as many as 480.
The Cardassian Third Fleet had not simply been driven off with heavy loss - it had been wiped out utterly and completely by an enemy it had not hurt in any meaningful way. The timing of Kentworth's arrival and the disposition of the Cardassian fleet had ensured the greatest tactical effect Kentworth could have hoped for, rendering the five hundred Cardassian vessels and its quarter of a million Cardassian sailors helpless victims of one of their nation's most devastating defeats.
VKFS Pobeda, Near Bajor
04:39 GS
After repair Pobeda had gone back out on patrol, ordered to a sector region to interdict the Cardassian supply lines to Bajor and environs. It had mostly been a bore, unfortunately, as the Cardassians were no longer maintaining fleet units in the region and had left their forces on Bajor cut off rather than try to send ships through space that Interdiction Command had made terribly dangerous.
Yefim was on the bridge, grumbling and contemplating a request to be sent to a patrol zone deeper in Cardassian space, when the petty officer at sensors reported contacts fleeing from Bajor. "Several of them appear damaged, given the power readings and plasma trails they're giving off," the young man reported.
"Mister Yuburov, plot intercept course!" As Yuburov did so, Yefim turned to Skobelova, and spoke to her even as Yuburov gave course heading and speed orders to the helm. "Mister Skobelova, give me firing solutions. All hands to battle stations!"
Alerts filled the Pobeda as the silent hunter turned to hunt the prey that was showing up. "Some of the ships are fast enough that we will only get one shot, Captain. The others seem to have damage that has reduced their speed."
"Then we can pick them off at our leisure. Excellent. Assign first shots to the fastest vessels. Load all torpedo tubes."
"Yes sir, loading all torpedo tubes."
Yefim returned to his seat and looked back into his personal command display. The contacts were there now, fleeing from Bajor. Had the enemy been defeated? Yefim thought so, given that the Alliance fleet that entered the system had not left in retreat and had not broadcast distress signals. "Any other ships in the area?"
"The British Upholder and Stellar Navy Olivia Patterson, sir. Both have reported their intention to attack the retreating enemy force."
"Excellent. This will be like shooting milk cows." Yefim leaned back in his seat and smiled widely. It looked like things weren't going to be so boring after all.
Command Center, Cardassia Prime, Cardassian Union
06:50 GST
Yatar entered the empty conference room where Relim Torcet was eating a meal and reading reports. Relim looked up and saw Yatar's expression. He could see the fear in his eyes, and he already knew why. "Gul Ivirak failed," he said simply, not waiting for Yatar to give him the news.
"Yes." Yatar's voice sounded a little shaky. "The Third Fleet.... has been annihilated."
"How many?"
"We are uncertain, some ships reported engine trouble and have yet to get to base. But so far, only ten vessels have returned to Kurvak and there are no more than twelve more en route."
Relim merely sat for a moment, digesting the news of the disaster. Another Fleet destroyed and Cardassia had no reserves in which to replenish it. And given other news on his PADD, their utter defeat had been sealed. He picked the PADD device up as he asked, "What happened?"
"The surviving Guls say Ivirak was pursuing the enemy carriers covering the invasion of Bajor when the Alliance fleet ambushed him at one of Bajor's moons. His formation was tight to deal with the enemy fighters and was pressed against the moon. The enemy barrage was...."
"Fool."
"Ivirak thought he had their carriers in his sights! Didn't you agree that they had to be destroyed?!"
"He should have been more careful. Besides, those carriers weren't the enemy's main carriers." Relim tossed his PADD to Yatar, who picked it up off the table. "The shipyards at Korpet 5, Ulkara, and Pekivar. The orbital factory complexes in the Torvur System. Gone, destroyed by enemy carrier attacks."
"But... we had ships covering them."
"You mean damaged vessels from the prior battles." Relim scoffed. "The lucky ones escaped. The unlucky ones are debris. Between the ships that were being built or repaired in those shipyards and the ships lost in the system, we've lost another 300 ships and heavy interceptors. The damage to our industrial capacity from the loss of the complexes in Torvur is another blow."
"We have other factories..."
"Face facts, Yatar!" Relim pounded his fist on the table, rattling his plate of food. "The war is lost! We have suffered too much, lost too many ships, to continue this fight. Go to Kelataza! Tell him to sue for peace, it's the only way to save Cardassia! Do it now, before the Alliance can consolidate its hold on Bajor and we can no longer use the planet as a bargaining chip!"
Yatar scowled and walked out. Relim slid back into his chair. It hurt him to think he had given a son to Cardassia, a son who's life had been squandered with millions of other Cardassians for the pride of his leaders.
A pride that would now doom him.
Relim returned to his office silently. At his desk, he began calling out to make arrangements, for he knew his time was short.
We start with another Timelines port, or rather two: Marina Lenarova and Valentyna, although I didn't get to a TL story with Valentyna in it before I left that series alone. Their scene not only shows the kickoff of the landings on Bajor but allows me to reference a character who would later be important in "55 Days in Kalunda". There was an unfinished fic called "The Road to Hell" that introduced said character - Sara Proctor of the CON-5 universe - but I only posted it on SDN and, yeah, never finished it, although said fic served as back story for 55 Days.
We get a scene of the Marines rescuing Bajoran comfort girls from a base. For reference, the DS9 episode "Wrongs Darker Than Death or Night" established the Cardies picked up Bajorans for comfort women, but they were really kinda half-assed about it. I show they're no longer so half-assed.
The relief of Ikila succeeds, with the Cardassian spearheads blunting against the 2nd Armored Division's battle tanks. Now they're getting pocketed by the ADN III Armored Corps and a division of Marines.
And yeah, I re-designated the Patton tank partway through the story. War may be war, but bureaucrats are bureaucrats.
But the real action is the attack of the Cardie 3rd Fleet, and running into the problem of target mis-identification. Much like Kurita off Samar he confuses his targets, and in his attempt to kill them, he gets the fate of Nishimura at Surigao Strait.
IIRC my readers were starting to get a little fussy at this point at the war seeming one-sided. As a result I would change the final engagements of the war, going from a planned Leyte Gulf-like engagement called the Battle of the Four Stars (basically simultaneously fights in four different star systems) to, well, you'll see later in the story.
Anyway, next time, more fighting rages on Bajor, and the Cardassians face the harsh truth that they're not going to keep Bajor. They decide to blame, well, you can guess who gets blamed, and they also decide to cover up their other war crimes with more war crimes, not realizing the damage has kinda been done...
Also, we see more of Jorma Gedys, and I will be employing spoiler boxes to spare you gory details unless you really want to read them.
Cardassian Western Detachment HW, Outside Salmio, Bajor
07:01 GST
Gul Teve'el was a large man of middle age who had risen through the ranks due to both his connections and his abilities as a leader. He was now in charge of over 75,000 Cardassian combat troops, not counting their support personnel, besieging the Bajoran city of Salmio. On top of the three Orders of professional mechanized troops he had another 30,000 Cardassian combat troops in two Provisional Orders, plus the shattered remnant of two Provisional Orders that had suffered heavy casualties.
As soon as they had confirmed enemy landings Teve'el had been forced to make a choice: attempt a dangerous escape west to his Detachment's bases or break through and force his way into Salmio. He had tried the latter, with only some luck. The enemy had landed troops in Salmio itself, making the offensive a very difficult thing. They had also forced landings on Mount Tevis on the ridges and faces where Teve'el had placed his artillery.
Now the worst came to pass, as he could see through enhanced imaging binoculars that a massive Alliance flag had been raised on the summit of Tevis. The four-colored flame circled by stars flittered in the stiff Bajoran wind, clearly visible for miles around and probably in the city itself.
It was now that Teve'el made his decision, and he began to order the withdrawal from their siege positions to the west. Salmio was a valley city, after all, flanked by massive mountains and with only two ways in and out of the city - valleys to the west and northeast that were carved out over eons by the River Salgo. The Northeast approach was barely passable and easily-defended for it's narrowness - at times it was so narrow that the river was in a canyon and did not have banks - and the siege had relied totally on the western valley and positions there, which was the reason it had been so unsuccessful.
As Teve'el made his withdrawal, the Bajorans in Salmio actually counter-attacked in several combat sectors. Platoon-sized groups of spirited Bajorans would harrass the retreating Cardassians well into the next day. To make matters worse, even as Teve'el was getting into an HQ vehicle to follow his mechanized troops toward the river town of Idiv at the opening of the valley, he learned that enemy troops that had landed outside the valley were racing to cut his units off before they could escape to the Dakhur Plains.
Deep down, Teve'el knew that no matter what he did, he was doomed.
Ithol Communications Base, Bajor
07:24 GST
The Cardassian base had been assaulted by Shakaar and his cell roughly five and a half hours ago, in perfect timing to the beginning of the Alliance landings. Now they were holed up in the base with a Cardassian force besieging them that outnumbered them by 15 to 1; not exactly the odds that a guerrila force took to fighting.
Near the ground level, Kira Nerys and Pedro Nimenez were guarding one of the entry corridors on the west quadrant of the building. The building entrance itself on that quadrant had been lost to a heavy assault, in which Kira had sustained a wound to her left hip that left her almost immobile. They were in excellent position, however, too far away for the Cardassians to remove with a grenade attack and in position to mow down any Cardassian who came through, at least until the Cardassians again had the sheer numbers to put enough people into the hall that one might get a shot.
Their AK-90s came to life again and again whenever Cardassians tried to peak around the side. Occasionally Pedro would look at Kira, who was sweating from the pain in her hip. "You should go," he said. "Get medical attention."
"No, you need me to help keep-" Kira stopped talking long enough to pull her trigger, killing another Cardassian who came around the corner, and thus finishing the clip in her gun "-to keep them back." She reached into her belt, grimacing from her wound, and brought out a clip which she then placed into the AK. She pulled back on the bolt to put a round in the chamber. "We have to hold them here."
Korolev's voice began to crackle over their radios. "We have friendly troops coming in from the French 8th Air Cavalry. Hold them back just a little longer."
It was almost as if Korolev's revelation prompted the Cardassians to try a heavy attack. One after another came around the corner and toward the duo, who opened up with their guns. Their rounds ripped through the Cardassians' "armor" and bodies alike, sending them down for good one after the other....
But the last one managed to toss a grenade just before Kira put a bullet in his forehead.
The grenade flew through the air and rolled a bit toward them. Before Kira could even hope to move with her injured hip, Nimenez jumped and landed on the grenade. "Pedro, no!" would be the last thing he would hear. The grenade exploded and the resulting discharge of energy went right through his armor and incinerated his torso and the organs within. A brief discharge of energy erupted from out of his back, but did nothing more than heat Kira up.
Some tears began to gather on her dirt-streaked face. Kira liked Nimenez a great deal despite his philosophical proddings from before; he was another good young man cut down by the hated Cardassians. She quickly changed the clips on her AK and pulled out her phaser sidearm, determined to resist to the last. "Shakaar, can you hear me? This is Nerys," she said into the radio. "Nimenez is dead. I've been hit and I can't move. I'm going to hold out here as long as I can."
"Nerys, I can send someone..."
"No! Get someone to hold the next door down from me. Tell them that I'll fill this entire hall with Cardassians before I die." The grin on Kira's face was fierce and full of fatal determination. "I hope you have a good life, friend."
And so she kept fighting. More Cardassians would come and she would kill them, until she had no more clips with which to fire. The pain in her hip kept her mind focused, not allowing her to wander off mentally as she kept to her grim and self-appointed task. When she no longer had ammo Kira turned to a reliance on her sidearm, until finally a Cardassian soldier got a shot off that hit her upper right arm. Pain flared up it and made her drop her gun long enough for three more shots to hit her; one in the right side, to her left shoulder, and to her right breast. The latter hit scorched flesh and damaged Kira's lung and diaphragm. Her breathing became labored as she slumped over and looked up at an angry-looking Cardassian man who lowered his gun and..... there was nothing.
Within minutes a vast swarm of French-built Laurent Anti-Grav flyers had landed in and around the comm base at Ithol, depositing a battalion of French troops to help drive off the Cardassian forces attempting to retake the base. The Laurents themselves added to the firepower of the attacking forces, laying down heavy machine gun fire that tore apart Cardassian troops with direct hits while the soldiers jumped out and spread about to pinch off the Cardassian troops already inside.
Leading one squad was Caporel Malenfant, who went about with his Comeau-Sainte-Martin assault rifle and in full battle dress. They entered the west quadrant of the base, shooting and killing several Cardassians while stepping over fallen bodies from the prior encounter. Going to the end of the main entry corridor, Malenfant turned away from the corridor to the maintainance rooms and saw the back of a Cardassian soldier raising his weapon to shoot a fallen Bajoran. Malenfant squeezed the trigger on his CSM and 7.72mm rounds ripped through the Cardassian's back and chest, killing him quickly.
Malenfant stepped over a great deal of fallen Cardassian bodies and what looked like one Alliance soldier under three, reaching the fallen Bajoran. The red-haired woman - who was in civilian dress but with a Bajoran insignia on an armband - had five clear wounds from nuclear-disruption weapons, but her chest was still rising and proving she was alive. Malenfant kneeled down beside her and activated his radio. Speaking in French, he said, "We need a medic in the base west entrance immediately. We have one wounded Bajoran fighter, female, with at least five hits from a nuclear-disruptor."
"A medic is being sent now."
Idiv, Bajor
08:25 GST
Even with the fighting to the east in Salmio, the twenty thousand Bajorans living in Idiv had not evacuated, staying and continuing to scrape a living off the depleted fisheries of the river and the land so polluted by the industries the Cardassians had built in Salmio. They weren't even considering trying to leave even as some news trickled in that the Cardassians were fleeing from Salmio to prevent Alliance forces from boxing them into the valley. The general idea was that the Cardassians wouldn't bother harming them - though observant of the Bajoran religion, they weren't mad or fanatical enough to attack armed Cardassian troops en masse, and those who wanted to attack were unwilling to risk Cardassian reprisal.
In the end, none of it mattered.
Even as their forward columns moved toward the city, the mobile Cardassian artillery opened up on the small town. Individual Cardassian platoons added to the fire with their mortars when they were in range, toppling buildings and generally seeking to sweep all Bajoran life out of their line of retreat so that the Bajorans could not interfere, a precaution that seemed advisable given some of the Bajoran actions elsewhere on the planet.
By the time the first Cardassian Revarat APCs were entering Idiv, it was a smouldering ruin. There were still fires here and there being put out by the town's overextended firefighters and civilians aiding them, but for those in the path of the APCs, the fires were soon a secondary concern. The Cardassian troops refused to give the slightest spoken warning; they simply opened fire. Soon one could tell the roads taken by the Cardassian mechanized columns by the random Bajoran dead on or beside the roads.
At the lead of one column, 2nd Rank Glin Ruket was seated outside the hatch with his rifle raised. Every time he saw the slightest appearance of Bajoran skin he opened fire, regardless of the size of the target. As a man Ruket wasn't exactly a murderous hater of Bajorans, but rather he was simply brutal-minded in protecting the troops under his command. As far as he was concerned, every breathing Bajoran was a threat and had to be eliminated lest they manage an attack on his troops.
Unlike him, however, was the 2nd Rank Glin to a column down the next road. Tovel had a long-standing hatred of Bajorans and delighted in finally being given the chance to kill them without restraint. Like Ruket he shot dead every Bajoran he saw.
Or almost every Bajoran. As the vehicle moved along he noticed ahead of them a Bajoran father trying to pull an unconscious or dead child out of a flipped, burning aircar. Hearing the rumble, the father motioned for them to stop and begin pleading. Tovel acted like he wasn't there and merely told his driver to go onward, and his driver knew well enough not to question him. The father responded to their refusal to stop by desperately trying to extract his child through the window. He got the head out... the torso... the waist....
Tovel actually made a low laugh as his vehicle simply rolled right over the man and the half-removed child. The Revarat was heavy and powerful enough that it easily rolled over the aircar and completely crushed father and child together. There was no scream, a mild disappointment for Tovel, simply a sickening sound from the crushing of flesh and bone under 25 tons of hard metals and composites.
He noticed movement a distance away and saw a young Bajoran, probably a teenager, hiding in rubble nearby. He lifted his weapon and opened fire, striking the boy in the upper shoulder. Satisfied the shot was sufficient to kill, Tovel continued sweeping for more enemies to shoot.
Yave Pero watched his uncle and cousin get crushed under the Revarat as it rumbled on and felt his heart sink. His own parents were long dead, his family had been killing in the shelling, and his two surviving family members had now been ruthlessly crushed before his eyes.
Pero's heartache was such that he shifted slightly to cover his eyes to cry. The Cardassian who had murdered them turned to Pero and shot him in the shoulder through the rubble that he had been hiding in. Pero gasped and fell back. He already had a number of burns, cuts, and bruises on his body. His shoulder now flared with almost unimaginable pain. He cried out, tears in his eyes, and began slipping in and out of consciousness in a tomb made from his uncle's destroyed home.
An eternity of agony passed before he saw light again. He could see a figure standing over him, wearing a helmet that had a clear faceplate. There was a dark-skinned person inside with a face that made Pero think it was a woman; the figure's high voice seemed to confirm that when it shouted in a language Pero did not understand. He thought he could hear footsteps as his eyes closed and could swear he was being lifted as he drifted into unconsciousness.
Yes, he was being lifted.... to be with his family again.... He was ready to die now. And it would only been ten hours before his eyes would open again and he would find himself still among the living, in a military field hospital of the Alliance military.
Dakhur Plains, Bajor
10:26 GST
The Cardassian Western Detachment was nearly clear. It had escaped through the ruins of Idiv and was now crossing the rolling plains of Dakhur. Few Bajorans dared cross the unit's path, and almost all who did were killed as the APCs and artillery vehicles rumbled on.
As they neared the town of Okal, the roar of jet engines deafened the Cardassians. Marine Corps F/A-37 Corsairs from Okinawa swooped down from above and began bombing the retreating Cardassians. Here and there an APC or three would be blown apart by cluster munitions. During strafing runs by the Marines Cardassian soldiers within their APCs were wounded or killed from railgun fire on the Corsairs ripping through the Revarat's thin armor.
Desperately the Cardassians returned fire. Their APC guns and heavy phaser cannon artillery proved the most effective at trying to force the Corsairs to stop their attacks.
But now the attack came from the front. Waiting ahead on the roads to and around Okal were two battalions of the 3rd Cavalry Division. Light anti-grav tanks with heavy phaser cannons and trained heavy infantry that had dismounted from their IFVs opened fire on the Cardassian mechanized columns as they approached.
The Cardassian forces surged ahead to try and simply force their way through the Alliance troops with sheer numbers. Their artillery opened fire and in some cases successfully hit and knocked out or damaged the Alliance tanks, not to mention the wounding and killing of dismounted infantry. The artillery fire lessened though as the Corsairs continued their vicious pounding of the Cardassian force.
Realizing what was happening, Gul Teve'el ordered the force to turn around and head back to Idiv and its surroundings. His reasoning was clear within minutes, as the 5th Armored Division's battalions of HBT-1s and other vehicles rolled in from the north to strike the Cardassian right flank. Teve'el and some of the rear columns of mechanized troops got away, but the rest of the Cardassian force began to simply disintegrate as it was hammered on two sides and from the air with overwhelming firepower.
Tovel led his men in dismounting from their APC just before an enemy fighter blew it apart with a bomb. The Cardassian soldiers hugged the ground and brought their weapons up to fight back against any enemy infantry that appeared.
But it was not enemy infantry that would confront them. Tovel heard rumbling and looked up to see massive armored vehicles with large guns on their turrets rumble forth. From a cupola on the turrets' tops, grenades were being fired in all directions. Tovel screamed for his troops to attack the enemy tanks. They rose and started shooting, their fire sometimes missing or sometimes connecting and being absorbed by armor. Fire erupted from the railguns on the tanks' cupolas and tore through one soldier, then another, then another.
Tovel was momentarily lucky, in that he dived to the ground just as a spray of dirt erupted before him. The railgun rounds still ripped through his right leg and literally ripped it up, sending sprays of blood and flesh and muscle everywhere. Tovel howled in pain, tossing his rifle to the side in the same movement he used to grip the bloodied remnants of his leg. He heard the rumbling growing even louder and looked up just in time to see he was in the path of one of the Alliance behemoths. He raised his hands and screamed, as it was too late for him to do anything else. The caterpillar tread pressed down on his head first, crushing his skull like a fruit and splattering brain matter and blood about. It continued down his body, turning his spine into powder as it crushed his body, causing more blood and flesh splatter from the weight of 80 tons pressing down on Tovel's body.
As the tank passed by, there was nothing left of Tovel's body but an organic smear in the dirt that was mixed in with what had been his uniform.
Teve'el rode up with his troops to the portion of Idiv they held. The enemy had taken some of the outskirts and was pressing hard on them. Teve'el continued speaking with his staff as they set up an HQ in a ruined Bajoran Temple, carefully avoiding a couple of bodies shot by their forces that had passed through just hours ago.
Those same forces were now gone, crushed on the Dakhur Plain by an enemy hammerblow from the north. The rest of the Alliance 3rd Cavalry Division had moved up from the south, providing the anvil that kept the Cardassians from fleeing and dooming them to be utterly smashed by the enemy ground and air forces. Fifty thousand of Cardassia's best mechanized troops had been crushed in a swift, brutal stroke.
Now nearly thirty thousand Cardassian soldiers were gathered in and around Idiv. At least in this urban environment, the enemy range advantage was reduced, and the Cardassians had actually managed to hold off three infantry probes by the enemy. Here, Gul Teve'el would have to make his last stand on Bajor.
Washington D.C., Earth, Alliance of Democratic Nations
Universe Designate HE-1
11:30 GST
The smell of fresh breakfast pastries and coffee filled the conference room within the White House, not far from Mamatmas' office. The early 6:30AM EST meeting had been arranged ahead of time, giving Mamatmas and other cabinent members attending the meeting a chance to learn the status of the invasion of Bajor.
So far progress had been good. All the units had landed safely and secured preliminary objectives, although the Army still expressed misgivings at being forbidden to employ tactical-scale atomic warheads against an enemy they considered woefully unprepared to deal with such. Support was landing next with additional supplies to establish depots. And behind that would come humanitarian aid for the Bajorans.
Along with reports about the fighting in the invasion were growing reports of Cardassian atrocities on Bajor. The taking of several enemy bases had resulted in the discovery of the brothels where Bajoran "comfort girls" were forced to service Cardassian soldiers. Then there was the terrible slaughter across the planet from the brutal Cardassian response to the general uprising that started thirty-six or so hours before the invasion. What survivors had been found in some of the cleared out areas had told news reporters of Cardassian troops killing any Bajoran in sight, whether they posed a threat or not. Entire towns and cities had been subjected to vicious attack. The casualty toll was in the millions, expected to be in the tens of millions if not more.
"The political ramifications are clear, Mister President." Rathbone was speaking now. "The more Cardassian crimes we uncover, the harder it will be to make peace without dragging their entire government before a war crimes tribunal. And I do not see the Legate or his cronies voluntarily surrendering."
"I understand that all too well, Minister. And that leaves us in a precarious position." Mamatmas sipped at a cup of coffee. A half-completed bagel was on the dish in front of him. "The last thing we need is to become responsible for defending the entire Cardassian Union if we were forced to overrun them. And it's just not feasible to remove their government and occupy only a portion of their territory. The entire region is too unstable and the territory grabs that such a move would trigger could easily lead to a massive, full-scale interstellar war. We're not going to fight this war just to have a dozen start because of it."
"Agreed, Mister President."
"Are there any dissident forces in their military that can be utilized? Anyone who can remove Kelataza, take control, and agree to our terms?"
Eyes turned to Director Bronson. "There are some dissidents, Mister President, but most of them are in forced-labor camps. The ones who aren't are, with no exceptions we can find, living abroad and constantly monitored by Cardassian intelligence. The most substantial belong to what could be feasibly called a Cardassian Socialist Party and are currently residing in the Federation."
This prompted a question from the Minister of the Treasury, Frenchman Phillippe Guissard. "Is it that much better to bring to power a group that could easily bring Cardassia into the Federation?"
"Not that easily, if you ask me," Umachov replied in the usual gruff Russian-accented tone. "The Cardassian populace is very nationalistic, even without the State control on their lives. And would you prefer the dissolution of the Cardassian Empire and the resulting power vacuum?"
"Of course not." Mamatmas drew in a sigh. "Do you think Kelataza will sue for peace now that his last major fleet has been smashed? What does he have left, anyway? Do we know?"
"Pre-war intelligence estimates set the Cardassian fleet at between seven and a half thousand and nine thousand combat ships, not counting what they have in mothballs, which we believe is probably another five to eight hundred older ships. Enemy losses have reached approximately two thousand, one hundred and forty-nine vessels, not counting the loss of about one point one billion tons of interstellar shipping capacity, including the one hundred plus megaton transport torpedoed in the first day of the war." There was a slight grin on Admiral Hollingwood's face. "In fact, we think some of their ships were underarmed at the second Darane engagement due to a lack of torpedoes in their regional bases' ammunition lockers. I think the credit goes to our stealth ships for the great job they're doing."
"Of course, the Cardassians also lost a good deal of their local weapon manufacturing capability thanks to our strategic bombing offensive," Marshal Longwell added immediately. She and Hollingwood exchanged what seemed to be slight glares.
Mamatmas sighed. The rivalry between the Aerospace Force and the Stellar Navy was strong; the Navy felt the Aerospace Force should stick to subluminal craft and defense of systems and planetary atmosphere, while the Aerospace Force insisted on maintaining it's interstellar combat assets like it's bombers. The disaster at Kurvak and the Navy's victory afterward would undoubtedly add fuel to that fire. Before he could say anything, Rathbone spoke up. "Anyway, the Cardassians have borders with at least four other states of decent military strength, not to mention their frontier facing the Klingons."
"Don't forget active insurrections in four sectors that require the presence of combat ships," Bronson added to Rathbone's list. "And a number of other regions that require a presence to prevent revolt."
"So how many ships do you think the Cardassians could send against us?"
Bronson looked down at his notes before speaking, though he took the time to sip some coffee. "Well, for now they've got over a thousand ships that are either in their shipyards for repair or are waiting for an open slot. We're not sure of the exact amount of ships under construction, but intelligence suggests something on the order of four to six hundred combat starships, keeping in mind that the Cardassians were re-orientating their shipbuilding industry to produce non-combat transports and vessels to revitalize their economy. Combined with what they need to defend other borders minimally and to suppress or prevent revolts, I'd say that with their mothballed ships re-activated and crewed they might muster a fleet of about fifteen hundred combat warships by next month. Though a lot of them will be older and I should point out that their manpower losses have been severe. The First, Second, and Third Fleets were the core of Cardassian offensive strength and they had the most capable officers. Now Third Fleet has been wiped out and the First and Second Fleets are down to less than a quarter of their operational strength with a matching loss in manpower and all of the experienced officers and technical personnel that entails. I'd say that right now the Cardassians are sorely lacking for good experienced naval personnel, given all the ones that are dead or sitting in the camps on Krellor."
Mamatmas sighed. "Still, fifteen hundred ships is a good number, considering what we've got there. Admiral Hollingwood, I know the Navy's being stretched a bit thin now..." - he noticed the older Englishman grunt - "...but I'd like to know the status of potential reinforcements."
"Mister President, we have deployed over fifteen hundred combat warships alone to Universe ST-3, of which about five hundred have been lost to enemy action or severely damaged to the point that they will be laid up for repairs for months. When this war began, we had five thousand nine hundred and sixty-six combat warships under Stellar Navy command, with another eight thousand or so dispersed among the national navies or their mothball yards. And most of our ships are needed to protect the borders of our member nations. So I'm afraid we're beginning to scrape the bottom of the saucepan. I'll remind you, Mister President, that it's the Stellar Navy keeping 3rd Fleet in line with what's left of the Shah's Navy that's stopping Captain-General Ortiz and his Eurofascist bastards from jumping their interstellar border with Iran FHI-8. And now we have the damned Kaiser in AGC-1 rattling his saber with the Thai now that they've voted to join the Alliance next year. I may have to redeploy 7th Fleet to keep the Germans from deciding the border in Barrister Sector on their terms. And I don't think I need to mention the CON-5 situation. The Lisean offensive against Vigil has been repulsed and the damned Puritans have got the advantage. And they're not that happy we're not restricting the sale of industrial equipment and the like to Lisea."
And there was another sigh. Mamatmas felt an ache growing in his head and a slighter one in his chest. Sometimes he envied the leaders of smaller governments that conveniently had all of their borders in one universe. "I respect the astropolitical situation, Admiral. I deal with it everyday. But can you give us anything?"
Hollingwood bit his lip. "There's always 10th Fleet. The mobilization of our AR-12 members and the Gersallians re-affirming the Treaty of New Pittsburgh means we don't have to worry much about our borders there. But 10th Fleet's understrength, I'll remind you, and has a lot of older ships operating with it."
"But it's still something," Rathbone said. "Between what we have on hand now, 10th Fleet, and the carriers, we should have enough to overcome a new Cardassian force."
There were nods throughout the room. "I trust the military has a plan on what to do next?"
"Yes, Mister President," Field Marshal Pollack assured him. "We're going back to the original War Plan Obsidian's Phase 2 Offensive for this, slightly modified to account for what we've already taken. We've begun the necessary staff work to allow us to launch Operation: Rolling Thunder no later than the fifth of January. We're aiming for the 29th of December for initial strikes."
"Pretty fast tempo for attacks."
"Well, Sir, with all due respect, our names aren't 'Dale'."
Mamatmas grunted, partially amused but irritated since the butt of the joke was a personal friend. A number of military chiefs and politicians had been irritated with the way the Clan War had been run. President Verdes had given full authority for planning over to the officer serving as SAC-Hillsdale (Supreme Alliance Commander of Hillsdale Sector), Admiral Robert Dale, who was now a Fleet Admiral and serving his final months as Military Governor of the Kerensky Territories. Dale's plan for the war had not been as fast as the brass had wanted, though it impressed the Hell out of the Rasalhaguans and Federated Commonwealth (who were admittedly used to the comparitive snail's pace of K-F Drive travel without the benefit of superior charging mechanisms and anti-matter reactors) - the Clans had been conquered in seven months of methodical fighting by Allied forces that leapt from one planet to the next, annihilating all of the Clan forces that confronted them. Against the Clans or even Cardassia, planning this fast might not hurt, but I don't think you'll be able to be so cocky and impatient if we fight someone who's tougher, like New Plymouth Colony or the Centauri or the Eurofascists in FHI-8. "Anything else on the agenda?"
General of the Army Taggert replied, "We're still waiting for the planners on Corwich to give us the final data on their planned offensive. The FedCom people have named it Operation: Percival - the Davions have a thing for Arthurian Knights I'm told - and they hope to launch it by the 22nd. Admiral Lewis is on site now and thinks they should launch in five days to keep the Cardassians from trying to reinforce that border area. She doesn't think the Cardies can miss the FedCom arrivals. Says their 'walking tin-cans get too much attention'." There were a few laughs in the room. "We've agreed to make Field Marshal Bisla the Operational CO for the attack. We don't want them to think we're trying to hog the attention, after all." And having a Commonwealth commander is necessary to keep Ryan Steiner and the Commonwealth isolationists from crucifying Prince Davion, Mamatmas added to that mentally. Over the past year he'd found that the reports from the Ambassadors in the Inner Sphere tended to be among the most..... interesting. The Inner Sphere's native technology was mostly inferior, but their knives for Byzantine politics were just as sharp as - if not sharper than - anyone else's. With the potential exception of the Centauri. Mustn't think of so many headaches at once, Nicolas. You're going to kill yourself from stress before your first term is over. I've been a politician for too damned long. "Of course," he said aloud. "Please continue...."
Command Center, Cardassia Prime, Cardassian Union
12:50 GST
Yatar and Kelataza stood alone in the conference room after the departure of the others. The Operations Commission was certainly Not Happy with what had happened, and neither were the members of the Political Advisory Board. The two attendees from the Detepa Council, the "legal" governing body of the Cardassian Union, even broached the idea of cutting their losses and suing for peace, and a number of Guls were in agreement.
"Is there any point in continuing the war?" Kelataza asked. "The Alliance's troops are on Bajor now and we cannot prevent them from taking every Bajoran world in the sector."
"Are you prepared to deal with the likely rebellions suing for peace would cause?"
"Is it better to let the Alliance secure Bajor completely and renew their attacks on Cardassia itself?" Kelataza shook his head. "We have the forces to suppress any revolts that prop up. But we cannot risk more damage to our fleet. I think it is time to give Bajor up."
Yatar nodded. "And who will get the blame for this war, Legate? This could cost you your position."
Kelataza glared at him. "I will not be the Legate who destroyed the Cardassian Empire!"
"The military will still demand someone's head off the Advisory Board."
"You mean Torcet."
He was answered by Yatar shrugging. "Better Torcet than us."
"What do you think we should do, then?"
"I can call Justice Minister Orveliza and have the formal charges ready by tomorrow. I think the charge of gross incompetence in time of war should be sufficient. Perhaps cowardice for his withdrawal in the first Darane engagement as well."
Kelataza bit into his lip. There were still many officers and soldiers who liked Relim Torcet. Pinning the disaster on him, the one voice of the Political Advisory Board that opposed the attack on Gytep in the first place and the only leader to accurately deduce the plans of the Alliance, indeed one of Cardassia's premiere military strategists, was to Kelataza's political instincts too blatant, too obvious, an act of scapegoating. It could be dangerous for his continued health, particularly if it backfired.
On the other hand, he had no real choice. Yatar had undoubtedly done his own maneuvering on the Board and the Operations Commission and would ensure that if Kelataza didn't give up Torcet, he would be the chosen scapegoat. Yatar himself, unfortunately, would not function properly as a scapegoate - his position vis-a-vis Kelataza was too close, and any scapegoating of Yatar would inevitably drag Kelataza down with him. When it came down to it, Kelataza valued his own hide more than he admired Torcet, and sacrificing him, however blatant an act of scapegoating, was still safer than the alternative of not doing so.
"Do so," he said. As Yatar went to walk out, Kelataza added, "One more thing, Gul Hergata."
Yatar turned back. "Yes, Legate?"
Kelataza picked up a PADD and handed it to Yatar. Yatar looked at it, read the text, and looked back up. "Have that transmitted to Gul Madred immediately. If the Alliance begins advancing into Cardassia, it would not do well to have those facilities discovered with their occupants." Kelataza looked down at another PADD to continue other work. "If they were found alive, they could do great harm to Cardassia's standing in the quadrant. Dead they are no threat."
"The orders will be sent immediately, Gul." Yatar turned and left.
Yatar was in his office working on the various orders he was to send. Orveliza was going to have the charges against Torcet ready by the next day. This got rid of Yatar's main rival for the Legate's place. As for Kelataza.... Yatar grinned to himself. It would be a simple matter to blame him if the military reacted harshly to Torcet's conviction and execution. Keve was not interested in a political position - he was irritated enough having to control the Operations Commission and its bureaucratic members - which would leave Yatar as the front-runner to become Legate.
The door opened and his son-in-law Celrim entered. "You wanted to see me sir?"
"Yes. I want you to go over these tonight at home." He handed Celrim a PADD loaded with various orders to be sent out by the next day. "They have to be sent out tomorrow."
"Of course. Anything else?"
"Yes." Yatar looked him in the eye. "Two days from now, an executive order will be signed by the Legate to place all Bajorans in Cardassian space into confinement. With the Alliance taking their homeworld and surrounding systems, the Bajorans simply can't be trusted any more. This includes your.... housekeeper." Yatar noticed the look in Celrim's eye. He'd never approved of Celrim keeping the Bajoran girl Gedys as a mistress, but so long as Celrim was subtle he wasn't going to do anything about it. After all, he knew his own daughter too well. She wasn't exactly faithful to Celrim either and was something of a shrew... much like her mother.
Celrim nodded and left.
When Celrim returned home he went right to work on finalizing Yatar's paperwork. Gedys was busy cleaning the apartment and did not approach him until he was done with his work. He looked over her fine body and ordered her out of her nightgown. Not wanting to get her pregnant, he bent her over a nearby desk. With his hands gripping her thighs tightly he took his pleasure with her, ignoring her sobs and moans. After he was finished he ordered her to the shower to clean herself up and went off to go to bed.
While cleaning herself off, Gedys found herself dreading what had happened. Celrim didn't like anal sex. Why would he choose that tonight?
The only plausible reason she could think of was that Celrim didn't want to risk that she would get pregnant.
Gedys got out of the shower and slipped into her nightgown. Checking to make sure Celrim was fast asleep, she went to his office and looked at what he had been working on. She knew Celrim's passcode - he had blurted it out one night while horribly drunk - and typed it in to get to the sensitive material. Most of what he'd worked on had been bureaucratic orders. They told her what she had already suspected; Bajor was being liberated by Alliance forces. He had chosen to have her in her rear because he didn't want her to get pregnant, probably because the government was going to round up Bajorans across Cardassian space to be placed into camps.
Understanding this now, Gedys continued to read. She cycled through them all until she found a particular entry; an order sent to Gul Madred, head of the Department of Military Interrogation and Alien Operations.
She read it and her eyes widened.
It was late at Tralam Peker, but that just meant more activity. H'daen tr'Gurrwhi was in a side booth, sitting with two of his crew, both of them fellow Rihannsu. They were enjoying the performance of two Orion women on the stage, a performance that was already skirting the border between erotic dancing and actual sex. The crowd was slightly thicker than usual, filled with men from a mulitude of races and all roaring with approval.
H'daen looked up and saw an unexpected sight. Wearing a heavy woolen cloak and hood over herself, Gedys slipped into the club and stood in the corner. She made eye contact with H'daen, and he could see she had something to give. He slipped out of his booth and walked over, carrying himself as if he were going to proposition her for the benefit of the crowd. As he walked up and got into whispering earshot, he spoke in Base Cardassian. "What are you doing here? I thought Celrim never let you out at night."
"It doesn't matter anymore. The Alliance has landed on Bajor now and you know how the government will respond toward Bajorans here and elsewhere in the heart of Cardassia. I'll be sent to a camp. We may all be slaughtered before the war ends." Gedys put a hand on his cheek and gave H'daen a kiss. Her tongue touched his and he felt a small chip slip off of it and under his own tongue. "I've shamed my people by being a whore to Celrim. Please, get that to people who can send it on to the Alliance. Maybe then some good can come of my time here."
H'daen nodded. He clasped hands with her. "Honor and mnhei'sahe."
She nodded in response and walked away. H'daen returned to his seat. He put his smile back on and used the cover of getting a drink to remove the chip from his mouth. He palmed it, slipped it into a pocket and continued to watch the show despite the dread in his stomach for poor Gedys' fate.
When Gedys returned to her room she was surprised to find Celrim waiting for her, clad in his sleeping clothes. She froze with fear at seeing the angry glare in his eyes and the expression on his face. "Where have you been?" he asked in cold measured tones.
"I was out for a walk. I needed the air."
To that he roared, "I told you never to leave the apartment without permission!" Without warning he brought his fist back and punched her across the cheek and nose. Gedys cried out from the pain of her broken nose. Blood trickled down her face as she slumped to the ground. Celrim kicked her in the ribs before she could stand up, making her sprawl out on her stomach. "You stupid bitch!"
"Please Celrim... I'm sorry..."
"Sorry?! Dumb whore!" He kicked her again, this time in the side of her head. Gedys' vision filled with color as she twisted on the ground. He kicked her a third time now in the hip. As she tried to regain her breath Celrim grabbed her by the arm, wrenching it painfully as he pulled her to her feet and slapped her across the face, splitting her lip. "You fucking Bajoran slut! You're going to get us both in trouble!"
"Celrim..."
"Shut up!" He punched her again, making her spin back to the floor on all floors. The punch knocked two of her teeth out. She spat them out into small puddles of blood caused by the split in her lip and her broken nose. "I should've left you to my men back on Bajor!"
"Please...."
"I said shut up!" Once more there was a kick to her stomach, then another to the head. Gedys began to lose consciousness. Her head was swimming and some blood was now in her hair, from where his hard shoes were splitting open her head.
Before she could pass out, there was a ring at the door. Celrim shouted, "What is it?!"
"This is the Capital Security Force. Please open up, Gul Famcet."
"I'm not ready," he replied. He didn't want them to enter and see him with Gedys.
"Sir, we're here for your housekeeper Jorma Gedys. If you don't open up we'll have to override your lock and take you into custody for obstruction."
Celrim shot a glare at Gedys, who was nearly motionless on the floor. "Fucking bitch! What did you do?!" He looked to the door. "Open."
The door slid open and two armed Cardassian security agents came in. They looked to Gedys on the floor and to Celrim. One asked, "Gul, what's going on?"
"The bitch was out against my orders," was the slurred, angry reply. It was clear to the agents that Celrim hadn't quite slept off his nightcap bottle of kanar.
"Sir,.she was seen in the company of a wanted smuggler and suspected Romulan agent. We have to take her into custody for interrogation."
Celrim's jaw grew taunt as he processed the information, the haze of alcohol still slowing his mind. That damned H'daen. Had his weakness for kheia betrayed him? "Fine, take her. Keep her. Have all the fun you want with her, because I'm done with the little whore."
The two agents nodded. They picked Gedys off the floor and put her into wrist restraints. One tapped a communication device. "Transport us back to base. Have a medical team standing by, the subject has been injured." They disappeared into swirling columns of light.
Celrim immediately went to his comm system to leave a message for his father-in-law. If Gedys had been working for a Romulan.... Celrim could very well be ruined and find himself up on charges. He would need Yatar to protect him.
As for Gedys. Well, the thought of what the Security Force would do to her made him grin a little. Anything he did to her would seem merciful compared to what they did.
At the Capital's spaceport, a particular Cardassian trading vessel named the Lorvel Kort was spending it's final moments before initiating launch procedures. Outside of it, standing in front of the mechanical lift to the entryway for the ship, was the entire Torcet family. Relim held Kerma in his arms closely. All of their years together had come to this. She looked up at him with tear-stroked eyes, a woman who had already lost her son and was now to lose her husband. "Why don't you come with us, Relim?"
"I cannot. If I go, they will hunt us down." Relim wiped a tear from her eye. "I am sorry."
"Damn them all. Damn them all!"
He held Kerma close and allowed her to cry onto his shoulder for a few moments. Standing nearby on the lift was Opel Morcet, the captain of the Lorvel Kort - a man who like many had served under Relim and had survived war because of it. Opel had volunteered to do this as a repayment for all those old debts of survival that Relim himself didn't consider debts but the fulfillment of his duty. He looked toward them, and Relim could see in his eyes that time was short. He pulled Kerma back and planted a kiss on her lips, not the passionate type shared by two young lovers as they had been so long ago, but a simple act of love by a couple past their prime and weathered by age and tribulation.
Wiping a final tear from Kerma's eye while refusing to let himself shed the tears he wanted to show, Relim moved on to his daughter-in-law Vertal. In her arms, his infant granddauughter Yera was barely awake. She gave little Yera over to Relim, who lifted her up and kissed her on the forehead, causing her to reply with a happy cooing sound. He handed her back and kissed Vertal on the cheek. "I could never have asked for a finer mate for my son," he said to her softly. "I'm happy to have called you a daughter."
"Thank you, Father Relim," she said, sobbing softly.
Relim moved on to Jorim and Laria. He knelt and embraced grandson and granddaughter, using an arm for each while their own small arms wrapped around his neck. They were both in tears. "Grandpa, why do we have to go away?" Laria asked.
"It's to protect you, Laria." To protect you from the people who will ruin me and Cardassia in the name of their stubborn pride. "I wish I could protect you in a way that let you stay here, but I cannot." He sighed. "I love you, Laria. And you, Jorim." He put a hand on his younger grandson's head. "You two must keep up your mental exercises. They will come in use for you one day."
"Yes Grandpa," he answered meekly, sobbing and sniffling as he continued to speak. "I'm sorry I'm crying. I know... know I'm not supposed to. But... but... I... I can't help it."
"Sometimes it's okay to cry," Relim said in a reassuring tone. "Crying can be good for the soul." That, of course, was a deliberate misquoting of one of the thrice-damned Obsidian Order's favorite lines.
Both children stepped away. This left Relim with his eldest grandson, nine year old Tarak. He was still very young, still just a child, but he hid his sadness better than his younger siblings. Tarak stood at military attention, eyes forward and arms at his side as he'd been taught in school. Relim's control nearly slipped. The controlled expression, the stiff lip, it all reminded him of Harak when he had been nine and had come to see Relim off as he headed to war once more. It was true that the famed Cardassian reserve had fooled so many, making them seem cold and unemotional to outsiders. In truth, they were as emotional as any other race, and their devotion to family was such that the breaking of a family was a cause of tremendous heartache and inner pain. Relim's stomach turned a little and he could feel his heart sink, hurting with every beat. He gave Tarak a hug, which Tarak returned in a way that seemed mechanical to the casual viewer but was not truly so if one could just see past the farce that physical appearance could often be. When the hug ended grandfather and grandson looked each other eye to eye. Relim could see the emotional turmoil in Tarak, his eyes a window to a tortured soul. First his father had died, and now he was being seperated from his grandfather; both had been the idols he worshipped, the standards to which he aspired. "Tarak, I am very proud of you, and I know that your father is - would be - too."
"I thank you, Grandfather," Tarak replied as if he were a Trooper responding to a Gul during inspection.
"Remember, Tarak, Family always come first. Take care of your little brother and sisters."
"I will."
Relim nodded. There was nothing more to say to Tarak. And his heart quivered with the fear that if he looked into those solid brown eyes another moment he would lose all composure. Thoughts of Harak were like daggers in his weary soul now. With pure will he forced the thoughts from his mind and moved on to his last goodbye. Samia was standing in a cotton dress and skirt. For over three decades, she had been a part of the Torcet family. The middle-aged Bajoran woman didn't have the strong mental training of the others. She openly wept as she hugged Relim, who returned the embrace. "You have a family here," he said, "and a family waiting for you on New Liberty. You are doubly blessed." He pulled her tear-stroked face up and looked into her crystal blue eyes. His own voice choked up a little as he remembered Samia thirty years ago, a fifteen year old girl - newly orphaned by agents of the Bajoran Resistance that assassinated her parents for being collaborators - living on the street of the Alien Quarter, miserable and hungry but too proud to work as a prostitute or dancer. She had been beautiful then, and there was a strong dignity in her eyes that survived to her graceful age today. "Samia, I have never admitted this to anyone but Kerma, but I will say it now. You are the daughter I never had and I love you very much."
"Gul...." She looked into his eyes and corrected herself. For the first time, she called him something other than his rank. "Father.... I would gladly stay with you. I don't want you to be alone."
"I can't condemn you to that, Samia." Relim closed his eyes. He knew full well what would be done to Samia now that he was going to be formally charged. Her middle-age and innocence were no defense from the Military Interrogators and Obsidian Order, both of whom he knew would torture her mercilessly to dig up dirt on him, things to justify their scapegoating efforts. "And I won't be alone, not for very long. All I ask is that you look over the little ones. They need all the love they can get now."
"Yes, of course. I will."
Relim nodded. He gave Samia a kiss on the forehead and stepped away. The entire Torcet family stepped onto the lift. He nodded at Opel, who turned the lift on. As they rose to enter the ship, the family waved goodbye, all but Tarak still in tears. And as they drew distant enough, Relim finally allowed tears to move down from his eyes as he waved goodbye. His last sight of his loved ones was that of their entrance into the Lorvel Kort. The door closed, the lift retracted into the ship's hull, and Relim silently walked away.
The next day, a squad of security troops from the Ministry of Justice arrived at the Torcet residence. After knocking and getting no reply, they opened the door with their security override code. They entered the residence, still furnished but mostly empty of key mementos. "Looks like they fled," one said into the comm unit.
"Search the entire home."
The squad moved through the home quickly. They soon entered the home office of Relim Torcet, where they found him slumped over his desk with a half-finished bottle of kanar beside his personal computer. "Gul Torcet, you are under arrest for gross incompetence in time of war and gross cowardice. Please..." The first soldier moved forward at seeing no reaction. He gently touched Relim and looked to a tricorder. "He's dead." A second and third soldier entered the room and the first soldier pulled Relim's head up. His right temple was blackened by a point-blank phaser discharge. Moving the head revealed his hands, the right one still partially gripping his military-issue sidearm. "Command, Gul Torcet is dead."
"Cordon off the Torcet home. Call in forensic investigators," was the reply.
The soldier nodded and made the arrangements. He looked to Relim's computer, which was on standby mode. When he re-activated the screen, it showed what he had been viewing last. A large picture of his entire family (Samia included), not quite a year old, including both Relim and his son Harak, the latter of whom was holding his newborn baby daughter Yera. It had been the last thing he'd seen when he pulled the trigger.
Warning: The following scene is somewhat graphic and quite nasty, as we begin poor Jorma's journey through the "tender mercies" of the Cardassian justice system and their interrogation techniques. I spoilerized it to give you the choice of whether you want to read it or not.
Capital City, Cardassia Prime, Cardassian Union
19:50 GST
In the heart of the Capital City of Cardassia Prime was the Capital Security Forces HQ, the facility that supported the police forces for the city. Within the HQ was the Security Forces Interrogation Rooms, where they brought petty criminals to be interrogated or "encouraged" to confess to crimes. They lacked the funding and training that the military's interrogators had and they certainly couldn't hold a candle to the Obsidian Order.
Jorma Gedys - Prisoner 3935-897-349 (plus an assorted stream of Cardassian alphabetical characters) - was strapped into the restraint chair in one of the rooms. Aside from quickly ensuring the healing of her critical wounds - the head wound was the worst - they had left her with those inflicted by Celrim when he beat her. And now they were adding their own.
Gedys was naked in the chair and her body was coated with sweat. The Cardassians liked heat and set their air-conditioning systems to uncomfortable levels for Bajorans and most other sentient races, and adding to that was the bright light over her head. Lacking the sophisticated equipment and drugs of the military and Obsidian Order, Security Forces like the CSF had to rely on brute force methods of applying pain. Both of her eyes were swollen nearly shut from black eyes and, shortly after that initial beating, they had blindfolded her and resumed a beating that had cracked most of her ribs, all the while demanding to know what she'd told H'daen. She resisted of course, since if they found out they would most assuredly do their dirty work far quicker and she wasn't about to let that happen, she could never live with herself if she caused so many innocents to die. If she could help it, of course, as the temptation to stop the hurting was there.
After the punching had left blood trickling down her nose and mouth with her chest bruised horribly, they took another approach. One by one Gedys felt horrible pain shoot up from her toes after they'd been smashed by a hammer. At every toe they would demand an answer and she would refuse, then another toe would be broken, then another.... the pain was almost too terrible to contemplate, but it was there. Then after her toes came her fingers, broken on by one. Still she refused, and for the first time in a long time she whispered prayers to Prophets she scarcely believed in anymore to grant her strength. Gedys' screams would have been blood-curdling to a less-hardy soul as they echoed in that dark room, her hands and feet being broken next by even larger hammers.
Gedys sucked in breath, muttering prayers of strength before she heard an ominous whirring sound. An even louder scream erupted from her lungs - causing further agony from her ribs - as the power drill was pressed into her right knee and tore through flesh, cartilage, and normal bone. "Plea...se... I knoow.... nothing..." she wheezed in reply to their demands. The pain from her shattered knee was simply a powerful new addition to the immense agony her body was already suffering. Tears ran down bruised cheeks and mingled with the blood around her mouth. She screamed again when the drill was plunged into her left knee.
After the drilling and screaming were done, Gedys was sucking in breath. She'd never considered it possible to feel so much pain. Prophets, please help me. Please forgive me for what I've done and give me your strength. Whatever happened, Gedys knew she couldn't give in. Thousands of innocent lives depended on her remaining silent on what she gave to H'daen.
Pained groans from shattered kneecaps and so many broken bones became yelps when alligator clips were placed on her. Prods were placed into the sensitive places below her waist. After refusing another demand for information, electricity coursed into her body through all of these sensitive places. Her entire body began aching as well. Gedys was wracked with sobs as she pleaded for them to stop, trying to convince them she hadn't told H'daen anything. That she was sexually attracted to him and had wanted to run away with him, that he had said no.
More electricity told her they didn't believe her. The gruff voices continued issuing threats, the "good cop, bad cop" routine as one tried to convince her to end her suffering while the other promised to cause her more pain. Between their words would come more electric shocks. Gedys was beginning to slip from the sheer agony. No, must hold on. Must hold. Please help me. Her mental pleadings and prayers continued as the pain did, every second of it chipping away at will that she was barely recovering.
She couldn't tell how long it'd been since they'd brought her to the room. The blindfold was removed and medical equipment used to reduce the swelling around her eyes. She could see again and faced both Cardassian men torturing her. One was thinner than the other, though not by much, and both were on the stocky side of Cardassian physical build. One's eyes were a little wider than the other's, though. Wide Eyes' voice soon confirmed him as the Good Cop, while Thin Man was the gruff-voiced sadist pledging to torture her until she broke.
Wide Eyes lowered his eyes and put his hands on her broken hands. "Come on, dear girl, you've suffered enough. If you tell us what we need to know, this will end. You'll be given medical attention."
"I loved H'daen," Gedys rasped. "I wanted him... to take me away. To take me to see ch'Rihan." It was not a convincing lie, but nothing she said could sound convincing from the weakness in her lungs. Her mind was cloudy from the sheer pain her brain had to process the existence of.
"Let the stupid Bajoran bitch continue to lie," Thin Man chuckled, looking for more tools. "The best thing is, when we're done with her, the medics can heal her up.... and we can do this again tomorrow!"
"Young lady, listen. These smugglers, you can't trust them." Wide Eyes leaned closed. "You're a lovely girl, I'd hate to see you suffer for some lying bastard of a Romulan. We'll take mercy on you if you cooperate."
"I don't know anything!" Gedys cried, weeping from the pain (and that was convincing at least). "Please don't hurt me anymore! Please!" Must not tell them! Too many lives depend on me!
Thin Man returned. His left hand seized a handful of hair and wrenched Gedys' head in one direction. He thrust a red-hot metal rod toward her face. "See this, little bitch? Guess where this is going?" He smiled wickedly and tapped the tip below her navel, at the edge of the fuzz of pubic hair between her legs. "And I've got one for you rear too. In fact, we'll give you two more chances before you get it where it really hurts. What did you tell the fucking Romulan?!"
"Nothing!"
Gedys steeled herself, but the white-hot pain of the rod being thrust into her posterior - uncovered due to the design of the chair she was in - was more than she could've planned. Her scream echoed in the room. The rod remained in place for about eight seconds before Thin Man removed it. She sucked in breath.
"Young woman, don't do this to yourself. Cooperate and you'll be spared. Please!"
"Last chance, bitch." Thin Man grabbed her by the hair again and brought the rod, still red hot, back to her face. "Talk!" Prophets help me!
She didn't reply. The Thin Man followed through on his threat. After a horrible scream and several horrible seconds of agony, Gedys simply passed out.
Shortly after Gedys fell unconscious, before the interrogators could revive her, their immediate commander entered with military officers. "What's going on?" Wide Eyes asked.
"This prisoner may have had access to sensitive military materials." The officer looked at her body, the bloody holes in her knees and the obvious wounds from the day's torture, and scowled. "We can't risk you bottom-feeders killing her with your nasty toys. She's been turned over to the military by direct order of the Legate."
"You're welcome to her," Thin Man replied. "I've got better things to do than try to pry information out of a Bajoran masochist."
The officers nodded. They walked over to Gedys' unconscious form and unlatched her from the seat. "Glin Korvel to Command, we have the subject. Please beam us directly to the infirmary. The Security Forces got a little carried away." Within seconds all three disappeared within columns of light.
"Bah, I've got better things to do. A street punk over in Block C who was stealing credit chits in the industrial park." Thin Man chucked a finger to that side of the building. "Let's go get a confession from him and call it a day."
So we see more of the fighting on Bajor, and the Battle of Dakhur Plains results in a Cardassian mechanized force getting crunched by the flanking blow of an armored division after being checked and maneuvered into place. Including the (unnecessarily gory) death of a Cardassian officer who earlier ran over innocent Bajorans while shooting others.
But most of the action takes place on Cardassia. With another defeat suffered, and Cardassian control of their strongest bargaining chip failing every hour, the powers that be decide to scapegoat someone to save themselves, and naturally they pick Torcet. And he knew they'd do it, so he made arrangements to get his family to safety before taking his own life - the only way to guarantee the government will leave them alone.
Relim Torcet was always intended to be the Sympathetic Foe. He was part of a horrifying system of totalitarianism, and he didn't defy it, but he was still a decent person who loved his family, including Samia. Contrast how Yatar's son-in-law Celrim treated his Bajoran maid (and sex-slave) Gedys to Samia being essentially a member of the household.
It doesn't excuse what the Cardassians as a whole did to the Bajorans, of course. But individual behavior still counts.
And speaking of poor Gedys, she passes on vital intelligence that could save thousands of lives if it gets to the Alliance in time, but the price she'll pay is horrifying. As the bit in the spoiler box shows.
Honestly, if I were to ever re-edit/re-write this fic or all TGG, that scene would vanish. At the time I considered it "necessary" to show the evil of how the Cardassians behaved, and the steps of depravity. Each level reflects something from real-life - at the bottom, it's something out of a human rights violation report on the Third World, going up in sophistication and use of mind-games over torture, but never losing the latter and the overall soul-crushing aspect of a system where this behavior is seen as a legitimate tool of the State.
But looking back, it's not really necessary. I could easily have come in later, showing her recovering perhaps, but not actually showing the deed. Sometimes the unspoken is truly more powerful. And it'd be far more tasteful.
But I'm not out to re-edit this thing (I have a book to finish, you're lucky to be getting commentaries right now ), just to re-post. So if you want to disgust yourself, go ahead and click the spoiler box.
A beautiful dawn was shining down upon the nearby mountainside. Bajoran farmers fanned out over their fields and went to work on their crops, paying little attention to the columns of Cardassian soldiers walking up the paths to one of the openings to the vast mines that crisscrossed the mountains. The Turoa mines had once produced ores and even gold for the people of the Kevima Valley, but the mines had run out of their wealth centuries before the Cardassians could get their hands on them.
Now the Cardassians - or, specifically, Gul Luvar - had another use in mind for them. Luvar's men were moving every pound of food and equipment they could carry. Every combat trooper, every medic, and a few of the support technicians and mechanics were marching along solemnly, following their leader to what they hoped was their salvation.
Accompanying them were several hundred Bajorans acting as porters. With no good roads everything had to be carried or towed in animal-drawn wagons, after all, and the Bajoran farmers and ranchers of the valley had no real ill will toward the Cardassians under Luvar. Luvar had given them all of the latinum he had in his Order's coffers plus rights to what was left of his replicator stores so they could make food, clothing, or tools as they needed. Even now, as they marched, he had no feer of Bajoran attack on his column. The farmers were content to watch and work, and a few even waved to their countrymen in his column.
Luvar's plan was simple; stay in the caves and hold out until relieved. In those confined spaces, away from the open plains or the cities, the firepower and range advantages of the Alliance military would be reduced and they would have to dig his 10,000 troops out in vicious close combat.
Walking beisde him, Damar was looking skyward. "I've heard that many of our units that move in the open have come under air attack," he said.
"That might be true. And we should thank them, because they're keeping the enemy off of us." Luvar's expression turned into a scowl. He was certain a number of his "peers" were being boneheaded and trying to engage the enemy directly, killing thousands of their own men needlessly.
"Once we're in the caves, what shall we do? We didn't keep enough money for buying more food."
"I don't intend to come out to buy more food. That's why we're staying on strict rations. We'll steal what we can from enemy corpses, of course, but other than that, we'll have to rely on our iron guts."
"Yes sir." Damar nodded. "Of course, sir."
Luvar grinned. He liked young Damar. He was competent (Which could be high praise, sadly enough), loyal, and innovative. Some of the logistical planning might not have worked without him. He would make sure to put a report in for Damar to be decorated for his efficiency skills.
Sadly, Luvar suspected none of them would live to receive such decorations.
Paris, Earth, United Federation of Planets
15:34 GST
Ambassador Kercet entered Tobis' office with an unemotional expression on his face. Half a day had passed since the annihilation of Third Fleet according to his recent reports. The Central Command was still debating various issues on continuing the war, but in the meantime he was to again seek the Federation's help in the war.
The meeting was with Tobis and Admiral Matthews, as usual. Kercet laid out the latest offer from Central Command; the concessions Cardassia would give if the Federation were to intervene in the war were rather generous, undoing virtually all of Cardassia's gains from the previous war and ceding critical claims. Kercet personally felt it a waste of time since the same pacifism that had undermined the Federation's war against Cardassia would now undermine any consideration of aiding it with force.
Tobis, however, was still diplomatic enough - and shrewd enough - to not rule out a Federation involvement in the war. "I've spoken with many members of the Federation Council who are growing increasingly concerned with the Alliance's aggression against Cardassia. I feel that sometime soon, we may be able to pass a resolution authorizing Starfleet to intervene."
Kercet replied with a simple nod. "We hope that the Federation will see that the defeat of the Alliance is in its best interests as well as our's."
There was another nod. Tobis looked to Matthews for a moment before handing something to Kercet. "In the meantime, Ambassador, here is a list of the sensor equipment that the Federation Council has agreed to secretly lend Cardassia for the duration of the war. This equipment will allow the creation of a tachyon detection net and gravimetric sensor grid that gives you two ways to detect cloaked vessels. Advisors are currently being gathered by Starfleet and they will naturally require Cardassian approval. We hope to have the first parts of the system up in, say, two and a half weeks?"
"Of course, Mister President. On behalf of Cardassia, I thank you. Millions of Cardassian lives will be saved by these systems."
"Yes. We don't want to see the Alliance using it's weapons of mass destruction any more than you do." Tobis put his hands together. "Our people say the situation on Bajor is bad. Your troops are being subjected to intense bombardments from Alliance air and artillery assets. Whole Bajoran cities are being shattered by the Alliance in their efforts to wipe out your garrisons."
"Yes, it is a tragedy. I can only think of the poor Bajorans who are losing their homes to the very people who claim to be the protectors of the Bajoran race." Kercet shook his head. "A very sad thing."
"The Federation intends to vigorously protest the bombardments. And I'll talk to the Federation Council again about sanctions and barring Alliance trade from moving through Federation space. We suspect that once their trade is cut off, their own merchants will start clamoring for peace."
"Hopefully so, Mister President. Then this killing can finally end."
The three men in the room nodded at that.
Gallitep, Bajor
16:40 GST
The notorious and recently-reactivated Cardassian labor camp had been partially ruined in the firefight that resulted when the Marine 24th Recon Battalion assaulted it directly. Bodies lay everywhere, Bajoran and Cardassian with the occasional Marine, but the majority of the camp's occupants had been saved from extermination.
Captain Jessica Chamberlain's side was burning with the pain from a glancing shot from a Cardassian rifle, but she was still able to walk and command, and had thus ordered the corpsmen and medical personnel to leave her alone and concentrate on others. The brown-haired Marine stomped toward one wing of the main Cardassian structures, the last one unchecked. The Bajoran laborers had pointed it out as the Cardassian punishment wing and all had showed a great amount of terror toward it.
Gallitep had been reactivated earlier in the year after the Cardassians made the decision to stay on Bajor. Once "liberated" by the Shakaar Resistance, it's reputation was so notorious that it was the perfect sword to hold over Bajorans' heads. "Cooperation or Gallitep" became a well-known ultimatum. The camp's commander, Gul Pure'el, had played that to the hilt, treating his prisoners harshly and with a methodical viciousness. Being brought to "the Room" was his ultimate threat. The walls had been purposely rebuilt to allow some sound to pass through, meaning that the nearby Bajoran prisoner barracks could hear screams from within. Few ever returned alive and those who did were often near-catatonic or racked by nightmares, certainly Pure'el's intent considering the terror it caused.
The wing was abandoned currently, it's personnel thrown into the defense of the camp, so nobody stopped them from making their way through the halls. The cells were eerily empty, as were the side rooms they saw, the offices and washrooms and such. But there was one main chamber to be checked, and with a stoic expression on her face, Chamberlain walked up to the cold metal doors. A plaque in Cardassian and Bajoran lettering was on them, but Chamberlain had removed her helmet for the time being and didn't have access to the auto-translation program.
There was a stench in the air. The room had various tables and chairs, each with metal or belted restraints, and very ominous instruments or control panels on the walls or around them. Chamberlain's eyes became fixated on the sole occupant of the room. A Bajoran boy, about twenty at most, was sitting on the floor of a sealed alcove cell in the corners of the room. In another cell in the distance, an older Bajoran man was laying against the wall. The Marines split up and investigated both and the numerous marks and bruises on them. "This one's gone," one of the Marines said from the side of the elder Bajoran.
Chamberlain leaned down in front of the boy. He was staring straight ahead, his blue eyes seeming empty of any life. He was obviously living of course, his burned and thin chest moving slowly. "Boy's catatonic. Get a corpsman, ASAP!"
Not an hour later, Chamberlain was in the battlefield hospital they'd set up in and around the camp infirmary, her body above the waist stripped down to the protective olive brown sports bra she wore as a combat undergarment. The flesh on her right side, from the rib cage down almost to her hip, was red with some blackness from the burns she'd taken from the glancing blow of the Cardassian rifle. She hissed in irritation as a female corpsman - a strong-jawed Kenyan woman - began to smear a medical healing cream on it to preclude bandaging.
Nearby, the boy they'd found in the Cardassian torture room was laying down, staring silently into space. Nobody had gotten any kind of reaction out of him, and a medical exam had found many wounds and various other problems with him, making it clear that he'd been tortured to a fairly strong degree.
"Captain!" One of her NCOs, Colour Sergeant Hillary Tupa, entered. She saluted respectively and relaxed when Chamberlain ordered her to be at ease. "Sir, there's something you need to see."
Minutes later, Chamberlain emerged from the tent with her uniform jacket put back on, her side properly bandaged. Tupa led her to a waiting jeep, which drove her a quarter of a mile out of the camp to a grassy field between the rocky hills around Gallitep. There were a few Marines present, and a Cardassian-built earthmover was alone on the field. Chamberlain felt her stomach twist as she came to realize what was probably here.
This was confirmed a few minutes later as she was let up to a trench, dug out with MET equipment. It wasn't a trench, Chamberlain could tell - it was a mass grave, filled with decaying bodies, their soft-looking flesh telling her they were non-Cardassian corpses. "Scanners show bodies everywhere, Sir," Tupa said. "Maybe thousands of bodies, probably dating back to the camp's first run."
Chamberlain had killed men and women in battle. She had seen friends blown up, bodies torn apart by explosions or sliced down by energy weapons or projectile rifles. But the sight of dozens of haphazardly-placed corpses, the stench rising from the mass grave, overcame all of that. She leaned over partially and vomited on the ground, spilling out her last ration meal and fluid into an orange-like mass on the ground.
Opelar Detention Camp, Imilis 2
16:55 GST
Major Regina Keller felt her stomach rumble in irritation as her subordinates led her to the newly discovered mass grave in the middle of the Opelar camp. Imilis 2 was one of the traditional Bajoran extrastellar colonies and had been ruthlessly exploited by Cardassia, robbed of much of its mineral wealth in the vain attempt to slake the thirst of the Cardassian war machine. Liberated by Alliance forces, it was too little too late for many of the planet's most beautiful land, strip-mined without restraint. And now, clearly, it was too late for many of the eight thousand prisoners of Opelar.
"Damn these bastards," the English brunette muttered under her breath, her voice thick with the strong accent of a New Liverpuddlian. Her white skin, naturally slightly tanned from a Pakistani great-grandfather, was more richly tanned thanks to her home in the sunny subtropics of New Liverpool, contrasting well with her brown hair. "Cardassian fuckers."
"Major!" A soldier clambered out of the grave, a thick Yoruban accent in his voice. "Major, you need to see this!"
Keller walked down the length of the grave to meet the Nigerian soldier. He pointed down to the grave. The dirty-clothed body he was indicating was barely female in appearance due to malnutrition, only two very small bulges on the chest making the gender clear. The head had a small mane of white hair along with darkened blue skin; as Keller looked closely, she could see two small objects on the corpse's head. "Antennae. Those are Andorians." Keller recalled her briefing on races in this galaxy. "A race from the Federation."
"Sir, we've examined some of these bodies. They're not all Bajoran." The Nigerian Corporal's ebony face looked back up at her, filled with quite a bit of illness at the scene of death around them. "We've found eight Humans, three Trill, nine Vulcanoids, and an Orion, not to mention a half dozen mixed race bodies, Cardassian-Bajoran and Cardassian-Human."
Keller nodded. "Get tissue samples and dental scans for identification purposes."
Next, Keller was brought to a small group of camp prisoners who had survived, mostly from the Cardassians' haste to escape Imilis 2 before the Alliance could blockade it. Most were again Bajoran, but Keller could see at least one male with the familiar spots of a Trill, and a pig-faced humanoid, a Tellarite, if she remembered right. Finally a tan-skinned figure, emaciated as most of the others, emerged from the gaggle, a sharp-eared Vulcanoid. She stood very reserved as she spoke, holding her right hand up with her middle and index finger held apart from the ring finger and pinky, with an open-palmed gesture that would have been a rough "stop" gesture if not for her fingers being split. "I am Doctor T'Rila of Vulcan. Live long and prosper."
The voice was calm and measured, but Keller could see in the Vulcan's dark eyes that her unemotional control was not complete. She had seen horrors, the same horrors that made every other camp prisoner here hallow-faced and ill-looking, with their blank eyes and forlorn expressions to go with thin bodies overworked and covered in bruises or plasma whip scorches. Her voice even had a slight scratchiness to it.
"Major Regina Keller, 635th Infantry Battalion," Keller answered.
"Some of us are in need of medical attention, Major, and I lack the anatomical knowledge or materials to tend to them."
"Our battlefield hospital will treat you." Keller nodded to a subordinate. "Lieutenant, go get some corpsmen, and trucks to take these people to the division hospital."
"Yes Sir."
East Landing, New Liberty
17:48 GST
The city of East Landing was one of the many spreading communities on New Liberty wiith its own spaceport and a growing industrial and commercial sector. Given its near sub-tropical climate, closeness to some of the best beaches on the planet, and beautiful scenery, the appeal was clear, and Sophia Razmara had been pleased that Asako had agreed to base here.
The Denmark Vesey had a berth at the East Landing Spaceport. Asako had already made the necessary trip to New Norwich to exchange the hard GPL for cash and was now on a "cake run" contract, moving goods from East Landing to planets in the Colonial Zone under contract from a distribution company. The range of travel was so short that the entire crew wasn't even needed for the runs, so those who could found more permanent lodgings on the planet anid took local jobs. The only guiding principle was to "lay low" and avoid confrontations with the authorities. Asako and Sophia had both been sure that one of the two planetary police agents were on to them - such that they had been pleasantly surprised when told the investigation was called off - and it was clear they had to be careful to avoid earning the attention of the police.
Far from her "offer" of returning to nude dancing, Sophia had taken a better job, tending a bar along a stretch of area in the middle of town, almost equidistant from the commercial/residential, industrial, and main residential areas that the town was roughly split up in. It was a lower scale bar, not a formal club, and a lot of jeans and t-shirts were to be seen among it's patrons. Not a well paying job by any stretch of the imagination, but enough to rent an apartment and tuck a little away, so it was better than some of the other work that had been available. She'd convinced the manager since she had a lot of experience with the "new" and "alien" drinks the extrauniversals were developing tastes for, which was the main reason she'd been hired. As for the other reason, Sophia wore form-fitting blouses every other night and didn't mind making herself look attractive and available, which helped keep customers. And the third, unspoken reason was that, as a half-Vulcan, Sophia was physically stronger than any Human who walked into the bar and had proven that three times since she started - that coming on top of the sheer "exoticness" of being a half-alien, again helping to appeal to customers.
It was early in the day, before the hours when most people were off work, so there wasn't much activity in the bar. Sophia was wiping down a section of bar, keeping an eye on a pool game being played by a couple of the customer and on the TV playing a World Cup match from Universe AR-12. For the day she was wearing a gray-and-white checkered skirt that went down to her knees and a sleeveless shirt with the logo of the planet's football/soccer team, with the shirt being just tight enough that Sophia's breasts stretched the logo a little. The shirt was chosen for more than that obvious reason; the entire planet was still in an uproar about the team, which had just won a berth in the 2154 AST Trans-Universal Cup Tournament after defeating Italy SE-1 the week before last, and it seemed smart to go along with the public sentiment as it only now began to wane.
Sophia looked toward the end of the bar and the door beyond it for a moment, which is when she saw it open. Light poured through the gap, showing a bright and sunny day outside. She recognized Larrisa when she came in, her gait and face giving her away even though she'd had her hair re-done and made into curls. The Edo woman was dressed lightly, smart considering the heat outside, though perhaps a little too lightly (even if unsurprising, given nearly three decades of being accustomed to the light and revealing clothing styles of her people). Her shorts weren't too high, thankfully, but her short-sleeved black top looked more like a sleeved halter top, revealing her belly and hugging her breasts closely. White lettering read prominently and in all capital letters on the shirt's front: "Being sexy is hard work!", with the letters of "sexy" larger than the others and purposely placed to be over the wearer's breasts. She walked up to the bar and slid onto a stool, leaning an elbow on the hard wood surface. Sophia walked over to her. "Cute. Where'd you get it?"
"Rachel got it for me," Larrisa said with a slight smile. "A first anniversary present."
"Oh, that's right." An innocent grin camed to Sophia's face. "It was a year ago that we introduced you to that club on Opelei."
"Right. My first night with Rachel." Larrisa put a small pocket purse on the bar top. "So, have any Rigelian sakas?"
"No, unfortunately." Sophia looked for a moment to the bar's shelves, filled with bottles of various spirits and liquors. "A lot of the stuff you'd find in the Triangle hasn't made its way here yet. Got some Orion firewater though. But that's a bit strong if you drove here yourself."
"Nah, I'm using the public buses today. Kinda weird, though. The Alliance is as developed as the Federation, but there are no public transporter nets."
"People here have a bit of a taboo against transporters. They'll use them for cargo transfer, but don't like them for personal transport." Sophia reached down and pulled out a bottle of Orion liquor. She was barely fluent in what was known as Basic Orion, a language from one of the more prominent Northern nations of the Orion homeworld interspersed with various terms common on the Southern Continent relating to their institutions, but could accurately read the lettering on the bottle. Made from a decent distillery company in the Northern Nation of Rohuluar, and the bottle made sure to mention that 100% of the labor was done by "freemen" - unlike the cheaper goods produced in the East, South, and the most subjected areas of the North, the liquor distillery's owners did not use slaves in the production of their product. This was vital because it was well-known that slave-produced goods were widely boycotted inside the Alliance and in other places, which meant distributors and companies from Orion that were interested in foreign trade were careful to ensure their products had no links to slave labor. Sophia twisted the cap off and poured Larrisa a shot. "And you just got back from Krellor I see. The ship was still gone when I left for work this morning."
"Oh yeah. We've been on planet for about, oh, five hours ago." Larrisa took her first shot and blanched a bit. "Ehhh, firewater is so strong."
"So, where's Rachel?"
"Asleep in the apartment."
Sophia nodded - the entire crew of Vesey had rented a number of apartments in a complex near the Spaceport. The pairings matched berthings on Vesey as well. "Late shift?"
"A bit, but mostly because we held off our first anniversary celebration for when we got back." Larrisa smiled widely and finished the shot. "I wore her out again. I hope she stays asleep for a while, though, because I can't remember if I untied her before I left."
Sophia's eyebrow went up. "I don't want to know, do I?"
That drew a giggle and a grin. "Considering we Edo have no concept of bondage sex and you introduced it to me last year at that Opelei club by tying me up for Rachel, you have no room to complain, Sophia."
"Yeah, but I like to be tied up for men to have their way with. Rumors and legends about Asako and me aside, I'm not interested in girl-on-girl stuff and I will never be. Want another?"
"Sure, but only one more. Asako hasn't paid us yet." Larrisa handed Sophia a $5 ADN note and she put it away, reaching for the firewater bottle to pour another shot. "Anyway, if you're not interested in sex between women, why did you take so much interest in tying me up for Rachel's enjoyment?"
"As I recall..." Sophia handed Larrisa the shotglass and leaned against the bar. "You dared me to find a way of having sex that surpassed anything the Edo had. I'm a sexual submissive, Larrisa, so what else was I going to come up with?" She watched Larrisa take the drink. "Besides, Rachel didn't know a thing about good bondage positions. I had to do it."
"Ahhh..." Larrisa nodded. "Well, it explains some things. So..." There was a mischievous glint in those blue eyes. "Find any good clubs?"
"No, the only bondage clubs I've heard of here do far too much for my taste. I don't look good in black leather and I'm not the ''whips and chains' type. I'll just take the chains. And only if I can break out of them if it suits me. So, are we done talking about our sex kinks? If someone overhears us I might be..."
"Fired?"
"Propositioned is more like it," Sophia replied. "So, talk about something else?"
"Like?"
Sophia shrugged. "I don't know, sports, news...."
Larrisa thought hard for a moment. "Um, how 'bout those Cowboys?"
"Cowboys?"
"It's a program I saw when we were offloading at Krellor. A sport, two teams wearing padding and on a grass field. 'Football', they called it, and not like the football here. One of the teams was called the Cowboys, and during the commercials there were ones with the tagline 'How 'bout those Cowboys?'."
"Ohhh.... Larrisa, you need to work on your conversationism."
"On Edo, we talk about three things in balance; God, sex, and community."
"What about pleasure?"
"Pleasure falls under all three. We don't do... 'small talk' as you call it. We don't have sports, politics, or anything else." Larrisa frowned. "And we certainly don't have 'wars'."
Sophia frowned. She looked up at the TV in the corner wall, behind Larrisa. "Speaking of wars..."
She turned it up to hear what we being said, causing most of the customers in the bar to hear it too. The channel was set to CNN and the image on the screen was of a reporter amongst Alliance troops, a dark-skinned woman named "Cindy Winters". ".....receiving reports from other liberated labor camps worse than here on Koreil. The planet's lived up to the meaning of it's Bajoran name; 'Divine Fortune'. It was by pure luck that the majority of the prisoners at the Okaral Labor Camp were spared what appears to be a Cardassian policy of mass execution for all camps faced with liberation. When troops entered the camp, they found it had been hastily evacuated. A massive trench dug in the camp center, intended to be a mass grave, had only a dozen bodies in it. A few thousand prisoners survived only because it appears that the early arrival of Alliance naval forces to Koreil panicked the Cardassian defenders of the planet and led to their evacuatiion before they could finish the executions. When Alliance troops arrived they found over three thousand prisoners, many malnourished and showing signs of abuse. An entire division hospital of the Alliance Army has been needed to begin to process each of the former camp occupants. But what's more shocking for us has been the discovery that not all of the occupants are Bajoran." Winters motioned off-screen and a woman with light skin tanned by the sun stepped up, wearing a dirty blue prisoner uniform. She still had a bruise on her cheek and a distant, tortured look in her light brown eyes. Her brown hair was disheveled and messy, parting just enough to reveal bruising on her shoulder blades and neck. "This woman has identified herself as Ensign Marilyn Cobb, a Starfleet Academy graduate who was captured by Cardassian forces seven years ago during the war between the Federation and Cardassia. She is among fourteen Human prisoners so far identified here at Okaral. There have been about seventy non-Bajorans identified who are Federation national, as well as two Klingons and an Orion. The number is expected to rise, as several prisoners have said that an entire prisoner barracks was assigned for non-Bajorans exclusively. Barracks that can hold four to five hundred in tight conditions. Do we have a shot archived? Please...." The image changed from the reporter and Ensign Cobb to a dimly lit room. It was essentially a long hall with bunks piled up five high, only about five to six feet long and a few feet across. Dozens of Bajoran faces were looking to the camera, their living conditions and the looks on their faces reminding Sophia of old history pictures from the Nazi Concentration Camps of Earth's Second World War. The reporter's voiceover continued. "These are the conditions that the Okaral detainees lived in, some for years. Two to three people per bunk and crammed together with forcefields in place to prevent workers from leaving their bunks once the Cardassians ended the official day. Every barracks is filled with the stench from having dozens of bodies crammed together in a small space, sweat and waste mixing into a noxious odor that is nearly suffocating."
Larrisa put her hand on her mouth. Sophia had seen such a thing before, though not quite from that angle - the slave holds on Orion transports used by the Syndicate and their planetary allies to move thousands of enslaved people between planets. She'd thankfully never been a slave before, and had those memories from aiding non-Orion pirates in seizing just such a transport during one of Asako's missions on behalf of her pirate allies in the Triangle. Her stomach twisted in disgust.
The picture, meanwhile, turned back to Winters and Cobb. "Ensign Cobb, you've been a prisoner here for seven years, correct?"
The woman nodded. When she spoke, her voice seemed weak and shaky. "Yes. I was taken prisoner when the Cardassians overran Sigma Paraxis."
"That war ended years ago and according to both sides, all POWs were repatriated. Why weren't you?"
"I.... I don't know? My crewmates and I were the only survivors from a starship, the Coolidge. I don't know why we weren't returned. The Cardassians never told us."
"How many of your crew are still alive?"
"About ten. We used to be more, but a few were killed." Her voice nearly broke at that point, recovering only barely.
"Ensign, do you have any family back home that could be contacted, who could be watching?" Sophia knew that was likely a lie, if a necessary one for the benefit of the poor girl, since the Federation routinely refused to give extrauniversal news orgnanizations bandwidfth on Federation comm networks - only the border regions near the Colonial Zone were able to pick up the wide-broadcast Alliance communication traffic and thus the news channels.
"My mother and father - Linda and Greg - own a specialty restaurant in San Francisco. And my brother Timothy joined Starfleet before I did. If you're out there, Mom, Dad, Tim, I love you and I've... I've missed you so much...." Cobb broke down crying beside the reporter, who gave her a sympathetic arm around the shoulder. "They've done... so much.... so much to us... said we were 'forgotten'... but I knew.... I knew I'd see.... my family again," she said through sobs. "This is Cindy Winters reporting live from the Okaral, Koreil, Bajoran Zone. Back to you in the studio."
The picture changed back to the CNN Studios. A man with dark skin and contrasting gray hair was sitting at his desk, papers in hand and wearing a flashy suit. The anchorman continued on; "Sources in the Alliance Government say it is too early to begin counting the number of dead and liberated, though the death toll is expected to reach as high as a million, not counting Bajor itself and civilian deaths from the uprising that preceded the Alliance invasion. We have only confirmed the existance of various Cardassian prison camps and are still working to confirm the presence of either survivors or mass graves. As always, CNN will report new information as it is releas..."
The picture flipped off. Sophia put the controls down and sighed. "That's so cruel... Like the Orions..." Larrisa's face was stuck in a frown, and Sophia knew that she had to be reliving everything the Orions had done to her from the moment she'd been beamed aboard one of their ships to when she'd been freed by Asako and crew. "I thought home was so bad.... but we never did these things to each other..... never...." She looked back to Sophia. "Something stronger, please."
Sophia nodded. "I'll put it on my tab," she said with sympathy, thinking of what she'd gone through in life that was horrible, if never as horrible as what others suffered.
Sakata Estate, Rymorta, The Sphere
20:40 GST
Among the various chambers and rooms of the Sakata Estate was the holo-dojo. A set of chambers with holographic technology installed, they permitted various environments to be replicated, primarily for the benefit of those coming into Jane's employ that needed training in the martial arts. It could emulate anything from a vacant beach to a Japanese mountain-side garden.
Within the holo-dojo at this hour was one figure alone; Jane Sakata, dressed in a plain white gi, her red hair bound together into a bun at the back of her head. A katana blade glistened before her, reflecting off the false sunlight the holographic projectors were creating, while her hands retained their grip on the jeweled hit.
It was a family heirloom and trophy in one, yet just as lethal as any sword kept sharp. Even her slow, deliberate cuts and swipes to retain her training, to keep various movements coherent as muscle-memory, would have drawn blood if it struck flesh the right way. Such was the inherent danger of the weapon no matter whose hands it was in, though in the hands of Jane it was supremely deadly indeed.
Jane's senses felt the shift in air current inside the room as the holo-dojo opened, appearing in the hologram as if someone from a nearby structure was entering the false garden. The figure who came through was clad in a kimono and stopped to take in the sight before her, wonderous for her in a way it would not be for most in the vast Multiverse. "Greetings, Kurita-san," Jane said softly in the Japanese tongue.
Omi returned the salutation, looking about at the imaginary garden around them. "So wonderful," she remarked. "It would remind me of the gardens back home, but..."
"But?"
"Luthien was never this... beautiful," Omiko finished. From her youngest memories she could recall her homeworld, the Kuritas' Black Pearl, Luthien. Throneworld of the Draconis Combine and, it had to be said, an ecological wreck with polluted, noisy industrial cities. The environment of Luthien had not endured the centuries of heavy industry and lax ecological precautions well, and only with Star League-era technology could the elite come close to recreating the clean, clear air and sky of rural Japan that the technology of the ST-3 universe now so easily recreated inside a closed off building, on a world not too different from Luthien in its grime.
"I grew up in this garden," Jane answered. "My parents were slain when I was just a little girl. My father Noburo adopted me to honor my parents, his old friends. I was raised as his daughter and student, I learned the art of the sword directly from him, and I eventually took his biological son Takuro as my husband." Sensing the next question to come, she finished, "They are both gone now, taken from me by the same man who seized you."
"And why you killed him," Omi said. "Did he die... quickly?"
"My blade sliced his guts open; as he lay dying I removed his head, for as much as I would have preferred to see him suffer, your rescue was more important. Duty is a higher source of honor than vengeance." Jane slowly, methodically, sheathed her katana and faced her visitor for the first time. "You are scheduled to leave in two days for Bajor, correct?"
"I am being sent to Darane first, but I shall be on Bajor in a week, yes," Omi answered. "I am informed that you wish to send men to protect me?"
"I do."
"It would not be necessary," Omi stated. "There are others on this world who need the protection more. And where I am going, there will be plenty of Alliance soldiers..."
"For now. But in the coming weeks there will also be many thousands of aid workers, aid workers that might include agents of the Claws seeking your life to avenge Sanda, or of your grandfather's security services seeking to seize you as they had Sanda do." Jane walked toward her, securing her sword on her left hip. "You are a selfless person, Omiko, and your desire to serve the nation protecting you is an honorable one. But it is just as important for you to accept protection from those who see you as a tool of politics. My protection has been extended to you now, publicly; to allow you to be harmed or seized would be to bring me shame and dishonor."
"I... see..." Omi bowed her head. "I am thankful."
Jane gave her a nod of acceptance. "Is there anything else, Kurita-san?"
After a moment's silence, as if she were working up the nerve to answer as she intended, Omi replied, "There is. When I am done on Bajor, I would like to return here."
Jane gave her a stern look. "You know it's too dangerous for you to do Red Cross duty on Rymorta."
"No, not for that. I wish to return here, to your home," Omi answered. "And I would like to learn the way of the sword."
There was a moment of silence from the other woman. Jane was stunned to hear the request. Nor was she sure she should answer in any way but "no". She had never fully trained anyone else before and was not sure she was up to that challenge. As Noburo had once said to her on the subject, "There is a difference between being a great practitioner of an art and being a great master of it, for only the master can train others to match his skill". That knowledge, and her uncertainty of her worthiness to train others, had kept her back for years in trying to pass on her adopted father's teaching.
Nevertheless she defaulted to what Noburo had said to her many years ago. "Why do you wish to take on that burden? To know the way of the sword?"
As a child, she had answered that she wanted to make herself worthy of his pride and the pride of her fallen parents, and he had sympathized with her motives. Jane could see Omi's desires were not quite so simple. The younger woman seemed to struggle with her emotions for a moment before she continued. "I am aware that many people wish to give me permanent protection. But I cannot always be protected in such manner. The attack on me was done despite guards at the Red Cross apartments, despite the security, despite everything. I was taken against my will, bound, dragged, hung into a closet space and left in the darkness. They pulled me before that alien man and stripped me. That was shame enough; the ways they touched me afterward, the things they did at the order of the Orion man, were a humiliation that burns my very soul, Sakata-san, such that I can still feel their dirty hands on my body. I cannot, I will not, endure such shame again. I must be able to protect myself."
Their eyes met. Jane could see her frustration, her shame, the humiliation she felt. For someone of Omi's upbringing, it was particularly agonizing to live with. She could understand Omi's motives for wanting training. They were tangible, clear.
But a voice within was not sure they were right. Noburo had hammered that into her at an early age. The Way of the Sword was not simply a tool to fight with, it was not something one learned to attain vengeance or to try and make up for a personal shame. It was an art, a means to strengthen one's mind more than the body, to become one with the blade and to learn and know the beauty of every movement, every breath, of the blade itself. Impure motives of vengeance or shame would sully one's practice of it.
"I will consider it," Jane finally said, opting not to be harsh and expressive of her doubts. "Go to Bajor, Omiko, and fulfill the need in your soul to be of service to those who are suffering. Once you have finished that work, and have considered your reasons for your request, return here and ask me again."
Command Center, Cardassia Prime, Cardassian Union
11 December 2153 AST
11:18 GST
The Cardassian Political Advisory Board was again in session, minus Relim Torcet, now confirmed as dead. Gul Keve was now sitting in his place, having temporarily taken over the Military Strategy Staff. He would be the first to speak when Kelataza called the meeting to order. "The war is lost," he said solemnly. "A quarter of our fleet is in ruins, millions of Cardassian lives have been lost, and the Alliance is rampaging through our space with impunity. Their fleets are intact and their troops, by all reports, are massacring our forces on Bajor and all other worlds where we attempt to put up a fight. The time has come for us to end this. The time has come to sue for peace and to give up Bajor."
Administrator Refimo scowled. The old harpy of the Obsidian Order leveled an angry gaze at him. "The Obsidian Order is against the very idea of backing down. Doing so will jeopardize our control."
"Unless your Order knows of a way to turn the tide of the war, there is no other solution. What hope is there of victory now? Let's not delude ourselves with the madness of a select few who think the Federation can be manipulated into joining the war on our side. The same weakness we often seek to exploit is the weakness that restrains them now." Keve put his hands together on the table. "We have lost billions of tons of shipping capacity. Over two thousand Cardassian ships of war have been lost and hundreds are still in need of repair, repairs our shipyards can't complete fast enough. The enemy has already inflicted damage on our industrial output in the region of the front, destroying our local supply depots as well, both forcing us to use more of the shipping capacity we are so short on to move supplies forward. We cannot even maintain the fighting power of the Federation Frontier Fleet's survivors! The Tsen'kethi Frontier Fleet is relying on their pre-war supply dumps now!"
"Furthermore, the Bajoran uprising and the enemy's early bomber arracks had the side effect of drawing our troops out from their bases. Whole Orders have been trapped in the open and slaughtered by superior firepower and swift thrusts by armored ground vehicles, these 'tanks' that we have no defense against. Bajor cannot be held."
"You are rebuilding Third Fleet, are you not? And we still have Home Fleet and the Tsen'kethi Frontier Fleet."
Keve frowned at Loskat. "Third Fleet will consist primarily of older vessels and with insufficient numbers of active duty professionals in their crews. We've lost over half a million Fleet personnel and we cannot just pull individual Guls and Glins and Senior Technicians or Shiphands out of the formations in our other frontiers to replace them. Gentlemen, Third Fleet and Home Fleet are our last line of defense, not the core of a new striking arm. Our senior planners in the Operations Commission estimate we will need two years just to restore most of our material offensive strength. It could be five years to a decade before our training cadres and academies give any meaningful replenishment to the forces we've lost in this war."
Yatar nodded in agreement. "Emergency conscription can be used to plug up manpower shortages, but effectiveness will be low. All of Cardassia has been demoralized by our string of defeats. We should sue for peace now. We can pin the blame of defeat on Torcet and commanders who were killed in the fighting and keep the people sated. Then we can begin rebuilding."
"Yes. And we can ensure the support of the populace by emphasizing the need to avenge this war. We may lose now, but twenty years from now, a restored Cardassia that has learned the ways of these extrauniversals can defeat them."
All eyes now turned to Kelataza. He nodded slowly. "Very well. Ambassador Kercet will be immediately informed of our new peace terms."
The former Hall of Khans for the Clans of Kerensky had become the center from which the KTOA - Kerensky Territories Occupation Authority - governed the lives of over one billion human beings spread across the Kerensky Cluster and the Clan worlds. The Federated Commonwealth and St. Ives contingents were represented by liaison officers to the man who was in charge of the whole mechanism, Fleet Admiral Robert Dale of the Alliance Stellar Navy. He had lived on Strana Mechty for two years now, overseeing these worlds' slow transition from rule by a eugenicist warrior elite with a command economy to a proposed republic of democratic principles and with a free market economy, backed by consumer industries and widespread agricultural bounty. Two years of terraforming effort in the worlds of the Clans were already opening more land for direct farming and rendering atmospheres completely breathable, though the worst cases would take decades to finish and a number of worlds were still a few years away from completion.
But now he was in charge of the final steps of a different means of integrating these worlds into the Multiverse as a whole. With the Alliance at war in the distant universe of ST-3, locals of the Kerensky Worlds and of the Tanite Republic had stepped forward, asking for permission to make war alongside the Alliance. Some were ex-warriors, or 18-21 year old trueborns who had never gotten to make their Trials of Position with the fall of the Clans and yearning for a chance to put their lifetime of warrior upbringing to practice; others were those of the lower castes who had in two years become staunch followers of the Alliance and the ideals it embodied.
He was sending off the commander of the Expeditionary Corps, Maj. General Harry Matheson, when lunchtime came. Dale found his lunch coming in with his "cultural advisor" Natalie Ward and his assistant, Lieutenant Anne Windsor. Anne gave him a friendly grin while Natalie's expression was more subdued, as he expected and, perhaps, dreaded. What had passed between them these past two years was something he had never expected to see happen, something he had occasionally tried to resist, just to find that his years of loneliness left him far too vulnerable to the feelings and needs that a fiery and passionate young woman like Natalie could cause, especially given the attitudes her own culture had given her about relationships.
Natalie remained quiet at first, allowing Anne to speak. The bright young woman was not just any naval officer, of course, but the younger daughter of the Prince of Wales, Universe SE-1, and thus granddaughter of the currently reigning British monarch of that universe, Victoria III. Dale's relationship with the Windsors of SE-1 was one formed by war; against the Agresskan Queen Victoria had been his superior officer in the Allied command structure, her son Prince Edward has been his subordinate and eventual chief of staff, and during family visits their daughters - Edward's Anne and his Susanna - had become friends and went on to be Naval Academy roommates. Anne had plenty of respect for Dale stretching back to when she was a child and he had been this austere, warm adult that her father and grandmama had treated with strong respect she never saw them duplicate in that fashion; then he had been the beloved father of the "daddy's girl" that Anne had bunked with at the Naval Academy, with plenty of tales of family life to reinforce her sentiments toward him.
The lunch mostly covered business. Anne expressed some worry that her romantic interest, one Prince Victor Steiner-Davion of the Federated Commonwealth, would pursue a transfer from his post in the Occupation Authority - as the AFFC's Liaison Officer to it - to a combat post fighting the Cardassians. Since such a transfer, or even a request for it, would inevitably come across his desk, Dale was quick to reassure her that Victor had not sought such a transfer, despite having had a week in which to ask. "Given the Prince's unfavorable attitude to his posting two years ago, Anne, I think you've made a rather strong impression," Dale pointed out.
"He's always been so restless though," Anne complained. "I suppose I cannot blame him entirely, until the Multiversal Contact the Inner Sphere saw almost constant conflict and minor raids, it was what he was raised and educated to look forward to doing. Now he is a desk jockey, it's entirely against his character."
"Well, as I've said, he's not asked for a transfer to the front," Dale repeated. "But if it concerns you so much, Anne, you should speak to him."
Lunch came to an end soon enough. Anne departed, off to do her own administrative work as his assistant, while Natalie remained behind for the moment. "It is confirmed you are going home next month?"
To that Dale nodded. "I am. Dr. Gierulewicz will be the new civilian head of the government. I've spoken with him, he's going to continue my policies."
"I see."
"So, did Horace sign up?"
Natalie looked back to him. Horace was a former Ghost Bear, Bloodhouse of Bekker, trained to be a MechWarrior like Natalie had been. The two had been introduced that terrible day back in September 2151 AST when Strana Mechty had fallen, working in the Cloud Cobra Honorarium with the other young warriors told not to fight by their superiors but to remain and live, to continue the genetic legacies of their Houses. At first Horace had been just a friend introduced to Dale as an excellent cook, especially after Natalie had added the intimate, personal element to what was meant to be a professional relationship. But since Dale had made it known he would be returning home after his assignment ended, Natalie had grown closer to Horace, and Horace to her, and again given Clan relationship mores Dale was quite sure they had been long involved. He had tried to bury the feelings of jealousy and betrayal his own cultural background inevitably would feel at such. He had fairly succeeded, though he could not entirely deny the bitterness that sometimes rose within.
His question was on the issue of Horace's interest in joining the Expeditioonary Force and fighting the Cardassians. He had sibkin going, Dale had been told, and was strongly considering it himself. Since the order authorizing his service would come over Dale's desk for his signature, it left Dale in an uncomfortable position, a feeling he could not impartially approve it since, one could say, he might have an interest in Horace going off to the front and facing potential demise. Not that anyone would accuse Dale of that - it wasn't like he was in a position to play King David and thrust Horace into a spot in the army to nearly ensure death, if anything Horace would probably ask for such a position anyway - but it was something he could not personally live with himself should Horace be killed.
That prospect was, thankfully (or perhaps not so thankfully), quashed when Natalie shook her head. "He was very torn but he believes he is doing the greater good here working in the government." She looked downward. "I believe he has spited himself because he worries that I might be left alone."
"Natalie, I'm..."
"He is right to do so. You have a life to return to, after all, while our lives are here," Natalie stated, almost in accusation. She had not taken well to his immediate reaction to her hooking up with Horace in the past month, immediately after Dale informed her that his departure was scheduled for the first months of the coming year, AST calendar. It had been a relatively minor thing - a decision to not invite Horace to cook for a dinner - and it had exploded from there, Natalie accusing him of being unfairly jealous and Dale arguing in turn that she had acted to spite him for his decision to return to his home. The argument had been... quite rancorous.
That she was right to some degree - that he had felt a need to not have Horace around after being informed they were becoming a couple a mere day after Dale told her he was to head home - was the really painful part.
"I will be ready for our dinner with the assembled officers of the Expeditionary Force tonight," she continued, "and I will see you then. I am going to bring Horace, I might add."
"I look forward to meeting him," was the only thing Dale could say, after which the conversation ended.
Washington D.C., Earth, Alliance of Democratic Nations
Universe Designate HE-1
14:30 GST
The usual White House Conference Room was taken up by President Mamatmas and his senior advisors for a lunchtime meeting on the progress of the war. The liberation of Bajor was continuing far better than expected. Wave One was looking like it could secure the planet by itself and there was already discussions about reducing Wave Two in favor of assigning more divisions to a further offensive into Cardassian territory.
It was such an offensive that was now the source of discussion. "Mister President, we have nearly exhausted our stocks of pre-positioned war material in the Colonial Zone," Marshal Longwell reported. "And the output of the defense plants currently operational in the Colonial Zone is not enough to maintain another offensive. We will rely entirely on shipping from other universes for the rest of the war."
"Are there any more jump point generator ships we can put into the effort?" The question was asked by Umachov. "Some of the neutral nations are already complaining about how much gate activity we're reserving for military traffic. We're not quite to the IUCEC limit yet, but...."
"The latest Cardassian defeat does reduce the need for warship reinforcement. It also reduces the amount of outgoing traffic reserved for combat ships heading to other universes for repair, since Kensington and New Liberty can handle many repair needs and we do have a number of mobile dry docks in use. They should be sufficient to finish restoring many ships in the area before the Cardassians can finish redeploying forces from other borders."
"What kind of intel do we have on Cardassian naval movements? Do we know where the remains of their fleets are?"
"What's left of the Cardassian 1st Fleet is still on the border, now at Dervak. We suspect they'll retreat when Percival commences unless they are offered a target weak enough for them to strike." Bronson kept his hands together on the table. "The Cardassian frontier fleet monitoring the Federation border - the one they reduced to use against us at Darane - is still intact for the most part, but Second Darane caused them enough damage that the Cardassians are keeping the fleet in base."
Immediately after Bronson spoke, Admiral Hollingwood leaned forward. "Given the Cardassian activity in the area and the success of our interdiction campaign, we believe that the Cardassian fleet is also hampered by supply problems and cannot effectively sortie. It remains to be seen if the Cardassians will decide to abandon their posts in the region near Bajor and fall back toward their central space where they can more easily protect transport assets, reducing their supply lines in the process."
"Do you think the Cardassians will abandon two sectors just like that?"
"They may not have a choice, Minister Rathbone. Running on minimal supply, they would be in danger from attack either by carrier or by 9th Fleet, which is completely intact and undamaged. Better to abandon the sectors than to lose them and another two hundred ships."
Mamatmas nodded, having heard enough on that particular enemy force. "And anything else? Any other fleet concentrations?"
"Their frontier fleet watching the Tsen'kethi border has made some movements in our direction, but we think the Cardassians will keep them on the border unless they're necessary to stop a major offensive in that region. We'll have to warn Hanse Davion's people to be careful in their advance, and we might want to position a task force from 5th Fleet to support 14th Fleet in the event the Cardassians go for broke and throw the entire fleet into a counterstroke." Hollingwood looked down at a digital assistant. "And there's their Home Fleet, the naval contingent of the Cardassian Home Guard. It's probably the last full concentration of modern Cardassian warships left in their fleet. I suspect it'll cause us problems as we near Cardassia Prime, but the Cardassians can't afford to toss it into action. I think Director Takahara can explain..."
Omiko Takahara nodded and began speaking slowly. "Our analysis of the Cardassian political system shows that most of their leaders have constant fear of removal, and their entire government is almost paranoid with the fear of a coup d'etat. The Home Fleet has long acted as the Cardassian State's force to guarantee them control of the space around Cardassia Prime and neighboring major systems. They have the best equipment and come under the direct command of the Legate. As such, no Cardassian ruler will easily commit them to offensive action for fear of losing them and causing the fall of the government."
"So we probably don't have to worry about them until we start approaching Cardassia Prime itself." Mamatmas nodded at that. "And that's it? They have nothing else?"
"Not quite, Mister President," Hollingwood spoke up. "They still have over a hundred surviving ships from their 2nd Fleet and about twenty or so 3rd Fleet survivors. Though we can't be completely certain of the full nature of their activation programs, we know the Cardassians are scrambling to get their fleet reserves into service and they're pulling squadrons in from other frontiers and sectors. With the survivors of 2nd and 3rd Fleet, they could field perhaps two more of their fleets. With Home Fleet, that would be about a thousand to fifteen hundred ships protecting their core systems, though at least half would be older models. Furthermore, their personnel losses have cost them hundreds of thousands of skilled professional sailors and officers, so their crew performance will undoubtedly suffer."
"Counting their frontier fleets with the Tsen'kethi and the Federation, that's still about two thousand ships, gentlemen. About twice our number. And I don't need to remind you how thin the string is getting." Mamatmas was frowning. "We've got Bajor now and it won't take long to secure it. Let's hope that the Cardassians will see reason and agree to give it up."
There were nods across the room. Discussion now went to the specific logistics, the millions and millions of tons of war material that had to be shipped from supply depots, factories, and warehouses to the Cardassian front, and the sums of money it would cost to produce more and to hire and acquire the necessary transport for it all. As the logistics discussion became heated on the issue of war material versus relief supplies to Bajoran worlds, it made Mamatmas remember an old saying on the nature of war and the people who studied it: "Amateurs study tactics. Professionals study logistics."
As the meeting continued, one of Mamatmas' personal staff came in and handed him a note. Takahara was speaking, but she stopped as all attention turned toward Mamatmas, who was starting to frown. He looked up and rose from the chair. "One moment, please."
Mamatmas left the conference room and followed his guard detail to an anteroom where Elijah Weisbaum was waiting for him, looking somewhat officious and acting as imperious and upright as ever. Moreso than the man deserved; he had won re-election to the Council from his native New Israel, but not by any outstanding margin, and many hadn't forgotten or forgiven his base manipulation of the Council in 2151 that led to the Alliance pursuing utter annihilation of the Clans of Kerensky as opposed to a negotiated peace. After the door behind him closed Mamatmas stormed right up to the man and put the note in his face. "Just what in the Hell does this mean?!"
Weisbaum handed him a piece of paper. The statement on it was simple. "No peace without justice" as a header, followed by a word of text insisting that the Alliance bring to justice the Cardassians responsible for the atrocities committed against their enemies, and refusing to accept any peace attempts that did not include the arrest and trial of those responsible. There were over thirty signatures on the paper. "I should think the meaning is obvious, Mister President."
And it was. If the Council were to release the statement publicly, it would undermine Mamatmas' authority and any actual peace negotiations. "Has it ever occurred to you that fulfilling these terms could require an occupation of Cardassia? An occupation we can't afford?"
"We can't afford to let these atrocities go unpunished either," Weisbaum countered. "Find a way. Increase military spending, ask for the member nations to raise more troops, do whatever is necessary to bring these Cardassian criminals to justice. Because we're not going to let the deaths of our soldiers be in vain."
"Do you understand the damage that will be done to this government's standing if you were to release this statement? Do you?"
"Which is why we won't... so long as you amend the peace demands to Cardassia."
"We can't afford to keep fighting Cardassia!" Mamatmas slammed a hand on a nearby table. "We have other concerns! New members who are relying on Alliance protection! Enemies that need watching. Tell me, Representative, is New Israel willing to let us withdraw ships and troops from your borders with Europe and the Berjariak Empire so that we can prosecute the war with Cardassia? Is it?"
Weisbaum showed no concern at Mamatmas' remarks, merely a firm resolve, the resolve of a man committed to his personal political crusade to stomp out that which offended him and which would not tolerate deviation, for whatever reason, out of a belief such was immoral and inherently self-defeating. "I have enough signatures, President, and there's nothing you can do about it. Either amend the peace terms or this statement gets released to the public. Good day, Mister President." Weisbaum turned and left.
With an angry glare on his face, Mamatmas returned to the conference room. It enraged him to think that Weisbaum had pulled this stunt, even if he agreed with the moral issue. The crimes of Cardassia's leaders had to be punished. But there were more concerns on his mind than justice, and it hardly seemed fair if justice could only be bought by destroying the Cardassian Union as a political body, thus causing mass death and instability when its neighbors began fighting over the corpse.
When he returned, he had made his decision. He showed the statement to his assembled advisors. As soon as they'd all seen it, he looked to Umachov. "Tell Ambassador Parmika that our peace terms just changed...."
Paris, Earth, United Federation of Planets
Universe Designate ST-3
16:09 GST
Tobis and Kercet were waiting when Parmika entered the conference room near Tobis' office. "Welcome, Ambassador." Tobis stood and a diplomatic handshake was shared - neither liked the other. "Ambassador Kercet has the latest peace offer from Cardassia."
"I do." Kercet certainly didn't look happy. "Cardassia will agree to withdrawing from Bajor and its worlds. We will recognize the independence of the Bajoran race and return all Bajorans in Cardassian space."
Tobis looked at Parmika with a satisfied smile. That smile would soon vanish.
"Ambassador, I'm afraid it's too late for that." Parmika's expression was stoic as he handed Kercet a Federation PADD with the new peace terms from the Alliance loaded. "These are our new terms."
"New terms?" Tobis spluttered.
Kercet skimmed the text. The first terms were the same, but.... "This is outrageous!" Kercet tossed the PADD onto the table. "We will not surrender our leaders to you for these so-called 'war crimes trials'! We won't have you enforcing your laws on our people!"
"Ambassador, it is now a term of the Alliance that those Cardassians guilty of crimes of war or crimes against the dignity of sentient life be turned over for trial. We're willing to negotiate on the nature of the court performing the trial, of course. My superiors are actually hoping to use this case to establish a permanent court here in the Alpha Quadrant, an international one specifically to deal with crimes of this magnitude."
Tobis shook his head. Kercet was clearly enraged. "This is a disgrace! Cardassia will never surrender its leaders to you! We will make you bleed for every piece of space!"
"Ambassador, how can you do this to us?" Tobis spoke up now. "We had an acceptable peace prepared and you go and change the goalposts!"
"It's not my decision," Parmika said. "Besides, I would think the Federation would be interested in seeing justice done for its citizens, the ones we've found in Cardassian camps!"
"The Federation is not responsible for citizens who commit illegal acts in the territory of another race," Tobis replied.
"That's very nice to hear, President Tobis, I'm sure it'll warm the hearts of all those Starfleet POWs the Cardassians 'forgot' to repatriate," Parmika guffawed.
"The Federation confirmed the Cardassian POW records and the return of all POWs," Tobis responded testily, "and we will not be tricked by agents provocateur sent by the Alliance to turn us against Cardassia."
Ignoring, with great contempt, the holier-than-thou reply from Tobis, Parmika looked to Kercet. "So, Cardassia refuses the terms? You're not going to send them to your leaders to see if they approve?"
"I know they won't. These terms are denied. Cardassia will never surrender so completely to you, and we'll make you bleed." Kercet stood from his chair and stormed out.
Parmika saw Tobis' glare and shrugged. He had little patience to deal with the sniveling toad and so he left himself, leaving Tobis to his shattered hopes of brokering a peace and keeping his job.
Kellerman, Rymorta, The Sphere
12 December 2153 AST
11:30 GST
The Alliance Embassy in Kellerman was regularly busy with native Rymortians seeking travel visas or Alliance businessmen and travelers checking in. Given the thriving underworld on the planet - including the kidnapping rings that more often than not resulted in a one way ticket to the underground slave market - it was considered a priority by all educated travelers to check in and give an account of what they were doing and where they'd be staying.
In the Embassy, the waiting room was set to the IUNS channel. The embassy waiting room operator, a tan-skinned woman who looked a bit too thin for her size, was watching the news as reporters were discussing the ongoing liberation of Bajor. The site was the town of Ikiv near Salmio, with multiple explosions in the distance as the reporter continued speaking. ".....barrage of Ikiv. After four hours, much of the town has been flattened, and many Cardassians have apparently been killed or have chosen to surrender to Alliance troops encircling the town. Those we've seen so far have a shell-shocked look about them, having never faced an intense bombardment like the one that LXVIII Corps has put them through these past two days. By all accounts, the entire Cardassian pocket is on the verge of surrender...."
The doors swung open, and the woman was subjected to an interesting sight. Two Marines flanked a gaggle of Cardassians; an old woman, a younger woman holding an infant, and three children. A Bajoran woman of middle-age stepped out from between them and walked forward. She spoke in native Bajoran. The secretary didn't understand it, so she held up a finger, brought up a headset, and tapped into her computer to bring up auto-translator systems. "What is it, ma'am?"
"I am Samia Torcet, and this is my family. We are the family of Gul Relim Torcet and we come seeking political asylum in the Alliance of Democratic Nations."
The Embassy operator keyed up the intercom. "Gina, get me the Charge d'Affairs...."
Zachary Carrey was waiting outside a hotel room in the upscale section of Ushiba when the door finally opened. Kristin Ignacian stepped out, looking rather lovely in a low-cut blouse and dress. She smiled at him and he gave her his own quick smile, showing some of the interest that his profesionalism restrained. "Follow me," she said. "You'll see what you're paying for."
They walked down to another section of the hotel but on the same floor. A few knocks at the door and Zack was face to face with an older Romulan, salt-bearded with somewhat whiter hair. He was in a night robe with long sleeved; obviously middle-aged given his hair color and the slight lines and wrinkles in his face, though he had a gruff demeanor and strong build. "Zara, this is your friend?"
"Yes, H'daen. Zachary, this is H'daen. He's a Romulan adventurer." She said that last line with a smirk on her face.
"H'daen, my pleasure."
"The pleasure is mine." H'daen shook Zachary's hand. With the handshake, H'daen slipped a data chip into Zachary's hand. Zack palmed it and slipped it into his pocket when the handshake ended. "I have a good friend on Cardassia who's gone to a lot of trouble to set this meeting up. Make sure it's not for nothing."
"Oh, I'll make sure." Zack looked to Kristin. "Coming, Zara?"
"I'll talk to you later." Kristin grinned at H'daen. "I have some things to catch up on with H'daen."
Zack grinned, with a small pang of jealousy, and walked away, leaving Kristin to enter H'daen's room. H'daen locked the room and they embraced, sharing a lustful kiss. When it ended he remarked, "I have the hlai and a bottle of your human red wine. Shall we?"
"We shall," she said, holding his hand as they walked further into the suite.
Dolan, Bajor
12:10 GST
Gobens Drayo was dying. The day prior, he had personally led a counter-attack against a desperate Cardassian push that nearly broke through the Bajoran lines in the south of Dolan. He had taken three phaser hits during the vicious firefight, winning the day but guaranteeing his death.
He laid now in the presence of many of his countrymen, including what was left of the cabal that had followed him in rallying Dolan into revolt. His nephew Toran put a hand on his forehead. "Uncle Drayo..."
With great effort, Gobens looked at young Toran. The nineteen year old boy was as haggard as any other in the city, five different wounds on him from glancing blows or non-fatal hits. Leaning beside him was his lover Ivimi, a lovely girl with honey-blond hair. They held hands together at Gobens' side. "Toran.... I'm sorry... I cost you your parents."
"Don't apologize, Uncle." Toran's face showed a painful smile. "Uncle... the Cardassians in the west have abandoned the road. Come and see!"
With a disapproving look from an older Bajoran doctor, Gobens nevertheless allowed his nephew and others to lift him to his legs. With great effort Toran carried his dying uncle to the roof, a vantage point from which his binoculars could range out to the forest surrounding Dolan. He handed the electronic device to Gobens, who brought it up to his eyes and zoomed in on the familiar site of the Cardassian camp just by the road, the camp that had repulsed their prior attack when they fought to smuggle their children and the camp from which Gul Odar had led the siege of Dolan.
In the middle of the camp was the flagpole, from which the traditional sinister symbol of the Cardassian State had long flown. But Gobens now saw that it was gone, replaced by the four-colored flame and circle of stars of the Alliance flag. A gleeful smile crossed his face as he lowed the binoculars. "We are saved," he said weakly. "Thank the Prophets, we are saved. I have not failed."
All of the sudden, Gobens was sad. Sad that for so long he had forsaken hope and only fought out of a sense of stubborness, a determination to die rather than remain a slave. Now his wildest dream had come true. Mighty Cardassia, invincible Cardassia, unstoppable Cardassia was being driven out! With all of his heart Gobens prayed his thanks to the Prophets whom he had forsaken. He wept joyously despite the knowledge, from the pain in his body, that his death was only moments away.
"Uncle, look!"
Now Gobens turned his attention to a nearby road and the tumult. Bajorans of all ages stood from rooftops and the street sides, raising their weapons and cheering loudly at the rumble of passing armored vehicles. Alliance troops sat upon those vehicles of steel, returning the waves and flying their flag proudly.
"Uncle, we are free." Toran's eyes filled with tears as well. "We are free!"
"I know, Toran. I know." Gobens took his nephew's hand. "This new world is your's Toran. For all of my sins, for all I've failed to do for you and your mother, I can only give you this. I love you, nephew, and I hope you and Ivimi have a happier life than I did. Live well and do what you must so that your children will never know terror or want. The Prophets will do the rest." Gobens' chest began to still. His eyes looked skyward and he yielded finally to the pain in his body, his spirit freed finally from the bitter - if triumphant - struggle that had marked his life.
Toran and his love wept as they laid his body down. While Ivimi held his left hand softly, Toran used his right to close his uncle's eyes. "Go with the Prophets, Uncle. Go to a place where there is no sadness, and the children can play outside in the sun."
So, my book's done (first draft that is), and I'm back to posting.
The scenes with Jane and Omi and Admiral Dale on Strana Mechty are from the 5AE, working to both tie in other TGG materials and, with Omi, set up other things. The stuff between Dale and Natalie Ward reflects how things end for them as shown in The Wrath of Paradise.
The Cardassians have finally recognized the need to give up Bajor. Unfortunately, as the full scope of their atrocities comes to light and sickens the Alliance and the Multiverse, it's become politically impossible for the Alliance to make peace with the men and women responsible for those atrocities. As Londo Mollari once put it, "Now we want more" (Albeit under more understandable circumstances than that example).
Meanwhile the Torcet family has made it to safety, as has the intel that Jorma Gedys is now suffering so terribly to protect. We'll see what comes of this.
Lastly, Gul Luvar pursues a strategy to protect his troops from getting crunched and Gobens Drayo lives long enough to see Dolan relieved by Alliance troops.
As the 12th of December wore on, the farmers and townspeople in Ipima Valley ceased their work and assembled upon the major roads to see the sight now offered. For miles along the dusty roads, armored fighting vehicles and tanks of the Alliance Army rolled along, racing torward Yemenas to beat the Cardassian 399th Mechanized Order to the pivotal coast city. They were the 777th Division, also known as the Lucky Sevens, and primarily American with a few intermixed Canadians and Mexicans plus an attached armored battalion from the Russian Army. The flags of the United States, the Russian Federation, and the Alliance of Democratic Nations that they were a part of flew from the tops of their vehicles to the cheers of the Bajorans who watched them pass. Young women giggled at the sight of handsome Human men blowing them kisses while children ran for the candies and treats thrown by some of the passing soldiers. The young Russian tankers sang one of their army's tank marches, thrilled at the prospect of cutting off the Cardassians and crushing the "mother-fucking lizard pigs" (or so the insult name for the Cardassians was in their native Russian) with the firepower of their T-205s. Some of the Americans hummed "The Cassions Go Rolling Along" or "The Battle Hymn of the Republic", waving at the Bajoran farmers as they moved onward; others preferred heavy metal tunes that fit the advance of great armored vehicles.
As the column passed through each town, the flags that had been worked on secretly since the war began flew from every town and village hall and even from homes and temples. Some of the renditions of the Alliance flag were crude, and a few were clearly done by children, but they made the soldiers proud as they rode through the Valley. Words and ideals were one thing, but to actually see the happy faces of the local Bajorans, to hear their adulations and to see their joy, made the entire war worthwhile to many of those watching. This was real to them.
Seated in the command hatch of an IFV-3, Lieutenant Richard Howe looked back to some of his soldiers sitting on the top of the vehicle and out to the cheering Bajorans, noticing some had broken out into song, Howe could see his own troops caught up in the spirit of the moment. And so a song generally came from them, something many had learned since joining the military or knew as hymns in church back when they were children and their relatives and countrymen were off fighting the Agresskan.
And so the Battle Hymn of the Republic once again came from a liberating army on the march.
XLII Corps Field HQ, Bajor
13 December 2153 AST
03:15 GST
The captured Cardassian HQ at Remila had been chosen to field the headquarters of XLII Corps, 14th Army, as it continued to consolidate its hold on Morala Province. The Cardassian war room had been converted to something that Lieutenant General Matthew Thorpe and his staff found useful, with writing boards and displays moved in to provide him with information on the dispositiions of all of his forces.
At the moment, his three divisional commanders were meeting with him in person for the first time since the invasion began. Seated in order of rough seniority around him were Major General Penelope Winslow of the 59th Division, Major General Gerrard Kinsley of the 555th Division, and Major General Uwe von Hannover of the 9th Cavalry Division. Further down were their chiefs of staff, the commanders of his Corps-level support units, and their staffs. On the table was a map of one of the largest cities on Bajor. Perched within two hillsides, Dalkyra was also one of the oldest, possessing an elaborate network of underground tunnels used for urban sanitation, shelter, some within the hills even being extensions of the town's main avenues with housing and other structures. Within those structures were still up to half a million Bajorans, as well as 50,000 Cardassian troops scattered in strategic points and dug in heavily, killing anything that got too close.
"We could ask the Aerospace Force to launch a bomber strike to remove the Cardassian positions," General Winslow stated. "Or use an artillery barrage."
"If you do so, you could collapse entire portions of the city. And there's no guarantee that there won't be anough Cardassian survivors to simply dig in harder within the rubble." Kinsley tapped a finger on the map. "We're going to have to force the Cardassians out."
"You want to wage an urban battle in that kind of city, General? The casualties...."
"The casualties among the Bajoran civilians still trapped within the city would sink our careers more than the casualties among our troops in opening avenues of escape for them." After a moment's pause Kinsley continued. "We can send in troops to take and secure the key avenues of transport in the city. Isolate the individual Cardassian concentrations and open up routes of escape for the Bajorans still in the city."
"And which division do you propose perform this task, General?" Thorpe asked.
"The 555th can be in position to enter Dalkyra with complete support by the Corps' attached elements within 36 hours. Just give me the word and I'll get everything started."
"Casualties could be severe," Winslow warned. "And your division is green."
"On paper, yes. But I should point out that a number of the Bajorans we allowed to climb to key NCO positions have experience fighting the Cardassians. I have no doubt some are familiar with fighting in urban environments or other situations emphasizing small unit operations. And I'll add that my troops want to participate in this campaign and they want to do something more than guard abandoned Cardassian bases and roads. We're the closest to Dalkyra. Let us begin to push into the city to take the key transit points. Other divisions can move up and join us as needed."
There were glances from all corners. Finally Thorpe nodded. "General Kinsley, please deliver to my staff a timetable for operations against Dalkyra. In the meanwhile, get your troops moving. Set operations to begin at 2000 hours GST on the 14th."
"Immediately, General..."
New Liberty Station, ADN Colonial Zone
14:28 GST
It was mid-day in the station - a complex that was part military, part civilian, one wing considered the "Naval Station" and the rest just the plain old "Station" - when the PSV Twin Cities pulled into the station, having just emerged from the IU Jump Gate Assembly visible through the portholes outside. Various people were sitting in the arrival terminal, just past the customs checkpoint, waiting for people coming in from Twin Cities or a few other liners beginning to arrive. Only the presence of more armed security personnel than usual was proof that a war was on; otherwise it was business as usual.
One of the figures was most striking to the people around her because, despite her clear human-like build and figure, she was clearly not Human, though the only non-Human feature she had were the spots that lined her forehead and disappeared where the fabric of her blouse obscured her shoulder blades. The elbow-length sleeved yellow blouse and jeans were somewhat different than what Zaharia Herzela was used to wearing back home, but since immigrating to the Alliance for the various personal and professional reasons she had she had taken to wearing the alternate styles of clothing available from the Multiverse as opposed to the jumpsuit garments favored in the Federation, especially in the space-dwelling populations.
A head of dark hair on a head of familiar shape won Zaria's attention to a blouse-and-skirt-wearing figure coming from the customs area. Once she saw the gray eyes she smiled widely and walked up, putting her arms around her friend - and sometimes lover - Katie. Katherine Berger was an immigrant from the Federation like Zaria was; she had, in fact, played a major role in Zaria's decision to forget an assignment to a Trill engineering school and to move to the Alliance. Looking at the contented smile and happy expression on Katie's face made Zaria feel relieved and happy for her old friend. "How did it go? Did they give you..."
"It was fine, everything was as the doctors promised. No complications." Katie threw her arms around Zaria again and gave her a kiss on the lower lip. "I've never felt more happy in my life, Zaria."
"I can tell." She looked down at the duffel bag. "So, what do you want to do now?"
Zaria could tell Katie had an answer that she wasn't going to like. She steeled herself for it, not bothering to give voice to her suspicion that Katie might try to return home and all the problems that'd cause for her. "You're not going back, are you?", she asked with some trepidation.
"Oh, not at all," Katie insisted, shaking her head. "No, while I was recovering I was looking for opportunities for a former Starfleet officer and found one." She smiled at Zaria. "Because I was a commissioned officer in Starfleet, the Alliance Navy is letting me take their Immigrant Officer Assessment Test. Once they figure how much I got from my Academy education and Starfleet career, I'll be admitted to one of their Naval Academies to fill any holes in my education and to join the Stellar Navy as a commissioned officer."
Zaria's response was both relief... and sadness. A paper she'd clasped tightly, anticipating it as a pleasant surprise, now grew in weight. "Katie, are you serious?"
"Well, yes. I'm sure there's housing near the Academy where..." And that's as far as she got before seeing Zaria's expression darkening. "What is it, Zaria?"
"I was going to make it a surprise..." She handed the paper to Katie. Katie's eyes went to the stylized header of the University of New Chatham and then to the text, Zaria adding, "...I thought it was something we could celebrate."
"A doctorate?", Katie asked, smiling, though with some bittersweetness to it. "They're offering the courses to you?"
"Yes. It'll take a few years, of course." Zaria took in a sigh. "Don't suppose I could talk you into trying a university education?" She was answered with a very subtle shake of the head. "Okay then. We'll still have some time together. New Liberty is growing every day, it has beautiful beaches and..." Zaria's eyes twinkled happily. "...a growing, thriving holo-D&D community for us to mingle with."
"Oh, now you've got me interested..."
Dalkyra, Bajor
14 December 2153 AST
21:25 GST
Tevil held his MP-10 close to his chest and drew in a breath. In the distance, the sounds of explosions signaled the continuing artillery barrage upon any Cardassian target that presented itself.
Korvys was looking at a picture of his wife and child as their vehicle rumbled along slowly on a road into the city. They were part of a larger operation, their battalion assigned to a slow advance in this sector to seize four key road crossings through which Bajoran inhabitants of Dalkyra might escape. The Cardassians were expected to put up a stiff resistance. "I never thought about it until now," Korvys said, "but I just realized that I might never see them again."
"Best not to talk like that," Tevil replied. "Just keep your mind on surviving and you'll get home to them in no time. We'll be heroes, Korvys."
"Yes, yes...." Korvys looked at Tevil. As he did so, the sergeant overseeing their squad ordered them to dismount. As if to emphasize why, there was an audible whine of energy fire that echoed strangely along the vehicle - it had been hit, but not by a weapon of sufficient power. "Tevil, if something happens...."
"Nothing is going to happen, Korvys." The younger Bajoran gave his friend a wink. "We're going to kick them out and bring our families back home to Bajor." Noticing Korvys' expression, Tevil nodded. "And yes, if something happens, I'll let your family know how much you cared for them and loved them."
"Thank you." They jumped out of the vehicle as another yellowish phaser beam struck its armor, starting to cut into it. One of the beams fell silent as a rifle fire came down on its origin position. Korvys heard the platoon radioman begin to call for fire support. ".....grid square Golf India Niner Four."
"Confirmed third on the board," a voice crackled in response. "Spotting round in forty-five...."
Tevil pulled on his helmet, though it was as tight as it could get already. He swallowed as he took up his position, the sounds of battle everywhere.
The Siege of Dalkyra had begun.
Korvela, Mapakar, Cardassian Union (under ADN Occupation)
15 December 2153 AST
00:45 GST
The planet of Mapakar was one of Cardassia's many settled worlds near what became the Alliance-Cardassian border. Attacked in the second wave of the Alliance's war-opening offensive, Mapakar's small population meant that only one division, the 52nd, had been assigned to garrison it. Now nearly three weeks after the initial landings, the 52nd Division was mostly engaged in removing die-hard Cardassian militia whenever they popped up. In this case, they emerged from the forests of Korvela and taken the small frontier town of the same name, attempting to impress local adults and to seize needed food and other supplies.
Seated in the commander's position in the turret of the M3-3A3 flamethrower tank "Trogdor", 1st Lieutenant Amy Byrd commanded one of the platoons of tanks in Bravo Company of the 29th Armored Battalion. Bravo Company had been specifically equipped with flamethrower tanks for fighting with infantry - that was being put to use now as they systematically demolished the Cardassian militia.
Clad entirely in standard Army tanker BDUs - including helmet and air-sealed jacket, pants, and boots - she was kept from feeling most of the heat from the tank's weapon as it shot a plume of white-hot flame a hundred yards down the street where a squad of Cardassian infantry were firing from a building. The flame spread as it gained distance and burned right into the mostly wooden structure. Screams came next as humanoid figures flailed about in the inferno, mercifully dying as Amy triggered Trogdor's 8mm Colt.
"That takes care of that position." She turned to the command tactical display in the turret. The other four tanks in her platoon were spread on other streets, moving toward enemy positions. Looking down into the bowels of the tank toward the driver, Amy said, "We're getting a request for support in square Foxtrot Golf Three Six. Get us there, best route."
"Yes Sir."
Looking to her side, Amy keyed in similar orders to the Sergeants commanding the other four tanks in her platoon. "Let's go burninate some more of the spoonheads."
Hours after the fight for Korvela, the unit had returned to camp to resume conventional garrison duties. Between the usual patrols, they typically stayed to themselves, since Mapakar didn't have much in the way of a public life and the locals were considered unfriendly.
Having participated in a debriefing with her commanders, Amy went to the metal-alloy prefab structure that acted as the shower for her company. After washing she dressed and returned to the prefab barracks her platoon was assigned.
Aside from one single glaring exception, Amy Byrd looked to be a normal Japanese-Caucasian woman of young age - she was twenty-seven - with a build sufficient for military service, if not definitively athletic or muscular. The exception was her hair. Far from the dark hair associated with Oriental Humans, Amy's hair was a rich purple color, the result of gene-engineering commonly available in the Alliance. She grew it to regulation length down to her neck much in the same style as the fictional character she liked that inspired her hair alteration in the first place.
Once in the barracks, there were a number of activities she found going on amongst her troops. A poker game was on between two of her Sergeants, a Corporal, and two Privates. Staff Sergeant Elaine Watts, one of only three other women in the platoon, was writing at one of the common use tables; a number of other soldiers were doing the same or watching the news on a flatscreen television, save for two of the youngest privates, who were using a holotank table to play a computer game.
Feeling tired, Amy picked up her bag and slipped into her bed. Among the personal possessions she had brought along were replicator copies of her Chrono Trigger manga collection.
The term most people had for Amy and her fellow fans were "Triggies", a specific subgroup of Otaku and sci-fi/fantasy fans who followed the Chrono Trigger mythos. It had been a first generation video game from the late 20th Century, played on one of the first 16-bit gaming consoles built back when the console was in its final years. It had been a fan hit for a while before fading in the 21st Century in pretty much every timeline. However, following the Surveyor Accident in 2087 AST that opened up the 1983AD Earth of Universe HM-1, there had been a resurgence of interest in late 20th Century pop culture in a few societies of Multiversal Humanity. For the usual generation life of a fad, there was a deluge of media on the popular shows, movies, and games of the era, coinciding yet influencing the release of their counterparts on the HM-1 Earth. Chrono Trigger had been one of the properties revived, starting with an award-winning holo-animation series produced by Jochiro Matsuhara in 2094 AST that created a franchise. Though it had finally lost steam with the rest of the late 20th Century media, it had created a sizable enough fanbase that sixty years later, "Triggies" were still common sights at fan conventions (and even held their own - Amy had been to a number).
A baritone voice interrupted Amy's reading; "Lieutenant, just how much did that cost anyway?" She turned her head and saw Private Eddie Lewis, the gunner for Tank 3. All she knew was that the chocolate-skinned ex-high school strong safety was a Georgia native, like her, though she didn't know yet which universe he was from (she was a native of SE-1). She looked at him quizzically and he pointed to his buzzcut head.
Nodding and using her fingers to grip a small lock of her purple hair, Amy replied, "Most of my recruitment bonus."
"Yeah, I heard Sarge Wilcox say you used to be enlisted."
"I was. And I was thinking of getting out when I was offered OCS. But hey, the Army gives free board, free food, and the pay's not that bad. Plus all the benefits."
Lewis laughed. "Yeah, good benefits. Don't know if I want bars, though. Couldn't get into any of the academies anyway. And I fucked around in school so much I couldn't get more than community college. Wasn't that good a safety. So hey, might as well join the fucking Army."
"Yeah." Amy nodded.
"So, you're into that Japanese stuff."
She nodded again.
"Heh. To each their own." Lewis laid back on his cot and remained silent. For her part, Amy continued to read until she was ready to catch some sleep.
Avalon City, New Avalon, Federated Commonwealth
Universe Designate MWB-32
18:07 GST
Avalon City was asleep, or as quiet as it got anyway, as the late night hours continued on. But while most of the city rested, there were still those working within the bowels of the palace itself.
Hanse had remained awake, leaving Melissa and his younger children to their sleep while he journeyed to one of the secured studies in the palace to participate in a real-time call from Field Marshal Bisla. Morgan Hasek-Davion and Alex Mallory were along as usual and standing beside Hanse as he responded to the salute Bisla gave him. A slight distortion moved through the holotank for a moment, but only for a moment - the picture was as clear as possible for communication through the unknown ether that seperated the universes.
For the next few minutes, Bisla explained their progress on establishing the supplies necessary for the planned offensive. A week or so more and they could safely commence operations - anything before that would bring a risk of overstretch. She outlined for him the basics of the operation and their intelligence sources on what the enemy could defend with, plus her expectations. When the briefing ended Bisla's image disappeared.
"So, how long do we wait? Morgan?"
"The Cardassians don't appear to know much about our position. They may very well be assuming our troops are still gathering or that we will be dispatching forces to participate in the operations on Bajor. The Alliance has used our position on Corwich to re-deploy half of their troops in that subsector to other fronts, giving the impression I think that our forces are there to guard their flank." Morgan watched Hanse walk to a desk and get a bottle of whiskey. "Waiting longer could still give away our intentions, but that would require a rather severe security leak."
"So we wait and build up supplies?"
"Yes, that would be advisable. At least wait until the 22nd on the AST calendar." Morgan refused the glass Hanse offered him. "No thank you Highness. And to continue, the Alliance's success on Bajor was greater than they had anticipated. Large numbers of Cardassian troops were caught out of their prepared bases and positions and have been neutralized. I've been told that only half of their planned Second Wave is actually going to Bajor now. The other half is being held back in reserve, reducing the Alliance's supply burden, and providing our offensive with potential reserves and flank guards."
"It's not our situation with ground troops that I'm concerned with. What is the state of Cardassian space defenses in that region?"
"Well, the Cardassians never had reason to heavily fortify their Keloan border, which is our target. Going by intel we can expect some minor orbital batteries, nothing more. On the matter of their naval defenses, what's left of their 1st Fleet is loitering between Dervak and Shervarak. The FCEF alone outnumbers it two to one in combat-capable ships. Finally, to top it all, the Alliance's interdiction campaign has reduced the flow of supplies to the region, so what we do face there will suffer from a lack of support. To put it simply, Hanse, the Alliance has done such a good job chopping through their front door that the back door is completely unguarded and unlocked."
"Very good." Hanse nodded. "Any systems there worth our trouble?"
"A number have mineral resources of one kind or another. One subject race, the Kerell.. the Korroleia I think. Humanoid. We could see about removing Cardassian puppets controlling their nation-states and allowing others to come into power, especially if we can guarantee they would be friendly to the Commonwealth's interests post-war. The position isn't that bad, after all, and would place us near the major trade lines."
"I'll keep that all in mind when the war ends. For now, get some sleep, Morgan. There's nothing more we can do from here."
Nodding politely, Morgan retired from the room. For several moments nothing was said until Alex left as well. He returned a few minutes later with another man. Hanse looked up and nodded at Curaitis as he approached. "Mister Curaitis."
"Good morning, Highness."
Hanse took his second shot of whiskey. "What went wrong?"
"Nothing on our side, Highness. Our man ensured that the Cardassians would be given word that Opel Nevis was on Rasmussen."
"Then why did the Cardassians destroy every other ship in that convoy?" Hanse looked up at Curaitis. "It's one thing to cause the deaths of Rasmussen's crew. They were military men, they knew from the beginning of their service that they might die. But instead we sent fifteen hundred innocent people to their deaths. That's not what I wanted."
"Understood, Highness. If I may speculate?"
"Do so."
"Cardassian paranoia, Highness. They probably suspected the intelligence was either wrong or, perhaps, a leak to have them attack the wrong target. Their reaction was to attack every ship that had a Bajoran on board. That is why Galax Eagle was only damaged - it was not subjected to direct attack because there were no Bajoran life signs aboard."
Hanse sat silently for a minute. "Very well. You may go."
Curaitis nodded and left. Alex turned to Hanse. "I told you that it was a mistake. The Cardassians have a respected intelligence service. If they'd known we were trying to set up an incident instead of assuming we were trying to smuggle around Opel..."
"They didn't." Hanse poured another shot - his final for the evening, he decided. "After all, why would a Human nation struggling to catch up technologically to the other powers of the Multiverse pick a fight with a foreign power from another universe, a universe we don't even have holdings in?" He chuckled. "We should have anticipated that. Who knows of Curaitis' mission?"
"Only the three of us. The man who planted the story for us died on his ship during the attack."
"Let's make sure it stays that way. Nobody else can find out. Not even Morgan and Melissa."
"Very well, Highness."
A few more moments passed. Hanse looked at the shot and stopped himself from downing it. "Alex, what time is it in Katyusha?"
"Evening I believe."
"Perhaps I should call Victor then. See how he is doing. I've been so busy lately..." Hanse sighed.
Before he could continue or do so, Alex said, "Victor won't be home."
"Oh?"
"The report from the detail I have protecting him said he would be going out this evening. With a young lady, I'll add."
A small smile crept onto Hanse's face. "Oh?"
"Yes. One of Admiral Dale's junior staff officers he met while working as liaison to the Admiral's Military Governor office.. She's eligible, I'll add. She is Victoria III's granddaughter."
After chuckling again, Hanse said, "Unfortunately, I don't think a political marriage will do much to solidify our ties to the Alliance. At least I can see why Victor hasn't been sending daily messages to Morgan asking for a transfer to the front. Though why is the girl working a staff job when there's a war on, if I might say so?"
"Officially we don't know, and it's not something we'd care to speculate on. Unofficially, her father, now the Prince of Wales, was one of Dale's senior subordinates during the Agresskan War. They've been close friends since. Anything else you wish to know, Highness?"
"Oh, no. Nothing at all. I'll call Victor later then." Hanse picked up the shotglass and took the entire shot at once. As it burned its way down his throat, he said, "Well, now it is time for bed. I have work tomorrow, as usual. Have a pleasant night, Alex...."
Washington D.C., Earth, Alliance of Democratic Nations
Universe Designate HE-1
18:02 GST
The Conference Room in the White House was once again occupied for members of the Alliance security establishment to give Mamatmas his daily briefing on the war. The attendees were Takahara, Bronson, and Hollingwood - Rathbone was overseeing the final creation of a Defense Ministry Press Release on the war and the Alliance's expanded war aims and could not attend.
The meeting was now on the fruits of intelligence-gathering. "We have two key points of interest. The first: intelligence sources within Cardassia have provided us with a list of camps and facilities in Cardassia that hold foreign nationals. The Cardassians have been using these prisoners to set up fake towns to train their insurgency troops in, much like Kimmist North korea in the 20th and 21st Centuries of most timelines. As well as the list, we have a copy of an order signed by Legate Kelataza to one Gul Madred, ordering the 'liquidation' of camps if our forces enter the solar system." Bronson set his PDA down. "We've forwarded information to the military commanders. They're going to see about using special forces to liberate as many as these facilities as possible in advance of continued offensive action."
"Good. Go on."
"The second note of interest comes from sources within the Federation. Federation commercial traffic to Cardassia has picked up in the past few days. This includes three Federation starships identified as the Penelope, Potemkin, and Pike."
Takahara shrugged. "An increase of commercial traffic isn't surprising. The Cardassians have probably hired the services of neutral races to run non-essential cargoes so that their own transport resources can go to war material."
"Perhaps, but a source on Starbase 212 noticed that a lot of material marked for delivery to Cardassia bore Starfleet markings for electronics and other sensor equipment. Going by what we've confirmed to be in those transports and a few minor signal intercepts on non-encrypted channels, we think the Federation is transferring some high quality sensor equipment to Cardassia. If I had to make a guess given the information on hand, I'd think it was gravitic sensor technology."
"Gravitic sensors?"
"Yes. The Federation uses them to monitor their side of the Neutral Zone with the Romulan Empire. They're decently sensitive, enough that cloaked ships are detectable."
Mamatmas nodded silently. "Can you confirm this?"
"I trust our sources."
"That wasn't what I asked." The President sighed. "Which means that you can't prove it for certain."
"We could if you authorize the navy to intercept the Federation ships and inspect them."
Takahara and Mamatmas stared at Bronson for a moment. "Director Bronson, I shouldn't have to remind you that the Federation has rights as a neutral power," said Mamatmas. "We need proof that they're transporting contraband to the Cardassians. Real proof. If you don't have it, there's nothing we can do."
"Mister President, with all due respect, the 'neutrality' of the Federation is a joke. The Federation Press is effectively an arm of the Cardassian propaganda machine. The Federation government is on the verge of imposing sanctions on the Alliance while it has been granting Cardassia economic aid in the guise of 'humanitarian support'. They have barred our ships from returning to Federation space to protect our commerce while they allow the Cardassians to maintain their patrols into the Federation to seize 'terrorists'. It's quite clear that they were the ones to claim Gytep was a terrorist camp in the first place." Bronson paused for a moment. "Furthermore, if Cardassia is allowed to emplace a gravitic sensor net, it will hamper any future use of our bombers. We will lose the element of surprise in all future attacks by Bomber Command, including strategic reprisals. If they have that net, the Cardassians may even overestimate its effectiveness and decide they're no longer at risk of being damaged by a strategic reprisal. They might launch their own attacks on Bajoran and Alliance population centers to try and force us to accept a peace agreement."
"What you are asking me to do, Director, is to violate the neutral rights of the Federation and potentially draw them into the war at a time when we've exhausted most of our pre-war on-site stocks and with most of our fleet directed toward keeping the Cardassians off-balance. And I have no illusions that most of the Alpha Quadrant would see them as the wronged party, not us."
"Mister President, the Federation is unpopular in many of its frontier regions, especially those facing Cardassia. Those regions could split with the Federation and side with us. We could even begin the Nitse Reaction now."
"At a time when we're unprepared for it? And how do you know we won't turn every other region in the Federation against us and cause them to re-solidify their relationship with the central government?"
"Mister President, I must formally advise against Director Bronson's recommendations," Takahara said, stepping in. "If the Federation is drawn into this war, it would escalate tremendously, and not just in the New Liberty region. There are other powers that could seek to take advantage of the Federation's weakness if they are forced to pull their fleets out of other sectors and toward Cardassian space. The Klingon Civil War has weakened that Empire and left it vulnerable to outside attack if the Federation is unable to provide a guarantee against that contingency. And it's simply not materially possible for us to overrun the Cardassian Empire and the Federation before other powers jump in and the entire Quadrant slips into chaos, assuming we could fight off a determined attack by Starfleet and the remnants of the Cardassian fleet with our current supply situation and fleet status. And I don't need to tell you what this series of outcomes would do to our positions in other universes."
Mamatmas looked to Bronson. "Doctor Takahara's analysis more than convinces me. I'm not going to interdict those Federation ships unless you can provide me with clear, solid evidence they are carrying war material."
Bronson nodded stiffly, showing he'd never expected to convince them anyway. "I understand, Mister President. However, if you're not going to authorize that, at least allow us to launch another strategic attack before the Federation could go those systems in place for the Cardassian military. Bombers have already been forward-deployed to a number of the occupied systems. We could hit enough targets that....."
"I have already authorized another bombing offensive to begin by next week using conventional weapons," Mamatmas said. "I will not authorize the further use of strategic weapons unless the Cardassians force me to as an act of retaliation."
Bronson nodded and leaned back in his seat. Hollingwood gave him a look but remained silent. Mamatmas ignored the Chief Admiral and kept looking at Bronson. "Is there anything else of note, Director?"
"Nothing, Mister President."
"Fine. You keep looking for the smoking gun with these shipments by the Federation. In the meantime, there are other matters to discuss...."
After the meeting, Hollingwood and Bronson left the White House at about the same time. They got in the same limo sent to return them to the Pentagon for a meeting with the other Service Chiefs. As the vehicle rolled through the Washington streets, passing the Old Mall with the Lincoln Memorial to the left, Bronson finally spoke up. "You didn't mention Mjolnir."
"If I had, he would have refused to send them, and I would have been bound by the order."
"Does it matter? He has sole launch authority."
"True, but it won't hurt to give him an immediate option should the bomber threat be nullified."
Bronson nodded at that. "Mamatmas is a good man, but he's still a politician. We should all remember that."
"Of course, old bean."
"But that's not all." Bronson smirked a little. "If those gravitic sensors remove Bomber Comomand's threat to Cardassia, Mjolnir is an excellent alternative by the Stellar Navy. I imagine that post-war you will be pursuing a larger budget for the development of new strategic ships, encouraging the Council to do so at the expense of Bomber Command and the Aerospace Force as a whole."
Hollingwood didn't reply at first. "Well, Director, I think the Aerospace Force needs to wake up and realize its time is over. Technology to detect stealthed craft with ECS has advanced and their interstellar strategic bombers are simply too big. Their interstellar capability is redundant anyway. The Stellar Navy can control space easily enough. They should stick to what they do best - protecting planetary space. Of course, I don't want them to find that out the hard way, but I imagine they will."
"How soon will Mjolnir get the orders?"
"Within the next few hours. They'll run another series of readiness tests and head out shortly afterward. The orders are assigning them to scout enemy shipping lanes. This will place them in convenient locations to launch if it becomes necessary."
Bronson nodded and turned his head to look out the window as Old Washington whizzed by.
Finch Army Base, Corworth 3, ADN Colonial Zone
16 December 2153 AST
02:15 GST
In one wing of Finch Base's administrative building the briefing was going off as scheduled. The assembled battalion-level commanders of the Alliance and Commonwealth troops, as well as the naval commanders, more senior commanders, and other important officers, observed as the outlines of Operation: Percival were made by Hauptmann Allard-Liao and Major Lawson. Questions originally concentrated on various matters of logistics and the known locations of crack enemy units and the enemy's naval contingents. Bisla was pleased to see both planners field the questions in stride; she wanted this operation to go off without a hitch.
It was near the end of the briefing that the Alliance intelligence liaison officer, Colonel Deakins, stepped up. "Recently we have come into possession to information regarding the locations of Cardassian camps holding prisoners of various origins, including Bajoran and Federation. The intelligence source also indicated that the Cardassians are planning to liquidate these camps when our forces risk them being taken. As a result, the Universal Command Staff has authorized a series of attacks by special forces or selected units to take these camps and hold them until the occupants can be extracted. I have with me a list of the known facilities in the operational region for this command and I will be sharing them now. Where possible, special forces teams will be used for quick grabs and evacs. However, for some targets in our area, the population of prisoners is high enough that we will likely need large vessels to move them out, so we will be using line units to land ahead of schedule for the purpose of securing the facilities. It will be a risk, so we are asking for volunteers."
One by one various officers from both services offered their battalions on the missions. Finally there only remained one system on the list, though Deakins had not mentioned it. The first person to do so came from Bisla's table.
"What about Dervak?"
All eyes turned toward the red-haired woman who had asked. Deakins replied, "Dervak was judged too deep into Cardassian territory for a safe first strike, Colonel. The remnants of the Cardassian 1st Fleet seem to be patrolling around it and we do not have the forces to launch an attack on Dervak in the initial wave of the operation."
"Yet there are about three thousand people in the facility there who will be killed. The Black Widows volunteer to secure it," Natasha Kerensky replied.
Bisla turned and looked at her. "Colonel, you'd be stuck on the planet for days, perhaps weeks, with minimal supply. There's no guarantee our forces will even get to Dervak."
"You let us worry about holding out. And with three thousand people there, well, there's a sizable number of people who should be willing to fight for a chance to get home."
"We can't send enough ships to arm three thousand people, not without giving away the operation."
"Actually, it depends on the local sensor networks," Deakins said. "The local powers rely heavily on subspace sensors. And your non-upgraded ships don't use subspace at all. They'd be effectively invisible on long-range sensors. If you were to use one of your JumpShips to jump first into an unoccupied system without a Cardassian sensor post, and then into Dervak, you could catch them by surprise if Dervak's own orbital facility were taken out and their planetary sensors blinded."
The Black Widow looked at Deakins. "Can that be arranged?"
"Alliance Intelligence has... some resources on Dervak. We can look into it."
"Well then, it looks like that is settled." Natasha looked to Bisla. After a moment, the other woman nodded slowly in agreement. Deakins immediately resumed his intel briefing.
11:09 GST
Regular buses allowed personnel stationed in Finch Base and the nearby temporary bivouacs of the AFFC to travel into the nearby city of Farnsworth for their off-duty leisure. All personnel who did so had to remain in constant contact with the Base, of course, should an immediate mobilization be necessary (Though due to the sheer unlikelihood of a Cardassian attack this was not being vigorously enforced). Many took advantage of this system to enjoy their off-duty time in the city, mostly spending their time in the bars, pubs, and other restaurants in the vicinity of the Farnsworth Spaceport.
The Blind Boar Pub was just down the street from the Spaceport, built into a larger building with an old-style English shop and upper floor offices and apartments. It was never too busy though neither was it empty very often - a very good thing for the proprieter, naturally.
At a table a short distance from the bar, Lieutenant Phelan Kell of the Wolf Dragoons' Black Widow Company sat and quietly watched the television screen built into one of the walls. The station was on TNI (Turner News Interstellar) with a scene from Bajor, an all-too-familiar sight of a partially ruined urban setting with the sounds of combat in the background. A large, tan-skinned man was on the screen with the caption "Dalkyra" below him. "....though a few road junctions in this city have been successfully taken, much of the city is still being held by Cardassian troops. The 555th Division's attack is literally proceeding block by block with firefights breaking out everywhere. Sometimes troops will secure a road junction and within minutes come back under fire from a counterattack by the Cardassians. Not a single area of the city can be considered secure. We are in even now in some potential danger, which is why we're crouched so low to the ground."
"What kind of support is the attack getting, Wes? Is there any air support, orbital support?"
"There is some, yes, but in this kind of urban setting, fire support can be very ineffective. Bombs and rockets and shells will destroy a building and the Cardassians will just move into the rubble. Every officer I've spoken to has told me the same thing. The only way to defeat the Cardassian troops occupying Dalkyra is to move throughout the city and defeat them one at a time with infantry attacks. Casualties among Alliance troops are already higher here than in any other part of Bajor and they are expected to get worse. One of the commanders here spoke to me anonymously and said it could take weeks to secure the city. There has been some discussion that they should focus on getting the Bajoran inhabitants stuck in the city out so that heavy bombardment could be used to annihilate the enemy troops, but right...."
Suddenly there was a large explosion that sent the reporter and his cameraman to the ground. There was frantic shouting and yelling accompanied by the distinct whine of Cardassian energy rifles coupled with the constant rythym of assault rifle fire.
Phelan's attention left the screen when Ranna returned from what was very clearly a trip to the restroom. She silently returned to her seat and began eating. There was nothing much to say between them that wouldn't be said in private later. They had come a long way from when they had first met on the Dire Wolf in what seemed to be a previous existance at times. At the time she had been a proud warrior of her Wolf Clan, Phelan a young MechWarrior of his father's Kell Hounds and a prisoner of the Clan. He had watched as the Wolves and their fellow Clans had ripped right into the Inner Sphere, crushing all resistance with superior weaponry and equipment, right until the intervention of the Human nations from the other universes turned the tables. Dire Wolf had been taken by a boarding action shortly after the annihilation of the Ghost Bear invasion fleet attacking Rasalhague; Ranna spent the rest of the war in a POW camp even after Phelan got to go home. When Strana Mechty fell, she was in the camp hospital, recovering from near-fatal wounds taken during a failed POW uprising that had claimed many lives, including that of her sibkin and the leader of the failed revolt, Vlad - also, coincidentally, the Wolf warrior who had captured Phelan on The Rock.
Today they were both in the Dragoons through the influence of Natasha, Ranna's maternal grandmother. They had become lovers shortly after, Phelan having the advantage of being a prior acquaitance and being "available". More than any, Phelan knew about the anger and bitterness in Ranna's heart. It was one common among many survivors of the Clan warrior caste. So many of their sibkin and comrades had died in the hopeless defense of their very way of life; they had lived to see it ended, making them feel disgraced and homeless.
As they finished their meals there was loud laughter coming from the doors. An... interesting sweaty aroma wafted into the pub and prompted almost all of the patrons to look toward the entrange. A quartet of large dark-skinned humanoids walked in weating metallic armor of some kind over black suits. Phelan took a moment to recognize them, thinking back to the information packet the Dragoons had issued to personnel coming to ST-3. They were "Klingons", an alien race with a reported militaristic culture full of warrior mysticism and glorification of their warrior code. Phelan had heard they were currently wrapped up in a civil war over who should lead their ruling council, so he was a bit surprised to see Klingons in what was clearly uniform.
Coming up to the bar, one of them bellowed, "Bloodwine!" The stocky wolf-haired Englishman minding the bar nodded and, with great effort, lifted a keg up onto the bar. He used the nozzle on it to fill a glass for each of the aliens and they greedily gulped it down. Phelan and Ranna turned away and finished their meals quietly. As they were paying for the check, however, there was a roar from the bar. One of the younger Klingons grabbed the barkeep by his collar. "What do you mean you are out of bloodwine?!"
"You bloody well drank the entire keg!" The barkeep struggled to try and free himself. "Bloodwine's not exactly common in this area of space, y'know!"
Noticing the savage snarl on the Klingon's face, Phelan stepped up and put a hand on his shoulder, prompting the Klingon to shove him off and turn. Phelan kept his footing and returned the glare he was receiving. "Let the man go. Plenty of other booze here to drink."
"You are another of the outsider Humans." The Klingon sized Phelan up and sneered. "They say Humans from the other universes are not as soft as those from our own, that there are warriors amongst you that deserve the name, but I see you also wear those pathetic rags of cloth instead of the garb of a true warrior."
"And your body armor is so much better? Like that will protect you from a modern weapon."
"Humans, pah. Always afraid of death. Always willing to surrender to your enemies rather than die. True warriors choose to die, and to die gloriously!"
"And what do you know of that?!"
Ranna stepped between Phelan and the Klingon. Phelan was about to stop her before her hand went to his chest, prompting him to stop. Fury flashed in her eyes while she confronted the taller Klingon. "What do you know of death and glory?! You speak of being a warrior but all you do is talk. From birth I was trained and tested to be a warrior in the service of my Clan, and with all my heart I yearned to pass the Trials and become a warrior, and then to win great victories so that my genetic material would be used to breed our next generation of warriors. But I was denied that! I was not even allowed to die for my Clan! I was taken and held captive while my sibkin and trothkin died trying to save our Clan from the Alliance. I was even robbed of the honor of dying with my fellow captives when we tried to fight our jailers! I woke up in a hospital bed to find out my Clan had been destroyed!"
"So your people were defeated." The Klingon bellowed laughter. "Some warriors you were!"
Before Phelan could react, Ranna smashed her fist against the Klingon's jaw. He barely had time to step up to keep the Klingon's buddies from joining in before Ranna's opponent pulled out a mean-looking knife. He swung it at her and Ranna dodged to one side. She grabbed the hand with the knife at the wrist and smashed in the Klingon's knee with a strong kick, using his sudden loss of balance to twist his arm and knock it against the bar, causing him to drop the knife. She elbowed him in the nose, and while he tried to recover she scooped up the knife. The half-drunken Klingon tried to react, but was too late to prevent her left fist from enclosing around some of his hair, using her grip to smash his head down against the bar. She stuck the knife in his face. "You drunken surat! If your people had been put in our place you too would have been crushed! We were hopelessly outmatched by an enemy we could never have imagined possible, an enemy with technology far beyond our own! We had no hope of victory. And yet, we fought. On every world in the Pentagon and across the Kerensky Cluster, Clan warriors chose to die in battle rather than submit. I lost sibkin - warriors I had grown up with - and comrades, all killed trying to defend our Clan's legacies. My grandmother's sibkin was our Clan's last Khan, the ilKhan elected by the others to lead the defense of our capital. Her name was Cyrilla Ward, and she died in her BattleMech fighting to protect the Hall of Khans. My grandmother was robbed of the chance to die with her, as she had sworn to do when they were young, and it haunts her even today. I am haunted too, because I am a Clan warrior without a Clan. I have lost everything I believed in. All I have left are my skills, my new comrades..." - Ranna looked briefly to Phelan, who was watching, - "and the hope that I will get the chance to fight in a battle again." She drew closer to the Klingon's face, enough to smell his stinking breath. "I am Ranna, a warrior of the House of Kerensky, and if you speak ill of my House and my name one more time, I will have you in a Circle of Equals so that I can kill you. Am. I. Clear?"
The Klingon snarled and grunted. Ranna let him go, glared at the others and returned to Phelan's side. "Let us return to Finch, Phelan."
He nodded, still a bit impressed and perhaps a little relieved. Ranna had finally been given a chance to blow some steam, and hopefully this group of Klingons wouldn't be bothering any more Dragoons thanks to it. They reached the door and Phelan went to open it when the eldest Klingon in the group, with graying dark hair, asked them to wait. They turned back and the Klingon, after a moment, smiled a toothy smile - showing those predatory sharp teeth - and began speaking. "I am Krethor, son of Gre'thel. On behalf of my crew, I apologize for the insult to your honor, Ranna, and to the honor of your House. Dragor is young and foolish, but I am not, and in your eyes I can see the fire of a warrior's soul. I do not envy your enemies when you are returned to the battlefield." The older Klingon nodded. "Die well, Ranna. You will see your kin again when you get to the gates of Sto-Vo-Kor."
After a moment, Ranna gave him a small smile. "Die well, Krethor." She looked to Phelan and they both walked out.
Capital City, Cardassia, Cardassian Union
22:06 GST
The office of Loralo Puvek, a ranking member of the Detepa Council, was spartan yet well-kept to the eyes of a young Cardassian named Peratin. Peratin saw the older Cardassian at his desk. Other seats in the room were taken up by four more Cardassians he did not immediately recognize. To have such a large meeting was potentially dangerous - with the war on, the Obsidian Order was being even more paranoid than usual.
"Welcome, young man. Everyone, this is the agent for another member of our Loyal Oppostion," Puvek said to everyone. "No names will be used, of course." He was answered by nods while Peratin sat down. "Cardassia is in a crisis now. I have been told that the Alliance is demanding that Legate Kelataza and a number of our other senior leaders be turned over for war crimes trials. They will continue the war until we agree to this."
"Kelataza will never give in now," one of the others said with utter contempt in his voice. "He'll try to save his own skin."
"Which is why we must act, now. The Central Command has failed the Cardassian people. Our time has come to take the power that is rightfully our's."
Peratin frowned and shook his head. "My sponser will be no party to this."
That made Puvek glare at the young Cardassian. "What do you mean by that?"
"My sponser is no fool. If we were to take power and give in to the enemy, we would be hated by the people. Far from being able to prove ourselves better than the military, we would be handing them the knife with which to stab us in the back." Peratin stood. "We will not be party to this." He turned and stomped out.
The others looked to Puvek, who was barely frowning. "He is unimportant," Puvek said dismissively after waiting for a few moments. "With our contacts we can make a strong bid for power. All we need is for the Home Fleet to get swept up in the fighting. And that should not be too long from now."
17 December 2153 AST
03:13 GST
After a brisk walk through the heart of Cardassia's capital, 2nd Rank Gul Skrain Dukat - former Prefect of Bajor and now commander of the Home Fleet - entered the office of his superior, Gul Keve. As he did so, another man left, one Dukat didn't recognize but who was not in a military uniform. "Sir, you asked to see me?"
"Ah, Dukat. Sit down." Keve waited for Dukat to sit down before doing so himself. "I hear you sent your wife and children into the countryside. You have that little faith in victory?"
"I was merely taking... precautions, Gul Keve," Dukat replied carefully. It would be unwise to admit an expectation of defeat.
"Oh, you needn't be careful around me, Dukat." Keve picked up a small device and keyed it. "There. If they are listening, the Order can't here what I'm about to say."
"You're awfully sure of yourself."
"I have to be. Cardassia is in the greatest crisis it will ever face. Practically, we have no choice but to seek peace, even if it means giving Bajor up, ceding territory, and giving up Kelataza and the others for the Alliance to put on trial."
"But nobody would dare," Dukat said. "It would be coddling the people who just murdered over two million Cardassian citizens. The Cardassian people will never stand for it. Whoever signs any kind of agreement like that will be committing suicide, political and otherwise."
"Of course. Which is why we need a patsy." Keve smiled grimly. "I've been told that Puvek has been having ideas again."
Dukat rolled his eyes. "Not him."
"Yes, him. He thinks that with the Home Fleet off on the front, those dissident forces loyal to him can seize control of the capital."
"The military would never stand for it. The Home Guard would never support him."
"It will if I order them to."
There was a look of surprise on Dukat's face. "Gul Keve, you cannot tell me you would allow the Central Command to have its power challenged by that fool Puvek!"
"Right now, Gul Dukat, we need to get out of the war. I would allow that fool power if he takes the initiative to end it. And then he will be the one that the people blame." Keve saw that Dukat was unconvinced. "Tell me, Dukat, how much alien history do you know?"
"Very little, I must admit. I've never had a reason to study the other races. Who would?"
"The late, lamented Gul Torcet once advised me to read up oon the histories of our enemies for insights into how they think. So I have studied some Human history, and in it, I have found our salvation." Keve sat back into his chair and folded his hands. About, oh, four and a half centuries ago, the Humans of our universe fought their first industrial war. They referred to it as the First World War, or simply the Great War. Most of their great nations became involved on the side of one of two alliances. The war lasted for years. Millions died in bloody, indecisive warfare. Entire nations collapsed into anarchy as the war continued unabated." He noticed the sneer on Dukat's face. "Yes, it might be a bit hard to imagine the Humans of the Federation we know today being capable of such bloodshed, but they once were, as the Alliance has proven to us already. Anyway, as the war's end came, the nation of Germany, one of their greatest nations and the leader of one of the warring alliances, realized it could not win even though their troops were still fighting on enemy soil. But Germany's leaders knew how unpopular they would be if they signed an armistice with their enemies, so one by one they stepped down until their political foes came into power and were forced to. As a result, after the war, it was these forces that were blamed for Germany's defeat. Germany's people believed they had not actually been defeated by the enemy, but betrayed by an insidious group of traitors that took over the government. They called this the Dolchstoß, their word for being stabbed in the back."
"I see...." Dukat grinned. "Clever, Gul. You will allow Puvek to make peace, and then allow him to take the blame for it, paving the way for our eventual return to power."
"Yes, exactly. And when the time comes, Dukat, I will need your help."
Dukat nodded. And with his help, of course, would come a higher position in the future. "I am at your service, Gul Keve."
"Good. Now all we have to do is wait until Puvek is ready, and find a way to convince Kelataza to commit the Home Fleet when the time comes."
"I'll have my staff get working on a plan right away."
"Good. Then you are dismissed." Keve watched Dukat leave and smiled. This way, Cardassia would be spared more destruction... and the Central Command would deliver a blow to their surviving political foes.
Jenkinsville, Alpha Korvus 4, United Federation of Planets
19 December 2153 AST
12:05 GST
The small town of Jenkinsville was a good distance from Pelley, the capital of Alpha Korvus 4. The Alpha Korvus system was very close to Nova Savona, about half the distance away from the Alliance border. Alpha Korvus 4 was mostly a farming planet, save for a few minor on-world industries that barely supported the population. The planet was still recovering from the war with Cardassia, during which the Cardassians had attacked four times (including a one month occupation that had left Pelley devastated and had killed thousands out of a population of not quite half a million). A monument had been recently erected in Pelley to honor the Starfleet and militia forces that had liberated the planet after that brief occupation - in defiance of the Federation government at that - and the population still bore many scars from that horrible time.
In one of the apartments in the center of Jenkinsville, Howard Crawford and his family lived. Howard was a big man, possesssing rich dark skin and capable of looking as if he had just stepped out of a late 19th Century photograph of a Zulu warrior. He was the Deputy Chief of Police for Jenkinsville, the second-in-command of a small force of about forty or so officers of the peace. He lived with his wife Samantha, a woman of normal attractiveness, her brother Gerald, and their two children, both born after the Cardassian War.
The entire family, save for Gerald, was seated around the dinner table with the wall monitor showing the news channels. One of the advantages of their apartment complex was that the owner had recently invested in a subspace receiver that allowed every home to pick up subspace broadcasts coming from the Alliance, offering a much larger variety of programming than the handful of government-operated channels. Currently, however, they were watching the Federation News Service as it reported on the fighting on Bajor. There were no reporters on the screen, as the anchorman instead narrated to footage from the ground battles.
"...is not as clean as phasers. They leave horrible bleeding wounds and can even tear chunks of flesh away from the body. Those shot with these weapons do not fall unconscious, but are either killed or are forced to twist about on the ground in pain. Their cries for help go ignored, and at times, Cardassian soldiers have been crushed under the heavy armored vehicles being used by the Alliance." As if to punctuate the point, after a montage of shots showing various Cardassians with gunshot wounds, a short video showed a fallen Cardassian being crushed under a tank tread head-first. The footage turned to video of Bajoran towns reduced to burning rubble. "This kind of warfare has not been seen in the Alpha Quadrant for centuries. It is a brutal application of sheer firepower, without any consideration for property or life. And it is being waged on every world that Alliance troops have landed upon. Against this vicious kind of war, even the Cardassians' brave veteran troops cannot hold out. This is why...."
"Change it," Howard rumbled angrily, and Samantha did so. She flipped on the subspace receiver to pick up broadcasts coming from the Alliance. After some debate, they put it to Channel 44. It showed the end of a commercial for automobiles and then opened with a news studio. "Welcome back to CBS Interstellar News, this is Ryan Gilliam in our New York studio," the dark-skinned man on the screen said. "Our special coverage on the war in the Alpha Quadrant continues." After a pause, during which Gilliam shuffled papers in front of him, he began speaking again. "Although the fighting has not yet ended on Bajor, relief efforts are already underway. Earlier today, President John Sheridan held a short press conference from the ISA facilities in Tuzanor to announce plans for Bajoran aid."
The video switched to show the recording from Minbar. Sheridan took up most of the screen, the ISA flag set behind him and its insignia etched into the crystal podium he was standing behind. "The Council of the InterStellar Alliance has already approved the first shipments of food and medicine to be sent to Bajor and its adjacent worlds. There have already been many volunteers from various races to help begin recovery efforts and we will be utilizing them as well.”
“Mister President, is there any concern about being caught up in the conflict? If, say, Cardassian ships attack ISA craft?”
“We’re not too worried given the apparent withdrawal of Cardassian ships from the region, but to be on the safe side, I have been in contact with several member races for the purpose of assembling escorts for any ships sending in relief supplies. Next question?”
“Mister President, there have been reports that you’ve had several high-level meetings with Ambassador Halas-Ryan from the Free Worlds League. Are you preparing to sign any kind of joint statement with Captain-General Marik regarding the war?”
“No. Currently all talks between Tuzanor and Atreus City have been about coordinating relief supplies to affected worlds. We are both working with other neutral governments and the Alliance Government in Washington to ensure the flow of supplies to worlds in the war zone and the protection of ships carrying them, that is all.”
“Have you any comment at all on Captain-General Marik’s statement about assembling a, and I quote, ‘coalition of neutral governments for the purpose of promoting a ceasefire and an end to the war in the Alpha Quadrant’?”
“I have no specific comment on that at this time.”
“Mister President, if there is any kind of joint statement signed by you and Captain-General Marik, will it include a restatement of the various condemnations for actions on both sides even though you have personally not followed the Captain-General in condemning the Alliance’s use of nuclear weapons?”
“Given that there has not been any discussions on me signing any kind of statement in that fashion, I see no reason to answer that. Next question?”
“Sir, are you afraid of causing damage to your relations with the Alliance of Democratic Nations should Captain-General Marik push for the neutrals to denounce the Alliance’s nuclear attacks?”
Sheridan slammed a hand down on the podium, not very loudly but enough to show some growing frustration. Though Howard and other viewers could not know it, most of these questions were coming from reporters from the Inner Sphere. “Since I’m not involved in any such discussions, I’m not going to answer that. There’s... there’s no reason for these kinds of questions. Please, another question, and let’s try to change to a topic that is actually important....”
Howard and his family continued to eat and watch, generally interested in the politics in the other universes. After a few more segments, it was time for a commercial break. Gilliam looked at his camera - and thus at the viewers like the Crawford family - solemnly. “Before we go to commercial, we ask our viewers to pay tribute to another fallen hero.” The screen shifted to show a young tan-skinned man in Army fatigues. “Corporal Alex Berglund of Loyola, New Iowa. The twenty-one year-old son of a part time school teacher and a computer engineer, Alex enlisted in the Alliance Army two years ago to prepare for college. He was assigned to the 1,045th Mechanized Infantry Battalion, 777th Division. After landing on Bajor in the first wave, Corporal Berglund was killed in a skirmish with Cardassian forces in the city of Yemenas. And that was this hour’s Tribute to a Hero. When we return...”
At the Crawford table, some noticed that there were a few tears in Howard’s eyes. And why wouldn’t there be? He remembered young men and women just like that Corporal Berglund who, right here on his very homeworld, died so that their loved ones could be free. And having experienced what it was like to not be free during the short Cardassian occupation, Howard and his wife and his brother knew just how sweet and precious a thing it was.
Which was, sadly, more than could be said for some of the better-off citizens of the Federation.
DNS Typhoon, Interstellar Space, Alliance of Democratic Nations
Universe Designate HE-1
14:12 GST
In a lonely corner of interstellar space over eight light years from any inhabited system and several off any normal travel line, Typhoon waited. Behind her were twelve other ships built in a similar fashion by a multitude of nations; all of them were old and worn compared to sleek, new Typhoon. She was one of the better kept secrets of the government, having long been planned and only being approved for construction after Nicolas Mamatmas became President. Her shakedown were over, errors had been fixed, and she was going on her first truly active deployment.
Seated in the center pit of her control bridge was Typhoon's captain, of wolf-gray hair and beard. Captain Marko Ramius sat in silence while his crew went about their tasks. The silence would end in a moment, as Typhoon's sensors picked up a contact. The rendezvous had been made.
"Conn, Radio," a voice broke over the PA. "Incoming signal from GateShip Lewis Macauley. They are preparing to open jump point and have advised us to maneuver into entry position."
"Helm, put us five kilometers off Macauley's ventral side."
"Aye Captain."
Swiftly Typhoon moved into her position. A few minutes passed and Ramius found himself staring at his visual display, showing the large GateShip. It was cylindrical in shape, with four protrusions in the middle of the ship going outward in an X-shaped arrangement by the ship's bearing. At the end of each "claw" were emitters that were beginning to glow with increasing yellow until....
In a moment the buildup of energies completed and four streams of energy rushed forth, converging brilliantly thirty kilometers off the bow of the Macauley. At the convergence there was a massive ripple of energy in space that grew until its greenish and goldish hues were several kilometers across. "Helm, engage main sublight drives. Take us into the jump point." Typhoon's engines lit up. She moved forward, entering the rippling tear in the fabric of the universe. There was a brief sensation of elsewhereness as the visual sensors simply shut down, unable to process the incomprehensible nature of the "ether" between universes.
And then it was over. Open space greeted them. The officer at the helm looked back and reported, "Picking up navigational beacon from New Liberty, sir. We're within entry margin."
"Very good. Engage the ECS."
Buttons were flipped and, to an external viewer, Typhoon literally faded out of sight with a slight rippling effect. "ECS engaged sir, emissions well below stealth threshold."
From another station, Ramius' XO; Lt. Cmdr. Alex Corwin, spoke up. "Engineering reports warp drive ready for stealth running, Captain. Reactor dialing programs in place to keep reactors running below detection threshold."
"Mister Corwin, go to Code Orange running status." Ramius waited for him to finish the order, during which the ship's running status lights changed color. Afterward Ramius activated his own PA receiver and began to speak. "Greetings, crew of Typhoon. We have completed transit to Universe ST-3 and are now preparing for stealth running. In ten minutes the last transmission will be sent from this ship, after which we will be observing strict radio silence for an indetermined amount of time. I hope you have all taken my advice and finished composing messages home. You have ten minutes to finish doing so."
"Our orders are to penetrate Cardassian space and to lay off of their capital world itself, where we will observe all traffic and report on it. We are the hounds, sent to tell the hunters where their prey shall be. We will also be watching, and waiting, for the message from Strategic Command should retaliation against a Cardassian attack be necessary. In light of that possibility, upon our arrival to our observing point, every shift will conduct at least one missile launch drill."
"Our Allied Nations are in a war, comrades, and it may fall upon us to end it. I expect you to be prepared should that be necessary. Ramius out." Ramius looked to his navigator. "Mister Kamarov, give us a course for Cardassia Prime, cruise speed."
"Yes Captain, setting course now...." The Russian crunched numbers at his station and looked to the helm. "Helmsman, make your bearing Zero-Four-Four mark One-One-Eight, set warp factor for a speed of eight and a half lyphs."
"Aye, making course Zero-Four-Four mark One-One-Eight, speed eight point five lyphs. Ready at your command, Sir."
Ramius nodded. "Engage warp drives. Prepare to commence radio silence in nine minutes."
"Aye Captain."
The older captain settled back in his seat and watched as the Typhoon went on her way, carrying a load that could wipe out most of Cardassia Prime's cities.
(Said anthology had only one entry, "The Thundering of Guns", about the start of the Interuniversal War that would've been the focus of the anthology).