Chapter 19
Capital City, Cardassia, Cardassian Union
15:15 GST
For the first time Gul Dukat had been invited to attend a strategy session with Legate Kelataza. It was a small one, with just himself, Keve, and Gul Hergata to advise the Legate.
On the holoscreen, the progress of the latest enemy offensive could be found. In half a day they had landed on fifteen planets - seven had already fallen and the rest would likely follow within a few days, as all had been lightly garrisoned. Dukat was certain the enemy was moving up reserves even now, and at the rate they were going Dervak would probably come under assault within 72 hours. He was admittedly interested ine examining reports of the unique walking armored machines used by the Federated Commonwealth. Tanks had been bad enough, now these machines were routing Cardassian and Korroleia militia just from physical intimidation.
Dukat smiled grimly. There was yet a chance here. Though 1st Fleet was utterly broken - Dukat suspected they could simply not be trusted in any engagement with the enemy now, having lost as often as they have - the Tsen'kethi Frontier Fleet was now up at Kortaxis. If it was moved at the right time and the proper form, say in multiple-squadron detachments after Dervak was taken, it might catch the enemy fleet unprepared at Pelikar, which was to Dukat the clear final objective of the enemy advance. Later he would have to ask Keve for permission to cut the orders to Gul Gavron.
"Is it safe to risk the Home Fleet?" Kelataza did not look happy at the recommendation, and for the usual reasons. "The war is not going well, and there are those who may take advantage of the fleet's absence."
"Legate, this may be our last chance to stop the Alliance advance," Dukat replied. "If we hit them while they're still preparing for their next wave, we can disrupt their plans and buy time to finish mobilizing our reserves and building our inner defenses. If we don't use the Home Fleet now, we may very well lose it when the Alliance fleet moves directly on Cardassia Prime itself."
"Gul Dukat has a point, Legate," Yatar said. He went to say more but was silenced by a glare from his benefactor.
"Do we know when the Alliance blow will come? The Obsidian Order hasn't had much success in alerting us to their fleet movements."
Keve spoke up now. "Aid from the Federation has proven helpful here. The sensors they provided us to track the enemy's cloaked bombers can be used as well to scan enemy space with some reliability. The Alliance's jamming systems are online still but are not yet set to jam gravitic sensors. That, at least, has escaped their attention."
"Excellent news." Kelataza was still frowning, clearly in deep thought. Dukat almost wanted to speak again, but knew he had told his tongue right now. Finally, after about a minute of silence, he nodded and picked up the PADD with the listed orders. As he pressed his right thumb to the scanner, he said, "Here, I'm releasing the Home Fleet to you, Gul Dukat. And if you fail me.... don't bother coming back, because you won't even get a trial."
"Of course, Legate. I'll go get runners to alert the squadron commanders."
"Why bother doing that? That'll take longer than just calling them."
Dukat looked to Yatar. "Has it occurred to anyone that the Alliance may have cracked our naval codes? They knew 3rd Fleet was at Kurvak far too early, and the entire debacle at Darane was simply too convenient. Not only did they have some of their carriers waiting in ambush for us, they also launched - at that very time - carrier strikes on our remaining naval bases, which was all too possibily a distraction. If Gul Kevem had followed the plan, he would have kept a reserve that we likely would have committed upon confirmation of those strikes... sending our entire fleet unknowingly into an enemy ambush." Dukat noticed the disbelieving look on Yatar's smug face, but the accepting look on Kelataza's was what he wanted to see. The old man is finally waking up and realizing that what the State says is rarely as true as we'd like to think.
"I'll have Communications investigate the issue," Kelataza promised. "Do what you think is necessary."
Dukat nodded and gave a final salute before leaving. All was going according to plan.
Umiral, Darane, Alliance Liberation Zone
15:40 GST
Christmas at wartime could take up many things. For those in the field it was a bittersweet thing, knowing that on a day many saw as a family holiday they were far away from their loved ones. For garrison troops like Rusty Cornheiser and the 33rd Orbital Artillery Company, Christmas could actually be enjoyable. Vidphone calls home were available for everyone, presents from supportive citizens were handed out, and the Mess typically had holiday meals and more of them to enjoy.
Rusty had already talked to his family and gotten presents from his comrades. Now he was alone in the soft purple-hued grass off Darane, staring up at the stars from where he was laying on his sleeping roll, clad in tank top and trousers. Oh, he’d return to the barracks at light’s out and sleep there, but to just glance up at an alien sky was a perfect way to cap the holiday.
Or at least it was, before Valys showed up.
She was casually dressed again. A blue-ish skirt with Bajoran religious iconography sewed around the hems, a sleeveless blouse of gray, and what looked to be a flower in her hair. “The others, they said you were here.” She got on her knees beside him. “Are you sleeping here?”
“No, just looking at the stars.” He looked over to her and smiled. “Used to do it back home with my folks and my brother and sisters.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. Dad used to tell us which star had which planet. Where New Virginia was, New Washington, Roosevelt....” Rusty laid his head back again, arms under his head, and looked back up at them. “Do you know which one Bajor is?”
“I do not,” Valys confessed. “I have never been there. None of my family has, even my grandmother is Daranian by birth.” She slid over and laid down next to him. “Do you know which star is which?”
“Well, uhm... I think that one is Earth,” Rusty said, trying to remember the last time he looked up the Astrogazer plot for Darane. “And I’m pretty sure that one over there, at the corner of the sky... is New Liberty.”
“But there are so many....”
“Oh, yeah, there’s lots of them,” he said. “And they all exist in other universes. Copied many times over.”
“Even Bajor?”
“The star? Sure. The planet?’ Rusty shrugged. “You’re the only Bajorans we know of, actually.”
“What about Cardassians?”
“Same thing. Only here.”
“But... there are other Humans, yes?”
Rusty gave her a nod. “Yeah. I think something like only two universes out of fifty or so don’t have Humans.”
“That is strange,” Valys stated. “How can there be so many Humans compared to every other race?”
At that, he could only shrug. It wasn’t something Rusty thought about a lot. “Dunno, maybe we just got lucky in the cosmic dice rolling or something...”
That prompted a quizzical, “’Dice roll’? What is dice?”
Smiling, Rusty began explaining to her, and found that having Valys with him had given the perfect ending to this Christmas Day.
Bomber Atomic Dolphin, Cardassian Space
26 December 2153 AST
08:19 GST
The Atomic Dolphin and the rest of 66th Bomber Squadron were on nearing their dispersal point for an attack on enemy facilities in five local systems when Eastman noticed the three Ikvak-class destroyers shadowing the squadron. He looked to Sheppard and said, "Sir, what do you think about this? I've got three Cardie destroyers on passives, it looks like they're tailing us."
Sheppard looked over and brought up his own sensor display. After about a minute of watching, he turned his head back to Barton. "Get the tightbeam command link up."
Barton hit the appropriate keys and responded, "Command link up, the other squadron pilots are receiving."
Sheppard began to move Atomic Dolphin down and to the left a bit, eventually changing his course by 45 degrees on both axises. After several tense moments, Sheppard's frown grew. "The Cardies are following our course change." He changed course again, making it look like he was zig-zagging, and again they followed the course change. Only on the third attempt did they not immediately change course. "Bastards are tracking us somehow."
"Then why aren't they shooting us?" Rickover asked.
"Whatever gear they're using probably doesn't let 'em track us that well. They know we're in an area but can't get our position down accurately enough to fire. At least, not until we release our boosters." Scowling, Sheppard looked to Barton. "Use the tight-beam, get every bomber to listen closely as we make our next set of maneuvers."
After this was conffirmed, Sheppard examined the location of the destroyers and, after a moment, made a quick maneuver to cut across the length of their formation. The destroyers came out of warp and waited while he cut across again; their commanders probably thought they'd spooked him and were afraid to move now.
Finally Barton's head shot up. "Sir, got something from the Texan Lady and Marisol. They picked up something when passing by the Cardies."
"Well, what did they find?"
Barton looked it over and, after a moment, shook her head. "Just... a stream of data. Nothing specific."
"Good enough for me. Get the positions that Marisol and Texan Lady had when they picked up those beams and relay the data to Rickover. Rickover, find the origin point, and find me a target just beyond it and slightly away."
"Sir?"
"Just fuckin' do it."
"Yes sir."
Tense minutes passed. Eastman looked nervously at the fuel level. "Sir, we can't just coast along like this. We need to head to the target or back to base."
"Not yet. If they're tracking us, a lot of bombers are going to be lost today. I want to get a good shot at shutting them down."
Eastman remained quiet. Finally Rickover finished his work. "The beam seems to be coming from System CUANB-5. And about half a light year beyond it from our current position is the Cardassian system Dukivik. Hasn't been bombed yet and it's got a C level comm station, an orbiting military post, and several cities with light and medium industrial capacity. Not a choice target, but...."
"Good enough. Give me the course data."
A minute later, Atomic Dolphin and the 66th were on their new course. Mere minutes later, the Cardassian destroyers were again shadowing them.
System UCANB-5 (Korvek 339), Cardassian Union
08:33 GST
On the surface of the rocky third planet of the lifeless solar system, a Cardassian sensor station was still under construction even after its vitals had come online. Workers in environmental suits went about setting up better living spaces, defenses, barracks, and other support facilities while the staff did their jobs. Within the core of the growing facility, Gul Rogal sat calmly and sipped on her cup of ropavtek (literally "fish juice") while her staff reviewed the data from the gravitic sensor net that was still growing along the front with the Alliance. Nearby, monitoring one of her senior staff, was the Starfleet "advisor" assigned to help get the systems running, a stoic and somewhat irritating Vulcan named Sutek.
This station, along with others, was responsible for using the gravitic sensors to detect the general location of incoming Alliance bombers and to send in border patrols to shadow and attack them when they arrived on target and started to release their bomb loads, which gave away their locations.
"Commander Sutek, why don't you sit down and take a break?"
The Vulcan man looked back to her with a quizzical look. "It is not logical to waste time when I do not require rest, and I have other stations to visit before returning to the Federation. Therefore, I must decline."
"Suit yourself." Rogal tried not to smirk. Vulcans would make excellent Cardassians save that their devotion to logic undermined loyalty to the State. She went back to watching the displays, and what looked like several enemy bomber formations heading calmly into Cardassia, seemingly oblivious to the Ikvaks that were trailing them.
"Gul, one of the enemy contacts has changed general course. They're heading this way."
Rogal frowned. She didn't like coincidences. "Verify their course."
"Doing so now..." The officer ran the course heading through the computers, getting the proper astronomical data, and finally he replied, "They're heading to Dukivik."
"Dammit." Rogai frowned. The enemy must have learned about the recent transfer of naval supplies there and had ordered bombers to change target. "Put Dukivik on alert. Send two of the ships tailing the bombers directly to Dukivik to be ready."
"Yes Gul."
Bomber Atomic Dolphin, Cardassian Space
10:19 GST
Nearly two tense hours had passed now, and the bomber crew's nerves were slowly starting to get frayed. Sheppard was the least rattled, rolling an unsmoked cigar in his hands while the time to course change was counted down.
When the time came, he sent the proper signal and all twenty bombers dropped out of warp. As the Ikvak shot past, the bombers sharply turned and resumed warp fligght - now heading toward UCANB-5. "Enemy ship overshot us, sir! I don't think they'll have time to catch us before we can fire off the boosters!"
"Barton, tell everyone to get ready. Cockpit to Bombardier, prepare new targeting data. Flying Officer Eastman will be providing your target."
Affirmations answered. Even though this mission had taken a drastic turn for the worst, even though it looked like they had lost the stealth that kept them alive, every man and woman throughout the squadron remained as calm as Sheppard could have asked for.
"Time to target is thirty seconds."
"Get ready...."
System UCANB-5 (Korvek 339), Cardassian Union
10:20 GST
"Gul! Enemy contact heading our way!"
Rogal looked up from a report with widening eyes. The main display in the command center changed to show the anomalous contact on their gravitic sensors - which they presumed to be enemy bombers - now within a minute of their position. "Impossible! Notify all ships, tell them to get here immediately!"
"It will not do you any good," Sutek replied calmly. "There are no ships in position."
"Order all personnel to take cover! Raise our defense shields!" Rogal watched in disbelief as the contacts grew closer... and closer.... She found herself hoping there was only a single enemy, perhaps lacking the firepower to break through their shield.
The contact stopped. There was activity on other scanning systems now, revealing at last the enemy position, but the Yuvak was still twenty seconds away... Rogal swallowed at the number of contacts that suddenly appeared. There must have been at a dozen enemy bombers, perhaps more; their uncloaked boosters were ominous on the screen as they raced toward the sensor post.
"How ironic," Sutek finally said. "My brother died fighting Cardassia, and now I will die protecting Cardassia."
That pompous Vulcan! How can he be so candid that we're all about to be reduced to ash! Rogal wanted to shoot him, but her eyes were fixed to the screens as missile after missile fired from the booster assemblies of the enemy bombers. The bombers were effectively invisible again; gravitic sensors showed they were in the area but it was too late for the Yuvak to attack them.
The first missile exploded against the shield, then the second, then a third that sent a sickening rumble through the facility and told Rogal, in those final moments, that the shield had failed.
The next missile detonated. Intended for an enemy shielded space facility, it was thirty times more powerful than the infamous Hiroshima blast, as were the next missiles. By the time they had all exploded, there was very little to mark the remains of Rogal, Sutek, and the three hundred Cardassians who had been living and building the destroyed outpost.
Bomber Atomic Dolphin, Cardassian Space
10:23 GST
"It's been confirmed, sir. The enemy outpost was destroyed." Eastman sighed. "And that Cardie destroyer is fumbling about like a blind man in the dark. He can't see us anymore."
"Excellent job everyone," Sheppard said before taking another drag from his lit cigar. "Now, find me the closest airbase."
"Yes sir." Rickover looked. "Closest sir is Kagawa Field on Ituk 3."
While Sheppard piloted Atomic Dolphin on course, Eastman frowned. "We're going to be running on fumes by the time we get there."
Kagawa Field, Ituk 3, Cardassian Union (Occupied)
11:50 GST
The engines on Atomic Dolphin finally went silent as the massive B-202F rolled to a slow stop at the very edge of Kagawa's largest runway. The only towing vehicle the new airfield had was ready and waiting for them, latching on within a minute and towing the Dolphin to a berth in the one hanger the small field had so far. Eastman and the others looked around at the workers and standard rates still building parts of the half-finished airfield, which had been intended to host a fighter squadron, not bombers. But large strips were added to all fields for just this occasion, and as it turned out, the 66th Squadron was down to its last five minutes of anti-matter fuel when it came out of warp in Ituk - Kagawa was literally the only field they could've used.
When they were safe in the hanger, Sheppard and crew finally came out. When they did, the field personnel started applauding even while the towing vehicle ran back out to get the next bomber coming in. Atomic Dolphin's crew was a little surprised to see the reaction. "Hey, it was nothin'," Sheppard said with clear false modesty.
The field personnel looked at each other. "You didn't hear anything over the radio?"
"Nope, not at all." Sheppard frowned. "Just what the hell is going on?"
Williamson AFB, New Liberty, ADN Colonial Zone
14:30 GST
Air Marshal Polk's expression was grim as she put down the PDA that her aide Squadron Commander Fyodor Ruslov had handed her. The bearded Russian officer had a solemn look on his face as he waited for Polk to respond. "How in the Hell did this happen?"
"We are still investigating, Sir. The 66th Squadron's report may shed some light on the subject."
Polk swallowed hard, trying to keep her stomach still. "We sent out twenty squadrons. Four hundred of our best bombers. And we get only fify-three back? I want to know what the hell happened out there, I don't want to hear that it's still just an investigation!" Polk tossed the PDA to her desk. "God dammit, this is almost as bad as the Big One. And you can be damned sure they're not going to like this in Washington. The Navy's been nipping at our heels ever since that damned Dale Commission."
"I'll make sure the investigators know how eager you are to get answers." Ruslov stopped for a moment. "Strange that the Cardassians suddenly just knew how to find and hit our bombers, isn't it? They're not the kind of people to hold back if they can use something."
"I don't want any speculation in the press, Commander. Just go get the investigation going and have them keep me informed."
"Yes sir." Ruslov left.
Polk took a few minutes to get a drink, a bottle of green-tinged Saurian brandy that the natives liked so much. With liquor in hand, she went back to reading the survivors' reports. She paid most attention to the one from Squadron Commander Sheppard of 66th Squadron.
Deep in her stomach, Polk couldn't help but feel a sense of dread. The Aerospace Force had taken a bad hit. Who knew what other surprises the Cardassians may have in store now that their situation was becoming more desperate?
Benigno, Nova Savona, United Federation of Planets
27 December 2153 AST
08:10 GST
The household of Maria and Oliver Bennett was a modest one, located in the suburbs of the small city of Benigno near the San Pietro Coast. Oliver was a cynical man, a former Idealogue Party member who had been purged during Deborah Miller's Presidency for advocating increased defense spending. He now made a meager living out here on the frontier, having married Maria Costanza, an older woman who had been beaten and raped by Cardassian raiders during the infamous Cardassian raid of 2347 - known as the "Rape of Nova Savona" and denounced as a lie by PAPAL supporters and the Cardassian government alike - and who lost her husband and children in the attack. Her brother and sister had gone missing as well, just two of thousands of Nova Savonans who disappeared during the attack. Maria had long convinced herself they were dead, but like her entire family she held out the slightest hope she would see them again.
It was a day like any other. Maria worked as a secretary for the city government, and Oliver was a part-time political sciences professor at Benigno Community College. Both were home for the day and sitting at the table, eating quietly. Getting tired of the silence, Oliver turned on a subspace receiver that he had paid years' worth of savings to get and tuned it to Alliance media channels, which were thankfully receptable on Nova Savona. He had long enjoyed this, since the Alliance news services generally tended to have more reach than local news and more honesty than the Federation State Press.
He flipped through them and finally decided on watching Fox Interstellar News, which appealed to him for its strong anti-Federation programming. Maria turned and watched as the footage was, suprisingly, that of a ragged-looking Human. "..officials have allowed some press to review the newly-liberated Cardassian camps. A number of them are dominated by non-Cardassians, particularly Federation nationals." The screen changed and showed a trench with large containers flanking it. "On Christmas Day, special forces liberated this facility, called 'Village 18' according to sources, within minutes of the Cardassian garrison carrying out orders to slaughter their prisoners. The trench was meant to be a mass grave, and the containers are filled with acid so powerful it would likely obliterate any trace of remains that could be used to construct DNA. Now the military is trying to work to identify the people in the village. No word yet on how much cooperation they're getting with the Federation authorities."
Oliver turned the channel off in disgust. He had been in the Party and he knew what would happen; they would procrastinate, cover up, and generally throw any kind of obstacle they could into any kind of investigation into the identities of those poor souls. There was absolutely no way the Party was going to take responsibility for Federation citizens being held by the Cardassians.
Almost getting up, Oliver noticed the look on his wife's face. "Dear, please, don't get your hopes up. I want them to be in there too, but it's been so long..."
There were tears in his wife's eyes. Maria nodded. "Yes, yoiu're right Oliver. But I am going to pray anyway. I want them to come home."
La Plata, Earth, United Federation of Planets
16:15 GST
Once part of the State of Maryland, La Plata was today a moderate-sized town of about 150,000 people, due in part from the settlement of survivors from the nuclear attack on Washington D.C. in the Third World War and now due to several local public housing communities created by the government. It was in one of those communities that the Vickers family lived. It was the morning time and they were together in the home of Regina Vickers. Her teenage daughter Rachel was at the table with her and Regina's brother Matthew, with a late breakfast (or early lunch) on the table. Regina's husband Charles worked a part-time job at a local convenience store that was co-owned by the city government (many businesses were these days).
Rachel turned on the wall viewscreen and switched to the Federation News Service. It was just starting, with the pretty young brunette on the screen introducing her just as the screen flipped on. "The Federation Council voted today to officially condemn the use of napalm weapons by the Alliance military on Cardassian holdouts on Bajor. These weapons, recognized as barbaric and cruel by all races of the Federation, have been described as a jelly material that bursts to flame upon contact with oxygen found in many atmospheres. It is almost impossible to remove and often burns victims alive. The Council has threatened...."
Regina turned the screen off. "Did you hear that? They're barbarians! It's like Colonel Green all over again!"
"Oh, come on Regina, they're not that bad. They're more like the people who fought Green."
"They're still... that is so cruel! I mean, this is all over Bajor and a couple of thousand people killed, and it's all their fault! They kept on pushing the Cardassians, and pushing, and pushing, until finally, what else were the Cardassians supposed to do? They're the victims here, not the Bajorans." Regina took a sip nbefore unleashing her sharp tongue once more. "Those soldiers doing these things are all criminals and should be locked up. Every last one of them. They're worse than Klingons."
"Regina, dear, Klingons are our allies, remember?"
"Only because some of the people at the top don't care. Why, the Klingons are nothing more than bloodthirsty maniacs. Why can't we ally with the Cardassians? They're such better people." Regina shook her head. "And it's just so irritating to see other Humans acting like bloodlusting racists going out to kill aliens. It's... why? I mean, why can't they be like us? Just settle down and enjoy life."
Now, finally, Rachel piped in. "Mother, have you ever thought that maybe the Alliance's soldiers don't have any other choice? My social history teacher has been showing us documentaries on their societies. They don't have a replicator in every home, they're not even guaranteed food and a place to sleep. Most of them have to work just to do that, so they get exploited by all these rich people who control their governments. Maybe those soldiers felt they had to join the military to feed their families."
"If they're having so much problems that they have to become killers, then why don't they vote better leaders in? They have the vote like we do, don't they? And I know that the Federation is sponsoring idealists in their societies who want to emulate us. Instead of going off to burn Cardassian children with those horrible jelly weapons, maybe they should vote in these people and get their own BLN." Regina wagged her finger at her daughter. "No dear, they are not the victims. They're either racist killers or they're idiots who should know better."
"Regina, some of those kids probably sign up for the reason people here join Starfleet," Matthew replied. "Like Old Man Parker's kids."
"Oh, don't go on about them. Old Man Parker's kids are dead now, remember? And that's what they get for helping the militarists in Starfleet provoke wars with our neighbors." Regina shook her head. "I'm not going to let you fill Rachel's head with such nonsense. We don't need Starfleet. We need to be at peace with their neighbors and understand their problems. If we did that, there would be no more wars. But no, we have idiots like Maxwell out here who have bloodlust in their eyes and want to kill aliens! And I hope they keep that fiend locked up until he croaks. No room for racists in our branch of Humanity!"
Matthew sighed. "Regina, dear, you really have a lot of strong opinions, but can you ever be open-minded about anything?"
"What do you mean by that?! I'm open-minded! If I weren't, I'd be just like those people in the Alliance. You know, if you ask me, we shouldn't let any of them move here to the Federation until they prove they're capable of living at peace with everyone instead of wanting to kill people who aren't like them. Otherwise we'll be inviting a pack of murderers and racists into our midst."
"They can't move here anyway, Mom. A lot of them get genetic enhancements as children that make them live longer."
"Ah ha, see? They're so arrogant they fiddle with themselves, they're too good to live like the rest of us, oh no, they have to live longer too!" Regina rather angrily shook her head. "I just can't get over those people. They're so repulsive."
Matthew sighed and went back to eating.
Madred Village 23, Dervak, Cardassian Union
27 December 2153 AST
08:10 GST
The Village was under siege now, with about three thousand Cardassian troops in the immediate perimeter and a few more behind it as reserves. For the previous 24 hours, since they'd arrived in force, they'd mostly probed here, prodded here, and waited to see what kind of reaction that the Village Militia and Black Widows would give.
Now, finally, they had launched their assault, an advance on all sides. The Village Militia were awaiting them in trenches, backed by the Black Widows; Natasha Kerensky had assigned two of three companies to defense "sectors" as individual lances, holding back a company as emergency reserve to prevent any break in the line.
When the assault began, it reminded Phelan of descriptions of the First World War back in his Nagelring classes. The Cardassians, aware of the defenses around the Village, started off with an artillery barrage that lasted an hour. Occasionally reports would come in of Villagers killed or wounded, but the trenches were well prepared and the 'Mechs well-armored; not a single Black Widow actually went down and only some took damage of appreciable scale.
Now the Cardassian advance began, mechanized vehicles with infantry riding on them or within them. Their own design for the village worked against them; they had purposely made its surroundings open and flat to help deal with potential escapes, but now it denied them any kind of cover. They had to come in under full view of the Black Widows and Village Militia. Phelan calmly centered his targeting crosshairs on a Cardassian APC and tensed the trigger for his right arm phaser cannon. A solid beam of reddish-orange energy struck out and speared the Cardassian APC head on. Though there was little visible outside damage save for the impact point, the machine suddenly stopped; the phaser had wiped out everyone inside.
The Cardassians were soon returning fire. They were finally fielding some anti-armor weapons and seemed less intimidated of the BattleMechs, which had finally lost that crucial initial advantage in surprise and intimidation. Several beams came toward him, and four made contact, causing varying damage to Grinner's armor. Phelan crouched and said "Everyone down" to get his lance to repeat the action and make the enemy work harder to hit them. Everyone crouched down.
Everyone except Ranna.
Undaunted, Ranna sprinted forward with her Shadow Cat's MASC system fully engaged. Her shots were a bit off - natural for that speed - but she presented an almost impossible target for the Cardassians. "Dammit Ranna, get back here!" When there was no answer Phelan swore to himself and stood to go after her. "Everyone stay here and give our allies cover fire. Focus on their vehicles, let the Villagers deal with advancing infantry." Phelan broke Grinner out into a run. A hit grazed the left hip of his 'Mech, another the belly of it, and his armor was clearly starting to degrade.
Ranna had closed the distance and was seemingly going mad. She twisted and turned, firing in a pattern that appeared wild and unordered save that it was actually striking targets. It was clear that years of frustration and anger were finally being released.
And it was being released in an effective manner. Though not every shot hit her target, it did make the Cardassians pause their advance in that sector as they tried to focus their firepower on Ranna's Shadow Cat. A shot would miss here, graze there, and a couple looked like direct hits, but Ranna kept on attacking and destroying APCs, even stepping on a few soldiers that had dismounted their vehicles in haste.
Phelan got close enough that his shots were becoming highly accurate as well. Another hit to his torso started eating into Grinner's skeleton but it did not stop him, and the offender exploded a few minutes later from return fire. "Ranna, pull back dammit! Pull back now!" His scanners confirmed what he suspected was happening; the Cardassians were sending in their reserves to push through their section of the front. "You've given them their licks, get the Hell back to the line. That's an order!"
At first there was no reaction from Ranna save a continued attack, but finally the Shadow Cat turned away from the husks of her victims. The 'Mech's armor was missing patches and damaged elsewhere, but otherwise okay. Phelan began to back Grinner up and give Ranna cover as she made her way back to the line. At a third of the distance, she turned her 'Mech and back-pedaled toward the lines, giving Phelan cover fire. Phelan turned and ran back toward the lines. He was about to turn again when a solid beam from an APC hit the back of Grinner's knee. The armor took most of the damage, but it still failed, and Phelan very nearly lost control and fell when the knee locked up. Limping along, he continued on his way. "Fall back, Ranna!"
"I will give you cover until you are safe in the lines. Keep going."
"That's an order Ranna. Fall back!"
She refused, moving and dodging here and there as the Cardassian attack was starting to concentrate on their section. Fire from Phelan's lance and the some of the few anti-tank weapons provided to the Militia by the Dragoons surrounded them; the enemy's main attack had begun.
Phelan turned once more and shouted into the com, "Dammit, Ranna, I said fall back!"
"I am not a coward! I will not run from them!"
Before he could speak again, there was a roar from above. Grinner's computer identified them as Alliance F/A-37s at the same time that explosions erupted all across the enemy's lines. "Reinforcements!" was the shout over the comm.
The air support was soon joined by landing craft. Phelan was still used to the egg or sphere-shaped DropShips typically used for landing ground troops, so it was a change to watch the catamaran-shaped Marine "LCAP"s descend behind and on top of the Cardassians. The 40mm guns on the LCAPs were firing on all arcs, forcing Cardassian soldiers to the ground while the LCAPs hit soil. Twin doors opened on each segment of the landing craft; some disgorged tanks, some IFVs, and many were carrying infantry.
The Cardassian attack broke apart quickly now. Phelan, witnessing the confusion of the Cardassian forces, waited for the order to attack.
It was not long in coming.
12:50 GST
The nightmare was over.
The very fact seemed to overwhelm the senses of the long-term prisoners of Madred Village 23. After years of terror hidden under a bare veneer of civility, they were free. There would be no more surprise raids, no more sudden seizures to be used as subjects in interrogation training, no more suffering. And so they celebrated in their town square, hugging and kissing and cheering their liberators, who with great pride erected the flagpoles from which they flew their standards; side by side, the colored torch-and-stars of the Allied Nations was joined by the fist-and-sunburst of the Federated Commonwealth, a third flag bearing the wolf's head insignia of the Wolf Dragoons and, below that, a newly-replicated flag bearing the symbol of the Black Widow Battalion. In a nod to the people of Village 23, who had so bravely held out and aided in their liberation, Natasha Kerensky and Colonel Alex Rickman - her counterpart in the Alliance Marine Corps' 15th Planetary Assault Regiment - personally arranged for the flying of the Federation flag with their nations' own. The flying of the Federation flag, with its striking field of blue, made some of the villagers begin to cry. It reminded them that they would be finally be going home.
Most would, at least. Though she had a smile on her face, Sharon Carter was not as happy as she should have been. She would be taken as mad if she were to admit it, but she had strangely felt at home here. She had spent more time living in Village 23 than anywhere else, given her early life and the constant need to flee from Federation government agents that wanted to send her and the other colony children of her generation to "facilities" for the "genetically altered".
Kristina came up to her and threw her arms around Carter's neck. After giving her a jubilant kiss on the lips, she squealed "We're going home!" with glee. It took a moment for Kristina to see the look on Carter's face. "Sharon, what's wrong?"
"You're going home, Kristina. I have no home."
It took a moment for Kristina to realize what she had just done. "Oh Sharon, I didn't mean.... you can come back to New Murmansk with me, can't you?"
Carter shook her head. "I can't, Kristina. I'm a fugitive in the Federation, remember? If I go back, I'll end up in a settlement."
"We can hide you! We're on the frontier, they'll never find you...."
"My parents used to say the same thing. And then four months later, we'd be sneaking out the back door while Starfleet Security pounded on the front door." Carter pulled Kristina closer. "I can't go back with you. But, I do love you very much. Too much to keep you from going home."
"Sharon, I...."
"Shhh...." Carter planted a quick kiss on Kristina's lips. "Let's go celebrate the present. We can talk about the future later."
Phelan and Ranna had been summoned back to the Cyrilla Ward, where Natasha was, predictably, getting ready to load back up to join up with the continuing advance on Pelikar. "How long until your 'Mech is repaired, Phelan?"
"The techs promised me it'd be done in 24 hours," Phelan replied. "So I figure 36, since everyone's busy partying with the Villagers."
Natasha smirked. "Oh, don't worry about that. They'll have their party and then I'll have them all pumped with detoxicants to get to work. Now, go get some rest Phelan."
"Yes Colonel." Phelan walked out, leaving Natasha alone with Ranna.
For a moment nothing was said. Natasha walked around Ranna. "Took a lot of guts to rush the Cardies like that. You did a real good job disrupting their advance. It took skill, courage, and luck to pull that off and come back as untouched as you did."
"Thank you, Colonel."
"Oh, don't thank me yet." Natasha stood in front of her granddaughter and frowned, looking her eye to eye. "You disobeyed a direct order from your lance commander to hold position, and then you disobeyed when ordered to fall back! You put Phelan and your entire lance in potential jeopardy because you had your panties in a bunch and wanted to prove something! And I will be damned if I will tolerate that! In the Dragoons, we follow orders! This is not the Clan warrior caste and you are not Goddamned free to follow orders as you please so long as you think you've got the skills to win a fucking Circle of Equals with your superior! If you ever disobey another Goddamned direct order, I will kick your ass to the fucking curb! You will be out of my battalion and I will see to it that you are kicked out of the Dragoons! AM. I. CLEAR?!"
Ranna nodded, her spine straight and her body at rigid attention. "Yes, Colonel!"
"Now get the Hell out of my sight before I get pissed off! Dismissed!"
Watching Ranna leave, Natasha drew in a breath, and then had a private little smirk. Ranna, in her own way, reminded Natasha of herself, and that both scared and thrilled the older Kerensky.
And now, with nothing much to do, Natasha decided to go join the festivities. A good battle and a victory always deserved at least one night of booze and general hell-raising, after all.
The Fox's Den, New Avalon, Federated Commonwealth
Universe Designate MWB-32
28 December 2153 AST
01:45 GST
Communications had changed greatly over the previous years. Where once the leader of a House would have to wait for reports from the field to know how operations were going, now it was possible for news to come immediately. To reflect this truth, the various war rooms and planning rooms of the Davion military command on New Avalon had been overhauled with modern communications and display equipment.
It was in one such room, filled as it was with monitors and holographic displays, that Hanse and his nephew Morgan were getting the latest update from the Alpha Quadrant, directly from Admiral Johnston and Marshal Bisla. The former was with his fleet, now gathering at Dervak, and Marshal Bisla was still on Corwich as joint commander of the FCEF and the Alliance's "Task Force Percival", the designation for their forces protecting the Commonwealth's flank.
"Dervak's main garrison surrendered an hour ago, Highness," Johnston reported, his holographic image flickering momentarily from signal interference. "I am happy to report that we are on schedule so far."
"When can you continue on to Pelikar?"
"Completing repairs on ships damaged at Shervarak and bringing in supplies will take two days, Highness. We are also expecting the arrival of two Alliance carriers that, with Invincible, should give us a good strength in fighters to augment the fleet. However, we are somewhat stretched out and I'm concerned that Cardassian forces watching the Tzenkethi border could be directed against us. We'd be outnumbered five to one by a normal Cardassian border fleet. I would thus like to hold back until after the Alliance's main offensive begins, to see if the Cardassians have anything in the area they're willing to commit."
Hanse nodded. "Marshal?"
"Sir, with all due respect to Admiral Johnston, I believe that we are presented with our best opportunity take Pelikar now. The enemy fleet defeated at Shervarak has already retreated out of the region and all intelligence estimates place the Cardassian fleet on the Tzenkethi border light years beyond Pelikar. If we strike in the next three days, I believe we can seize and hold Pelikar easily; if we wait longer, we give the Cardassians time to regroup and make the battle that much harder."
There, the lines were drawn; the navy wanted caution, the army action. Now Hanse would have to decide which had the greater merit. "And suppose the Cardassians decide to challenge you with the frontier fleet they keep to counter the Tzenkethi?"
Bisla's answer was immediate. "We withdraw and fortify Dervak. If necessary, we ask the Alliance for assistance from the 5th Fleet to hold our position."
Hanse nodded at that. "Still, I do not want to put everything on the Alliance being able to provide aid with their 5th Fleet. They are developing their own offensive and that will be the one that brings the war closer to an end." He looked to Johnston. "Admiral, when you are ready, I would prefer you to move to Pelikar, but do so cautiously and with an eye out for the enemy. Marshal, do not commence any landings of troops until we verify the Cardassians are not going to bring their fleet over from the Tzenkethi border."
"Of course, Highness." Bisla gave a slight nod of affirmation. "May I ask for the progress of compiling reinforcements?"
Hanse allowed Morgan to answer that. "Partial mobilization is continuing, though you are certainly aware that we don't want to risk all of the units with the New Army upgrades, so I'm afraid you won't be getting any more BattleMech regiments or RCTs."
"Given Cardassian equipment and their performance so far, Sir, I'm not really worried about getting more BattleMechs. Give me an armored battalion for every infantry brigade, and a hell of a lot of those, and I'll be happy."
Hanse grinned at that, since it's what he had been hoping for. Morgan nodded. "We're busy forming and raising new non-'Mech formations of two brigades apiece with an attached armored regiment, designated as Grenadier Divisions. It's a new form, yes, but we hope to give it a good operational test in the Alpha Quadrant. The 1st Division is already en route and should be there soon. You'll have ten within three weeks."
"They'll be very welcome here."
"You and your troops, and those of our allies, have the continued faith and support of the Commonwealth, Marshal Bisla, Admiral Johnston. Good luck."
The reply of "Thank you, Highness" came from both Bisla and Johnston, after which their images disappeared.
After a few moments, Hanse looked to Morgan. "Given how much damage the Alliance has caused the Cardassians, do you really think the war will be on long enough for the Grenadier Divisions to see action?"
After a moment, he was answered by a careful reply. "Things look good so far, Highness," said Morgan, "but as I'm sure you know, the war isn't over until the other side agrees that it is."
CDS Droamall, Marull System, Cardassian Union
Universe Designate ST-3
17:10 GST
Home Fleet, 520 warships strong, was now gathering; they were joined by 300 Cardassian ships that were either repaired survivors of prior battles or ships restored from mothballs and crewed as well as they could be.
Amongst them was the Droamall. One of the latest Galor-class ships to join the Cardassian fleet, it was the flagship that Dukat had chosen for the coming battle. Walking through the bridge of the Droamall, Dukat was approached by a 1st Rank Glin. "Sir," the matured Cardassian male replied, "the couriers have confirmed that Gul Ituvek and Gul Parittza are in position."
"Excellent." Dukat walked up to the operations console, ignoring the officer attending to it and pressing keys to bring up the tactical map. At Marull, Kovulak, Palki, Mekelos, and Poruta, the Cardassian fleet was gathering once more. These positions were nearly sixty light years from the nearest Alliance-held system, making detection less likely, and going undetected was a key part of Dukat's plan. "And do we have the linkup with the squadrons observing the enemy's border?"
"Yes, Gul. We're getting hourly updates as to enemy positions, though at some cost. We've already lost two warships from attacks by the enemy."
"It is to be expected."
"Gul, if I may ask, when is the fleet going to combine to go after the enemy?"
Dukat looked to the Glin and shook his head. "We're not going to."
The young officer looked bewildered. "Sir, we're not?"
"No. Attacking the enemy in concentration would be playing to their strength, as the war's battles have proven." Dukat pointed to the map and the different gatherings of Cardassian ships. "I intend to ignore the enemy fleet. Our objective is the enemy's support, the ships they use to move troops and supplies. Preferably, our attack will come down on the moment of their offensive. By attacking at multiple points, I hope to confuse the enemy of my intentions, while our ships wipe out their transports and the troops that are aboard them. Each force, each Strike Group, will go on until it meets substantial resistance, and then it will withdraw."
"Withdraw, sir?"
"Yes." Dukat nodded. "The purpose of this attack is not to drive the enemy out of the territory they hold. It is to disrupt their timing. Hit them hard enough, and they will have to delay offensive action, and every day we gain is a day that another ship can be successfully returned to the fleet, another day for new crews to become accustomed to their duties. We must delay the enemy as long as we can, and be willing to cede territory to him in careful operations to prolong the war and give Cardassian industry more time to rebuild the ships we've lost. That is our only hope now."
"I see, Gul." The Glin nodded enthusiastically. "It is brilliant."
"Perhaps, but it will only be remembered that way if we succeed." Dukat looked to the officer. "Have a courier sent to Gul Gavron. Tell him that the Legate has authorized him to begin his maneuver."
"Yes, Gul."
Wexford Naval Headquarters, New Liberty, ADN Colonial Zone
23:54 GST
The staff for each of the commanders present in the facility were coming and going everywhere, delivering and organizing all sorts of reports and the other minutae of military operation that necessitated the bureaucracy that the field soldiers and officers so despised. Seated together at the table, Simonov, Crawford, Polk, and Lumet were looking over the final plan.
What was being called for now was a sixty-six division assault along the front, starting from the right-most border of control for Field Marshal Bisla's Corwich Front Sector Army to the beginning of the Control Zone that stretched out to Darane and over to the Bajoran systems, under the Bajoran Liberation Zone Sector Army. Six Armies and two Marine Assault Corps, organized into the 1st and 6th Army Groups under the New Liberty Sector Army commanded by Field Marshal Pierre Esterhazy, would strike out from six solar systems taken from the Cardassians in the early offensive of the war. 5th Army Group, with forty divisions gathered in 4 Armies, would remain as the operational reserve. 5th Fleet was to provide the naval support, backed by the carriers Audacious, Kuznetsov, and Akagi and Task Forces 9.2 and 9.4 of the 9th Fleet; marked on the map was also 10th Fleet, which had replaced the 5th Fleet forces that were originally defending Kelos and minding the Alliance border with the Federation and which were now ready to join the war at last.
The mood was frantic. This was the largest military operation the Alliance military had yet launched as an organized body; it was the largest operation launched throughout the known Multiverse since the fascistic European Union of Universe FHI-8 had invaded the Kingdom of Iran in 2141 AST. Over a million ground troops and many thousands of naval personnel would be involved on the front alone; thousands more would be involved in the complex logistics and communications needed to run the entire thing. It was here in Wexford that the center of the storm was, with Fleet Admiral Simonov holding the final authority.
As the clock approached midnight, Simonov looked to the other commanders. Admiral Poniatowski had now arrived and was overlooking some final dispositions for the navy. "We have the preliminary green light from Washington," Simonov finally announced. "For the next three days, I will be relying on all of you to do all that is necessary to make this operation a success, and to give those in the field the greatest chance of victory and survival. When the New Year dawns, the Allied Nations will once again bring vengeance to the Cardassian fascists" - Simonov almost spat "fascist" when he said it - "who have murdered and harmed so many innocent peoples. God will see us through to the end, comrades. With the grace of God and the might of our soldiers, we will advance to Cardassia Prime and strike down the vile snake in its den!" Simonov looked to the operational clock, as did everyone. It displayed "23:59:30". "Set the clock. We launch in three days!"
When it hit "00:00:00", signalling the beginning of the 29th of December, a second digital clock display turned on. It was labeled "D -72:00:00", and immediately began to count down from that to 71:59:59 to 71:59:58 and on.
In three days, at the stroke of midnight to herald in the new year of 2154 AST, Operation: Rolling Thunder would commence.
Capital City, Cardassia, Cardassian Union
15:15 GST
For the first time Gul Dukat had been invited to attend a strategy session with Legate Kelataza. It was a small one, with just himself, Keve, and Gul Hergata to advise the Legate.
On the holoscreen, the progress of the latest enemy offensive could be found. In half a day they had landed on fifteen planets - seven had already fallen and the rest would likely follow within a few days, as all had been lightly garrisoned. Dukat was certain the enemy was moving up reserves even now, and at the rate they were going Dervak would probably come under assault within 72 hours. He was admittedly interested ine examining reports of the unique walking armored machines used by the Federated Commonwealth. Tanks had been bad enough, now these machines were routing Cardassian and Korroleia militia just from physical intimidation.
Dukat smiled grimly. There was yet a chance here. Though 1st Fleet was utterly broken - Dukat suspected they could simply not be trusted in any engagement with the enemy now, having lost as often as they have - the Tsen'kethi Frontier Fleet was now up at Kortaxis. If it was moved at the right time and the proper form, say in multiple-squadron detachments after Dervak was taken, it might catch the enemy fleet unprepared at Pelikar, which was to Dukat the clear final objective of the enemy advance. Later he would have to ask Keve for permission to cut the orders to Gul Gavron.
"Is it safe to risk the Home Fleet?" Kelataza did not look happy at the recommendation, and for the usual reasons. "The war is not going well, and there are those who may take advantage of the fleet's absence."
"Legate, this may be our last chance to stop the Alliance advance," Dukat replied. "If we hit them while they're still preparing for their next wave, we can disrupt their plans and buy time to finish mobilizing our reserves and building our inner defenses. If we don't use the Home Fleet now, we may very well lose it when the Alliance fleet moves directly on Cardassia Prime itself."
"Gul Dukat has a point, Legate," Yatar said. He went to say more but was silenced by a glare from his benefactor.
"Do we know when the Alliance blow will come? The Obsidian Order hasn't had much success in alerting us to their fleet movements."
Keve spoke up now. "Aid from the Federation has proven helpful here. The sensors they provided us to track the enemy's cloaked bombers can be used as well to scan enemy space with some reliability. The Alliance's jamming systems are online still but are not yet set to jam gravitic sensors. That, at least, has escaped their attention."
"Excellent news." Kelataza was still frowning, clearly in deep thought. Dukat almost wanted to speak again, but knew he had told his tongue right now. Finally, after about a minute of silence, he nodded and picked up the PADD with the listed orders. As he pressed his right thumb to the scanner, he said, "Here, I'm releasing the Home Fleet to you, Gul Dukat. And if you fail me.... don't bother coming back, because you won't even get a trial."
"Of course, Legate. I'll go get runners to alert the squadron commanders."
"Why bother doing that? That'll take longer than just calling them."
Dukat looked to Yatar. "Has it occurred to anyone that the Alliance may have cracked our naval codes? They knew 3rd Fleet was at Kurvak far too early, and the entire debacle at Darane was simply too convenient. Not only did they have some of their carriers waiting in ambush for us, they also launched - at that very time - carrier strikes on our remaining naval bases, which was all too possibily a distraction. If Gul Kevem had followed the plan, he would have kept a reserve that we likely would have committed upon confirmation of those strikes... sending our entire fleet unknowingly into an enemy ambush." Dukat noticed the disbelieving look on Yatar's smug face, but the accepting look on Kelataza's was what he wanted to see. The old man is finally waking up and realizing that what the State says is rarely as true as we'd like to think.
"I'll have Communications investigate the issue," Kelataza promised. "Do what you think is necessary."
Dukat nodded and gave a final salute before leaving. All was going according to plan.
Umiral, Darane, Alliance Liberation Zone
15:40 GST
Christmas at wartime could take up many things. For those in the field it was a bittersweet thing, knowing that on a day many saw as a family holiday they were far away from their loved ones. For garrison troops like Rusty Cornheiser and the 33rd Orbital Artillery Company, Christmas could actually be enjoyable. Vidphone calls home were available for everyone, presents from supportive citizens were handed out, and the Mess typically had holiday meals and more of them to enjoy.
Rusty had already talked to his family and gotten presents from his comrades. Now he was alone in the soft purple-hued grass off Darane, staring up at the stars from where he was laying on his sleeping roll, clad in tank top and trousers. Oh, he’d return to the barracks at light’s out and sleep there, but to just glance up at an alien sky was a perfect way to cap the holiday.
Or at least it was, before Valys showed up.
She was casually dressed again. A blue-ish skirt with Bajoran religious iconography sewed around the hems, a sleeveless blouse of gray, and what looked to be a flower in her hair. “The others, they said you were here.” She got on her knees beside him. “Are you sleeping here?”
“No, just looking at the stars.” He looked over to her and smiled. “Used to do it back home with my folks and my brother and sisters.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. Dad used to tell us which star had which planet. Where New Virginia was, New Washington, Roosevelt....” Rusty laid his head back again, arms under his head, and looked back up at them. “Do you know which one Bajor is?”
“I do not,” Valys confessed. “I have never been there. None of my family has, even my grandmother is Daranian by birth.” She slid over and laid down next to him. “Do you know which star is which?”
“Well, uhm... I think that one is Earth,” Rusty said, trying to remember the last time he looked up the Astrogazer plot for Darane. “And I’m pretty sure that one over there, at the corner of the sky... is New Liberty.”
“But there are so many....”
“Oh, yeah, there’s lots of them,” he said. “And they all exist in other universes. Copied many times over.”
“Even Bajor?”
“The star? Sure. The planet?’ Rusty shrugged. “You’re the only Bajorans we know of, actually.”
“What about Cardassians?”
“Same thing. Only here.”
“But... there are other Humans, yes?”
Rusty gave her a nod. “Yeah. I think something like only two universes out of fifty or so don’t have Humans.”
“That is strange,” Valys stated. “How can there be so many Humans compared to every other race?”
At that, he could only shrug. It wasn’t something Rusty thought about a lot. “Dunno, maybe we just got lucky in the cosmic dice rolling or something...”
That prompted a quizzical, “’Dice roll’? What is dice?”
Smiling, Rusty began explaining to her, and found that having Valys with him had given the perfect ending to this Christmas Day.
Bomber Atomic Dolphin, Cardassian Space
26 December 2153 AST
08:19 GST
The Atomic Dolphin and the rest of 66th Bomber Squadron were on nearing their dispersal point for an attack on enemy facilities in five local systems when Eastman noticed the three Ikvak-class destroyers shadowing the squadron. He looked to Sheppard and said, "Sir, what do you think about this? I've got three Cardie destroyers on passives, it looks like they're tailing us."
Sheppard looked over and brought up his own sensor display. After about a minute of watching, he turned his head back to Barton. "Get the tightbeam command link up."
Barton hit the appropriate keys and responded, "Command link up, the other squadron pilots are receiving."
Sheppard began to move Atomic Dolphin down and to the left a bit, eventually changing his course by 45 degrees on both axises. After several tense moments, Sheppard's frown grew. "The Cardies are following our course change." He changed course again, making it look like he was zig-zagging, and again they followed the course change. Only on the third attempt did they not immediately change course. "Bastards are tracking us somehow."
"Then why aren't they shooting us?" Rickover asked.
"Whatever gear they're using probably doesn't let 'em track us that well. They know we're in an area but can't get our position down accurately enough to fire. At least, not until we release our boosters." Scowling, Sheppard looked to Barton. "Use the tight-beam, get every bomber to listen closely as we make our next set of maneuvers."
After this was conffirmed, Sheppard examined the location of the destroyers and, after a moment, made a quick maneuver to cut across the length of their formation. The destroyers came out of warp and waited while he cut across again; their commanders probably thought they'd spooked him and were afraid to move now.
Finally Barton's head shot up. "Sir, got something from the Texan Lady and Marisol. They picked up something when passing by the Cardies."
"Well, what did they find?"
Barton looked it over and, after a moment, shook her head. "Just... a stream of data. Nothing specific."
"Good enough for me. Get the positions that Marisol and Texan Lady had when they picked up those beams and relay the data to Rickover. Rickover, find the origin point, and find me a target just beyond it and slightly away."
"Sir?"
"Just fuckin' do it."
"Yes sir."
Tense minutes passed. Eastman looked nervously at the fuel level. "Sir, we can't just coast along like this. We need to head to the target or back to base."
"Not yet. If they're tracking us, a lot of bombers are going to be lost today. I want to get a good shot at shutting them down."
Eastman remained quiet. Finally Rickover finished his work. "The beam seems to be coming from System CUANB-5. And about half a light year beyond it from our current position is the Cardassian system Dukivik. Hasn't been bombed yet and it's got a C level comm station, an orbiting military post, and several cities with light and medium industrial capacity. Not a choice target, but...."
"Good enough. Give me the course data."
A minute later, Atomic Dolphin and the 66th were on their new course. Mere minutes later, the Cardassian destroyers were again shadowing them.
System UCANB-5 (Korvek 339), Cardassian Union
08:33 GST
On the surface of the rocky third planet of the lifeless solar system, a Cardassian sensor station was still under construction even after its vitals had come online. Workers in environmental suits went about setting up better living spaces, defenses, barracks, and other support facilities while the staff did their jobs. Within the core of the growing facility, Gul Rogal sat calmly and sipped on her cup of ropavtek (literally "fish juice") while her staff reviewed the data from the gravitic sensor net that was still growing along the front with the Alliance. Nearby, monitoring one of her senior staff, was the Starfleet "advisor" assigned to help get the systems running, a stoic and somewhat irritating Vulcan named Sutek.
This station, along with others, was responsible for using the gravitic sensors to detect the general location of incoming Alliance bombers and to send in border patrols to shadow and attack them when they arrived on target and started to release their bomb loads, which gave away their locations.
"Commander Sutek, why don't you sit down and take a break?"
The Vulcan man looked back to her with a quizzical look. "It is not logical to waste time when I do not require rest, and I have other stations to visit before returning to the Federation. Therefore, I must decline."
"Suit yourself." Rogal tried not to smirk. Vulcans would make excellent Cardassians save that their devotion to logic undermined loyalty to the State. She went back to watching the displays, and what looked like several enemy bomber formations heading calmly into Cardassia, seemingly oblivious to the Ikvaks that were trailing them.
"Gul, one of the enemy contacts has changed general course. They're heading this way."
Rogal frowned. She didn't like coincidences. "Verify their course."
"Doing so now..." The officer ran the course heading through the computers, getting the proper astronomical data, and finally he replied, "They're heading to Dukivik."
"Dammit." Rogai frowned. The enemy must have learned about the recent transfer of naval supplies there and had ordered bombers to change target. "Put Dukivik on alert. Send two of the ships tailing the bombers directly to Dukivik to be ready."
"Yes Gul."
Bomber Atomic Dolphin, Cardassian Space
10:19 GST
Nearly two tense hours had passed now, and the bomber crew's nerves were slowly starting to get frayed. Sheppard was the least rattled, rolling an unsmoked cigar in his hands while the time to course change was counted down.
When the time came, he sent the proper signal and all twenty bombers dropped out of warp. As the Ikvak shot past, the bombers sharply turned and resumed warp fligght - now heading toward UCANB-5. "Enemy ship overshot us, sir! I don't think they'll have time to catch us before we can fire off the boosters!"
"Barton, tell everyone to get ready. Cockpit to Bombardier, prepare new targeting data. Flying Officer Eastman will be providing your target."
Affirmations answered. Even though this mission had taken a drastic turn for the worst, even though it looked like they had lost the stealth that kept them alive, every man and woman throughout the squadron remained as calm as Sheppard could have asked for.
"Time to target is thirty seconds."
"Get ready...."
System UCANB-5 (Korvek 339), Cardassian Union
10:20 GST
"Gul! Enemy contact heading our way!"
Rogal looked up from a report with widening eyes. The main display in the command center changed to show the anomalous contact on their gravitic sensors - which they presumed to be enemy bombers - now within a minute of their position. "Impossible! Notify all ships, tell them to get here immediately!"
"It will not do you any good," Sutek replied calmly. "There are no ships in position."
"Order all personnel to take cover! Raise our defense shields!" Rogal watched in disbelief as the contacts grew closer... and closer.... She found herself hoping there was only a single enemy, perhaps lacking the firepower to break through their shield.
The contact stopped. There was activity on other scanning systems now, revealing at last the enemy position, but the Yuvak was still twenty seconds away... Rogal swallowed at the number of contacts that suddenly appeared. There must have been at a dozen enemy bombers, perhaps more; their uncloaked boosters were ominous on the screen as they raced toward the sensor post.
"How ironic," Sutek finally said. "My brother died fighting Cardassia, and now I will die protecting Cardassia."
That pompous Vulcan! How can he be so candid that we're all about to be reduced to ash! Rogal wanted to shoot him, but her eyes were fixed to the screens as missile after missile fired from the booster assemblies of the enemy bombers. The bombers were effectively invisible again; gravitic sensors showed they were in the area but it was too late for the Yuvak to attack them.
The first missile exploded against the shield, then the second, then a third that sent a sickening rumble through the facility and told Rogal, in those final moments, that the shield had failed.
The next missile detonated. Intended for an enemy shielded space facility, it was thirty times more powerful than the infamous Hiroshima blast, as were the next missiles. By the time they had all exploded, there was very little to mark the remains of Rogal, Sutek, and the three hundred Cardassians who had been living and building the destroyed outpost.
Bomber Atomic Dolphin, Cardassian Space
10:23 GST
"It's been confirmed, sir. The enemy outpost was destroyed." Eastman sighed. "And that Cardie destroyer is fumbling about like a blind man in the dark. He can't see us anymore."
"Excellent job everyone," Sheppard said before taking another drag from his lit cigar. "Now, find me the closest airbase."
"Yes sir." Rickover looked. "Closest sir is Kagawa Field on Ituk 3."
While Sheppard piloted Atomic Dolphin on course, Eastman frowned. "We're going to be running on fumes by the time we get there."
Kagawa Field, Ituk 3, Cardassian Union (Occupied)
11:50 GST
The engines on Atomic Dolphin finally went silent as the massive B-202F rolled to a slow stop at the very edge of Kagawa's largest runway. The only towing vehicle the new airfield had was ready and waiting for them, latching on within a minute and towing the Dolphin to a berth in the one hanger the small field had so far. Eastman and the others looked around at the workers and standard rates still building parts of the half-finished airfield, which had been intended to host a fighter squadron, not bombers. But large strips were added to all fields for just this occasion, and as it turned out, the 66th Squadron was down to its last five minutes of anti-matter fuel when it came out of warp in Ituk - Kagawa was literally the only field they could've used.
When they were safe in the hanger, Sheppard and crew finally came out. When they did, the field personnel started applauding even while the towing vehicle ran back out to get the next bomber coming in. Atomic Dolphin's crew was a little surprised to see the reaction. "Hey, it was nothin'," Sheppard said with clear false modesty.
The field personnel looked at each other. "You didn't hear anything over the radio?"
"Nope, not at all." Sheppard frowned. "Just what the hell is going on?"
Williamson AFB, New Liberty, ADN Colonial Zone
14:30 GST
Air Marshal Polk's expression was grim as she put down the PDA that her aide Squadron Commander Fyodor Ruslov had handed her. The bearded Russian officer had a solemn look on his face as he waited for Polk to respond. "How in the Hell did this happen?"
"We are still investigating, Sir. The 66th Squadron's report may shed some light on the subject."
Polk swallowed hard, trying to keep her stomach still. "We sent out twenty squadrons. Four hundred of our best bombers. And we get only fify-three back? I want to know what the hell happened out there, I don't want to hear that it's still just an investigation!" Polk tossed the PDA to her desk. "God dammit, this is almost as bad as the Big One. And you can be damned sure they're not going to like this in Washington. The Navy's been nipping at our heels ever since that damned Dale Commission."
"I'll make sure the investigators know how eager you are to get answers." Ruslov stopped for a moment. "Strange that the Cardassians suddenly just knew how to find and hit our bombers, isn't it? They're not the kind of people to hold back if they can use something."
"I don't want any speculation in the press, Commander. Just go get the investigation going and have them keep me informed."
"Yes sir." Ruslov left.
Polk took a few minutes to get a drink, a bottle of green-tinged Saurian brandy that the natives liked so much. With liquor in hand, she went back to reading the survivors' reports. She paid most attention to the one from Squadron Commander Sheppard of 66th Squadron.
Deep in her stomach, Polk couldn't help but feel a sense of dread. The Aerospace Force had taken a bad hit. Who knew what other surprises the Cardassians may have in store now that their situation was becoming more desperate?
Benigno, Nova Savona, United Federation of Planets
27 December 2153 AST
08:10 GST
The household of Maria and Oliver Bennett was a modest one, located in the suburbs of the small city of Benigno near the San Pietro Coast. Oliver was a cynical man, a former Idealogue Party member who had been purged during Deborah Miller's Presidency for advocating increased defense spending. He now made a meager living out here on the frontier, having married Maria Costanza, an older woman who had been beaten and raped by Cardassian raiders during the infamous Cardassian raid of 2347 - known as the "Rape of Nova Savona" and denounced as a lie by PAPAL supporters and the Cardassian government alike - and who lost her husband and children in the attack. Her brother and sister had gone missing as well, just two of thousands of Nova Savonans who disappeared during the attack. Maria had long convinced herself they were dead, but like her entire family she held out the slightest hope she would see them again.
It was a day like any other. Maria worked as a secretary for the city government, and Oliver was a part-time political sciences professor at Benigno Community College. Both were home for the day and sitting at the table, eating quietly. Getting tired of the silence, Oliver turned on a subspace receiver that he had paid years' worth of savings to get and tuned it to Alliance media channels, which were thankfully receptable on Nova Savona. He had long enjoyed this, since the Alliance news services generally tended to have more reach than local news and more honesty than the Federation State Press.
He flipped through them and finally decided on watching Fox Interstellar News, which appealed to him for its strong anti-Federation programming. Maria turned and watched as the footage was, suprisingly, that of a ragged-looking Human. "..officials have allowed some press to review the newly-liberated Cardassian camps. A number of them are dominated by non-Cardassians, particularly Federation nationals." The screen changed and showed a trench with large containers flanking it. "On Christmas Day, special forces liberated this facility, called 'Village 18' according to sources, within minutes of the Cardassian garrison carrying out orders to slaughter their prisoners. The trench was meant to be a mass grave, and the containers are filled with acid so powerful it would likely obliterate any trace of remains that could be used to construct DNA. Now the military is trying to work to identify the people in the village. No word yet on how much cooperation they're getting with the Federation authorities."
Oliver turned the channel off in disgust. He had been in the Party and he knew what would happen; they would procrastinate, cover up, and generally throw any kind of obstacle they could into any kind of investigation into the identities of those poor souls. There was absolutely no way the Party was going to take responsibility for Federation citizens being held by the Cardassians.
Almost getting up, Oliver noticed the look on his wife's face. "Dear, please, don't get your hopes up. I want them to be in there too, but it's been so long..."
There were tears in his wife's eyes. Maria nodded. "Yes, yoiu're right Oliver. But I am going to pray anyway. I want them to come home."
La Plata, Earth, United Federation of Planets
16:15 GST
Once part of the State of Maryland, La Plata was today a moderate-sized town of about 150,000 people, due in part from the settlement of survivors from the nuclear attack on Washington D.C. in the Third World War and now due to several local public housing communities created by the government. It was in one of those communities that the Vickers family lived. It was the morning time and they were together in the home of Regina Vickers. Her teenage daughter Rachel was at the table with her and Regina's brother Matthew, with a late breakfast (or early lunch) on the table. Regina's husband Charles worked a part-time job at a local convenience store that was co-owned by the city government (many businesses were these days).
Rachel turned on the wall viewscreen and switched to the Federation News Service. It was just starting, with the pretty young brunette on the screen introducing her just as the screen flipped on. "The Federation Council voted today to officially condemn the use of napalm weapons by the Alliance military on Cardassian holdouts on Bajor. These weapons, recognized as barbaric and cruel by all races of the Federation, have been described as a jelly material that bursts to flame upon contact with oxygen found in many atmospheres. It is almost impossible to remove and often burns victims alive. The Council has threatened...."
Regina turned the screen off. "Did you hear that? They're barbarians! It's like Colonel Green all over again!"
"Oh, come on Regina, they're not that bad. They're more like the people who fought Green."
"They're still... that is so cruel! I mean, this is all over Bajor and a couple of thousand people killed, and it's all their fault! They kept on pushing the Cardassians, and pushing, and pushing, until finally, what else were the Cardassians supposed to do? They're the victims here, not the Bajorans." Regina took a sip nbefore unleashing her sharp tongue once more. "Those soldiers doing these things are all criminals and should be locked up. Every last one of them. They're worse than Klingons."
"Regina, dear, Klingons are our allies, remember?"
"Only because some of the people at the top don't care. Why, the Klingons are nothing more than bloodthirsty maniacs. Why can't we ally with the Cardassians? They're such better people." Regina shook her head. "And it's just so irritating to see other Humans acting like bloodlusting racists going out to kill aliens. It's... why? I mean, why can't they be like us? Just settle down and enjoy life."
Now, finally, Rachel piped in. "Mother, have you ever thought that maybe the Alliance's soldiers don't have any other choice? My social history teacher has been showing us documentaries on their societies. They don't have a replicator in every home, they're not even guaranteed food and a place to sleep. Most of them have to work just to do that, so they get exploited by all these rich people who control their governments. Maybe those soldiers felt they had to join the military to feed their families."
"If they're having so much problems that they have to become killers, then why don't they vote better leaders in? They have the vote like we do, don't they? And I know that the Federation is sponsoring idealists in their societies who want to emulate us. Instead of going off to burn Cardassian children with those horrible jelly weapons, maybe they should vote in these people and get their own BLN." Regina wagged her finger at her daughter. "No dear, they are not the victims. They're either racist killers or they're idiots who should know better."
"Regina, some of those kids probably sign up for the reason people here join Starfleet," Matthew replied. "Like Old Man Parker's kids."
"Oh, don't go on about them. Old Man Parker's kids are dead now, remember? And that's what they get for helping the militarists in Starfleet provoke wars with our neighbors." Regina shook her head. "I'm not going to let you fill Rachel's head with such nonsense. We don't need Starfleet. We need to be at peace with their neighbors and understand their problems. If we did that, there would be no more wars. But no, we have idiots like Maxwell out here who have bloodlust in their eyes and want to kill aliens! And I hope they keep that fiend locked up until he croaks. No room for racists in our branch of Humanity!"
Matthew sighed. "Regina, dear, you really have a lot of strong opinions, but can you ever be open-minded about anything?"
"What do you mean by that?! I'm open-minded! If I weren't, I'd be just like those people in the Alliance. You know, if you ask me, we shouldn't let any of them move here to the Federation until they prove they're capable of living at peace with everyone instead of wanting to kill people who aren't like them. Otherwise we'll be inviting a pack of murderers and racists into our midst."
"They can't move here anyway, Mom. A lot of them get genetic enhancements as children that make them live longer."
"Ah ha, see? They're so arrogant they fiddle with themselves, they're too good to live like the rest of us, oh no, they have to live longer too!" Regina rather angrily shook her head. "I just can't get over those people. They're so repulsive."
Matthew sighed and went back to eating.
Madred Village 23, Dervak, Cardassian Union
27 December 2153 AST
08:10 GST
The Village was under siege now, with about three thousand Cardassian troops in the immediate perimeter and a few more behind it as reserves. For the previous 24 hours, since they'd arrived in force, they'd mostly probed here, prodded here, and waited to see what kind of reaction that the Village Militia and Black Widows would give.
Now, finally, they had launched their assault, an advance on all sides. The Village Militia were awaiting them in trenches, backed by the Black Widows; Natasha Kerensky had assigned two of three companies to defense "sectors" as individual lances, holding back a company as emergency reserve to prevent any break in the line.
When the assault began, it reminded Phelan of descriptions of the First World War back in his Nagelring classes. The Cardassians, aware of the defenses around the Village, started off with an artillery barrage that lasted an hour. Occasionally reports would come in of Villagers killed or wounded, but the trenches were well prepared and the 'Mechs well-armored; not a single Black Widow actually went down and only some took damage of appreciable scale.
Now the Cardassian advance began, mechanized vehicles with infantry riding on them or within them. Their own design for the village worked against them; they had purposely made its surroundings open and flat to help deal with potential escapes, but now it denied them any kind of cover. They had to come in under full view of the Black Widows and Village Militia. Phelan calmly centered his targeting crosshairs on a Cardassian APC and tensed the trigger for his right arm phaser cannon. A solid beam of reddish-orange energy struck out and speared the Cardassian APC head on. Though there was little visible outside damage save for the impact point, the machine suddenly stopped; the phaser had wiped out everyone inside.
The Cardassians were soon returning fire. They were finally fielding some anti-armor weapons and seemed less intimidated of the BattleMechs, which had finally lost that crucial initial advantage in surprise and intimidation. Several beams came toward him, and four made contact, causing varying damage to Grinner's armor. Phelan crouched and said "Everyone down" to get his lance to repeat the action and make the enemy work harder to hit them. Everyone crouched down.
Everyone except Ranna.
Undaunted, Ranna sprinted forward with her Shadow Cat's MASC system fully engaged. Her shots were a bit off - natural for that speed - but she presented an almost impossible target for the Cardassians. "Dammit Ranna, get back here!" When there was no answer Phelan swore to himself and stood to go after her. "Everyone stay here and give our allies cover fire. Focus on their vehicles, let the Villagers deal with advancing infantry." Phelan broke Grinner out into a run. A hit grazed the left hip of his 'Mech, another the belly of it, and his armor was clearly starting to degrade.
Ranna had closed the distance and was seemingly going mad. She twisted and turned, firing in a pattern that appeared wild and unordered save that it was actually striking targets. It was clear that years of frustration and anger were finally being released.
And it was being released in an effective manner. Though not every shot hit her target, it did make the Cardassians pause their advance in that sector as they tried to focus their firepower on Ranna's Shadow Cat. A shot would miss here, graze there, and a couple looked like direct hits, but Ranna kept on attacking and destroying APCs, even stepping on a few soldiers that had dismounted their vehicles in haste.
Phelan got close enough that his shots were becoming highly accurate as well. Another hit to his torso started eating into Grinner's skeleton but it did not stop him, and the offender exploded a few minutes later from return fire. "Ranna, pull back dammit! Pull back now!" His scanners confirmed what he suspected was happening; the Cardassians were sending in their reserves to push through their section of the front. "You've given them their licks, get the Hell back to the line. That's an order!"
At first there was no reaction from Ranna save a continued attack, but finally the Shadow Cat turned away from the husks of her victims. The 'Mech's armor was missing patches and damaged elsewhere, but otherwise okay. Phelan began to back Grinner up and give Ranna cover as she made her way back to the line. At a third of the distance, she turned her 'Mech and back-pedaled toward the lines, giving Phelan cover fire. Phelan turned and ran back toward the lines. He was about to turn again when a solid beam from an APC hit the back of Grinner's knee. The armor took most of the damage, but it still failed, and Phelan very nearly lost control and fell when the knee locked up. Limping along, he continued on his way. "Fall back, Ranna!"
"I will give you cover until you are safe in the lines. Keep going."
"That's an order Ranna. Fall back!"
She refused, moving and dodging here and there as the Cardassian attack was starting to concentrate on their section. Fire from Phelan's lance and the some of the few anti-tank weapons provided to the Militia by the Dragoons surrounded them; the enemy's main attack had begun.
Phelan turned once more and shouted into the com, "Dammit, Ranna, I said fall back!"
"I am not a coward! I will not run from them!"
Before he could speak again, there was a roar from above. Grinner's computer identified them as Alliance F/A-37s at the same time that explosions erupted all across the enemy's lines. "Reinforcements!" was the shout over the comm.
The air support was soon joined by landing craft. Phelan was still used to the egg or sphere-shaped DropShips typically used for landing ground troops, so it was a change to watch the catamaran-shaped Marine "LCAP"s descend behind and on top of the Cardassians. The 40mm guns on the LCAPs were firing on all arcs, forcing Cardassian soldiers to the ground while the LCAPs hit soil. Twin doors opened on each segment of the landing craft; some disgorged tanks, some IFVs, and many were carrying infantry.
The Cardassian attack broke apart quickly now. Phelan, witnessing the confusion of the Cardassian forces, waited for the order to attack.
It was not long in coming.
12:50 GST
The nightmare was over.
The very fact seemed to overwhelm the senses of the long-term prisoners of Madred Village 23. After years of terror hidden under a bare veneer of civility, they were free. There would be no more surprise raids, no more sudden seizures to be used as subjects in interrogation training, no more suffering. And so they celebrated in their town square, hugging and kissing and cheering their liberators, who with great pride erected the flagpoles from which they flew their standards; side by side, the colored torch-and-stars of the Allied Nations was joined by the fist-and-sunburst of the Federated Commonwealth, a third flag bearing the wolf's head insignia of the Wolf Dragoons and, below that, a newly-replicated flag bearing the symbol of the Black Widow Battalion. In a nod to the people of Village 23, who had so bravely held out and aided in their liberation, Natasha Kerensky and Colonel Alex Rickman - her counterpart in the Alliance Marine Corps' 15th Planetary Assault Regiment - personally arranged for the flying of the Federation flag with their nations' own. The flying of the Federation flag, with its striking field of blue, made some of the villagers begin to cry. It reminded them that they would be finally be going home.
Most would, at least. Though she had a smile on her face, Sharon Carter was not as happy as she should have been. She would be taken as mad if she were to admit it, but she had strangely felt at home here. She had spent more time living in Village 23 than anywhere else, given her early life and the constant need to flee from Federation government agents that wanted to send her and the other colony children of her generation to "facilities" for the "genetically altered".
Kristina came up to her and threw her arms around Carter's neck. After giving her a jubilant kiss on the lips, she squealed "We're going home!" with glee. It took a moment for Kristina to see the look on Carter's face. "Sharon, what's wrong?"
"You're going home, Kristina. I have no home."
It took a moment for Kristina to realize what she had just done. "Oh Sharon, I didn't mean.... you can come back to New Murmansk with me, can't you?"
Carter shook her head. "I can't, Kristina. I'm a fugitive in the Federation, remember? If I go back, I'll end up in a settlement."
"We can hide you! We're on the frontier, they'll never find you...."
"My parents used to say the same thing. And then four months later, we'd be sneaking out the back door while Starfleet Security pounded on the front door." Carter pulled Kristina closer. "I can't go back with you. But, I do love you very much. Too much to keep you from going home."
"Sharon, I...."
"Shhh...." Carter planted a quick kiss on Kristina's lips. "Let's go celebrate the present. We can talk about the future later."
Phelan and Ranna had been summoned back to the Cyrilla Ward, where Natasha was, predictably, getting ready to load back up to join up with the continuing advance on Pelikar. "How long until your 'Mech is repaired, Phelan?"
"The techs promised me it'd be done in 24 hours," Phelan replied. "So I figure 36, since everyone's busy partying with the Villagers."
Natasha smirked. "Oh, don't worry about that. They'll have their party and then I'll have them all pumped with detoxicants to get to work. Now, go get some rest Phelan."
"Yes Colonel." Phelan walked out, leaving Natasha alone with Ranna.
For a moment nothing was said. Natasha walked around Ranna. "Took a lot of guts to rush the Cardies like that. You did a real good job disrupting their advance. It took skill, courage, and luck to pull that off and come back as untouched as you did."
"Thank you, Colonel."
"Oh, don't thank me yet." Natasha stood in front of her granddaughter and frowned, looking her eye to eye. "You disobeyed a direct order from your lance commander to hold position, and then you disobeyed when ordered to fall back! You put Phelan and your entire lance in potential jeopardy because you had your panties in a bunch and wanted to prove something! And I will be damned if I will tolerate that! In the Dragoons, we follow orders! This is not the Clan warrior caste and you are not Goddamned free to follow orders as you please so long as you think you've got the skills to win a fucking Circle of Equals with your superior! If you ever disobey another Goddamned direct order, I will kick your ass to the fucking curb! You will be out of my battalion and I will see to it that you are kicked out of the Dragoons! AM. I. CLEAR?!"
Ranna nodded, her spine straight and her body at rigid attention. "Yes, Colonel!"
"Now get the Hell out of my sight before I get pissed off! Dismissed!"
Watching Ranna leave, Natasha drew in a breath, and then had a private little smirk. Ranna, in her own way, reminded Natasha of herself, and that both scared and thrilled the older Kerensky.
And now, with nothing much to do, Natasha decided to go join the festivities. A good battle and a victory always deserved at least one night of booze and general hell-raising, after all.
The Fox's Den, New Avalon, Federated Commonwealth
Universe Designate MWB-32
28 December 2153 AST
01:45 GST
Communications had changed greatly over the previous years. Where once the leader of a House would have to wait for reports from the field to know how operations were going, now it was possible for news to come immediately. To reflect this truth, the various war rooms and planning rooms of the Davion military command on New Avalon had been overhauled with modern communications and display equipment.
It was in one such room, filled as it was with monitors and holographic displays, that Hanse and his nephew Morgan were getting the latest update from the Alpha Quadrant, directly from Admiral Johnston and Marshal Bisla. The former was with his fleet, now gathering at Dervak, and Marshal Bisla was still on Corwich as joint commander of the FCEF and the Alliance's "Task Force Percival", the designation for their forces protecting the Commonwealth's flank.
"Dervak's main garrison surrendered an hour ago, Highness," Johnston reported, his holographic image flickering momentarily from signal interference. "I am happy to report that we are on schedule so far."
"When can you continue on to Pelikar?"
"Completing repairs on ships damaged at Shervarak and bringing in supplies will take two days, Highness. We are also expecting the arrival of two Alliance carriers that, with Invincible, should give us a good strength in fighters to augment the fleet. However, we are somewhat stretched out and I'm concerned that Cardassian forces watching the Tzenkethi border could be directed against us. We'd be outnumbered five to one by a normal Cardassian border fleet. I would thus like to hold back until after the Alliance's main offensive begins, to see if the Cardassians have anything in the area they're willing to commit."
Hanse nodded. "Marshal?"
"Sir, with all due respect to Admiral Johnston, I believe that we are presented with our best opportunity take Pelikar now. The enemy fleet defeated at Shervarak has already retreated out of the region and all intelligence estimates place the Cardassian fleet on the Tzenkethi border light years beyond Pelikar. If we strike in the next three days, I believe we can seize and hold Pelikar easily; if we wait longer, we give the Cardassians time to regroup and make the battle that much harder."
There, the lines were drawn; the navy wanted caution, the army action. Now Hanse would have to decide which had the greater merit. "And suppose the Cardassians decide to challenge you with the frontier fleet they keep to counter the Tzenkethi?"
Bisla's answer was immediate. "We withdraw and fortify Dervak. If necessary, we ask the Alliance for assistance from the 5th Fleet to hold our position."
Hanse nodded at that. "Still, I do not want to put everything on the Alliance being able to provide aid with their 5th Fleet. They are developing their own offensive and that will be the one that brings the war closer to an end." He looked to Johnston. "Admiral, when you are ready, I would prefer you to move to Pelikar, but do so cautiously and with an eye out for the enemy. Marshal, do not commence any landings of troops until we verify the Cardassians are not going to bring their fleet over from the Tzenkethi border."
"Of course, Highness." Bisla gave a slight nod of affirmation. "May I ask for the progress of compiling reinforcements?"
Hanse allowed Morgan to answer that. "Partial mobilization is continuing, though you are certainly aware that we don't want to risk all of the units with the New Army upgrades, so I'm afraid you won't be getting any more BattleMech regiments or RCTs."
"Given Cardassian equipment and their performance so far, Sir, I'm not really worried about getting more BattleMechs. Give me an armored battalion for every infantry brigade, and a hell of a lot of those, and I'll be happy."
Hanse grinned at that, since it's what he had been hoping for. Morgan nodded. "We're busy forming and raising new non-'Mech formations of two brigades apiece with an attached armored regiment, designated as Grenadier Divisions. It's a new form, yes, but we hope to give it a good operational test in the Alpha Quadrant. The 1st Division is already en route and should be there soon. You'll have ten within three weeks."
"They'll be very welcome here."
"You and your troops, and those of our allies, have the continued faith and support of the Commonwealth, Marshal Bisla, Admiral Johnston. Good luck."
The reply of "Thank you, Highness" came from both Bisla and Johnston, after which their images disappeared.
After a few moments, Hanse looked to Morgan. "Given how much damage the Alliance has caused the Cardassians, do you really think the war will be on long enough for the Grenadier Divisions to see action?"
After a moment, he was answered by a careful reply. "Things look good so far, Highness," said Morgan, "but as I'm sure you know, the war isn't over until the other side agrees that it is."
CDS Droamall, Marull System, Cardassian Union
Universe Designate ST-3
17:10 GST
Home Fleet, 520 warships strong, was now gathering; they were joined by 300 Cardassian ships that were either repaired survivors of prior battles or ships restored from mothballs and crewed as well as they could be.
Amongst them was the Droamall. One of the latest Galor-class ships to join the Cardassian fleet, it was the flagship that Dukat had chosen for the coming battle. Walking through the bridge of the Droamall, Dukat was approached by a 1st Rank Glin. "Sir," the matured Cardassian male replied, "the couriers have confirmed that Gul Ituvek and Gul Parittza are in position."
"Excellent." Dukat walked up to the operations console, ignoring the officer attending to it and pressing keys to bring up the tactical map. At Marull, Kovulak, Palki, Mekelos, and Poruta, the Cardassian fleet was gathering once more. These positions were nearly sixty light years from the nearest Alliance-held system, making detection less likely, and going undetected was a key part of Dukat's plan. "And do we have the linkup with the squadrons observing the enemy's border?"
"Yes, Gul. We're getting hourly updates as to enemy positions, though at some cost. We've already lost two warships from attacks by the enemy."
"It is to be expected."
"Gul, if I may ask, when is the fleet going to combine to go after the enemy?"
Dukat looked to the Glin and shook his head. "We're not going to."
The young officer looked bewildered. "Sir, we're not?"
"No. Attacking the enemy in concentration would be playing to their strength, as the war's battles have proven." Dukat pointed to the map and the different gatherings of Cardassian ships. "I intend to ignore the enemy fleet. Our objective is the enemy's support, the ships they use to move troops and supplies. Preferably, our attack will come down on the moment of their offensive. By attacking at multiple points, I hope to confuse the enemy of my intentions, while our ships wipe out their transports and the troops that are aboard them. Each force, each Strike Group, will go on until it meets substantial resistance, and then it will withdraw."
"Withdraw, sir?"
"Yes." Dukat nodded. "The purpose of this attack is not to drive the enemy out of the territory they hold. It is to disrupt their timing. Hit them hard enough, and they will have to delay offensive action, and every day we gain is a day that another ship can be successfully returned to the fleet, another day for new crews to become accustomed to their duties. We must delay the enemy as long as we can, and be willing to cede territory to him in careful operations to prolong the war and give Cardassian industry more time to rebuild the ships we've lost. That is our only hope now."
"I see, Gul." The Glin nodded enthusiastically. "It is brilliant."
"Perhaps, but it will only be remembered that way if we succeed." Dukat looked to the officer. "Have a courier sent to Gul Gavron. Tell him that the Legate has authorized him to begin his maneuver."
"Yes, Gul."
Wexford Naval Headquarters, New Liberty, ADN Colonial Zone
23:54 GST
The staff for each of the commanders present in the facility were coming and going everywhere, delivering and organizing all sorts of reports and the other minutae of military operation that necessitated the bureaucracy that the field soldiers and officers so despised. Seated together at the table, Simonov, Crawford, Polk, and Lumet were looking over the final plan.
What was being called for now was a sixty-six division assault along the front, starting from the right-most border of control for Field Marshal Bisla's Corwich Front Sector Army to the beginning of the Control Zone that stretched out to Darane and over to the Bajoran systems, under the Bajoran Liberation Zone Sector Army. Six Armies and two Marine Assault Corps, organized into the 1st and 6th Army Groups under the New Liberty Sector Army commanded by Field Marshal Pierre Esterhazy, would strike out from six solar systems taken from the Cardassians in the early offensive of the war. 5th Army Group, with forty divisions gathered in 4 Armies, would remain as the operational reserve. 5th Fleet was to provide the naval support, backed by the carriers Audacious, Kuznetsov, and Akagi and Task Forces 9.2 and 9.4 of the 9th Fleet; marked on the map was also 10th Fleet, which had replaced the 5th Fleet forces that were originally defending Kelos and minding the Alliance border with the Federation and which were now ready to join the war at last.
The mood was frantic. This was the largest military operation the Alliance military had yet launched as an organized body; it was the largest operation launched throughout the known Multiverse since the fascistic European Union of Universe FHI-8 had invaded the Kingdom of Iran in 2141 AST. Over a million ground troops and many thousands of naval personnel would be involved on the front alone; thousands more would be involved in the complex logistics and communications needed to run the entire thing. It was here in Wexford that the center of the storm was, with Fleet Admiral Simonov holding the final authority.
As the clock approached midnight, Simonov looked to the other commanders. Admiral Poniatowski had now arrived and was overlooking some final dispositions for the navy. "We have the preliminary green light from Washington," Simonov finally announced. "For the next three days, I will be relying on all of you to do all that is necessary to make this operation a success, and to give those in the field the greatest chance of victory and survival. When the New Year dawns, the Allied Nations will once again bring vengeance to the Cardassian fascists" - Simonov almost spat "fascist" when he said it - "who have murdered and harmed so many innocent peoples. God will see us through to the end, comrades. With the grace of God and the might of our soldiers, we will advance to Cardassia Prime and strike down the vile snake in its den!" Simonov looked to the operational clock, as did everyone. It displayed "23:59:30". "Set the clock. We launch in three days!"
When it hit "00:00:00", signalling the beginning of the 29th of December, a second digital clock display turned on. It was labeled "D -72:00:00", and immediately began to count down from that to 71:59:59 to 71:59:58 and on.
In three days, at the stroke of midnight to herald in the new year of 2154 AST, Operation: Rolling Thunder would commence.