The Warm Up
DARK TERRITORY:
AFTERSHOCKS
THE WARM UP
USS Tuscarora
Vilkatis Minor System
November 2375
Captain Ra-Nesh clutched his armrests. “Helm full power,” the Efrosian yelled over another the sound of another exploding console. The starship trembled as another barrage sliced through what remained of the shields.
“Aye sir,” Lt. Harper said, before her mouth welled with more blood. She spit out a tooth, and pushed away an errant strand of hair that got in her eyes. She pointed the saucer section in the direction of the wide patches of starless space surrounding Vilkatis III.
“Do it,” Ra-Nesh said, hacking as the smoke from the new fire got into his lungs. The fire suppression system had gone on the blink half an hour ago.
“Sir, there has to be another way,” Commander Jocata Senn tried to change his mind again. If things didn’t go well the captain would miss the obstinate Frunalian. She had taken over the Ops console, after kicking aside the corpse of Lt. Doyle.
“There is no other way,” he rasped; his throat raw. “You know it and I do as well.”
“We should be running away from the disruptions, not towards them,” Senn couldn’t let it go.
“He’s right,” resident Alshain Liaison Officer Worra stated the obvious though absent the typical smugness, “If we can navigate successfully through the subspace fractures emanating from Vilkatis III then we might have a chance to yet bypass the Dominion armada.”
“I would feel more confident if I, or one of my soldiers was piloting your vessel,” Sublieutenant Rusina said, her haughtiness quite intact. The tall Romulan woman stood at perfect attention despite the green blood running down her face from a wound hidden by her mop of unruly black hair. Another Romulan survivor hovered over Lt. Harper’s console, eager to step in. To her credit, Harper didn’t slug him.
Counting Rusina and Mr. Eager, Tuscarora had only been able to beam two dozen Romulans from the warbird Duellona before it had been destroyed by the Dominion squadron pursuing them. Unfortunately, the USS Kliper, one other Romulan vessel and three Alshain cruisers that had comprised their taskforce had been vaped with all hands aboard. Adding that to the several Alshain vessels that had fleshed out the assault force on Vilkatis III and the destruction unleashed from the planet as a result of their strike, the death count was staggering.
Netting less than thirty survivors from a crew of thousands on the Duellona, Ra-Nesh still couldn’t wrap his mind around the reality of such mindless loss, even though he saw it every day, and had dealt death far more than his fair share. But his only concern now was getting his crew home safely. And the Dominion weren’t making it easy for them. The ship rattled again.
“That’s the last of the shields,” the Tactical Officer’s replacement glumly replied. “We’re defenseless.”
“I don’t want to hear that kind of talk on my bridge,” Ra-Nesh snapped. “As long as we’ve got warp, we can outrun these bastards.”
“I…don’t think so sir,” Chief Falconi said from the auxiliary engineering console. He had been running the engines from the bridge until a delta radiation leak could be cleaned up. Fortunately, the blast that had released the radiation hadn’t sufficiently damaged the warp drive.
“The delta radiation’s corrosive effects are working faster than our automated clean up efforts. It will eat into the dilithium matrix chamber in less than two minutes.” Ra-Nesh swiveled around in his seat to look at the bulky engineer through the fading smoke.
“What happens after that?” Rusina asked. Romulan vessels being powered by contained singularities, Ra-Nesh could understand the woman’s curiosity about Starfleet propulsion systems. Falconi looked at the captain before he answered. Ra-Nesh nodded for the man to continue.
“I don’t know,” he said, his face twisting with disgust. “But I can guarantee you it won’t be good.”
*****
Gor Negus
Breen Flagship
Vilkatis Minor System
November 2375
“We must pull back,” Subahdar Rufaro declared, his pinkish, tightly wrinkled face contorting with exasperation. “It is madness to follow that starship back into the locus of the disturbances. Our sensors are reading temporal fluxes and a host of other subspace anomalies spreading from Vilkatis III. There is nothing that can be done to save the Son’a lives lost on that planet. We failed to reach them in time. Let’s accept our losses and return to base.”
“How could you even think such a thing,” Ober-Gul Yarec spat. “Vilkatis was a Son’a world! How could you not want to avenge the deaths of your brethren? Or the loss of vital technologies that could bring an early conclusion to this war?”
Thot Gor snorted in response to the heated exchange. From behind the green visor on his mask, he glowered at the split viewscreen which contained both men. The idea of an alliance with inferior species such as the Son’a or the Cardassians appalled him. However, they both provided excellent cannon fodder.
“I’m done conversing with cowards!” Yarec declared, before severing his end of the link. Seconds later, Gor’s sensor officer informed him that part of the Cardassian attack wing had leapt forward in an attempt to reach the enemy first. Gor ordered Yarec to fall back. He wanted the last kill. It was Gor’s by right as mission commander. Yarec reluctantly complied, allowing the Negus to resume its place at the tip of the spear.
“Nothing less than total victory is acceptable,” he replied to the Son’a commander still online. He watched the main viewer for Rufaro’s confused expression to lessen when their translation device finally deciphered Gor’s words.
Confusion was replaced by exasperation and then consternation. “This isn’t San Francisco or Chin’toka,” the Son’a stiffly replied. “The subspace anomalies make this battle far more in doubt.”
“For you perhaps, but not for Domain Gor.” He glanced around at his kinsmen, manning the consoles. There wasn’t an ounce of doubt or fear in any of them. They had immediately seized on the opportunities joining the Dominion would provide for the Breen. And the solid support of his domain had allowed Gor to rally the other chieftains of the Breen Confederacy into a unified coalition, not seen in centuries, to sweep across the galaxy, something many had often whispered about and dreamed of, but never been able to put into fruition. “We will cease only when nothing remains of the Federation starship but embers.”
Rufaro’s laugh was rasping. “Fine, but you’ll do it without us!” One of his lieutenants looked up from his console.
“Thot Gor, the entire Son’a attack wing is breaking formation.”
“On screen,” Gor commanded. The silvery, scythe shaped ships were vacating the assault force in retreat.
“Shall I order the Jem’Hadar or Cardassians to destroy them,” Sarkos, the Vorta assigned to the assault force as an advisor, casually suggested. Gor had been surprised that the usually loquacious Vorta had watched his exchange with Rufaro in silence. The thot realized it was another sign of the faith the Founder had placed in the Breen, and Gor in particular, to carry the Dominion’s banner forward to victory. First the Cardassians, and now even the Jem’Hadar and the Vorta, had been made subordinate to Thot Gor on this mission. Its success would seal the Breen’s position in the Dominion’s hierarchy.
“No, let the cowards desert us,” Gor declared. “And let it be noted how loyal they are to our cause.” He added. Sarkos nodded.
“I shall avail the Founder of their treachery as soon as we return to Cardassia Prime.”
*****
