STAR TREK: HAVEN
“Redeemer”
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On May 30, 2283, Klingon
forces invaded the Federation
for the first time since the
Four Years War.
Later dubbed the Taal Tan
Offensive, this six month conflict
would go on to cause thousands
of deaths and the destruction
of several dozen Federation
starships.
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Somewhere near Starbase 29
16 October 2283
Lieutenant Commander Kieran Forester was quickly learning why the captain’s chair was the loneliest place on a starship. He was trapped in an eternity of waiting. Waiting, watching, listening. Stars streaked by on the viewscreen as the bridge crew, conspicuously silent, worked with hushed urgency.
Klingon bastards. It was the only coherent thought among what seemed like thousands rushing through his mind. They had suckered him. The first attack group had been a ruse to draw off the Astrad from Star Station Indus. With the Enterprise-class cruiser distracted, a second squadron warped in a few minutes later and attacked Indus, who had sent a panicked distress call to its protector. Kieran had fought off an attempt by his quarry to double back and delay his return, then ordered an immediate course reversal, but it likely wouldn’t matter. The station had nothing else that could hold off a Klingon assault, and its own defense systems were nothing special. Most of the motley arrangement of ships still docked at the station were damaged, and those that weren’t had no business in fleet combat.
Captain Shekev had been on-station when the initial attackers appeared. Their conversation still burned in his mind. ”The station’s raised her shields, Commander, I can’t beam aboard,” he’d said. “You’ve got command. You can handle this, Kieran. Just keep those damned Klingons away from the station.” He’d done that, if nothing else. After a swift exchange of fire, damaging the station’s shields and several of the surrounding ships, the Klingon ships had suddenly disengaged, as though they’d lost their stomach for a fight when Astrad entered the fray.
Forester had had no intentions of letting them off that easy. No, he was going to follow them until they stopped to fight him or until they led him back to their base. At least, until they received the static-filled distress call from the station.
”Astrad, this is Indus… A second Klingon force… come out of warp… attacked …. Shields holding, but… fluctuating… Tamerlane and …. damaged... our... can’t hold out … longer..."
Upon hearing mention of a second group of attackers, Forester’s face had whitened in horror as he realized with blazing clarity how he'd been had. His suddenly weak knees kept him standing just long enough for him to order Lieutenant Fox at the helm to reverse course to the station, maximum warp. Thanks to his own foolish arrogance and itchy trigger finger, he'd left thousands of innocents and Starfleet personnel vulnerable, prostate before a rapacious Klingon attack force.
“Sir, we’re approaching the station.” Lieutenant Fox’s announcement sounded like a gunshot on the deathly quiet bridge. Kieran’s heart immediately started pounding in his ears.
“Bring us out of warp, Lieutenant. Mister Nirkami, ready all weapons. Be ready to lock onto any targets of opportunity.” The voice was his, but he couldn’t remember his lips forming the words. Odd. At least he’d kept his voice from cracking. The last thing he needed now was for his crew to sense the fear that had gripped his mind. He hadn't been on Astrad long - he'd transferred over from Menahga only a few short weeks ago. The crew didn't know him yet, which meant they didn't trust him yet, and like dogs, crews had an uncanny nose for fear in those who commanded them.
"Sir, I'm reading eight Klingon vessels of various types attacking the station and surrounding ships." To Forester's right sounded a new voice - Lieutenant Leskat, Astrad's science officer. "Wait... Sir, the Klingons are coming about. Looks like they're withdrawing, Commander."
Withdrawing? What? You can't do that. Stay and fight me, you god damned Klingon cowards! "And the base, Lieutenant?" The commander's voice had fallen into a hushed monologue, as though he didn't really want to know the answer, but knew he had to ask the question. "The other ships?" The answer to that question he dreaded even more than the answer to the first.
The viewscreen blinked, and an image of the base and its surrounding crowd of ships appeared on the screen. The station itself had been heavily scarred by disruptor fire, and it appeared to be leaning slightly off kilter. "The station's shields are holding at thirty-nine percent; they've taken several hits to the hull. Main power is fluctuating, and it appears several of the station's stabilizers are offline." She looked from her instruments to the image on the screen. “The bastards sure did a number on her, Commander.”
"Don't editorialize, Leskat," Kieran growled. This time, he couldn't keep a slight tremor out of his voice as he chastised the younger officer. He certainly didn’t need to be reminded of the obvious… and the barely discernable edge of recrimination in the lieutenant’s voice reminded him what had permitted the attackers to do said number on the station in the first place. Finally “Ensign Makoan--” - this to the communications officer - “--get me the station.” To himself, he added sotto voce, “See how badly the turtleheads’ve hurt us now.”
"A moment, sir..." rumbled the tri-limbed Edoan. "There's a lot of interference from other transmissions..."
"Then use the priority channel," snapped Commander Forester. "That's what it's bloody well there for." His face flushed with guilt as soon as the words escaped his lips; the current chaos certainly wasn't Makoan's fault. He sighed, but made no apology as he waited.
"Sir, I have the station commander on priority channel. On screen." Makoan spoke again, after a long silence. On the viewscreen appeared the image of a haggard looking Starfleet captain, his grey hair streaked with soot and blood dripping from a cut on his face. His dull features spoke wordlessly to the furious destruction and carnage he had witnessed within the space of only a few minutes.
"Commander Forester, glad to see you back." His tone matched his expression - dull and exhausted. "Good thing you showed up when you did... we couldn't take much more."
Looking at the smoky metallic hell that provided the background, Kieran had trouble finding his voice. He stood, silently, in front of the chair - after what he'd done, he couldn't bring himself to call it his chair - for several moments before he found words. "Captain Jansen, I-- If I'd known they would--" The jumbled sentences spilled from his mouth, to be replaced just as quickly by shamed silence.
"They made fools of both of us, Lieutenant Commander. Captain Shekev and myself both approved your request to pursue." It wasn't a It's not your fault, but Kieran wouldn't have believed Jansen anyway, had he said as much. "It's a moot point anyway... there's nothing to be done about it now. At least we kept the base in one piece." He sighed. "Although we could use your assistance in search and rescue, Commander."
"Aye, sir. If I may, though, Captain, speak with Captain Shekev?"
Captain Jensen raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Apologies, Commander, I forgot you wouldn't have known. Captain Shekev was wounded during the battle." Kieran sighed, and his head slumped resignedly. "He was in a shuttle bay when a torpedo strike caused an explosive decompression in the bay. He made it to a shuttle, but he took several pieces of shrapnel and nearly suffocated. He's in our infirmary now. The prognosis isn't good, but our doctors are the best in the sector. If he's to be saved, they'll do it."
"Thank you, Captain," Kieran replied grimly. "I'll have Astrad join search and rescue operations."
"Very well, Commander. Starbase 29, out."
As Jensen described the incident that had nearly claimed the captain, a soft murmur slowly rose among the bridge crew, and they passed uneasy looks amongst each other. Most of them, notably, had studiously avoided turning their gaze in the direction of the center seat. The ones that had had quickly glanced at him; the emotions poorly disguised in their expressions were varied, but none of them could have been called sympathetic or supportive. Mostly, though, Forester saw little save the backs of each bridge crewman.
I've lost them.
The realization turned Kieran's stomach, but he had other things even closer to his heart to deal with. "Mister Leskat... I believe you were halfway through a report."
"Yes sir," came the flat, monotonous reply. "I'm not detecting Mohawk in the area; there's a debris cloud five thousand kilometers off the port side of the station that would be consistent with the remains of a Renner-class corvette. Dunkerque is a wreck; she's missing a nacelle and I'm reading flames and hull breaches on several decks. Ianar and Tamerlane are heavily damaged-- Ianar's lost her shields and sensors, and I'm reading fluctuations in Tamerlane's power grid-- but they remain under their own power."
"Get me Tamerlane, Makoan. Now." Another smoke and spark filled ruin filled the viewscreen, this time with a leonine Efrosian wearing lieutenant's insignia in the foreground.
"Tamerlane, Lieutenant Ra-kamnaa. What is it,Astrad, we're up to our heads here-- "
"Lieutenant, I need to speak with Katrin. Now." He spoke with an urgency born of panic, as his searching eyes saw no sign of a familiar face among the officers working in the background. He stood, taking several steps toward the viewscreen, and frantically looked for anyone that might have been her.
Confusion warred with exhaustion on the alien's face. "Sir?"
"Lieutenant Heidrich. My wife. I need to speak with her. Please, Lieutenant."
"I-- I'm sorry, Commander. She was in auxiliary control when we were hit amidships by a Klingon disruptor volley. There were no survivors in that section.
"She's dead, sir."
Kieran never felt his knees buckle. He never felt himself falling backward-- until a sickly detached corner of his mind noted he was again seated, badly shaking hands trying and failing to grip his armrests. His terror-stricken mind whirled as his life, in one horribly surreal moment, came crashing down around him.
Käthe…
