TNG: To War and Glory In Every Nebula

[Garm Bel Iblis]

Archer IV had a unique place in Federation history. It was the first M-Class world visited by Jonathan Archer in 2151. Back then, no one new about the eviri pollen that came down every spring from the Korantaq mountain range. His landing party had been deeply affected by the hallucinogenic qualities of the pollen.

Decades later when human colonists had returned to Archer IV, then still called 61 Ursae Majoris IV, and had developed an inoculation against the pollen, the population of Archer IV had bloomed to nearly nine hundred million by the late 24th century. It was on a sunny day, as typically the norm on Archer IV, that the quadrant tumbled into war.


Archer IV Planetary Operations Center, Sato City.

Lieutenant Commander Brian Dekaley was eager to get back aboard a starship. He’d served as chief engineer aboard the USS Apollo for nearly a decade. When Captain Hagen had been promoted to commodore, the Apollo had been decommissioned along with the rest of the Oberth-Class line, finishing out their century of Starfleet service.

Dekaley had been cooling his heels in the DPO on Archer IV awaiting reassignment to one of the new Intrepid or Akira Class ships coming out of Utopia Planitia. Given Starfleet’s recent encounters with the Dominion, ships were being rushed out of the yards before they were fully ready and Dekaley was an experienced engineer who would get them whipped into shape.

He sipped his raktajino as he stepped out of his office and into the small command center of operations and made his usually rounds. Located one kilometer below the surface of Sato City, the DPO monitored all incoming and outgoing space traffic as well as monitoring surface and orbital weapon platforms and keeping track of communications between all Starfleet activity within the system.

“Good morning, people,” he said to his team of five.

A mumble of ‘good morning’ and ‘sir’ greeted him. Everybody hates DPO postings, he mused with a grin. “What’s on the agenda today, Mister Forest?”

Cadet Forest, currently doing his Junior Year Academy field training spun his chair around and sat up straight. “Sir, nothing until seventeen hundred, sir. The USS Centaur is due at Orbital III for retrofitting of their phaser banks and a Barolian freighters due at eighteen forty five for a delivery in New Province.”

“Pretty quiet schedule,” Dekaley concluded, smiling at the cadet’s posture and brusqueness. “Sounds like a good morning to get those sensor diagnostics underway.”

“Yes, sir,” the cadet said eagerly. “We’ll have to take the sensor grid offline for approximately six hours to compete the complete series.”

“Let’s get cracking then,” Dekaley said as the others went to work. He rounded the main console and was about to return to his office when the proximity alarms went off. “Report.”

Lieutenant Pora, a young Bajoran looked up at the master display which showed a sector of space near Orbital IV. “Tachyon surge,” she said, “coming from oh four nine, sector 4.”

“I’m assuming since surging tachyons are indicative of cloaking devices we’ve got a ship up there,” Dekaley said.”

“More than one by these readings,” Pora said. “At least twenty ships… Klingon.”

“Well at least they’re friendlies,” Dekaley said. “Open a channel.”

“They’re not responding to hails,” Forest said. “They’ve de-cloaked, sir, ten birds of prey, five D21’s and five Vorcha-Class attack cruisers.”

“They’re loaded for bear too,” Pora remarked. “Disruptors and torpedoes armed, shields at full.”

“Red alert. Power up ground and orbital weapons. Get the city-shields up. Send a emergency transmission to Starfleet, let them know we need help.”

- - -

The Klingon cruisers with methodical in their attack, the smaller birds of prey fanned out and engaged the orbital weapon platforms, making quick work of the photon cannons and reducing them to radioactive slag. Once the grid had been penetrated, the D21’s unleashed their quantum warheads on the major city’s defense shields, pouring gigajouls on energy, breaking the electrostatic barriers and burying their weapons deep within the planetary crust. Lakes boiled, buildings vanished, millions of people were incinerated.

Finally, nearly ninety years since the Khitomer Conference, the Klingon Empire had shed their shackles and turned against the greatest oppressor in galactic history: the United Federation of Planets.

The ships continued their orbital bombardment until their long-range sensors picked up the distortion in subspace. A Starfleet ship coming in at warp nine point eight.

 

[Garm Bel Iblis]

- - -

“Phasers armed and ready, forward tubes on hot standby.”

The pronouncement from Lieutenant Padraig Daniels made Jean-Luc Picard’s shoulder bunch. “Time,” he said.

“Fifty five seconds to optimal range,” said his first officer. Commander Riker looked particularity troubled given the circumstances. When Enterprise had received the distress call from Archer IV twenty minutes earlier, the entire bridge crew had been shocked.

The Klingons had withdrawn from the Khitomer accords nearly nine months earlier during their invasion of Cardassia, but until this moment, no Federation or Klingon ship had engaged in battle.

“Lieutenant,” said Picard. “Drop out of warp one thousand kilometers from the Vorcha cruisers in sector 4. Mister Daniels, fire a full brace of quantum torpedoes the instant we’re in normal space. Then pick of the birds of prey with the starboard batteries. Once we’ve crippled the Vorcha’s, initiate attack pattern Sierra 24.”

“Ten seconds,” said Lieutenant Hawk from the conn.

“Impulse power,” Picard said, gripping the arms of his chair. “Fire!”

- - -

Will Riker sat at the controls of the shuttlecraft Vance and angled the descent vector. Ahead of them through the forward ports, the remnants of Sato city burned like a blackened husk. Enterprise had made short work of the Klingon fleet.

After destroying the nearly two dozen-ship fleet, Enterprise had shifted it’s priority to saving as many lives on the planet below as possible. Next to him at the helm, Geordi La Forge shook his head in bewilderment.

“It just doesn’t make sense,” he said activating the anti grav thrusters and programming their final descent. The amount of radiating energy from the Klingon weapons had temporality blinded the transporters, so all relief had to be made by shuttles, which was severely hampering rescue operations. The Vance had only recently returned with a group of wounded to the triage facilities set up in the Enterprise cargo bays.

Of the nearly nine hundred million people of Archer IV, only five thousand people had survived. Most of those had lived in outlying towns and rural properties far removed from the major cities, which had all been reduced to smoldering ash.

“Why would anyone want to attack this planet?” La Forge continued. “There’s nothing strategic or important about it. You continue on at warp six for another hour or two in any direction and you’ll be at the Proxima shipyards, the Daystrom Annex on Antares or even the dilithium mines of Coridan. What could an attack on Archer IV accomplish?”

“I’ve no idea,” Riker conceded. “I know they’ve been more aggressive lately since they invaded Cardassia, but something like this…” he waved his hand towards the viewports and the smoldering ruins… “doesn’t seem like their style.”

“Enterprise to shuttle craft Vance, return to the ship immediately.”

Georid hit the thrusts and brought the small craft around and ascended back towards the ship.

“Vance here,” Riker responded. “What’s wrong?”

Picard’s voice reverberated over the com speakers. “A great deal, Number One, all senior staff to the conference lounge as soon as you dock.”


- - -
“The Klingon Empire is tired of words, of negotiation, of the endless delaying tactics of the Federation.

Therefore as of today, a Klingon task force has been dispatched to the Archanis Sector. Starfleet has ten hours to abandon their bases and withdraw their forces from the Sector. Any Starfleet vessels found in the sector after that time will be
considered the enemy and fired upon.”

Let there be no mistake, no misinterpretation of my words. Archanis is ours and we will
take it back. Resist us in any way, and there will be war.

The communication terminated and Jean-Luc Picard turned away from the wall-mounted viewscreen to face his officers gathered around the long conference table.

“That message was received this morning and since then there have been seven Klingon attacks across the Federation. Archer IV was the deepest they’ve pressed into our territory as of yet.”

“What the hell could Gowron be thinking?” Riker demanded. “Relations with the Empire have been pretty rocky the past year, but an invasion?”

“Starfleet’s mobilizing the fleet to counter the offensive,” Picard said. “We’ve been ordered to take command of a contingent of ships defending Vulcan. Mister Data, how soon can we get there?”

“Nine point seven hours at maximum warp,” the android replied.

“Then return to the bridge and make it so,” he said to the second officer. As Data left, Picard turned his attention to Geordi La Forge. “We’re still on our shakedown, how are things shaping up?”

“Hell of a challenge,” La Forge said, his new ocular implants spinning and focusing in on Picard. “The Sovereign-Class is the most advanced piece of technology ever built, and that’s coming from a guy who cut his teeth on a Galaxy-Class.”

Picard giving him a wan smile. “Focus your efforts on the defensive systems. If you have to take things like the science labs and the recreation facilities offline, your free to do so.”

“Aye, Captain,” Geordi said, picking up a data padd and going to work.

The captain leaned forward in his chair. “I know this is a shock to all of you. It is to me. I was the one who installed Gowron as chancellor in the first place. If they hit Archer, there’s a strong possibility that they’ll reach as far as Vulcan. Prepare your people as best you can. Dismissed.”

Everyone filed out of the conference lounge, Riker remaining behind in their wake. “Are we facing the possibility of an all-out war, sir?”

“I can’t get a straight answer from Starfleet Command,” Picard said. “They keep telling me to hold the line and await further orders. It tells me something is going on behind the scenes.”

“I’m sure the diplomatic corps has its hands full,” Riker commented. “But Gowron ejected all Federation citizens from the Empire last year when he abrogated the treaty.”

“We’ve had a few dealings indirectly with the empire since then,” Picard conceded. “Off the official record of course. I don’t know. Something about this entire thing strikes me as staged. When they invaded Cardassia last year, it was because of rumors of Dominion infiltration.”

“You don’t suppose the Dominion has infiltrated the empire do you?”

“It’s possible, but that thinking leads to paranoia, the same that led the empire to attack the Cardassians.”

“It still reeks of a divide and conquer strategy,” Riker said. “I read the reports last year when the Obsidian Order and the Tal Shiar were wiped out in the gamma quadrant. The changeling that had taken over the Romulan colonel said that the only threats left in the Alpha quadrant that could hurt the Dominion were the Klingons and the Federation.”

“If it is a Dominion plot, then stopping this conflict before its spreads should be our primary goal. Take the bridge, Number One, get us to Vulcan at best possible speed. In the meantime, I’ll see if I can get in touch with some friends at Command and see what I can find.”

 

[Garm Bel Iblis]

- - -

Captain’s log, Stardate 50025.4, the Enterprise has arrived at Vulcan and has taken command of Task Force 321. Reports of Klingon incursions near Regulus have placed all ships in the sector on Yellow Alert. We are still awaiting the outcome of the battle in that sector.

Jean-Luc Picard was a born explorer. The very idea of taking command of a battle fleet and engaging in combat was anathema to everything he stood for. Standing on the bridge of his ship, behind the tactical station, he watched the display as two dozen Starfleet ships patrolled the system, all combat systems on standby, ready for the instant a Klingon ship would de-cloak and attack.

“Sir,” said Lieutenant Daniels. “Incoming hail from the Malinche.”

Picard rounded the station and stood before his command chair. The Excelsior-Class Malinche was in charge of Starfleet forces at Regulus and of the unfolding battle in that system. “On screen.”

The forward bulkhead shimmered as the new holographic viewscreen came to life, generating an image of a heavily damaged bridge. Several conduits had snapped loose of and fire suppression gas fell from the upper sections. In the middle of the melee, Captain George Sanders sat in his command chair, a deep gash across his forehead, his right arm lying limp and broken on his lap.

“Enterprise,” he said in surprise. “The Klingons broke the fleet at Regulus. All Federation ships in the system have been crippled or destroyed. Starbase 13 is gone and the last known course of the Klingon ships was straight for your position.”

“We’ll be ready for them,” Picard said. “Do you require assistance? I can have help to you in less than an hour.”

“No, keep your strength in numbers,” Sanders said. “There are thirty ships in that fleet headed for you. I’ve got emergency crews in shuttles out helping stabilize and saving who we can. I’ll contact Starfleet and get our reserves out here to tow us home. Keep Vulcan safe. Sanders out.”

Picard took a step back and fell into his command chair. Regulus was only a couple of light-years away, at high warp, the Klingon fleet could be minutes away. He pressed the com button on the arm of his chair. “Red alert, all hands to battle stations.”

- - - -

Geordi La Forge was not claustrophobic, but he hated zero-g. Danging a meter above the hull of the Enterprise in an environmental suit, secured only by a thin tether made of duranium composite, he oversaw the battle repairs that had been ongoing for the past nine hours.

The Klingon fleet had hit the Vulcan system in a mad rush, breaking the outer defense markers and reaching only a couple a couple of thousand kilometers from Vulcan herself, even taking a few potshots at the surface. Foruntately the torpedoes and disruptors had it unpopulated areas of the Forge and had caused no loss of life.

On the planet anyway.

Of the Twenty-nine ships assigned to protect Vulcan, ten had been completely destroyed, five others crippled beyond repair, leaving the remaining fourteen heavily damaged and licking their wounds.

The hull breach in the engineering section, caused when the shield generators had failed and killed seven of La Forge’s engineers when they’d been blown into the cold unforgiving vacuum of space. With most of the outer hull damage almost repaired, Geordi activated his communicator and beamed back aboard ship.

Climbing out of the environmental suit and helping Chief Parsons put it back in the storage locker, the chief engineer contacted the bridge and informed Commander Riker that the ship was ready for warp speed and could get underway within the next twenty-five minutes.

When he returned to main engineering, he ran through the primary diagnostics of the weapons and shields, finding them back to full. With a small smile, he pushed away from the master control station and sought the quiet refuge of his office.

Seated behind his desk he activated the computer monitor and brought up the system performance results recorded by the computer during the battle. What he found there made his heart ache. “La Forge to Riker. Commander, I need to speak with you and Captain Picard on the double.”

- - -

“I found it when I started running the after-action analyses, comparing actual combat data to the drills we’ve been running the past few days.” Geordi sat the data padd down on Captain Picard’s ready room desk and tapped in a series of commands. The desktop monitor flashed to life with the data transfer and the reports glowed in the dimly lit confines of the captain’s private office.

“Those are huge gaps,” Riker said. He stood next to the desk, his arms foldeda cross his chest.

“Yeah,” Geordi said. “According to the outputs, the phasers were operating at forty percent of normal, the torpedo guidance computer at less than fifteen.”

“That would certainly explain the amount of damage we sustained,” Picard said, “and the fact that it was difficult to engage the Klingons.”

During the battle, tactical officer Daniels had struggled with the phaser locks. They’d chalked it up to the Enterprise’s new tactical array and the mad frenzy in which the Klingons had come in. But when the torpedoes went wide at nearly point-blank range it had rattled Picard and he’d ordered a full investigation. What he saw now could only mean… “Either this ship is woefully ill-equipped and should never have left spacedock, or…

“Or somebody’s damaged the ships weapons array, putting in a bypass to tell us during actual combat that everything’s fine, until we compare the numbers with the combat drills.”

“Changelings,” Riker said.

Picard leaned back in his chair and eyed his first officer and engineer for a long moment before speaking. “That’s quite a leap,” he said. “And let us not forget what that kind of leap did last year during Admiral Leyton’s coup.”

“It’s either changelings, Klingons or a design flaw,” La Forge said. “I’ll know more when the diagnostics are done. There’s got to be a trace of something in the main system that was feeding the false data to tactical during the battle. Once we locate that, I’ll have more for you.”

“Very good, Geordi,” Picard said. “Dismissed.”

La Forge left, leaving the captain and first officer. “This whole thing is getting worse all the time,” Riker said.

“Indeed. I’ve spoken with Admiral Batanides at Starfleet Security. It’s far worse. Captain Sisko just met with the admiralty and has provided intelligence that Chancellor Gowron has been replaced by a Founder.”

Riker fell heavily into one of the chairs across Picard’s desk. “Wonderful,” he said. “What’s his proof?”

“His chief of security…”

“Odo?” Riker asked.

Picard nodded… “was recently inflicted with a disease by his people and forced to return to the gamma quadrant. During their link, which is a melding of some sort, he sensed the other changelings were trying to hide something from him. Gowron.”

“If Gowron’s been replaced,” Riker said, “it’d explain this whole mess. What’s Starfleet going to do about it?”

“They’re sending Sisko and a team in to expose Gowron. Once he’s uncovered, it should restore the balance to the quadrant.”

“Do we have any specific orders?”

“Starfleet wants us to take a taskforce to Bajor. They’re fear is that if Gowron is exposed, it’ll force the Dominion’s hand and they’ll come in through the wormhole.”

“How soon do they want us there?”

“Sisko indicated he’d need at least a week to make it inside Klingon territory and implement his plan. I think we have time for Geordi to complete his diagnostics and find out if f we do indeed have a saboteur aboard.”

“I’ll get Data on it too,” Riker said. “Soon as they’re done, we’ll be on our way.”

“Make it so.”

 

[Garm Bel Iblis]

Chapter:

Deanna Troi flipped up the targeting site of her phaser rifle and squeezed the trigger plate. Three quickly released pulsed of phased nadion energy ripped o the emitter node and exploded with decent precision against the three Klingon targets standing on the ridge four hundred meters away. The sniper lense zoomed out, beeped three times, flashed red and she found her other set of targets. Squeezing the trigger four times, she downed three of the four Klingon soldiers at the sentry post along the outer wall of the outpost.

Shutting down the sniper function, Deanna keyed in the weapons safety interlock and sat back on the cold ground.

“Not bad,” a voice said from the bushes.

A moment later, the barren landscape of Archanis IV dissolved into the yellow and black grid of holoemitters. Lieutenant Daniels emerged from behind the holodeck arch, holding a padd. “Not bad, Commander. You’re up twenty-three percent since your last ordnance exam.”

Troi grabbed the rifle by it’s muzzle and handed it off to the chief of security. “And in two decades of service in Starfleet I’ve still never been part of a ground force attachment fighting anyone, let alone a squad of Klingons. I’m a counselor not a solider.”

“New orders and policies from Command, ma’am,” Daniels replied sheepishly. “All command level officers and anyone with an engineering or security rating above four-beta are required to participate and pass Starfleet Tactical operations every four weeks within a window before during and after the outbreak of hostilities.”

“Those orders weren’t drawn up by Command were they?” Troi asked. “Those sound like more nonsense from our new commander in chief.”

Daniels paused and took a small step back. “President Zife’s doing an impressive job, sir. He’s finally got us on the right track.”

Troi’s Betazoid senses told her that the lieutenant was not at all confident in his statement, but she let it pass. It’d been foru months since Min Zife had succeeded Jaresh Inyo as Federation president. Inyo had been politically destroyed by the efforts of a rogue admiral who’d declared martial law and attempted a Starfleet takeover of Earth, even going so far as to fake a Dominion invasion and sabotage the planetary power grid, terrifying the populace and using fear to turn Earth into a military dictatorship.

A week after the incident, Min Zife, the Bolian councilor to the Federation began making speeches, calling for a more proactive stance against the Dominion. Inyo had been played for a fool, and Zife easily sailed to victory in the elections. Now he was making good on his promises. This new Enterprise was a result of that. Although construction of the Sovereign-Class design had begun years ago, new executive order place a moratorium on families aboard starship for the foreseeable future. The once welcoming environment of a starship posting with your family along had been perverted into a more military application. These new dark, drab uniforms are enough of an indicator of that, she thought.

The quadrant was quickly falling into chaos as the Klingons attacked from without, paranoia about changeling infiltration raged within, and the constant fear of a Jem’Hadar invasion loomed over everything.

Saying nothing further to Daniels, Deanna left and headed for the quiet sanctum of her quarters. She’d just rounded the corner to the nearest turbolift alcove when she lost her footing and was thrown against the bulkhead. The lights dimmed in reaction to the red alert and Riker’s voice boomed over the com. “Red alert! All hands to battle stations.” Troi regained her footing and rushed into the lift, snapping an order for it to take her up the deck one.

She rubbed her head as the tense emotions of the crew sparked and rushed to overwhelm her. The Enterprise had left Vulcan this morning to rendezvous with a taskforce heading to Bajor. They were technically still in friendly waters. But with the damage to the weapons array that Geordi and Data were investigation, this wasn’t a good sign.

The doors parted and she was shocked to see such a panorama of damage. Several consoles along the starboard side of the bridge had exploded, the raging plasma fires were stilling being snuffed out by emergency containment fields. Two crewman lie on the deck, one of them, a young Vulcan ensign was missing the lower half of his forearm, no doubt sliced off when the forcefields snapped on. Green pools of copper-based blood pooled on and around him as a medical tech quckly worked to stabilize him and get him to sickbay.

At tactical, Will had taken over in Daniel’s absence. “Two more coming around,” he said to the captain who was in his command chair and griping the armrests tightly.

“Status of shields,” Picard said, as Troi took her seat at his left.

“Only up to twenty percent,” Data reported. “Their inittal attack hit us with our pants down.”

Troi tried desperately not to laugh at Data’s quip, the android still trying to come to grips with his newly found emotions.

“Mister Hawk,” Picard said to the lieutenant at the conn, “continue evasive. Number One, weapons status?”

“Phaser locks are as accurate as we can get ‘em,” Riker said.

“Fire at will.”

The first officer nodded and went to work, unleashing one hellish barrage after another against the attacking ships. Troi activated her monitor and tied into the sensor array. Three Klingon birds of prey and an old D-13 battlecriser swarmed about.

“They hit us when we went through the Ventura Void,” the captain said.

Troi was familiar with that particular anomaly. It spanned forty light-years on their course out of Vulcan space and a detour around would’ve added a couple of extra days that theydidnt have to spare. “Did Geordi and Data get the problem with the weapons fixed?”

“Yes, a small interlock was found in the primary eps grid,” Picard said as the ship lurched to port and Riker let loose with another spread of weaposn fire. “It acted like a governor on the pahsers, reduing their effectiveness and confusing the torpedo guidance system.”

“Any suspsects?” she asked quietly.

Picard shook his head.

“The birds of prey have been destroyed,” Riker said, as Daniels emerged from the lift and took his station. “The battle cruiser’s taken a direct hit from a quantum torpedo in their engineering section. They’re not going to last much longer.”

Picard stood, adjusting his tunic and taking a few steps forward. “Hail them.”

Daniels sent the message and looked back to Picard, shaking his head. “No reply.”

“Then open a wide-band channel,” Picard said. “Klingon vessel, this is Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the Enterprise. Your ship is crippled. There’s no honor in dying from a crumbling ship and a damaged warpcore. I offer you a chance to beam aboard my ship and live to fight antoher day.”

The forward screen shimmered, a Klingon captain stood on his bridge, his officers lying dead around him. He placed his fist on his heart. “I salute you, Picard. You’ve bested me, but you fought well. Die with honor.”

The image winked out and the Klingon ship exploded.

Picard bowed his head and gripped his fists in anger. “This utter waste of life must end,” he muttered. “Mr. Hawk, resume course to the rendezvous point, maximum warp.”

Troi watched as the captain sighed heavily, gave the bridge to Riker and entered his ready room. She was immediately on her feet and sounding the chime for entrance. The doors parted and she stepped in. Picard sat behind his desk, reading over a series of reports on his computer.

”Yes, Counselor,” he said after a few moments. “What can I do for you?”

”I wanted to make sure you’re all right,” she said calmly, taking a seat across from him. “You’ve been taking this rather personally.”

“I was the one who installed Gowron as chancellor. What if he hasn’t been replaced by a Founder? What if all of this is my fault, because I let K’mpec bully me into the role as Arbiter of Succession?”

“You followed Klingon law,” troi said. “Even when it went agaistn Federation security you gave the Duras claim a full vetting. If you hadn’t installed Gowron, Duras would have come to power with Romulan backing. We would have been at war years ago and stand no chance against the Dominion, the Borg, or anyone else gunning for us.”

Picard smiled softly at her attempts to make him feel better. “Thank you, Deanna, I’m just not much for war.” He stood and looked out the window as the stars streamed away at high warp. “And it’s coming. This incident with the Klingons is only a preview of things to come. If it is a Dominion plot to destabilize the quadrant, it’s working beautifully. With the Cardassians crippled and the Romulans still licking their wounds from last year, the Federation is the only intact power that stands any chance of stopping them.”

“We’ll stop them,” Deanna said. “If the Gowron Changeling is exposed, it’ll at least restore the status quo from before, it may not re-ignite the Khitomer Accords, but it will bring a period of peace so we can refocus ourselves on the Dominion threat.”

“Your sounding very much like the president,” Picard said. Troi bristled visibly at the accusation, causing Picard’s eyebrows to raise. “I’m sorry. Did I say something wrong?”

“No,” she said quickly, looking away. “It’s just that you’re the second person today to bring up the new administration and their new anti-Dominion efforts. I just haven’t gotten used to this militarization of the fleet.”

Picard tugged on the black fabric of his tunic. “Neither have I. But it’s not unprecedented. Starfleet was only around for a decade or so before the Romulan Wars of the twenty-second century. Through that, and constant conflict with the Klingons during the twenty-third, Starfleet has always been at a sense of alert because of hostile powers. The Cardassians, the Talarians and the Borg have been at our borders for the past few decades alone.”

“Captain Picard to the bridge,” Riker’s voiced boomed.

Picard was immediately through the door, Troi in his wake. “Report,” he said, moving towards the center fo the bridge.

Riker pushed away from the tactical console. “We’ve got a distress call from the
USS Gorkon.”

Picard seethed. Gorkon was in command of the taskforce that Enterprise was racing to link up with. “How far?”

“About two light-years,” Riker said. “There’s so much radiation from weapons fire that sensors can’t get precise reading on their position.”

“Data,” Picard said, moving towards ops. “Can you compensate.”

“Already on it,” Data said. “Sensor re-calibration online.” He sighed heavily, his emotions boiling towards the surface. “All Starfleet ships assigned to taskforce Delta-4 have been crippled or destroyed. No sign of Klingon ships.”

“Time to intercept?” Riker asked.

“Fourteen minutes,” Hawk said.

“Take us to battle stations, Number One,” the captain said with a resigned sigh.


- - -

​

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[Graywand2]

This is really good. I can't believe no one's updated this before.

 

[Mistral]

Interesting-but one nit to pick. The Enterprise demolishes 4 Vorcha-class cruisers and its support fleet by itself but gets mauled when the Federation fleet equals the Klingon one in the next encounter? Yeah, I know, they weren't firing at full power but still-the first battle just seemed unrealistic.It threw me off for the rest of the story. Sorry, but there it is.

 

[Garm Bel Iblis]

Will Riker had climbed through forty Jeffries tubes before finally ascending through the final section and pushing away the hatch on Deck One of the Excelsior-Class USS Gorkon. To his lack of surprise, the bridge was like the rest of the ship, a burned out husk, barely a sliver of light emanating from the emergency glow panels on the bulkheads.

Riker swept his tricorder with this left hand, his palm beacon with his right. The scanner emitted a tone, indicating a single life form was present. The first officer pushed forward through the dark, security officer Tuttle and Med Tech Branson following close behind. They came to the source of the reading. A human female in command red lie motionless on the deck. The rank pips on her collar showed her a full commander. “This is Commander Piñiero, the first officer.” He remembered her well, she’d been the transporter chief on the Potemkin back when he was a lieutenant. She was good, solid officer, and he was glad she was alive.

“She’ll be just fine,” Branson said, reviewing her medical tricorder. “I’ll need to get her to sickbay.”


Riker nodded and a few moments later Branson and Piñiero dissolved in the quantum mist of a transporter beam. Riker swept the darkened bridge again, trying not to let the sea of dead bodies overwhelm him. Finally he came to the command chair and his heart sank as he saw the Gorkon’s skipper, Captain Eaton slumped forward on the deck, his neck snapped at an impossible angle.

“La Forge to Riker.”

“Go ahead, Geordi, and I’m only in the mood for good news.”

“Sorry, Commander. Warp core’s shot. The entire injector assembly’s slagged to hell and back. She’s not even strong enough to be towed at warp. It’s gonna take a couple of weeks to get her spaceworthy again.”

“Any survivors in engineering?”

“No. They were are killed when the plasma coolant tanks breached.”

Riker winced. Plasma coolant liquefied organic material on contact. The gruesome deaths those men and women had suffered was too horrible to imagine. “All right, assemble your teams and beam back to the ship.” He tapped his combadge twice, terminating that link and opening another. “Riker to Crusher. Any other survivors?”

“Six in all, including Commander Piñiero,” Beverly replied. “I’ve got them back here on the Enterprise.”

Riker shut down the link and slammed his tricorder shut with a resounding snap. Tuttle jumped, visibly shaken by Riker’s raw show of emotion. “Riker to Enterprise, there’s no one left to save here. Beam us up.”

- - -


Jean-Luc Picard sat at the desk in his quarters, sipping a cup of too-cold Earl Grey. On the desktop monitor the face of Admiral William Ross was glowing in the darkness.

“So no ships survived,” Ross said.

“I’m afraid not,” Picard said. All in all fifteen ships had been lost, with only forty-seven survivors from across all ships. “We’re prepared to continue for Bajor and offer what ever assistance we can.”

“Good,” Ross said. “I just got word that Sisko left DS9 this afternoon for Ty’Gokor. Gowron’s moved military headquaters there. One way or another we’ll stop worrying over this soon enough.”

“I understand,” Picard said. “Do you have any specific orders for us?”

Ross shook his head. “Just hold the line. If this is a Dominion plot, there’s a chance they’re going to come out of that wormhole. I’ll let you defer to Sisko’s XO on the station, she’ll be able to bring you up to date on local politics.”

“Are we authorized to enter the gamma quadrant?”


“That’s entire up to you, Jean-Luc,” Ross replied with a sigh. “We have a communications relay on the gamma side with a pretty impressive sensor array. It should give you all the data you need. But if you feel it’s necessary, then by all means, you’ve go the authorization.”

“Understood. We’ll be departing with in the hour. We should reach Bajor by thirteen hundred hours this afternoon.”

“Good luck, Captain. Ross out.”

The image winked out, briefly replaced by the seal of the Federation. Picard finished last of his tea, putting the cup in the matter reclamator and dissolving it back to base materials, store as energy in the ship’s energy grid. He turned back to the paper work on the desk. Casualty lists for the battle that had unfolded out here. The most damning thing of all was there were no Klingon vessels in the debris, only Federation. These attacks were continuing to build, Starfleet either had to turn things around or put an end to the war as fast as possible.

<><><>

Enterprise raced across the remaining stretch of space to the Bajoran system without incident.

“We’re nearing the station,” reported Hawk.

“Ops has cleared us for upper pylon two,” Daniels said.

Picard nodded and cleared the ship to dock. As they came in they saw two damaged Federation ships docked along the lower pylons. A Nebula-class and an old Miranda-Class ship. Each one had been ripped open by weapons fire.

“The Armstrong and the Drake, sir,” Data said. “They were ambushed by a Klingon battle group in the Durane system.”

Picard shot a look at Riker. He knew his first officer had been offered command of the Drake prior to signing on his as XO. “Inform the commander of the station that I’m at her disposal.”

“Major Kira says she’ll meet us at the airlock when we dock,” Daniels said.

“Very well, Mister Data you have the bridge, continue docking procedures. Number One, Mister Daniels, your with me.” He led the two men into the turbolift and Picard ordered it to take them to Deck five, starboard airlock one.

“What’s your plan?” Riker asked.

“I’m still coming up with one,” Picard replied with a small grin. “I want to get confirmation of Sisko’s arrival on Ty’Gokor and get an assessment of Starfleet activity in this sector.”

The lift slowed, came to a halt and opened on the rarely used docking corridor outside the primary airlock. A few minutes passed before the clanks sounded and the air levels equalized.

“Docking procedure complete, airlock pressure equalized,” said the computer.

As the airlock hissed open and revealed the long stretch of cooridor that led into DS9, the three officers were met by Major Kira Nerys, the station’s XO.

“Welcome back to DS9,” the very pregnant major said.

“Hello Major,” Picard said. “I suppose my first order of business is to place the Enterprise at your disposal.”

Kira nodded curtly. “That’s good to hear. With all of the attacks in the adjoining sectors, we need all the help we can…”

“Ops to Major Kira.”

“This is Kira,” she said, tapping her combadge.

“Incoming transmission from Ty’Gokor. It’s Captain Sisko.”

Picard and Kira exchanged glances and the major smiled. Picard pointed his thumb back over his shoulder towards his ship. “I’m near upper pylon three, route the call to the Enterprise. I’ll take it there.”

<><><>

“It was General Martok.”

The pronouncement by Sisko was shocking to say the least. The captain had recanted their tale on Ty’Gokor that led to Worf challenging Gowron to prove in fact that HE was the shapeshifter, when all along it had been his chief of staff.

“The word’s gone out to all Defense Force vessels to stand down,” Sisko said. “Whether they’ll obey is another reason.”

“Meaning once the battle’s begun, they will stop at nothing less than victory.”

Sisko, behind his surgically altered Klingon disguise eyed Picard with a cautious eye and nodded a fraction of an inch. “That’s right. He’s adamant to get our governments talking again and stand against the Dominion threat. Personally I think with the changeling threat actually appearing in his inner circle has him rattled.”

“What are our orders, Captain?” Kira asked. “And when will you be back?”

“We’re already headed home,” Sisko said. “Eager and ready to get rid of this,” he added, tapping the cranial ridges. “As for you, secure the sector, and put the station on Yellow Alert. Captain Picard, if you wouldn’t mind staying around a couple of extra days, the added protection against a possible Jem’Hadar sneak attack would be greatly appreciated.”

“Of course,” Picard said. “Command’s authorized a scouting mission into the Gamma quadrant if it’s necessary.”

“The communications relay’s been picking up stray Jem’Hadar warp signatures at the very edge of sensor range,” Kira said. “Perhaps showing the flag wouldn’t be such a bad idea.”

“I’ll leave that up to your discretion,” Sisko said. “You’re there, I’m not. We should be home tomorrow night. Sisko out.”

As the comlink terminated, everyone in the conference lounge breathed a heavily sigh of relief.

“That was close,” Riker said, taking his seat.

“We took a hell of a beating though,” Daniels said. “Over fifty ships lost, more than a hundred crippled. We’re going to need months to get the fleet up and active again.”

Picard and Kira remained at the head of the table. “Number One, put us on yellow alert. I want to undock from the station and be prepared for anything that comes at us.” He turned to Kira. “Major, I’d like to take the Enterprise into the Gamma quadrant tomorrow morning and run a few scans of our own for Dominion activity.”

“Of course,” Kira said. “I’ll clear a launch window for you at oh eight hundred. In the meantime, please enjoy the station. Even with a war on, the Promenade’s always open.”


<><><>

Data laughed. Hard. He wiped the simulated tears from his eyes and took another drink of synthale. Next to him at the table, Geordi and Commander Riker shared a tired exchange of sighs at the android’s incessant ‘humor.’

They’d spent the past five hours getting the Enterprise ready for her scouting run into the Gamma quadrant and had finally crashed here in Quark’s about an hour ago. And in that time, Data had recanted lame joke after lame joke running some sort of new ‘bar’ program.

Data stopped laughing when he saw the tired expressions on La Forge and Riker’s faces. “That was not funny, was it?” he asked.

The two men shook their heads in unison.

Data sighed. “I will continue to refine my programming,” he said, taking another swig of ale.

“Gentlemen!” came a high pitched voice from the bar. A squat Ferengi came at them. “Crewmembers from the famous Enterprise in my bar!” He came to a stop at their table. “I’m Quark, the owner of this establishment. I remember you, Commander Riker,” he said with a wicked grin.

“I’ll bet,” Riker said. “I was the one who cleaned you out the last time I was here.”

“Yes, well, the dabo tables are always at your disposal,” Quark said. “But I’m here on a matter of business. You see, a couple of years ago I was the head negotiator for the Grand Nagus in establishing a supply line of tulaberry wine from a supplier in the Gamma quadrant.”

“The Karemma,” Data said.

Quark was taken aback by Data’s knowledge of his business. “Y- yes, that’s right,” he said. “Anyway the Karemma have been cut off from trade with me and all Ferengi just in the past two weeks. Daimon Gor, he’s the captain of the Ferengi freighter Pleekta’s Pride, was scheduled to come through the wormhole fourteen days ago. He was the last Ferengi ship on the Gamma side and his last message said he was passing the outer borders of Dominion space.”

“And you want us to look for this ship?” Riker asked. “Why doesn’t Zek send a rescue ship to investigate?”

Quark lowered his voice. “The Pride’s secondary mission was the tulaberry wine franchise. It’s primary mission was a little more involved.” He pulled a padd from his breast pocket, thumbed it on and handed it to Riker.

The commander’s eyes widened in shock. He looked back to the Ferengi bartender. “Thanks Quark. I owe you one.”

<><><>

Jean-Luc Picard couldn’t sit. He paced the conference lounge waiting for the admiral to finish speaking. On the viewscreen, William Ross confirmed the information provided to Riker by the Ferengi Quark.

”So the Federation has contracted with the Ferengi Alliance to search for the survivors of our lost ships in this Gamma quadrant,” Picard stated at last.

“That’s the long and short of it,” Ross said. “It was pretty low-key. Since the Ferengi weren’t being harassed by the Jem’Hadar, we convinced Zek to look for the crews of those lost ships: Proxima, Sarajevo, Maryland, Odyssey. Intelligence thinks they may have been imprisoned by the Dominion. The Ferengi were our best asset to get in behind the lines and peak around.”

“Did they find anyone?” Riker asked.

“A few. A couple of traders from a freighter, three survivors from the attack on New Bajor. But with the disappearance of the Pride, it’s a safe bet they find something and the Jem’Hadar attacked.”

“We’re getting underway in nine hours,” Picard said. “We have the coordinates of the last known position of the Pride and will investigate.”

“Good luck, Captain,” Ross said, terminating the link.

Picard turned back to his officers. “Prepare for departure. Schedule a series of battle drills against a Jem’Hadar squadron. I don’t want to go in there weapons ablaze, but we need to be prepared. Dismissed.”

 

[Graywand2]

Well, that's an interesting development. Let's see what happens. Hurry up. I meantime will update my own story.

 

[Mistral]

Interesting. Kind of a look from a different window at events we've already seen.