Bridge, U.S.S. Boudicca
Ronara Sector, Cardassian Border
Stardate: 37369.7
The U.S.S. Windsor took one final hit before exploding in a fierce fireball, which was quickly extinguished in the vacuum of space. On the viewscreen, Captain Alynna Nechayev watched helplessly as the Ambassador-Class vessel was lost, their flagship with over seven hundred people on board. She clenched her teeth and dug her nails into the arms of her command chair, silently cursing the Cardassians.
“Captain, our formation is collapsing. The Achilles and Othello are being overwhelmed,” stated Lieutenant Zhao from the science station.
If they didn’t act quickly, the task force would be wiped out. Nechayev had vowed to give her life to protect the Federation and uphold the values of Starfleet, but she refused to let herself go down without giving it her all. The U.S.S. Boudicca was a New Orleans-Class frigate, a vessel designed to fight, and fight she would.
“Commander Chambers,” she called to her first officer, “tell the Ticonderoga to back up our starboard flank, then have the Val’Sor, T’Kala and fighter squadron three form up on us.”
“Aye sir,” he replied immediately.
“Conn, set a course to punch us straight through their ranks. Tactical, all power to forward shields and ready full torpedo spread, all launchers.”
Both officers confirmed their orders without hesitation. In the ten years she’d commanded the Boudicca she’d put together a crew she could be proud of, even when given orders that sounded crazy, they didn’t question or pause in their duties. It came as little winder she’d earned the nickname ‘Ice Queen’ among some of her peers, not that she’d ever let it bother her, discipline and order was what was needed in Starfleet—attributes her ship was a pinnacle of.
“Reinforcements in position, sir.”
“Full impulse. Engage and open fire.”
Flanked by the pair of Miranda-Class ships, with twelve small attack fighters in formation around them, the Boudicca barrelled towards the Cardassian fleet. She’d known going into this mission they’d be outnumbered, though estimates had been twenty to twenty-five ships (determined to mostly be Brinok-Class patrol ships and Rasilak-Class light cruisers) in the region, the ten strong Starfleet task force was deemed sufficient for those odds. When they’d dropped out of warp to make their attack run on the supply depot, they’d found those twenty-five ships, along with fifteen others (made up of Janissary-Class heavy cruisers and Vasad-Class frigates). Some idiot at Starfleet Intelligence had really messed up, they’d just better pray that she never find out who it was.
All three of the Boudicca’s externally mounted torpedo tubes launched photon after photon. Before they’d left Starbase 47 she’d requested a double stock of ordinance, having a very uneasy feeling that their mission would require it. Their support ships followed suit, firing everything they had, blanketing the Cardassian line with devastating firepower.
“The T’Kala is slowing down,” stated Zhao.
“Commander, tell them to maintain full speed, we’re punching through!”
For her tactic to work, she’d been banking on the Cardassian gul’s underestimating them, believing that with the loss of their flag ship that their task force would fall apart, making them easier to pick off. By charging at them, full speed with weapons firing, she hoped to catch them off balance. Her gambit paid off.
The Cardassians scrambled to get clear. A few weren’t fast enough and were quickly taken out with the incoming barrage of torpedoes and phaser fire, but the rest scattered, opening up a hole in their formation.
“Tell the others to continue to the station and launch the attack,” she instructed Chambers. “Conn, bring us back around. Commander Singh, target the heavy cruisers.”
“Captain, looks like the task force is rally once again,” Chambers announced, a note of hope in his voice. “The Ticonderoga has taken care of the ships that were swarming the starboard flank, but it looks like the Achilles has taken heavy damage.”
“Have the Izumo give them cover, get the Ticonderoga and Othello back in the fight. Also, have fighter squadron five advance to the station.”
“Aye sir.”
As the task force regained its footing, seizing the brief shift in momentum her attack run had afforded them, Nechayev never let up. Ever since her Academy days, she’d demonstrated her skills in strategic operations and tactical combat, using all she had at her disposal to claim victory—she was one of only five cadets in two centuries to beat the infamous Kobayashi Maru test, and one of three that hadn’t resorted to cheating. She always looked at the bigger picture, looking towards longer term goals even at the expense of short-term losses. In this battle they’d already lost one starship, another was crippled and most of the others had taken a beating but kept on fighting, but their mission was critical; this supply base was one of the key staging grounds for Cardassian forces across two sectors, it’s destructions would hamper their efforts and give Starfleet a much needed advantage. They had to take it out before—
“Captain, multiple warp signatures incoming!”
“Ours or theirs?”
“Theirs sir.”
“Damn.” She looked up at her first officer. “What’s the status of the Achilles? Are they warp capable?”
Chambers glanced at a screen, then looked back at her and shook his head. “They report their port nacelle is depolarised, multiple warp coils are fused and their venting drive plasma.”
“Have the Izumo either prep for a warp tow or being evacuation.”
“Sir, two Galor’s have just dropped out of warp!” cried Lieutenant (j.g.) Danix from ops, his voice tight with fear. “Make that five. No. E…eight Galor-Class warships.”
She spun back to the young Denobulan, the newest addition to her senior staff. “Where?”
Give him his dues, he was stressed, anxious and fearful, but he didn’t hesitate. “On the far side of the planet, bearing two-twelve-mark-four, closing fast. ETA, four minutes.”
They’d been fortunate when arriving in the system that the Cardassians hadn’t deployed their newest warship to defend the outpost, but most of them were engaged in fighting on the frontlines. With eight of the cutting-edge cruisers bearing down on them, the remaining starships didn’t stand much of a chance. They had to make their move now.
Nechayev hit the companel on her armrest, opening up a channel to the ships and fighters that remained. “All ships, break off and make an attack run on the outpost, we’ve got to take it out, now!”
None of her fellow Captains questioned it. In quick succession, they all landed a few more hits on the ships they were engaging before veering off and heading straight for the station that was their objective. Fortunately, Intel had been right in their assessment that the station was only minimally armed, relying on the ships surrounding it for protection. She held the Boudicca back, giving them cover as they each launched their attacks, all aiming for the reactor core at the bottom of the base—the T’Kala and Val’Sor having done a good job at weakening its shields and taking out its weapons.
When their opportunity arose, she took it. “Attack pattern delta-two, engage.”
The New Orleans-Class ship dove in, every available type-IX phaser firing as her three launchers bombarded the station with torpedoes. At full impulse, their run was brief but effective, causing massive damage to the reactor housing. They were followed by the Thelin, the older Excelsior-Class ship fired the killing blow, a pair of photon torpedoes plunged into the breach and connected with the reactor and fuel pods once safe inside.
Just like the Windsor, the destruction of the station was brilliant, the viewscreen automatically responded and dimmed the intense explosion that engulfed the supply station, sending debris and dust out in every direction.
Their mission was a success. It was now time to hightail it out of the system, preferably avoiding the Galor’s.
“Lieutenant engage escape course. Maximum warp as soon as we clear the planets gravity well.”
“Aye sir.”
* * * * *
Sector Commander’s Anteroom, Starbase 47
Iadora Sector, Cardassian Border
Stardate: 37392.1
It had been eight days since their successful attack on the supply station. As the task force ships were repaired and the injured were treated, Nechayev and her fellow Captains filed after action reports before been drilled by the admiralty and having every detail of what had happened picked apart by analysts.
The Achilles had been deemed too severely damaged to hold up to a warp tow, so had been abandoned and scuttled, so as to not fall into enemy hands, which meant they’d lost two ships as well as two squadrons of attack fighters. Given what they’d been up against, it was amazing they hadn’t lost any more. Nechayev has said as much in her report and following interviews, she’d also called into question the lack of accurate information about the enemy’s fleet composition and lack of contingency planning had their mission fallen apart as quickly as it had done.
She knew it was a gamble to highlight such flaws, but had she not thought about such failures and made contingency plans of her own, then things could’ve been far worse.
The door to Admiral Beckett’s office whispered opened, causing her to stiffen her already ramrod straight posture, as she looked at the entry as Captain Dylan O’Shea, formerly of the U.S.S. Achilles, emerged. He gave her a nod, a crooked smile flashed through his beard before he headed past her and out of the anteroom to the Admiral’s office. She was surprised to see him look so chipper, as after this round of interviews and incident reports he’d be facing a board of enquiry due to the loss of his ship.
A chirp sounded from the work terminal of the Admiral’s attaché. He looked at the panel then up at her. “The Admiral is ready for you, Captain.”
She gave him a curt nod, rose and headed for the doors. A quick tug on her red and black one-piece uniform, she tapped the enunciator and got an immediate response.
“Enter.”
Letting out a quiet breath, she stepped through the opening door panels and into the Admiral’s office. It was a comfortable space, festooned with pictures and trinkets gathered from across the quadrant, the results of a lifetime spent serving the Federation. Annette Beckett was not an imposing woman by anyone’s standards, not even reaching one-point-five meters in height with a slight (some might say frail) build, but there was something about her that filled the room.
Nechayev approached the desk and stood at attention before the flag officer. Beckett picked up a bone china teacup, gave the contents a soft blow before taking a sip and setting the cup back down, all the while her eyes were fixed on the starship captain before her. Beside the antique cup and saucer were a small stack of PADDs, no doubt containing the reports from all those involved.
“It looks like all the rumours I’ve heard about you are correct, Captain.”
She remained quiet. Even she knew that the ‘Ice Queen’ had developed a reputation in the fleet, with a number or rumours and jokes making the rounds about her there was no way of knowing just what the Admiral had heard. She knew that there were some that had issue with her manner or approach to command, including a few former officers she’d had to transfer for not meeting her standards, but her methods got results—their most recent mission was a testament to that.
Beckett took another measured sip.
“Oh, for the love of,” the Admiral muttered, “Captain, sit down and relax.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Taking the offered seat, her back remained straight, expression neutral, hands clasped on her lap with fingers interlaced. Beckett chuckled quietly and sat back.
“Captain Nechayev, if it weren’t for your actions on the current mission, it would’ve failed, and Starfleet would’ve most likely lost the entire task force. You made some bold choices, but they paid off and you took out that outpost. Thanks to that, the Cardassian fleet is in a shambles. Admiral Hanson is preparing to push them back and reclaim the worlds we lost, he wanted me to pass along his thanks.”
“I was just fulfilling the mission, sir.”
“You took it upon yourself to take command of the mission. Its success is a big feather in your cap and one that has not gone unnoticed, just like all your other achievements.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“These repeated wars against the Cardassians are taking their toll on us. We’ve fought them to stalemate, negotiated ceasefires, licked our wounds, only to find ourselves right back at square one. We need more decisive victories like yours in order to make proper gains, to win numerous engagements against them to make them back down and finally take a lasting peace seriously.”
Beckett paused, took another sip of tea then rested her hand on the stack of PADDs. “You had a few choice words for the planning of this operation—they definitely raised a few eyebrows. Upon reflection, of course, you were right. We need someone who plans for the worst, not just in the odd engagement here or there, but across the entire front.”
Nechayev frowned slightly as Beckett opened a drawer and removed another PADD. She looked at it a moment then extended it towards her. She took the handheld computer and was surprised to see the seal of the Starfleet C-in-C fill the small screen.
“You’re being offered a position with Starfleet Tactical, overseeing strategic operations for the Third Tactical Wing.”
Her head snapped up from the tablet. “But that position is for flag officers.”
“Indeed it is,” Beckett confirmed with a faint smile. “The offer comes with a promotion to Rear Admiral.”
Nechayev was stunned. It was a feeling she hadn’t experienced very often, always priding herself in being in control of her emotions and reactions, she rarely never knew how not to respond. Admittedly, she had always had her sights set on making admiral—unlike many of her peers, she saw her time spent as a captain to be a stepping stone on the way to her ultimate goal—but she had never expected to be given the offer so soon.
On the PADD, she pressed her thumb on the biometric scanner and as the device came to life she saw that it was the offer of her promotion and new assignment. It was all right there before her, ready for the taking. She’d be able to direct fleet operations, plan coming engagements, harass Intelligence in order to ensure that what they provided was as accurate as possible, she could do a lot of good which might help bring about a quicker end to this seemingly endless war against the Cardassian Union. It would mean leaving the Boudicca, a posting she’d found herself enjoying far more than she’d expected she would, but she had always known that the day would come when she’d need to move on to another assignment.
She looked back at Beckett, who sipped her tea and watched the captain.
“When do I begin?”
* * * * *
END
Ronara Sector, Cardassian Border
Stardate: 37369.7
The U.S.S. Windsor took one final hit before exploding in a fierce fireball, which was quickly extinguished in the vacuum of space. On the viewscreen, Captain Alynna Nechayev watched helplessly as the Ambassador-Class vessel was lost, their flagship with over seven hundred people on board. She clenched her teeth and dug her nails into the arms of her command chair, silently cursing the Cardassians.
“Captain, our formation is collapsing. The Achilles and Othello are being overwhelmed,” stated Lieutenant Zhao from the science station.
If they didn’t act quickly, the task force would be wiped out. Nechayev had vowed to give her life to protect the Federation and uphold the values of Starfleet, but she refused to let herself go down without giving it her all. The U.S.S. Boudicca was a New Orleans-Class frigate, a vessel designed to fight, and fight she would.
“Commander Chambers,” she called to her first officer, “tell the Ticonderoga to back up our starboard flank, then have the Val’Sor, T’Kala and fighter squadron three form up on us.”
“Aye sir,” he replied immediately.
“Conn, set a course to punch us straight through their ranks. Tactical, all power to forward shields and ready full torpedo spread, all launchers.”
Both officers confirmed their orders without hesitation. In the ten years she’d commanded the Boudicca she’d put together a crew she could be proud of, even when given orders that sounded crazy, they didn’t question or pause in their duties. It came as little winder she’d earned the nickname ‘Ice Queen’ among some of her peers, not that she’d ever let it bother her, discipline and order was what was needed in Starfleet—attributes her ship was a pinnacle of.
“Reinforcements in position, sir.”
“Full impulse. Engage and open fire.”
Flanked by the pair of Miranda-Class ships, with twelve small attack fighters in formation around them, the Boudicca barrelled towards the Cardassian fleet. She’d known going into this mission they’d be outnumbered, though estimates had been twenty to twenty-five ships (determined to mostly be Brinok-Class patrol ships and Rasilak-Class light cruisers) in the region, the ten strong Starfleet task force was deemed sufficient for those odds. When they’d dropped out of warp to make their attack run on the supply depot, they’d found those twenty-five ships, along with fifteen others (made up of Janissary-Class heavy cruisers and Vasad-Class frigates). Some idiot at Starfleet Intelligence had really messed up, they’d just better pray that she never find out who it was.
All three of the Boudicca’s externally mounted torpedo tubes launched photon after photon. Before they’d left Starbase 47 she’d requested a double stock of ordinance, having a very uneasy feeling that their mission would require it. Their support ships followed suit, firing everything they had, blanketing the Cardassian line with devastating firepower.
“The T’Kala is slowing down,” stated Zhao.
“Commander, tell them to maintain full speed, we’re punching through!”
For her tactic to work, she’d been banking on the Cardassian gul’s underestimating them, believing that with the loss of their flag ship that their task force would fall apart, making them easier to pick off. By charging at them, full speed with weapons firing, she hoped to catch them off balance. Her gambit paid off.
The Cardassians scrambled to get clear. A few weren’t fast enough and were quickly taken out with the incoming barrage of torpedoes and phaser fire, but the rest scattered, opening up a hole in their formation.
“Tell the others to continue to the station and launch the attack,” she instructed Chambers. “Conn, bring us back around. Commander Singh, target the heavy cruisers.”
“Captain, looks like the task force is rally once again,” Chambers announced, a note of hope in his voice. “The Ticonderoga has taken care of the ships that were swarming the starboard flank, but it looks like the Achilles has taken heavy damage.”
“Have the Izumo give them cover, get the Ticonderoga and Othello back in the fight. Also, have fighter squadron five advance to the station.”
“Aye sir.”
As the task force regained its footing, seizing the brief shift in momentum her attack run had afforded them, Nechayev never let up. Ever since her Academy days, she’d demonstrated her skills in strategic operations and tactical combat, using all she had at her disposal to claim victory—she was one of only five cadets in two centuries to beat the infamous Kobayashi Maru test, and one of three that hadn’t resorted to cheating. She always looked at the bigger picture, looking towards longer term goals even at the expense of short-term losses. In this battle they’d already lost one starship, another was crippled and most of the others had taken a beating but kept on fighting, but their mission was critical; this supply base was one of the key staging grounds for Cardassian forces across two sectors, it’s destructions would hamper their efforts and give Starfleet a much needed advantage. They had to take it out before—
“Captain, multiple warp signatures incoming!”
“Ours or theirs?”
“Theirs sir.”
“Damn.” She looked up at her first officer. “What’s the status of the Achilles? Are they warp capable?”
Chambers glanced at a screen, then looked back at her and shook his head. “They report their port nacelle is depolarised, multiple warp coils are fused and their venting drive plasma.”
“Have the Izumo either prep for a warp tow or being evacuation.”
“Sir, two Galor’s have just dropped out of warp!” cried Lieutenant (j.g.) Danix from ops, his voice tight with fear. “Make that five. No. E…eight Galor-Class warships.”
She spun back to the young Denobulan, the newest addition to her senior staff. “Where?”
Give him his dues, he was stressed, anxious and fearful, but he didn’t hesitate. “On the far side of the planet, bearing two-twelve-mark-four, closing fast. ETA, four minutes.”
They’d been fortunate when arriving in the system that the Cardassians hadn’t deployed their newest warship to defend the outpost, but most of them were engaged in fighting on the frontlines. With eight of the cutting-edge cruisers bearing down on them, the remaining starships didn’t stand much of a chance. They had to make their move now.
Nechayev hit the companel on her armrest, opening up a channel to the ships and fighters that remained. “All ships, break off and make an attack run on the outpost, we’ve got to take it out, now!”
None of her fellow Captains questioned it. In quick succession, they all landed a few more hits on the ships they were engaging before veering off and heading straight for the station that was their objective. Fortunately, Intel had been right in their assessment that the station was only minimally armed, relying on the ships surrounding it for protection. She held the Boudicca back, giving them cover as they each launched their attacks, all aiming for the reactor core at the bottom of the base—the T’Kala and Val’Sor having done a good job at weakening its shields and taking out its weapons.
When their opportunity arose, she took it. “Attack pattern delta-two, engage.”
The New Orleans-Class ship dove in, every available type-IX phaser firing as her three launchers bombarded the station with torpedoes. At full impulse, their run was brief but effective, causing massive damage to the reactor housing. They were followed by the Thelin, the older Excelsior-Class ship fired the killing blow, a pair of photon torpedoes plunged into the breach and connected with the reactor and fuel pods once safe inside.
Just like the Windsor, the destruction of the station was brilliant, the viewscreen automatically responded and dimmed the intense explosion that engulfed the supply station, sending debris and dust out in every direction.
Their mission was a success. It was now time to hightail it out of the system, preferably avoiding the Galor’s.
“Lieutenant engage escape course. Maximum warp as soon as we clear the planets gravity well.”
“Aye sir.”
* * * * *
Sector Commander’s Anteroom, Starbase 47
Iadora Sector, Cardassian Border
Stardate: 37392.1
It had been eight days since their successful attack on the supply station. As the task force ships were repaired and the injured were treated, Nechayev and her fellow Captains filed after action reports before been drilled by the admiralty and having every detail of what had happened picked apart by analysts.
The Achilles had been deemed too severely damaged to hold up to a warp tow, so had been abandoned and scuttled, so as to not fall into enemy hands, which meant they’d lost two ships as well as two squadrons of attack fighters. Given what they’d been up against, it was amazing they hadn’t lost any more. Nechayev has said as much in her report and following interviews, she’d also called into question the lack of accurate information about the enemy’s fleet composition and lack of contingency planning had their mission fallen apart as quickly as it had done.
She knew it was a gamble to highlight such flaws, but had she not thought about such failures and made contingency plans of her own, then things could’ve been far worse.
The door to Admiral Beckett’s office whispered opened, causing her to stiffen her already ramrod straight posture, as she looked at the entry as Captain Dylan O’Shea, formerly of the U.S.S. Achilles, emerged. He gave her a nod, a crooked smile flashed through his beard before he headed past her and out of the anteroom to the Admiral’s office. She was surprised to see him look so chipper, as after this round of interviews and incident reports he’d be facing a board of enquiry due to the loss of his ship.
A chirp sounded from the work terminal of the Admiral’s attaché. He looked at the panel then up at her. “The Admiral is ready for you, Captain.”
She gave him a curt nod, rose and headed for the doors. A quick tug on her red and black one-piece uniform, she tapped the enunciator and got an immediate response.
“Enter.”
Letting out a quiet breath, she stepped through the opening door panels and into the Admiral’s office. It was a comfortable space, festooned with pictures and trinkets gathered from across the quadrant, the results of a lifetime spent serving the Federation. Annette Beckett was not an imposing woman by anyone’s standards, not even reaching one-point-five meters in height with a slight (some might say frail) build, but there was something about her that filled the room.
Nechayev approached the desk and stood at attention before the flag officer. Beckett picked up a bone china teacup, gave the contents a soft blow before taking a sip and setting the cup back down, all the while her eyes were fixed on the starship captain before her. Beside the antique cup and saucer were a small stack of PADDs, no doubt containing the reports from all those involved.
“It looks like all the rumours I’ve heard about you are correct, Captain.”
She remained quiet. Even she knew that the ‘Ice Queen’ had developed a reputation in the fleet, with a number or rumours and jokes making the rounds about her there was no way of knowing just what the Admiral had heard. She knew that there were some that had issue with her manner or approach to command, including a few former officers she’d had to transfer for not meeting her standards, but her methods got results—their most recent mission was a testament to that.
Beckett took another measured sip.
“Oh, for the love of,” the Admiral muttered, “Captain, sit down and relax.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Taking the offered seat, her back remained straight, expression neutral, hands clasped on her lap with fingers interlaced. Beckett chuckled quietly and sat back.
“Captain Nechayev, if it weren’t for your actions on the current mission, it would’ve failed, and Starfleet would’ve most likely lost the entire task force. You made some bold choices, but they paid off and you took out that outpost. Thanks to that, the Cardassian fleet is in a shambles. Admiral Hanson is preparing to push them back and reclaim the worlds we lost, he wanted me to pass along his thanks.”
“I was just fulfilling the mission, sir.”
“You took it upon yourself to take command of the mission. Its success is a big feather in your cap and one that has not gone unnoticed, just like all your other achievements.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“These repeated wars against the Cardassians are taking their toll on us. We’ve fought them to stalemate, negotiated ceasefires, licked our wounds, only to find ourselves right back at square one. We need more decisive victories like yours in order to make proper gains, to win numerous engagements against them to make them back down and finally take a lasting peace seriously.”
Beckett paused, took another sip of tea then rested her hand on the stack of PADDs. “You had a few choice words for the planning of this operation—they definitely raised a few eyebrows. Upon reflection, of course, you were right. We need someone who plans for the worst, not just in the odd engagement here or there, but across the entire front.”
Nechayev frowned slightly as Beckett opened a drawer and removed another PADD. She looked at it a moment then extended it towards her. She took the handheld computer and was surprised to see the seal of the Starfleet C-in-C fill the small screen.
“You’re being offered a position with Starfleet Tactical, overseeing strategic operations for the Third Tactical Wing.”
Her head snapped up from the tablet. “But that position is for flag officers.”
“Indeed it is,” Beckett confirmed with a faint smile. “The offer comes with a promotion to Rear Admiral.”
Nechayev was stunned. It was a feeling she hadn’t experienced very often, always priding herself in being in control of her emotions and reactions, she rarely never knew how not to respond. Admittedly, she had always had her sights set on making admiral—unlike many of her peers, she saw her time spent as a captain to be a stepping stone on the way to her ultimate goal—but she had never expected to be given the offer so soon.
On the PADD, she pressed her thumb on the biometric scanner and as the device came to life she saw that it was the offer of her promotion and new assignment. It was all right there before her, ready for the taking. She’d be able to direct fleet operations, plan coming engagements, harass Intelligence in order to ensure that what they provided was as accurate as possible, she could do a lot of good which might help bring about a quicker end to this seemingly endless war against the Cardassian Union. It would mean leaving the Boudicca, a posting she’d found herself enjoying far more than she’d expected she would, but she had always known that the day would come when she’d need to move on to another assignment.
She looked back at Beckett, who sipped her tea and watched the captain.
“When do I begin?”
* * * * *
END
