The command team with Lieutenant Nalam sat around the conference table in the observation lounge of the USS Denver.  There was a buzz all around the ship that hadn’t been present for many months.  Stuck in Earth orbit protecting Earth they were finally being moved back to the front lines.  

Excitement wasn’t quite the right word.  There would always be that existential dread when moving into danger, but aside from those involved in dealing with Dominus, the crew had just been bored.  There’s only so much shore leave and pub crawls one can have before it loses its appeal.

“In part because of Lieutenant Ming,” Rebecca announced,  “The fleet will be assigning us five of the new experimental Valkyrie-class fighters for field testing…”  

The door chimed interrupting the captain.  Sighing she sat back and announced,  “Enter.”  She took the break in the conversation to refill her coffee cup and take a sip as a man entered the room.

Chris looked around the room and paused for a second. He took a deep breath as he approached the captain’s desk. Quickly he snapped to attention, “Lieutenant Christopher Conroy reporting as ordered ma’am.” He stood there somewhat nervous. This assignment came as somewhat of a shock to him, after his last mishap. Maybe Star Fleet knew more than he did. Either way, he was now a department chief and had to start acting like one.

“Welcome to the Denver Mr. Conroy,” Rebecca greeted. “It’s not ordinarily this chaotic,  but we’re fixing to shove off. Can I get you anything?”

“No thank you, ma’am” he replied promptly and cleared his throat. “I’m somewhat used to organized chaos ma’am.” 

“I’m not a fan of the chaos,” Rebecca replied. Picking up a PADD she glanced over at Conroy’s service record and frowned, “This record screams classified ops.  Were you some sort of a spy with the Iowa?” She slid the PADD to her Intelligence Officer,  Riandri Nalam.

He took a second to process the question, his gaze glanced for a second at the pad she handed over to her intelligence officer. “A spy? I wouldn’t exactly call it that.” He needed to be tactful in his answers, the Iowa’s mission to his knowledge was ongoing, and need to know. “I handled an asset while onboard the Iowa ma’am.”

Riandri picked up the PADD and scrolled through it. “You have done your rounds for sure Lieutenant,” she said with a smile, “I think you will fit in on the Denver nicely though I would ask that any intelligence work you think of flow through my office.” She turned slightly and handed the PADD to Chief Jeter, “You ready to break in a new Chief of Security Mr. Jeter?” She didn’t try to hide the smile on her face. Ever since the order with the visitors from the other universe had been wrapped up and those blasted headaches and fits of nausea and dizziness vanished she was feeling like her old self again. She also had to admit that the crew of the Denver were a big help as well.

Robert snorted, “I have yet to finish getting our Intelligence Officer settled in nicely,” he said with a sigh as he looked at Riandri before turning to their new arrival. “That said I look forward to working with you Lieutenant. If there is anything you need let me know.”

“Thank you Chief and Lieutenant you would be the first to know any new Intel I come across.”

Cheon tapped on the main menu of his PADD that he had in his hand and access the new member of their crew. He sat there in silence as he listened to the conversation. He was glad that his new sister had begun to transition out of her old lifestyle, but he was more glad that she had shown him a few lessons, literally, on how to deceive a person’s senses all the while gathering information.

“Have a seat, Mr. Conroy,” Rebecca invited.  “If you have any relevant information pertinent to the Denver‘s mission I expect you to share it with me or Lieutenant Nalam.”

Chris broke from his stance, and approached the table, he took his seat, as he nodded, and smiled. This seems like a welcoming crew, unlike his last crew who was more concerned about who he knew and what he could bring to the mission.

“Good,” Rebecca said with a smile. “Now, down to business.  Our task force is being dispatched to the Betazed System where we will link up with the 10th Fleet. Once there we will be acting as an aggressor squadron. I hope you are familiar with Dominion battle tactics.”

“I’ve had a few run-ins, nothing to write home about.” He looked over a PADD that was sitting in front of him, reviewing the mission details, he looked from the table “Master Chief have all new security protocols, including the new biometric scans been implemented, and tested.” He tilted his head to the side and raised his right eyebrow slightly, “I see that the last security chief had not started up training.”

Jeter nodded, “All the new scanners are in place and tested but without an actual changeling to test it on I cannot be one hundred per cent certain that they work. As for training we have bee keeping up with all new developments and the security team has been put through their paces but I assume you will want to review them? If so we can set that up right away.”

“Our last security chief,” Rebecca started, “Was a bit green, but she learned fast and her people liked her.  They did well recently, I think you will be pleased with their training.”

“Good deal.”

“This brings me to the next item of business.  We have what we are calling a Tactical Recon Team lead by a Lieutenant Collins.  You are his direct superior, but the Recon Team operates outside of your department.  Their job isn’t to fulfil standard security duties. We throw them into the most dangerous situations.”

“Recon team…” said as he shifted in his chair. “Uh, sounds interesting.”

“Oh, by the way, Mr. Conroy as security chief you need to know we have… two visitors aboard right now.  One is in the brig, named Carolyn Crawford.   She’s dangerous,  but at least we know for sure she cannot be trusted.   The other one goes by Órlaith Murphy.  She saved the lives of everyone here, except Mr. Jeter who was on the Denver at the time. I believe… I hope we can trust her, but keep an eye on her will you?”

He nodded, “Yes ma’am.”

Cheon continued to look at the PADD that was in his hands as he spoke, “Correction, Captain. Three.” He pointed to the door as it slid open and Alt Seong stepped out wearing all grey. “I know you don’t trust her or the methods that she used during the rescue and capture. However, I do trust her.”

Rebecca nodded, “Indeed. If you trust her then that is good enough for me.”  Looking at Alt Seong, “It’ll be a bit confusing with two Seongs floating about.  Is there another name you would like to go by?”

Riandri eyed Alt Seong as she walked in but gave her a slight nod, she had saved her life but something about her made her uneasy. 

Seong looked at Rebecca for a moment. She hadn’t considered that her name would be subject to think about. She looked at Cheon for a moment and a smile crossed her lips. “Call me sister.”

Rebecca nodded, “Very well.  Okay, I think that’s all for now.  I hope to be underway tomorrow. Mr. Kyo, I expect you can spread our orders around the various departments, and coordinate with Mr. Crawford in getting the last of our supplies and ordinance loaded.  Chief,  I want you to make sure all our crew is back from leave by 22:00 hours tonight and tucked into their beds.  I would hate to leave anyone behind.”

Jeter nodded, “Consider it done.”

“It is already done, captain,” Cheon stated as he pressed the send icon on the PADD that he had been looking at the entire time the conference had been going on. He looked up at her with a sly look on his face.

“Very well,” the captain announced, “dismissed.”

“Ah one more thing Mr. Conroy, please do make sure that everything that pertains to security is run by the Denver’s book. I want to make sure that you know it inside and out,” Cheon stated as he looked Conroy dead in the eyes. “I for one was the Chief Sec/Tac long before I became the XO of this fine ship, and I will not see it tarnished by a policy that was taught to you by another.”

Cheon looked to the Alt Seong, and nodded to her, dismissing her from the room.”

“Yes sir.”

Security Offices, USS Denver

The doors slide open, and Chris walks in stopping at the entrance as the doors shut behind him. There was a desk, a sofa, and even some plants. This was much nicer than the office of his superiors. This was in general a much nicer ship. He had never been assigned to a ship this big. He walked around the room, and finally to his desk.  “Not bad at all,” he said aloud to himself. He pulled his chair out and took his seat turning on the terminal in front of him. “Shit!” he said while cringing his teeth together. He grabbed his right shoulder, with his left hand and began massaging it. His wounds had healed, but he was still feeling pain. The doctors said he was only in his head but it felt no less real to him.

Placing his elbow on his desk, and his chin in the palm of his left hand he began to read over reports. No more than 3 minutes had passed before there was a chime at the door, “come in.” he said as he sat back in his chair. The door opened and a tall woman walked in with short blonde hair. She was muscular in stature. She approached the desk holding a padd. “Ensign…. Roberts?”

“Yes sir,” she extended her arms to hand him a padd. “These are the diagnostics reports you requested sir.”

“Thank you, ensign,” he grabbed the padd sat it on his desk then leaned back in his chair. “This Órlaith…mmm, there is not a lot of information on her.

“No sir, she was said to have saved the captain’s life.”

“Yeah, she shot and killed her psychotic brother or something.” He sighed, “That doesn’t make her any less psychotic. In my experience, it might make her more psychotic. He trusted her enough to let his guard down, not the other way around. Does she have an escort?”

“No sir, should I…”

“No, no… that won’t be necessary. Short leashes never work, it needs to be long enough for them to hang themselves. What I would like you to do is put her under surveillance, don’t get too close. Use a crewman not an officer.”

 “Yes sir.”

“Dismissed,” he watched as the ensign turned then exited the office. He stood grabbed the padd off his desk then walked to the replicator. “Coffee, black.” A white coffee cup appeared, he grabbed it then walked over to the sofa and took his seat. He took a sip, then sat it down on the table in front of him and began to read the padd.

“What to do, what to do…” He crossed his legs and laid the padd on his lap then tapped his com badge. “Conroy to security ops.”

Shortly after a young man replied, “Security ops here sir.”

“Our guest in the brig is going to need a psych evaluation, can you let medical know? No one else is to speak to her. The investigator needs to draw up her formal charges as well.”

“Yes sir.”

“No one else is to speak to her besides medical, bring the report directly to me when they are finished.”

“Yes sir.”

One psycho on his ship is too many, there is no need to haul around two. The Elba II asylum would be the best place for her. High security, no beaming on or off, the atmosphere is toxic to us. Plus, she could get the help she needs while awaiting trial. Just need a psych, physical, and of course the CO’s approval. Chris stood grabbed his coffee then walked to his desk taking his seat. He turned to his console, “Computer connect me with Capt. Talon.”

Rebecca responded a few moments later with the glow of the warp core in the background,  “What can I do for you, Lieutenant?”

“I’ve begun to make arrangements for our guest in the brig. I need your approval to start any sort of a transfer.”

Rebecca took a moment to think,  “If you can arrange transportation I will approve it.  We don’t have the time to divert from our course.”

“Of course ma’am,” he said as he nodded. “I would like to schedule a transfer to the Elba II high-security facility, I am sure they could meet us for the transfer.”

Rebecca sighed and took a seat in front of the monitor and entered commands.  “The USS Seyetik is scheduled to leave Starbase 75 for Elba II with Dominion Prisoners of War in six days.”

“I will make all of the necessary arrangements, Lt Conroy out.”

In engineering, Rebecca sat back and stared into the blank screen she was happy to be able to offload this Carolyn Crawford. Absently remembering her father’s words about Peter and Riandri a thought occurred to her. Was Riandri Carolyn’s mother? There were certainly some similarities,  but she definitely took after her father more. She wondered if having a conversation with her operations and intelligence chiefs was in order.

“Ma’am?” A voice interrupted her thoughts.

It was Aoife Mackenzie.  Smiling, “Yes Ensign?”

“The report you wanted.”

Rebecca accepted the PADD and scrolled through it.  Everything was in order.  “Thank you Ensign.  Complements to you and Mr. Lovecroft.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

Standing Rebecca nodded to the assistant chief and strolled out of Engineering to continue her rounds.  Sickbay was next on the list.

The USS Gary Mitchell had loaned Gus to a circuit of uptraining in person on several starships. He happened to be on the USS Berlin when it had received a distress call from a nearby mining colony on Solarion IV. A small mining colony on the other side if the planet was isolated and only dirt roads and one monorail line existed to it. 

Since he was already there for uptraining, Gus had volunteered to join the away team. Since he didn’t have time to change his loadout, it was much the optimal one he normally carried. A Type II phaser in cross draw holster. Two Type I ‘cricket’ phasers in two different pockets, a Smith and Wesson M&P 10mm, but decided to draw real ammo in the armory before beaming down. If time came for him to pick up a phaser rifle, there would be plenty on the ground. 

Beaming down with the platoon, was beaming into hell. Disruptor fire and explosions greeted them with the typical sounds of chaos, anger, and screams. Driving his two squads of rifleman in to a perimeter, it allowed the heavy weapons platoon a brief moment to dig in an support the rest of the team. 

To their east was a small clattering of several dozen tool sheds and 4 larger buildings. A small motor pool nearby with many various dozers, trucks, and diggers. To the west was as small processing plant and a large lake beyond it. North and south were thick woods. 

Gus set up the heavy weapons team to his south, and peeled off two riflemen to scout the woods and report back. The bulk of the rest were divided between securing the processing plant and rooting out any enemies in the cluster of building so they might have so cover to fight from. “Berlin, this is Alpha team. We could use some oversight and air support.” Gus said over his communicator.“Sorry Alpha. We have our hands full right now.” Explosions in the background. “We may have to bug out. Hold as best you can. We’ll be in touch. Berlin out.”

“Great.” Gus offered. Fire from their North erupted towards them. A two platoons to their front opened fired. Withering disruptor bolts charged the air. Several of his team were killed outright. “Take cover. Get that mortar up NOW!” His phaser was out and firing into the treeline. The enemy was smart. They were hiding in the trees. Gus moved, his position was little more than a divot in the grass. Moving towards his east. Seeing the squad leader, Gus said, “Garcia, get some supressive fire into that treeline and get a crossfire going.” Garcia hand signaled affirmative and the squad fanned out fire reaching north-west into the trees.He needed armor or close air support. He had neither. “Where’s that damned mortar!” Gus yelled. “On the way. The crump of outbound mortar fire rang in his ears. Set to disperse at treetop level, it magnified the explosion, turning the trees into wooden shrapnel. Incoming fire slacked off greatly. Over the horizon three spots appeared. “Alpha this is Huey. Donald sent us.”Gus breathed a slight sigh of relief. “Welcome sight Huey. Not sure yet what we are up against. Careful setting down.”As if on cue a large distruptor bolt tore from the forest floor, striking one the shuttles and started it smoking. Without hesitation, Gus turned to his mortar team. “I want that gun wiped off the grid map ASAP.” “Huey, if you can, I’d want you to set up to our North. Use your shields for cover. I have an idea.” Gus offered“Roger Alpha. Will comply.” 

Gus doubled back to the heavy weapons platoon. Retrieving two Phaser rifles, Gus also pilfered an isomagnetic disintegrator, and lastly a canvas bag of hand grenades before running back towards the emplaced gun. It fired again at Dewey this time, the shields held. Dewey even managing to cause some chaos with his defensive phasers. Louie had started to load casualties. 

Making back to Garcia, he called out to one of squad members. “Thor!” Gus said with gritted teeth. The large infantryman came over, his blue eyes and blond hair apparent even past the uniform. “Come with me.”  It took the pair a few minutes to work around to the port flank of the enplaced disruptor. They had to get within about 75 meters as that was as far as either of them could throw a grenade. Most couldn’t make it that far. 

Getting behind a small pile of fallen logs,  Gus started to lined up four of the hand grenades in front of him and the same for his comrade. “Ever have a snowball fight?” Gus whispered and actually grinned. Thor shared the moment and smiled. “Yes Sir. Understood.” 

The gun fired again, setting Louie on it’s side. “That’s enough!” Gus shouted and shortly had 3 of the 4 grenades in the air at the same time. Throwing the last one. He point towards the right slightly to where a view point lo oked promising. Gus used and small cable camera to peak around the log. About a dozen enemy milled around the gun, righting it and repairing the emplacement. 

Gus’s hand felt the keypad and set the weapon to it’s maximum setting. He used hand signals to tell Thor to get ready to assault them. Setting both to rapid burst, Gus picked up the launcher and shouldered it. Closing his eyes, he mentally prepared himself and ran through the sequence of event in microsecond. Spinning up and counter-clockwise, he aimed at the emplaced turret and pulled the trigger. The purple bolt reached out and on contact exploded. Metal and metal all flew in countless directions. The ground shook. Thor and Gus came round with rifles at the ready. The enemy crew was nearly accounted for when one shot Thor in the leg. The young soldier went down in a pile screaming. In reflex, Gus took out and shot the enemy in the head, ending threat.His head on a swivel, Gus became apprehensive when several dozen security beamed down. His communicator whistled. Opening it, the message read “Sorry for the scare Alpha. Great work. Come on home. Donald actual out.” With the Berlin back in Orbit, medical teams beamed up and down. Thor was beamed up.Walking back to the mining camp, it was time to get to the next event. Gus saw his long time friend Micha Fitzpatrick walk up with someone. Phaser still in hand. The woman with him holding a camera. “I have to have this on record Master Chief!”  

Gus and Micha stood in front of the destroyed distruptor cannon as she snapped the picture, promising to send Micha a copy. 

Rebecca lay on her side her hand laying on Milo’s chest,  left leg draped over him. “That was wonderful,” she said running her fingers over his mustache.  

Milo chuckled, “We should do this more often.”

Rebecca playfully slapped his chest, “Hard to do when separated by a few hundred light-years.”

Milo stretched his muscles quivering under the strain,  “I reckon so, but I missed you.”

“Me too,” Rebecca replied and kissed him.

Just as she and Milo were about to start a second round of lovemaking the door swished open and the twins ran into the room and leaped onto the bed. 

“Mommy!” They squealed in delight. 

“Somebody forgot to lock the door,” Rebecca said with an ironic laugh.

“I was distracted last night,” Milo grinned sheepishly. 

“We’re hungry and Ethan won’t get out of bed,” Aimee said ignoring the conversation between the adults. 

Rebecca kissed Milo their lips lingering as she pulled away and slid out of bed wrapping a robe around her. Milo for his part grab the girls in a  headlock and they screamed in delight and giggles as he roughhoused them.

Rebecca shook her head amused. “What do you two want for breakfast?”

“Pancakes!” They shouted in unison between fits of giggles.

Walking into the common room Ethan was sitting on the sofa still half asleep. He was wearing a pair of shorts and judging by the wrinkles and food stains yesterday’s tee shirt. “Hey, Ethan.”

“Hey Mom,” he said with a sleepy grin.

“The girls said you were sleeping.”

“I was,” he grumbled. “Hard to sleep with two six-year-olds bouncing on your bed.”

Rebecca gave her stepson a knowing smile,  “They do have that way of getting you out of bed that’s for sure. What do you want for breakfast?” She asked as she readied the coffee pot and pressed the brew button. 

“How about biscuits and gravy and black coffee?”

“When did you start drinking coffee?” She asked going to the replicator.

Ethan shrugged,  “Don’t know.”

Rebecca chuckled.  Typical teenager: why answer a question with full sentences when one or two words would do? Entering commands into the replicator she made a large stack of pancakes,  a plate of bacon, an order of biscuits and gravy for Milo and Ethan, and a plate of scrambled eggs along with a pitcher of orange juice.

“Come and Eat,’ Rebecca shouted and the family began to find their seats.  Rebecca beamed from ear to ear. She was lucky to have them in her life. Many starship captains couldn’t hold their families together or in the case of captains like Jean-Luc Picard found even starting one difficult or impossible.

Pouring the coffee cups for Milo, Ethan, herself while Milo filled the girl’s orange juice she was the last to sit and took a single Pancake from the stack and two strips of bacon.

“I was thinking,” she started, “that the kids could come with me on the Denver today for the training exercise. Starfleet Intelligence is convinced that we’re too far from supply lines for the Dominion to be a threat.”

“Oh, could we!” Livvy squealed.  

“Yeah, that would be fun. Can we sit on the bridge?”

“We’ll see,” Rebecca replied with a smile. “Ethan you can come too.”

“No thanks. I have plans with Trinity.”

“He’s got a girlfriend!” Livvy teased.

“She’s just a friend,” he replied a little too defensively.

Rebecca gave Milo a knowing raise of the eyebrow and Milo chuckled nodding his head in agreement. “It’s your day off tomorrow. Too bad you can’t come with us.”

Milo sat back in his chair sipping his coffee, “Yeah. But you have your work and I have mine.  I got those weapons tests scheduled,  but changeling drills for this afternoon.  I’m still trying to get Starfleet to upgrade the orbital defenses. They are horribly out of date, but we’re a ‘low priority’. Beurocratic bull… bull crap is what that is.”

Rebecca nodded. This wasn’t the first time she had heard that gripe.  All he could do was upgrade the station’s weapons and lobby the people in charge of planetary defenses to do the same.

“Well what are you going to do with yourself tomorrow with us out and you off duty?”

Milo considered that for a moment,  “Well, there’s a cowboy shooting club on Betazed.  Figure I could go down there and see what it’s all about.”

“Cowboy shooting club?” Rebecca asked surprised. 

“Yeah, apparently there’s a small but dedicated group of Betazoids dedicated to the old west. Somebody probably saw an old John Wayne movie and got a wild hair,” Milo said with a chuckle.

“Now that is funny,” she said.

Suddenly the door chimed and the conversation stalled. “You expecting anyone?”

Milo shook his head and moved to get up before Rebecca stopped him. “Finish eating,” she said walking to the door.

Riandri sat in her office as she finished the most recent briefing message from Star Fleet Intelligence on the disposition of Federation and allied forces and the known Dominion forces. She couldn’t help but shake her head at, what she felt, were some poor assumptions. 

She was not sold on the idea that Betazed was too far from supply lines for the Dominion to be threatened. Since the federation and Klingons had recaptured DS9 the front lines had remained fairly static but part of her nagged at her that the Dominion would do something risky. With that, she tapped the commands to call her Star Fleet intelligence contact. 

“…and what evidence do we have that they view Betazed as to great a risk?” Riandri said, the agitation in her voice clear. “They have been sitting quietly for too long! We…”

Rebecca stopped abruptly at the entrance to Riandri’s office,  “Should I come back?”

Riandri looked up from the console and shook her head, “No, one sec.” She took a deep breath and looked back at the console, “I need to go, can we pick this up later?”

The male voice over the speaker sounded tired, “Of course Lieutenant Nalam, I understand your concern.” With that, the comlink was shut off.

Leaning back in her chair she brushed several locks of hair out of her face and looked at Rebecca, “Sorry Captain. What can I help you with?” Her eyes widened for a moment and she turned back to her console, “Shit did we have a meeting?”

“No, we did not,” Rebecca said simply. “I just wanted an intelligence update on the area before we get to Starbase 75.  I’m guessing by your conversation you don’t have anything,  but your gut tells you otherwise.”

Riandri sighed in frustration and gestured to the chair, “Seat?”

Rebecca nodded and took the offered seat.

“I do have the official intel. Currently, SFI does not believe that Betazed is in danger and that the fleet should continue with its current training manoeuvres. The thought is that the system is too far from supply lines for the Dominion to be threatened,” Riandri said unhappily. “There is solid logic to that, the Dominion would have to reach to get here…But,” Riandri continued, “It is what I would do. Things have been static for too long.”

Riandri shook her head, “I am likely imagining things, Captain. I do not have access to all the data.”

“Why not?” Rebecca demanded. “You are my intelligence officer. I can’t make informed decisions on information I don’t have.”

Riandri shrugged but her annoyance was clear, “Compartmentalization of intelligence is pretty standard. Shipboard intelligence officers do not have access to all data as the risk of capture is higher. We get what is approved and the overview.” She pushed back from the desk and stood up bringing up the most recent intel briefing on the large screen. “We have the dispositions of forces and expectation actions but not every bit of data the analysts use.”

“Bring up a map of the area.” When Riandri pulled up the navigational chart on the wall monitor Rebecca stood and walked closer to the display for closer inspection. “Let’s assume you are correct.  I agree with you on the premise that the Dominion has bigger plans than continuing their border skirmishes. A major offensive is in the works, but Betazed? Minos Korva or using Romulan space they could attack Bolaras, Melstoxx, or Regulas.”

She stood in long silence occasionally zooming in on various sectors of space. “There,” She pointed to a section of space along the border, “the Kelondra Sector.  The area is riddled with sub-space distortions making long-range sensors susceptible to sensor ghosts. Scan sensitivity is tuned way down. The Dominion could stage hundreds of warships in the McCallister Nebula and by the time they showed up on sensors they’d only be about twenty minutes from Betazed at warp 8.”

Riandri nodded, glad she wasn’t the only one to see it. “That is my concern. It is a glaring gap in our coverage. Strategically Betazed isn’t high on the list but it would strike a blow to the ‘hears and minds’ of the federation showing that nowhere is safe.” 

“It’s still too far from their supply lines,  but not unreasonably so, and once they gain control of the sector they can supply it from Setlik III, which fell to the Dominion two months ago. Control of Betazed allows the Dominion to threaten Vulcan, Andor, Tellar, and Alpha Centauri,” Rebecca continued giving her tactical analysis of the situation. If I were Weyoun and that Female Changeling, Betazed is where I’d attack.”

Frowning Riandri nodded, “Command thinks otherwise it seems. Though at least these training exercises will keep the fleet on alert.”

“Yeah… that’s what it’ll do,” Rebecca said distracted staring at the map. “You get me that intell Ms. Nalam. At this point, I think we agree.  This is a matter of when not if.”

Riandri nodded, “I have already made a special request for the intell they are basing this on. I will hear back in the next 36 hours.”

“Also get me a full report.  I’ll add my tactical analysis and forward it to the SFI as well.  Maybe both of our names will add some weight to the danger.”

“I will get that written right away, you will have the report by the end of my shift and the data as soon as I get it,” Riandri said but paused as a dark shadow crossed her face as turned her head to look at the old photo of James on her desk “I hope I, we, are wrong. I have had enough of this war, the death and destruction. We need to find a way to win and soon.”

“It may,” Rebecca said with a heavy sigh. “The Federation has put peace feelers to the Dominion.  We have to decide what that looks like. I for one do not want to live under Dominion rule.  We have a ship…” She trailed off not wanting actually to say the words.

 “I feel the same but peace will only happen if we defeat the Dominion, enslavement and death I fear is the only other outcome.” Riandri looked back at Rebecca, “It won’t come to that but if it does we are with you Captain.”

“It might,” Rebecca said. “We should accept that as a possibility. This war isn’t going well. Barring a major turn in our fortunes the Federation will be forced the sue for peace. I have a side mission for you. This has to be handled with the utmost discretion.  You weren’t even supposed to know about the peace feelers. But, if it should come to that I want to know the crew’s position if the Federation surrenders.  I’m prepared to point the Denver at the Delta Quadrant and fly as far and as fast away as it will go, and in five or six years we can establish a colony far from this. I can’t make that call for everyone,  but to make a viable colony we’ll need about 500 crew to remain onboard.”

Riandri nodded in understanding, “I will look into this right away.”

Rebecca smiled, “Thank you. Let me know what you find out.” With that, she stood and left the office leaving Riandri to wonder about the future of the federation.

Arin spent much of her formative years in Ireland. There was the 18 month span after she turned 6 where her father had been selected to assist in the upgrading of the Federation Air and Space Museum into holographic format. At the time she thought she was just being cute and helping out, her dad checking her work as she went. Looking back she realized it was at once a mutual love she shared with her father as well as one she now had an impressive basic understanding of most forms of flight.

Later when they relocated to Solarion IV near the Federation – Cardassian border was a far different education. The Federation musuem became a refuge to get away from reality when she needed it. It also spurred her to engage in more flight simulations. At first it was the easier gaming versions. No real flight controls. Within a year she had replicated her own gaming cockpit with realistic controls for her favorite World War One fighter planes, the SE5A. Soon she added a few more and within month had collected several dozen ww fighter plane files and could fly them competently.

By age 12 Arin had actually started her private pilot’s license. By 15 she was crop-dusting in various aircraft including aircars, single and twin-engine motors and turboprops.

After joining Starfleet she started to have discipline problems in Transatmospheric Flight 101. Arin’s former teacher adding a note that she was too arrogant to do homework. At one point she was surprised by several of the flight instructors and asked her to complete a flight plant, aircraft preflight checklist as we as a short flight with 4 waypoint and landing. She had thought the matter closed when she had seen right through the quiz and aced it.

Soon after that she was surprised again when they had asked her to report to the Holodeck for special testing. Upon entering the holodeck, the same instructors were there as was the Mako class fighter she had submitted when she had finish a recent report. “How to better utilize resources of modular design.”

“Cadet Jones. You were so kind to not only submit your paper with actual data but to submit it to Starfleet Design Review without approval, we would congratulate you. Arin walked around the ship, taking it all in. She started to shake her head. One of the proctors said, “Is there a problem with the design, Cadet?”  The ship was wrong just as Arin ran her eyes over the ship. “Who imported the data. That’s not my ship.”

The proctor seemed to take umbrage. “I had to correct the design according to regulations.”

“Then you changed it, so THAT is NOT my design.” The proctor was going to cut her off, but Arin didn’t let him. “The RCS thrusters were changed as the MASS of the vehicle is far different than the type 2 shuttle it was designed around. The heavier armor, increased weapons weight, larger fusion reactor, and you down-rated not only the RCS, but changed the impulse drive AND nacelles. If, I am going to be damned, let it be for the one I actually submitted.”

“That would be a fair point if you hadn’t said that the basic parts came from a type 2 shuttle but you’ve modified everything.” The proctor objected.

“The parts lists to do the modifications could be applied in reverse so that it would amount to a refit of the Type 2 and the same time. Should make warp 6 with only a 10% increase in fuel. ” Arin paused. “Look, I know I am young, but I have spent the last 13 years in, under, around, or buried in parts for many aircraft, aircars, and even some simple shuttle maintenance. I built two airplanes from replicated parts. You know I am instrument rating and qualified in single/twin engine, turboprop, jet and impulse drive. 7000+ hours in my logbook. “

The proctor relaxed. “Cadet Jones, the design is actually quite inspired right up until you screwed up the warp drive. It’s a nice design, reminds me of the old F-5 tiger. Let me help you fix the warp drive and we can still submit it. AFTER you apologize.” He was grim but then stifled a snicker. “You aren’t the first cadet to do what you do nor will you be the last. Tell you what. Help me with some of the students that have a problem with the areas you already are solid on and then learn warp theory and application the correct way. Extra credit and all that.”

Arin said. “I do apologize for the rule break. Rule breaking is not something I normally do but their are obvious exceptions, she said, patting the SF insignia on the nose.

The proctor ended with, “the reason I fixed the nacelles is that she’ll fly this way. Though I am eager to test the RCS and impulse reactions. I’ve flown many a type 2. “Computer, copy the Test1 Warp specs only to the Test2 and make no other changes.” The ship changed. “Now delete the other ship.” Turning to Arin, he said, “take her out. Why not?”tha He said smiling.

Arin’s eyes widened. “I’ve always found it’s better to fly in pairs. Especially in fighters.”

“This is your baby. I shouldn’t intrude.” He offered.

“I would appreciate more input after the flight, but one thing at a time. I insist you be my wingman.” Arin said. They both grinned. “Well okay, I’d like that Cadet.”

Arin said, “computer create copy of the original craft and call one Lucky and the other Charms”(END)

After a hard day of training updates, Arin needed to relax. She didn’t like drinking alone if she didn’t have to. Changing into stretchy jeans and thick short-sleeved sweatshirt, Arin pulled her slightly red hair into a pony tail. Adding soft sneakers she headed for the ship’s lounge. 

Looking at the name of the lounge, Arin almost cringed. In her experience, people didn’t need encouragement in that respect. Though it was refreshing to see a partially open mind.

 Walking up to the bar, she asked what real Irish whiskey’s were on hand. “We have a large selection of sythnehol …”  Arin put up her hand. “No. I might as well be drinking tea.” “I’m sorry, I’m kind of new here. I know where the real stuff is, but some of it isn’t labeled.” the server offered.“Adventure drinking. Brilliant.” Lead on, MacDuff.” Arin said with a chuckle.

Soon she was pilfering through a few things. She was able to point out a few. Sadly there wasn’t much in the way of what she really wanted. She settled for an interesting brandy. it wasn’t Saurian, but it had potential. She had the server add a shot into a cola with ice. No that she could more relax, she looked around at the rest of the room.  

Lt. Ming opted to take advantage of what down time was left.  Denver wasn’t going to be in sector 001 for too much longer and he, as well as his pilots, deserved one last huzzah. He’d given the flight crew and ground crew the next 18 hours off after verifying the ship’s itenerary.  He’d made no secret he’d be here but they likely didn’t want to hang out with the boss.  That had disappointed him to some degree.  Perhaps they’d show up later…Maybe not.  It was their free time either which way. This was his.  

He’d put on black denim pants, a solid black tunic and his modified uniform long coat over both.  The command red stripe wrapped around from his chest, around his shoulders and across his back.  Each lapel had two solid pips of a lieutenant.  On his left breast was a combadge underneath aviators wings.   He wore his favorite black boots as well.  As the commander of the Knights walked into the lounge the gaze of more than one bar goer looked in his direction.  Some were curious about the new patron. Others had the additional interest in his….choice of outfit.  

Unfazed he walked up to the bar and took a seat, a few spots over from Arin. After a moment the bartender came over to him and asked for his order.  

Marcus smiled and said, “There was…at least should have been… a couple of packages dropped off here for Marcus Ming earlier.  Is it here?”

The bartender paused and said, “Why…..yes sir.”  

Marcus smiled and said, “Please consider that my personal stock.  Please extract a bottle from container Alpha then deliver it and a high ball glass loaded with ice if you would.”  

“Right away sir,” the server said before dissappearing.  A moment later returning with a ice filled high ball glass and a bottle of Tullamore Dew.

She quickly drained her brandy and coke, putting on a sweet and needy demeanor.  “You wouldn’t be willing to share that bounty semi-decent whiskey for a poor Irish girl leavin’ her homeland, would ya? It’s just that I really don’t want to retreive something drinkable from storage.” Arin offered addressing the new arrival.  “Arin Jones. Chief Helm Officer. I just got here a few days ago.” She offered her hand. 

The fighter pilot glanced at Arin for a heartbeat before returning the gesture and saying, “Lieutenant Marcus Ming, Commanding officer of Bravo Flight and senior fighter pilot on the Denver.  Nice to meet you.”

Without missing another beat he added, “How do you enjoy your whiskey?  On the rocks, shooter, maybe with a splash…..”

While Marcus had asked he was fairly certain he knew what was coming.  He waited, however, to verify if his instincts came threw once again or not.

“In a glass. Nothing else. If it’s good whiskey, it’ll stand up to that.” Arin offered. “I have some Tyrconnell stashed.” 

The Knight CO grinned at the new Chief Helm Officer.  A woman after his own heart.  He gestured toward the bartender as he said, “I’ve tried a lot of whiskies over the years.  Tully Dew is the best I have had….so far anyhow.  How about we give my stash a go then we can try out your favorite after?” 

The bartender arrived just as Ming finished and he asked for an empty high ball glass.   The bartender did so swiftly and with a smile.  After some brief pleasantries the bartender went off to help other patrons.  Ming dutifully poured some whiskey for the woman beside him filling the glass to the customary ⅓ and a bit beyond. He raised his glass and toasted in a conversational way, “Here’s to new friends and the Denver.”

She raised her glass in salute. With an acknowledging nod and repeat of the toast, she swirled the golden fluid in the glass before putting the glass to her nose. Citrus with undertones of vanilla. She had to admit it was a good one, if different to the whiskey she was used to. Spicier rather than the tart bite of fresh fruit she liked about the Tyrconnell. 

“All water does is change the whiskey. Like adding salt before tasting your food. My Da (dad) was a former starfleet Captain so he set me up with a pallet of I don’t even know what yet. I just know there is at least one case of Tyrconnell 16. ” 

“Favorite Aircraft of all time? Just remember, now I’m judging you.” Arin said with a smile. She pulled up an image of her standing in front of a what looked like a civilian Saab J21R jet trainer in ancient RAF colors. “Took me two years to finish her. Found her in a field rotting. It’s not accurate. She was in such bad shape, I just replaced all the electronics and jets with something more modern. I have her on a holodeck file along with a few others.”

Ming looked thoughtful for a moment, using the time to take a sip of his favorite whiskey as he did so.  As soon as he had done so and lowered his glass he said, “P-51 Mustang.  It played a very large role in helping the Allied Forces win World War II, it was the best fighter of it’s era, and it’s a damned good time to fly.”Marcus paused somewhere between half of a heartbeat and a full one before continuing, “For the era I would put the Lockheed P-38 Lightning as a runner up.  It was, at the time, also a very able warplane and was a figther/bomber that is also a lot of fun to fly.   The F-14 Tomcat is quite possibly my favorite fighter from the jet age.  It was, hands down, the best naval fighter of the late 20th century.  The wing configuration was pretty unique in that it could be altered for combat situations as well as flight configuration.  I’m a little surprised that the United States Navy retired the class as early as it did.  It was very solid in the role and had a fairly solid airframe as well.” 

“Currently I would place the Peregrine over the Sparrow in most situations.  It’s tougher, better armed, and good for giving the Dominion (or whomever else) a good, solid kick in the ass.  The Sparrows are great for hit and fades but not ideal for more head on tussles.  The Danube and Orion class runabouts are both good….Depending on the mission profile of course.  Almost a case of apples and oranges but not quite.   I also have all the mentioned craft and more programmed into the holodeck.  I brought over most of the files from my previous assignment…..I do have to keep my skills sharp for when I am out there in the dark after all,” Marcus finished up with a bit of a smile. 

He realized that his breakdown was likely more than the, beautiful he realized, helm officer had likely expected however she perhaps should have.  As a trained and experienced small craft expert he was going to give out details when asked.  He shrugged, mentally anyhow, before he took another sip of his whiskey as a signal he was finished as much as anything else.

She thought about his about choices. Choosing a grin she started her reply.” Nothing wrong with the Mustang but I’d take the far better armed and armored P-47. No P-51 ever flew back to base missing teso or three cylinders.

Best naval jet. F-4 Phantom. Far longer career and very distinguished combat record. Served in 20+ Air Arms. Which the Peregringe reminds me of. Put enough engines and even a brick flies.” She giggled taking a sip. “But she is well armed and armored. Since you’re a plane buff, the if the F-4 is the Peregrine. That makes the sparrow the F-5.. For the record I love the Mustang and Tomcat.”

“No doubt that the P-47 Thunderbolt was a badass bird.  It was the Mustang that turned the tables against the previously far superior Mitsubishi Zero which was flown by the Imperial Japanese Armed Forces.  And the F-4 absolutely held on for quite a while.  The USA had it in service from…..1961 to 1996 (give or take a year or two). Thirty five years was a long time especially in the 20th century.  Likewise the A-6 Intruder was a modestly successful attack aircraft that lasted from 1960 until 1997 which would put it at 37 years in service.  It’s counterpart, the EA-6 Prowler, was the electronic warfare version went from 1971 until 2019 which is just short of a fifty year span.  Those were fun simulations too if I am to be honest,”  Ming went on.

He paused to finish his drink and poured another for himself.  Once done he offered more to Arin with a gesture as he mentioned, “I had a dissertation on late 20th century aircraft for one of my academy courses.  Much of it stuck with me unlike some of the other classes.  In fact that is what got me interested in small craft and into fighters when they were introduced by Star Fleet.  Would you like more to drink?”

My paper was on the overcomplexity of the V-22 Osprey when competing tech was available. Namely the Vought XF5U flying flapjack.” But how about a new drinking game. Everytime we shot each other down, the downed pilot takes shot.”Ming considered that for a long moment before he answered.  When he did he started with a shake of the head before he said, “Leasurely flights maybe. Dogfights are my day job and, as interesting as it might be, I’m here to relax, have some fun maybe and NOT think about work for a bit.  Out of curiousity what do you know about poker?” 

“That’s perfectly acceptable. But be on notice. If I hear the words strip in conjuction with Poker….you’re going to eat that Sgt Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club band jacket.” Arin said 

Ming knew a verbal jab when he heard one.  He shook it off and said adding a condensdending smile, “Afaid of losing fast are we?  I was going to suggest shots poker but maybe that’s too high stakes for you too.  Then again with that outfit strip poker might not be a big loss considering your fashion sense.”  

Her Irish brogue became far thicker. “This isn’t dressing up. You’re telling me that’s your best effort?” She placed a hand on his shoulder, shook her head, and offered, “the smart money would be to fold now.”

The fighter pilot studied the woman’s face for maybe a heartbeat or two before nodding and letting his eyes meet hers before saying, “That apparently came across differently than intended.  I assure you that it was meant to be playful rather than insulting. Please forgive me.”

He paused a short beat and added, “And, to answer your question, no…It is not my best effort.  While I intended to look nice if it were my best effort I’d be wearing my dress uniform or, at the least, a tuxedo.  And I acknowledge that a quiet drink out doesn’t even necessitate anything remotely dressy.”

Ming stopped there and seriously hoped he didn’t seriously insult the other officer.  He was meaning his comments to be a bit of a return salvo but still to be less than offensive.  He also recognized that he thought she was quite beautiful which furthered his hopes of not offending her. The fire behind those amber eyes of hers was pretty hard to miss however.  He didn’t even notice that he was holding his breath or that he’d read her reason for being here using more than basic deduction.

 Still stuck in a thickish accent Arin said, ‘Listen, I’m sure you’re nice. But after having to dampen my natural ablilities,” she said, pulling out her ponytail, shaking her hair out a bit, then ran her hands down to tighten the sweatshirt. It was clear it was oversized to de-emphasize her curves. “I’ve learned that far too many people aren’t in it for mutuality.” Arin paused. “If I mis-read that, I apologize. I do suggest something of a venue change. I’ll even grab a bottle for the trip. I have a few open cockpit planes and a car or three we could take an easy flight/drive. Do you know what a Morgan three wheeler is?”

Ming blinked his eyes a couple of times then exhaled as his face gained a very brief look of disbelief and then a mask of curiousity.  He was usually the one to read people and the one thought apparently carried over to be somehow read by someone else.  His violet eyes looked around then returned to look back into into her amber and said quietly but sincerely, “Look…I’d be a liar if I said I didn’t think you’re beautiful.  I you are quite beautiful if I may be so bold.  However I am not into taking advantage of anyone and, regardless, we’ve not even had our first date yet so I’d say you may’ve read more into it than I had in mind.”

He then broke into a bit of a grin, “But then pilots have a bit of a reputation so I get it.  And I am familiar with it in a general sense.  I’ve read about them plus I’ve seen old 2-d pictures and one or two holographics of them but never more than that.  Never real or even on a holodeck.   So many airplanes so little time…..Especially since this damned war started.  Plus, I admit, I did linger around flying some of my favorites rather than doing more exporation from time to time.” 

“Keep it up. I’ll change my mind yet. Maybe get a glass of ice water to go since you don’t have the stomach for the real stuff.” Arin joked. “I have a scanned program of the Hangar back home. There is my Cessna 210 or family truck. She pretty docile. The other is a Beechcraft Staggerwing. God she’s a looker. I did use a modern electric motor with fuel cell. She’ll get close to 300mph with a tailwind. I did have the original engine programmed for effect though. If the motor is good enough, who needs a radio. ”

Ming did a double take before his eyebrow arched quite Vulcan manor.  He took a deep breath before saying through a smile, “That almost sounds like a challenge.  If so it might just be one I might have to accept.  Beyond that I am more than pleased to try your beverage of choice whenever you wish.  Simply say when.” 

He made it a point to try to learn about the more senior staff as was habit since his time on the USS Tucson.  He knew she lived on Earth from an early age which explained her accent.   

He continued after considering her for a moment.  His , “You’re actually serious…..?  You have all that back home?”

“Da and I had to build much of it after the move. The logistics of Solarion are a bit different. Time on the industrial replicators is very limited due to the nature of the community but I can make all the sub assemblies I want. So, Cessna 210 he an I built as the ‘runabout’. ” She took his hand for a spliut second to lead him out of the lounge. “So we built one for the family and I built the Staggerwing. Still thinking about building a radial engine for it. They sounds so good. ” A wicked smile came across her face. “I’m gonna change. Not proper flying attire at all. I just opened the first box. It’s not all the whiskey I have by far, it’s just what I happen to have out. Small fridge next to will have stone tumblers. ”

Ming gave the woman a small smile as she turned for the bedroom.  The trip from the lounge to her quarters seemed a much shorter walk than it should have.  He idlely wondered if that had been due to the whiskey or the company.  Likely a little of both.  He also realized that there were times where he might’ve followed someone but he realized that would be a …. tragic mistake if he’d done so.  Instead he went to grab a bottle of whisky she’d been so adamently touted and the rather beautiful glasses she had mentioned.  As he did so he started talking making a point to project his voice rather than shout so she could hear.   

“I got to see some incredible things back on Earth.  Hard not to with my dad being a professor of Archaic Chinese History.  His archeological and historical connections got us through some impressive sites back on Earth.  My mom, on the other hand, was a tactical officer in the Fleet.   Our home on New Berlin, Luna didn’t really allow for some of the machines I grew to study and love.   With parents like I had it’s likely not a shock why I enrolled in Starfleet Academy and graduated with a dual major in Astronautics / Astronautical Tactics paired with a minor in History….World War II, Atlantic Theater of Operations.  I’ve no real regrets about my life but I am suddenly a bit envious of at least one aspect of your life,” the pilot said fixing the woman across from him with a genuine smile once she reentered the room.

After a minute he got more serious and addded, “Sorry.  I didn’t quite mean to give you my life story.  I’ve not even got a moderate buzz going.  But I do have a request if I may……”

Arin came out in thicker but much tighter jeans. The sweatshirt had changed into a dark green and gold blouse, over the top was a black leather civilian flight jacket. 

“Nice outfit.  Very nice in fact. I have a proposal Lieutenant Jones.  I am quite happy to fly with you in the aircraft you chose.  I request and propose we do so in an area of my chosing. Further more I would like, if I may be so bold, to suggest a place that we can just….Talk while we have a few drinks either before or after our flight.  I’ll admit that you piqued my curiousity and I would like for us to perhaps get to know each other.  By that I mean as friends for starters,” Ming said confidently but without any tone that suggested command. 

“You keep swinging. One of these days, you may hit one.” Arin quipped. She winked at him. “Honestly. I was looking for whiskey, we happen to have that in common. Happy to be a wingman. I wasn’t looking for anything else. Fellow pilots, We both happen to share interests. Stop reading ahead. ” She kissed him on the cheek. 

“And not those tumblers.” she took the two he had out and moved a few feet to right. Reaching in she pulled to cold marble tumblers from the freezer. She reached over and grabbed a bottle with an orange label. “Hold onto your shorts. I’ll even help you out. This is an Irish single malt. Finished in madeira wine casks which is a sweet or dry Spanish fortified wine. Think walnuts, apricots, and raisins. Life is short have dessert first. She cracked the label and filled each glass with three fingers of the golden fluid. Handing him a glass, she lifted the tumbler and said. ”So many planes, so little time.” 

Ming grinned and toasted in response, “May all flights have a tailwind, and may all landings be smooth landings.”

Bravoflight’s commanding officer waited for the other officer to start for her drink first.  She must’ve read the look she was getting and moved the glass to take a sip herself.  Once that process started Ming took a fair sized sip after giving it an appraising sniff that was more a deep inhale.  

After a moment Ming swallowed and gave an approving nod.  He said, “I’m not sure it’ll replace Tully Dew as my favorite but I think I just found one that’ll take a place high on my list.  Ardbeg might have compitition for a tight second place on said list actually.  Might mind you.”

Ming grinned as he finished making it clear he was teasing a bit though it wasn’t too playful as he didn’t want to seem OVERLY friendly.  He did, however, did take another drink as he honestly did appreciate this one.  It was quite good, he didn’t mind admitting to himself, Mercy or anyone else.  

Arin drained her glass in a last long sip, encouraging her drinking partner to do the same. Grabbing the bottle and tumblers, she said. “Come on, I have a nice holo-hangar to show you and I think, something you’ve never flown.”

With a mental shrug Ming slugged back what was left in his glass and grinned at the woman.  Marcus said, “Well, there’s one way to find out.  As Shakespeare once said, ‘Lay on MacDuff!’”

In his dress uniform, Gus looked over everything in the mirror. There was plenty of fruit salad on the uniform, which was one of the reasons he liked it so much. Seeing the look of awe and wonder of seeing own’s career laid out on one sheet of cloth and metal was satisfying.

The newly grown beard looked the part. It framed his face a bit more. Cia came up behind him. “Looking smart. As usual.” Turning around he held his arms out. The pair clung to each other for several moments. “You know I’m not going with you this cruise.” Cia said.“Yes, ma’am, and for once, I like the decision. I always want you by my side but the universe is a very dangerous place. Let me do the ugly needed things to keep my loved ones and others safe,” Gus offered as much as a meditation as a comment.

“I know.” Cia responded, kissing him on the cheek. “You’ll do better not to have to worry about me back on the ship. Now go get the accolades you deserve.” She smacked him on the butt as he turned.

Later..

“Master Chief Petty Officer Strellaass ‘Gus’ Viat. On August April 4, 2049, the USS Berlin was dispatched to help reinforce a mining outpost from pirate attack. Soon it was discovered that the pirates were a company sized element sent to capture the outpost, not simply raid it. Realizing the vulnerability of over 100 fellow soldiers, Master Chief Petty Officer Viat quickly organized a hasty defense consisting of two platoons of soldiers, and three type 8 shuttlecraft. As the fight developed, Viat braved hostile enemy fire to personally engage the enemy with hand grenades, phaser fire, and hand weapons, as well as organized the evacuation of three wounded soldiers from cargo shuttle struck by an emplaced distruptor cannon.

In total disregard for his own life, he maintained his exposed position in order to engage the attacking enemy force. During this action, he was wounded. His courageous actions helped defeat the enemy attack and resulted in as many as 50 enemy soldiers killed. His actions allowed the safe withdrawal of numerous wounded soldiers. Master Chief Petty Officer Viat’s extraordinary heroism and uncommon valor are in keeping with the highest traditions of Federation service and reflect great credit upon himself, the USS Berlin, and Starfleet Command. It is my pleasure to award him the Starfleet Silver Palm with clusters."

April 4, 2349…

Lieutenant Micha Fitzpatrick sat with a phaser in his hand.  He was no soldier, he was an engineer. The Chief Engineer of the Berlin to be exact,  but at this moment there was not  much to fix.  The mining facilities were completely trashed.

Gus quietly cleaned and checked his Type II phaser. He had two cricket phasers attached to his load bearing vest. That done he looked around and noticed Micha looking over things. Tapping his earpiece he said. “Perimeter check. ” One by one the new listening posts were finally silent. The Berlin was back in orbit and things had finally calmed down. “Be glad we're alive to rebuild. Certainly, the odds were not in our favor.” He paused. “Yet I will log this as a good day.”

Micha looked over at Gus, and scowled,  “Speak for yourself. I don’t like crawling around in the dirt, but thanks for pulling me out of that pickle.”

Gus actually chuckled out loud at that. Finding a water source, he drained two canteens before speaking. “Then might I suggest that a sonic shower and replicator be your highest priority. ” There was even the hint of a smile. “There is a bottle of Saurian brandy in my quarters. It's being saved for a special occasion. This isn't it, but I'd drain my share today. What's that old cliche we came up with? You build, I break? Sorry old friend."

Micha let out a gutteral grumble, “Doesn't mean I have the like it.”

The pulse of a disruptor pinged off a nearby concrete wall, shattering the material. Both men ducked instinctively. “Cover me and try and draw them out.” Gus offered, tossing him one of his cricket phasers. 

“Draw them out?  How do you want me to do that?” Micah demanded already pointing in the direction of the disruptor bolts.

“Ideally? Make yourself a target but don't get shot.” Gus offered dryly. He stifled a snicker. "Sorry old friend. Just shoot at them but try and move around so they don't drop anything on you. I want you to a nuisance not a high priority target."  Gus disappeared quickly into the fog of war and towards the harassing's enemy.

"Shoot at me? Why was I afraid you were going to say that?“

"I heard that and what the hell do you think I'm doing. Wanna trade?” Gus spoke around the corner before disappearing for good. 

Glancing around the engineer noted an over turned anti-grav skiff. “Don't freaking miss,” Micha snarled at Gus as he leaped over the stone wall he was using as cover and sprinted for the skiff firing at random towards the enemy. 

He moved quickly as Micha's covering fire reached his ears. As the cover fire slacked off Gus stopped. Readying a grenade in his left hand, he keyed the command into his wristpadd, warming a warm orange pulse ring lit up once. It was armed. Throwing the grenade in the direction he suspected the enemy was, he crouched behind a rock wall, tensing up steeling himself for the concussion.

A cry along with the explosion rattled the forest floor. He'd gotten special permission to replicate and modify some handgrenades. It resembled what the Humans would call a baseball. He'd added golfball style dimples to improve tactile feel along with improved areodynamics. They weren't as powerful as standard issue grenades but were far more accurate.

“I thought you were going to shoot them, not blow me and them to kingdom come with a damned grenade!” Micha shouted from the shelter of the skiff.  

Gus remained quiet while moving towards the explosion crater. As he reached the edge of the bushes, he paused and listened while scanning for movement with his eyes. Gus wasn't quick to move farther having been ambushed twice before. He used his forearm keypad to send a message to Micha to send a few more bolts. Just aim high. 

Sighing Micha peered carefully around the skiff, took aim at the general direction of the enemy making sure to shoot high as instructed and fired off a dozen shots in rapid succession.

This time the forest was quiet. Gus cautiously approached the emplaced disruptor. He ignored the obviously dead. In the distance was a groan. Rifle pointing in that direction, he made it to one of the enemy. It reached for a weapon. Gus stunned him.  Not taking his eyes off the task of scanning for threats he keyed in the sequence on his forearm control pad to scan for nearby targets. “Clear!. We also have a prisoner.”

Micha sat back with a heavy sigh with his back resting against the skiff.  Shouting over his shoulder, “You're going to kill me Gus! If not by a disruptor, but by a heart attack."

Gus was spent. He'd been running around for several hours now. He sat down in the nearby rubble, and tore into an energy bar wrapper, careful to peel its so it didn't touch his hands. The familiar transporter whine sprung both back into action. Rifle ready, he flipped the safety off and set it to burst mode without a thought. He relaxed when a security detail arrived from the Berlin, back in orbit apparently.

“Woah there, Top, swing that somewhere else.” Silas, the Berlin's new XO tactical team leader teased Gus. Flipping the safety back on, Gus got up. “Prisoner over there, wounded and stunned. The rest will need graves registration.” Gus offered plainly.  

Present day…

Rebecca was in her ready room, her ever present coffee in her hand sipping it while staring out the window as stars streaked by. On her open terminal was one of the newer members of the crew. And Ensign Viat.  A chime at the door broke Rebecca's concentration, “Come in.”

Ensign Viat came in, impeccable uniform, PADD in hand. Standing the requisite space away from the desk was automatic after 20 years of service. “You asked to see me Captain?” Gus asked.

“Of course Ensign," Rebecca said with a polite smile.  “Have a seat.  Can I get you anything?”

Nothing for me. Thank you Captain. "Gus said politely and took a seat in front of the Captain

Rebecca sat down at her desk, “Well welcome to the Denver.” She reached into one of the desk drawers and pulled out a framed photograph.  “I had planned on returning this to the previous owner's family.  It came with the office after the previous captain lost his life saving this ship.  Since you are in this photo I figure it would mean more to you than it would to his family.” She slid it over and in the photo then and much younger Lieutenant Micha Fitzpatrick stood need to a Chief Petty Officer following an awards ceremony.

He got up and took the picture, flipping it out, though he didn't need it to remember the photo. “It was good to see Micha. A rare breed.” Gus offered. “The medals really belong to the people that didn't make it out,” Gus offered.  

Gus got the 1000 yard stare, it took a few moments for him to realize he was reliving the events in his mind.

“Captain Fitzpatrick was a good man.  I was his XO for only a year, but I came to respect the man. I read what he wrote in your citation.   It would appear he felt the same about you.”

Gus wiped a tear away. "We didn't graduate together but we were at the Academy at the same time. We had some shared classes. He was the one that came up with Gus since he never had a prayer of pronouncing my name."  

Rebecca chuckled,  “Sounds like the Captain. He called me Red. I told him only my mom got to do that, of course she used Rua, Gaelic for red, still.” She smirked,  “You know what that cantankerous old son of a bitch did?  He covered up his rank insignia and said, ‘Let’s play rank poker’.”

Gus chuckled this time. “He tried that once. I borrowed Master Chief Petty Officer of Starfleet insignia. Four bars and three chevrons finally beat his four pips. Thank you for this Captain. I will treasure it.”

Rebecca nodded, “I think the Captain would be happy you had it. Someone who could actually appreciate it.”

“Yes Captain. I agree," Gus replied, then added “Perhaps once we are both suitably off duty, a proper salute could be arranged. Something worthy of being consumed.” 

Picking up the coffee pot sitting on the end of her desk she refreshed her cup.  Leaning back in her chair she cradled the cup in both hands and took a sip before speaking again. “How are you settling in?”

“Tolerably well Captain. This is as you say, not my first rodeo. Luckily there are only minor differences between the three Excelsior class starships I have served on. In processing is done. My quarters are…satisfactory for the moment. I have yet to set up my garden. My wife decided that her role is better served at home. I cannot disagree. The children are grown and off to their prospective opportunities. I understand you have quite the family yourself?” Gus asked with genuine interest. 

Rebecca smiled despite herself,  “I do.  Twin six-year-old girls, and a 13-year-old step-som.  They are on Starbase 75 and I am looking forward to seeing them tomorrow.”

"If there is anything I can do to smooth that along, let me know Captain. I don't have much business on the Starbase. I would just like to walk through the arboretum in case there are a few things I can collect samples of to grow. Gus offered. 

“I'm fine.  Get with Mr. Collins. You two need to be prepared for action and that means drilling your crew. The Dominion has been too quiet for too long.”

"I thought humans didn't read minds." Gus smiled slightly. “It's the main reason I came back. I had friends on the Odyssey. Even if I didn't, the signs are there to see. Also a point of contention with not only my fellow Vulcans but Starfleet as well. We need more ships and better trained combat personnel.”

“That my friend, is above my pay grade.  What we really need is the Romulans to join the war and that still may not be enough.”

“Or Divine intervention, but you are correct, Captain. He paused. "If there is nothing else, I shall attend to my duties and contact you later for the remembrance salute in the lounge. If there is anyone special to you or that knew him, they can attend as well. Keep the crowd small though. 43 year old Saurian brandy doesn't last.”

She nodded, “Better get to it then.”

Gus tipped his head in acknowledgment. “Aye Sir.” 

<End>

Finally all the inprocessing was done. It was ironic how difficult it was to move within the origanization, at least permanently. 

Now he had to look the part. Give his time in service, he learned long ago how to project the demeanor needed for people to follow him. A crisp battle dress jumpsuit with subdued red collar and now two pips instead of the far more familiar shield, chevrons, and pips his LT JG rank had replaced.  

A padd to make notes, not that he needed them but it was easier to compile the reports from later if he did them. Walking by the replicator, he consumed a double shot of red leaf tea, water, and a breath mint. Since he was going on duty, he retrieved the type II phaser and crossdraw holster, making sure it was correct, secured, and on stun per regulations. 

Getting to the Tactical Recon CO’s office. Soon he announced himself and stood in front of his boss’s desk. 

“Good Morning Sir.”

Collins stood and offered his hand to the new officer. “Happy to have you on board.”

“Happy to be here Sir. Almost feels like old home week. This will be the third Excelsior I have served on.” Gus offered, though no hint of a smile, he seemed jovial. “Before we even start, I will answer one of the obvious questions. Why a Vulcan with two decades in Starfleet only an O-2.” When he saw Collins nod, Gus continued. “I was eager to explore and didn’t want to wait four years to finish the Academy. So I enlisted. Then a whirlwhind of activity and a few requests for OSC (officer’s candidate school) than always seemed to be denied. So when my family started, I took a leave of absence and raised my children. 

“When I went to re-enlist, still no consideration for OSC. When I Odyssesy blew up, I went back and at least received my choice of assignments. Back to the Berlin. I say back as there was a small 3 month training detail that I served on the Berlin back in 2349. Then I was decorated and the opinions suddenly changed.” Gus finished with an uncharacteristically emotional response. His response clearly dripping in sarcasm.

Collins nodded as the man spoke. He was also jotting down notes for later review. “So, you know what the mission is. We are going into possibly hostile territory where anything may and probably will happen. How do you feel about this?” 

“Life sucks. Don’t forget your helmet?” Gus quipped and even chuckled once as he said that in a sarcastic tone. “Sir, I’ve been Senior Enlisted for over a decade. Combat and I are old friends.”  

“You’re not a prototypical Vulcan, are you?’ Collins looked at him. ”You say things in a sarcastic tone. You are unlike many of the Vulcans I have come into contact with. May I ask, why is this?”

“I could say you’re a bit more formal than most humans, but infinite diversity in infinite combination.  I don’t believe that all emotions should be purged. That’s not to say I am completely overcome by them either. My wife Cia who is a Trill and I have become more in tune with each other over the decades. I suppose we take the best of the other.“Also my people and I differ on a great many things. Do you believe what all humans do?” Gus asked. 

Collins looked at him. “If I stepped over the line, I apologize. Your private life is yours.” He paused. “I don’t agree, at times, with everyone. But I try to find a way to compromise to get the job done. It’s sounds like you and wife have found a way to be happy together. That is something to admire.” 

Gus smiled slightly. “I think we can chalk alot of this up to the just learning to interact. Not everyone clicks and we are learning each other’s area of expertise. Plus Officer country is new to me. Senior Enlisted tend to be very…boisterous and the energy can be a bit different. No apologies needed.” Gus got up and extended his hand. “Protocol and familiarity do not have to be strangers.”

Collins shook the offered hand. “Well, I’ve decided to assign you as my assistant tactical chief. I think we will work good together.” 

Gus smiled a bit. “I see no reason to disagree. Most of this is very familiar and I tend to think of that human biblical proverb. ”As iron sharpens iron, so does man sharpen man.” Gus paused, then added, ‘while I am not religious, I take wisdom where I find it.”“Perhaps we can share a salute in the lounge after duty. In honor of the former Captain and my friend Micha Fitzpatrick. A time has not been set but we can work out the details.” Gus offered. 

Collins nodded his head. “I’d be honored to attend. But now I have more work to attend to, so let me know when and where, and I’ll be there.”

“Understood Sir. You’ll get an invite. I think it’s time to terrorize the troops as it were so there are more scared to disappoint us than die.” A sly smile crossed the soldier’s face. “Don’t worry Sir, I won’t fold, spindle or otherwise mutilate. You’ll find I have some very unconventional conventional tools in my inventory and it’s time to teach the Jem’Hadar that war in the Alpha quadrant has created terror they’ve never seen.”

“I just want our people to be prepared for what they may face. Don’t terrorize them, sets a bad example. I want them ready, I just don’t want them so beaten, they’d be of no use to us.” Collins looked at him. “I may drop by during the training.” 

“Sir, I know how to lead troops in training and in battle. They will be strong, fast, and lethal. Drop in any time.” Gus offered. 

“Lethal only at a last resort.” Collins commented. “Otherwise count on seeing me.”

“Hooah, Lieutenant. Just understand that while you are the leader of the party and I will obey any lawful orders as always, I was brought in because I know when it’s time to not play well with others. My job to get you and them up to my speed.” Gus paused. “I find the taking of life repugnant. War and death are wasteful things. Better to be so good that it gives the enemies pause when thinking of a rematch

“I understand why you were brought here, lieutenant, but I have received training at Starfleet, as well as my previous posting. So I am ready to go when needed. But thank you anyway.” Collins replied.

“Of course Sir. If there is nothing else, I will get started.” Gus said plainly. 

“Carry on, Mr. Viat.”

“Yes Sir.” Gus turned smartly. Decades of reporting to officers was ingrained. 

Ming was reviewing some of the reports from the past few weeks.  While Captain Talon was less than pleased with the reports from the ground action against the mirror universe counterparts.   He wasn’t thrilled either to be honest.  One ship grounded planet side, another that had to return to Denver due to battle damage and minor to moderate damage to the remaining three.  

Battle damage was to be expected in any action.  He learned that in the opening actions of the war.  The fact they were facing off versus their own counterparts.  He knew for a fact the fighters were commanded by some opposite counterpart or version of himself.  Not that it was an excuse but it was a good explanation for the tactical results of the fight from the floggers.  Their equipment was crap but some if not many of the tactics seemed very similar to what he might’ve done with what they had.     

He, and his pilots, had been cleared.  There’d been some comments about his XO however.  Ensign Esessa Sh’ivhohlol was the sole member of the squadron to lose her craft…all but anyhow.  It was unflyable and required extensive repairs.  Enough that it was repairable it was questionable IF it would be ready for Denver’s next deployment which, as he understood it, was going to require every ship and every person.  He didn’t want any negative reflection on Sh’iv as she was a top notch pilot and a member of HIS team.   The more he had thought about it the more the concern grew. 

By the time the chronometer struck 12 noon Ming decided that another conversation was needed.  If for no other reason that the flight was still down two ships.  Shi’vs which was still on Earth and Günter’s which had somehow taken major damage on his starboard wing and his portside engine yet still made it home.  Ming was impressed with that feat all by itself.   

Ming tapped his combadge and said, “Lieutenant Ming to Captain Rebecca Talon….Do you have a moment?  Squadron business if you can manage to make the time.”

“I am in my ready room,” The captain’s voice came over the speaker.  “I’m free-ish for the next hour or so.” 

“Understood. On my way, Captain,” Marcus replied.  

The lieutenant closed the channel and secured his stations as he normally did since he took command of Bravo Flight.   Once done he made his way to the Captain’s ready room at a better than fair clip that was just short of a jog.  He was aiming to be all business at least for starters.   He did make a point to slow down and acknowledge those he passed regardless of rank as he often did.  

When Ming exited the turbolift onto bridge he paused to look around.  It was slow, as expected, given the circumstances.  He took a moment to admire the view while he could before heading for the ready room.  Once he got to the doors of his destination he paused to activate the door chime since he didn’t want to risk barging into anything important that might’ve struck up in the few minutes between last contact and now.   

“Enter.”

Lieutenant Ming entered the ready room and moved to stand at attention in front of the captain’s desk before saying, “Thank you for agreeing to meet with me, Captain.” 

“At ease Mr. Ming, before you strain something and you need to visit sickbay.”

“Aye, Captain,” Marcus said with a slight smile as he shifted to parade rest obviously relaxing his demeanor some.  While he was here on official business he didn’t want anyone, let alone the commander of the starship he was assigned to, accusing him of being unnecessarily stiff manored.  

“Can I get you anything? I stockpiled up on coffee beans while we were on Earth.  Replicated will do in a pinch, but there’s just something about grinding real own beans and brewing it.” Rebecca refreshed her coffee cup from the pot at the edge of her desk. “USS Denver NCC-72016” was displayed prominently in blue when she took a sip. The image of the Starfleet combadge partially obscured by her manicured fingers.

The pilot gave her offer obvious thought for a heartbeat or so.  He gave the captain a slight, albeit sincere, smile as he said, “Thank you captain but I’ll pass.  Never been the biggest fan of coffee actually….even the good stuff.  I do appreciate the offer however.”

“So, what brings you in here today with your hair on fire?” She said finally getting to the point. The speed at which he arrived and the slight sheen of sweat on his brow indicated he had just rushed to get there.

Ming nodded and started , “As you know the events in Montana were quite an adventure.  The flight, as you also know, took a bit of a beating.  I’ve managed to get some information about what was left of the mirror small craft and they were a crazy hodgebodge of tech that apparently worked very well.   It was no small feat for Sh’iv to get her fighter safely on the ground with the damage it took.  Fighter command informed me it’s going to be scrapped for parts and materials mind you.  Erikson’s fighter made it back to Denver with only a bit less damage which garnered some rather impressive displays of Tellarite displays of foul language cursing.  Mr. Tkown and I are, to be blunt, on the crew chief’s shit list while McPherson is getting lots of unkind looks.”   

Marcus paused, shaking his head with bemusement as he did so, “After action reviews have cleared me and the Knights.  It still bugs me however.  I’ve got four damned good pilots and I wouldn’t be where I am if I didn’t have a damned decent idea of what I was doing.  Plus the Peregrine fighters are some damned tough birds.  Despite all that we’re down one fighter, possibly short two with another three needing patch work followed by new paint.” 

“Lieutenant,  in case you didn’t know, my counterpart was from the 2420’s.  That’s forty some years into the future. The fact that you only lost one ship is a testament to your training of the flight. You can relax. No one is blaming you or holding it against you.”

The Knight’s CO nodded and pursed his lips, “I know.  I’ve a good batch of pilots that’s fure sure……and while that was the official outcome it’s nice to hear it again though.”  

The lieutenant sighed, “Add to that I am faced with something of a situation.  Did you, by chance, get to meet a young lady by the name of Órlaith while we were planetside?”

“Who do you think invited her to stay on the Denver?”  Rebecca smirked over her coffee, “When someone turns on their family and saves your life it has a tendency to stick out in your mind.”

Marcus paused for a moment before nodding again.  He said, “Quite.  She’s an impressive young woman to be sure.  She is interested in learning about fighters.  Point in fact she’s asked me to mentor her.  Obviously I am not about to put her in a fighter.  I’m likely to start her on learning flight operations from the ground on up.  Also it’d not hurt for her to get in with the grease monkeys.  Never hurts for a pilot to know about their birds…Especially if they’re in a situation where tinkering is needed.”

He paused and grinned, “Crewman Andrews will keep our new crew member out of trouble when she is doing that.  Point in fact I’m going to be putting Mikaela in for a promotion.  She’s getting to be a major cog on that flightline and has not only taken on more responsability but most everyone on the flightline respects her.  She’s all but taken command of the ordnance section.  With that in mind I aim to make Andrews the official ordnance supervisor.”

“It’s your wing Mr. Ming, handle it as you see fit.”

The man smiled looking a fair deal less formal than before.  He said, “Understood, Captain.  While I am getting settled into the role in most respects there are still one or two I guess I need to continue to work on.  I will submit the appropriate paperwork later this afternoon. It’ll be a morale boost for both Andrews as well as most of the flight line no doubt.  She’s rather popular…Understandable as she works hard, helps whenever she can and can be a charmer the whole time.  I’ve had a few folks mention that her accent is quite endearing.”

The lead Knight sobered a bit before adding, “The fighter situation is a bit of a dampener though.  We’re down one fighter for sure, as mentioned.  Erikson’s fighter….The crew chief was thinking he may not be able to save it putting us another bird short.  He assured me he’ll do all he can with it but it’ll be a lot of work assuming it can be saved.”Ming pursed his lips as he added,  “That’s a 50/50 propisition at best.  That leaves me in the very new situation of having to submit or assist in the submission for one Peregrine replacement for sure with the potential for a second which’d be a first for me.”

“I got something for you. Fleet is looking to to field test the new Valkyrie-class fighters.  There aren’t enough to fill a whole squadron. I volunteered your flight to be one of the handful of units to receive the new fighters.”

The pilot just blinked initially.  After a heartbeat he said a bit on the quite side, “Really?  That’s…..Incredible.  I figured it was beyond hope to test even one out.  A whole flight’s worth though?”

Ming let off a soft whistle then said, “I dunno how you managed it Captain Talon.   We’ll put them through the appropriate paces though.  If they’re as good as some folks at fighter command have said they’ll be a huge asset.  I did have a discussion with the crew chief earlier though thinking through other contingencies though and have a request.  We’ve enough space to comfortably accomidate up to seven fighters.  While I’d envisioned five Peregrines and two of the Sparrows. As the Valkyrie are smaller I’d like to see about holding the two best Peregrine fighters in reserve.”

The pilot continued, “If we could do that I’d prefer it for one big reason. They’re new craft which means, among other things, there are likely to be bugs.  Gods forbid damage is also possible in combat as we were just reminded.  Having alternate craft in case that happens make sense.   An alternate option would be to keep the Peregrine in the best condition, trade off the others, take the Valkyries and add a Sparrow as a second alternate.  There are a few benefits to both scenerios.  I’d spoken to Xellar about the possiblity of a spare Sparrow and a spare Valkyrie based on our conversation a while back out of curiousity as much as hopes.  Based on the dimensions of the classes involved and that information five Valkyries and two Peregrines shouldn’t be a very tight of a fit at all.” 

“Talk to engineering if you need to expand your hanger bays. Not much call for science labs presently.  I expect some backups will come in handy.”

Ming thought for a moment then said, “I might take you up on that.  A little extra room would be useful for storage and repairs.  Not sure we could squeeze in a Sparrow too now that I think on it but I will coordinate with engineering to see what we can arrange….I don’t want to get over ambitious on that front.  I will be saving many of the labs anyway for other uses if we need them.  I might also take over a couple for a pet project I have been considering.  Again, engineering will get the specifications.”Rebecca nodded, “Anything else Lieutenant?”

“Yes, Captain.  That pet project I mentioned….I will be asking engineering to establish feeds from Astrometrics and Navigation to two of the labs which I will be converting with your permission.  As you may or may not know I majored in Astronautics and Astronautical Tactics at the Academy.  My senior thesis covered the effects of space-time and how they could apply to starship / starfighter tactical applications.  With the right data on local space I might be able to verify my suppositions and, if so, it could possibly help out with the upcomming and future missions.  How exactly will depend on a few factors but we need every edge we can get our paws on out there if we can find them,” Ming said thoughtfully. 

 “On a separate, yet related note.  I was part of the teams designing anti-Borg ships following Wolf 359.  My contributions were minor, mostly as one of the construction supervisors on the USS Steamrunner.  I had a concept for a fleet carrier kicking around since my Doctoral thesis at the Academy.   I dusted it off, updated it and submitted it to the ASDB.  Needless to say it was roundly rejected. Starfleet is purely a defensive force.” She snorted at that knowing the ridiculousness of that particular propaganda.   Well with fighters being more commonly used in this war Starfleet is taking a look at the design again.  I have been asked to conduct a feasibility study.” She slid a PADD over to Ming.  “I could use a pilot’s perspective.” 

Ming took the PADD and reviewed the data within.  He zoomed in and then out a few times with the schematics reviewing some of the aspects in finer detail.  He nodded a few times and scrutinzed once or twice.  He looked up and said after a couple of moments, “Overall good design I’d say.  Smart having a fighter bay sperate from the shuttle bays.  The aft egress bay makes sense.  The front ingress is also a very good touch as well.  Makes it easier, especially with larger fighter contingents, for fresh fighter teams to launch while others are able to return.  Nice forethought on that one.”    

Marcus glanced at the pad again and, after another couple of heartbeats, he added with a bit of a grin at the end, “The ship itself seems to be well armed which I am happy to see.  Not that I’d expect less of you.  Insight and forethought definately seem to be things you’re far from lacking.”     

Rebecca smirked,  “You make me out to be some sort of Mary Sue. Trust me Mr. Ming I have my flaws, but when you work on something for twenty some years incorporating years of experience as you go along you tend to work the bugs out.  I don’t expect them to build the thing.   It’s a warship pure and simple,  and you can’t just pass it off as an escort like the Defiant, but then again we are at war.”

Ming had never heard the term “Mary Sue” before but he took her meaning.  He shook his head initially as he said, “No, Captain….I don’t think you’re perfect.  However I will say that I think you’re well versed and good at what you do.  Even in war folks don’t make captain unless something like that is the case.  In peace you’re not getting that far otherwise.  In war…..Well, even the best sometimes don’t get as far as they should.”

For a second Marcus looked rather haunted…A look he’d shown Rebecca before.  As he often did he shook it off within the span of a heartbeat and said, “Yes, it is a warship.  While the future of the Federation should always be peaceful coexistance and exploration it’s shortsighted to think that there won’t be those who seek to eradicate such principles.  The Borg and The Dominion are prime examples which I know you’re aware.  Sometimes even those who love peace need to put on the brass knuckles with intent from time to time or else those people won’t be around anymore.”

He put his hand up to stay any comments quite yet, “I am not going to say we should gear for violence as a matter of course.  While they are allies we are not the Klingon Empire.  I just think we need to be ready to defend our principles while doing our very best to keep them intact.  Semantics maybe but I’m not sure I see another way after Wolf 359 and this damned war.”    

“You know that,  and I know that.  Hell, there are plenty of Admirals like Ross and Dailey that know that as well. Unfortunately for every admiral that knows peace is only obtained by strength there are two or three that came up through the peaceful times.  They are ones that signed off on the Galaxy-class giving us schools and children on starships. I love peace as much as the next woman, but this is a dog eat dog galaxy out here.  There are tyrants who don’t respect talk, and sometimes unfortunately diplomacy at the end of a phaser is needed.  We should always be mindful of our words, and always try those first, but when there is no negotiation do we just roll over?  Do we just let the Borg assimilate Earth?  The Dominion control the Alpha Quadrant?  For too long we spoke softly without the big stick.  It’s past time we picked that big stick up and showed our enemies what they are facing.”

ing nodded saying with an almost preditory tone, “Damned right.   Thanks to my parents I have some connections in Starfleet Command and Starfleet Academy.  A handful of warhawks, a good number of folks with the sense to feel essentially as we do but too many who still have their heads in the sand like those Ostriches on Earth.  I find it….distressing.  I have no love for war.   I like the idea of, for lack of a better term, complacance wiping out the Federation to be less appealing though.”

The lieutnenant sighed sounding more resigned now when he added, “I hope the Valkyries are as amazing they’re hyped to be.  The Sparrow is fast and can maneuver beautifully but doesn’t have much in the way of teeth.  The Peregrines are not as fast or maneuverable as the Sparrow by far however they’re much better so far as armor and armorment.  It’s slightly faster by relative comparison but it’s a bit like the 20th and 21st Century’s A-10 Thunderbolt II.  Nasty, well armed, well armored but not as hot as it could be in the ability to bob and weave.  My hope is the Valkyrie is a good mix.  It is on paper and, in the limited action they’ve seen they show promise.  As the ancent saying goes the proof is in the pudding.” 

She shrugged,  “I’ll have to take your word for it. Is there anything else Mr. Ming?”

Ming smiled sheepishly and said, “Sorry captain.  Got a bit carried away with the shop talk and the rest wasn’t stuff you’re not aware of.  Maybe I can use some of a pep talk for the Knights or something similar. Otherwise….the only other thing I can think of at the moment is one more request.”

“Go ahead,” Rebecca urged.

After a very brief pause he added, “Not that I’d really expect less but when we know as to when the fighters will arrive I ask that Mr. Xellath and I be notified.  I’d like to surprise my pilots last minute and Mr. Xellath, being the crew chief, will be the one organizing the off load of the two worst off Peregrines before on boarding the new fighters and juggling everything involved with and around that.”   

Rebecca consulted her terminal entering commands,  “Looks like the scheduled arrival will be tomorrow at 1300.”

Ming looked thoughtful for a moment before nodding. He said, “With your permission I’ll have….I presume Lt. Crawford would be the best person for Chief Xellath to coordiate with for the transfer?”

Rebecca sat back, “Sounds reasonable.”

Marcus nodded, “I’ll tell the Chief if you don’t mind letting Mr. Crawford know. Otherwise I think that’s all I can think of….For the moment anyway.”

She went to her terminal typed out a message and sent it to the operations station. “Done. If there’s nothing else Mr. Ming, you are dismissed.”

Ming nodded, “I’ll head to the flight bay to coordinate with Mr. Xellath.  I appreciate your time, Captain.”

He straightened to attention then nodded and gave the captain a genuine smile.  Marcus added a simple “Thank you” before turning and heading out to the part of the ship that was more his domain than even his quarters.

Ming had just finished explaining what was needed for the practice run prior to the upcomming battle and Chief Xalleth was looking at the human in disbelief.  Fact in point he thought that the Terran was mad.  A fact which he told the lieutennant a moment later in no uncertain and with a few unkind words.

Marcus crossed his arms and let the Tellarite finish his tirade despite the fact more than a few crew members and pilots were looking in their direction with increasingly alarmed looks.  Once the pause went along long enough the Knight’s CO said, “I understand your feelings in the matter Chief.  Truth be told I am a bit vexed how they’re wanting to approach things.  I’d think IFF tweaks and a few settings adjustments and thing’s would be fine.  They want the look on top of tactics and performance though.” 

Xellth exclaimed, “But in 75 Terran minutes?! We can’t realistically affix enough hardware to alter the looks of these craft which is absolutely insane in the first place!”

Ming smiled, “Holoemitters.  Affixing real modifications can’t realistically happen so fix emitters to the best possible fix points, load the image matrix into the computer, hook it in and go.  Adjust the settings to match with a kill switch to reset them to default in case of emergency.”

The Tellarite stared at the Lieutenant for a long moment.  “That is crazy….but it may be possible.”

Ming nodded and said, “Glad you approve.  If that’s what you consider the best option I’m going to say to get on it Chief.”

The Tellarite Crew Chief nodded and rushed off and started to fire off orders to the line crew.  Ming smiled seeing the Chief’s apparent enthusiasm.

With that the Lieutenant made his way to the pilot’s lounge / briefing room. Everyone made it since he summoned the flight there leaving the briefing and were talking amongst each other while he was getting things set up with the flight crew.

Sh’iv snapped to attention when Ming walked in, “CO on deck.”

“At ease Knights.  Take a seat.  We’re going to be involved with a fleet action within the next hour or so.  We’re going to be portraying the bad guys in what amount to some war games.  The Knights, and others, are going to be playing the part of the Dominion.  We’re going to be emulating Gem’Hadar tactics,” Ming started.

The Knight CO continued, “The flight crew is affixing holographic projection devices to our fighters to make us look like the Dominion’s fighters.  He’s also setting up the fighters computer systems to emulate them as well.  Each fighter will have a kill switch setting that will kill the transmitters and reset the fighters to their pre-modification settings.”

“Questions so far,” Ming asked.

Sh’iv shook her head.  This was a standard war game practice.  One group would act as an aggressor unit while the other tried to pretend to blow you out of space.  They didn’t happen often, but there was an element of “fun” to it.Ming looked around for almost a minute and saw shaking heads or mute pilots.  This said to him there were not questions yet…At least none that his pilots wanted to voice.  He continued, “This is a short notice drill I realize.  It’s more notice than we’d usually get in a combat situation however and some of our newer collegues need practice.” 

The Lieutenant looked around and met eyes as he spoke.  Those eyes looked right back into his as he did so.  Just how he wanted it.   

He continued, “We’ll be simulating the Gem’Hadar pilots.  Most of you are familiar with their tactics and flying styles in theory if not in practice.  For anyone lacking follow the leads of our other pilots.  When we break formation McPhearson will be on my wing while Sh’iv will be lead element with T’Kown and Erickson on hers.   Be aggressive, be fearless and be smart….Like the Gem’Hadar.  While we tend to think there is issue with being overly aggressive and fearless as being needlessly reckless it is a matter of course for our enemy.  During this wargame WE ARE THE ENEMY.  We need to be convincing and be as accurate as possible.  It’ll be better training for the others and it’ll be good for us too.  Getting inside the heads of the enemy is a great way to learn about them which has been a working theory since antiquity for a reason.” 

Marcus paused again and took a deep breath.  Executive decision.  He added, “We’ll need it.  Eventually we’ll be back in action for real.  Once I answer any remaining or new quesions I suggest study in the remaining time, meditation, relaxation…whatever puts you in the right mindset for this action.  We’ll be playing to win by the way….” 

That garnered some smiles and nods with a few looks of serious thought.  He shifted his gaze from pilot to pilot for a few heartbeats, his eyes lingering on Sh’iv for a hair longer than others as he asked, “I’ll ask again: Are there any questions at this time?” He gave it another moment and, when nobody spoke up, he said, “Very well.  I’ll be in my office if anything comes up between now and the time to scramble.  Be ready to go by 08:45 at the latest.  Dismissed for now.  Except for you XO.  A moment if you would?”

 Sh’iv remained seated until the last of the Knignts had departed. Standing she approached Ming,  her hands clasped behind her back her antennae twitching.  “You wanted to see me sir?” 

“I did.  I’ve reviewed your record again recently.  Additionally I think your performance has been noteworthy if not exceptional.  All that is part of why I made you the wing’s exec.  All that combined led me to have a discussion with Captain Talon,” Ming explained.   

As he finished that last sentance he fished into a pocket and pulled out a small item.  He pinched it between his middle and index finger.  He presented the hollow pip to the Andorian woman and said, “I think it’s time you had this. If I may Lieutenant J.G.  Esessa Sh’ivhohlol?” 

She stared at Ming for a long moment not believing what was happening,  “Uh… thank you sir. I don’t know what to say.”

“Your record, your bravery, your skill speak loudly enough.  You earned this and it pleases me to no end to be the one to give you this well deserved promotion,” Ming said.  

The Knight commander stepped a bit closer and reached out with both hands, one with the new insignia.  He paused and offered a grin before skillfully affixing the new hollowed pip to the Andorian’s collar.  He took a step back and looked appraisingly at Sh’iv for a moment before breaking into an actual smile.   

“It suits you very well I think.  One more thing if I may,” Ming gestured for Sh’iv to follow him into the flight bay.   

She cooked her head in curiosity,  but didn’t say anything as she followed Ming out.

The two officers entered the flight bay and from the lounge/briefing room and stopped just outside the door to face their three collegues along with Chief Xellath and a number of the flight line.  Ming said loudly, projecting his voice as he did so, “Lets hear three cheers for LIEUTENANT Sh’ivoholol!  Hip hip!” 

The others shouted in reply, “Hooray!” 

After two more repititions and some applause the crews dispersed to return to their duties and the other pilots left for their own preperations.  Ming turned to Sh’iv looking a bit sheepish.   

Sh’iv flushed, hwe face purple with embarrassment and her antennae bent back next to her head.

He said as his eyes met hers and said with sincerity, “I know a fair deal about your record and history lieutenant.  I cannot express how much theses pilots respect you, how much I rely on you and how so very much you deserved this promotion.  And this wasn’t wholly my idea mind you.  The other Knights and members of the flight crew encouraged it.  Ensign McPhearson and Crewman …correction… Petty Officer Andrews were the loudest voices.  On Chief Petty Officer Xellath’s recommendation she’s been bumped up to Petty Officer Third Class and our new ordinance specialist.”    

“Thank you sir,” she replied softly still more than a little embarrassed. “And I agree with promoting Andrews. She’s a fine leader.”

“Glad you agree XO.  You’re opinion carries a lot of weight with me,” Ming said honestly.   

That was followed by a sigh.  He said, “Well, there is one more thing I need to deal with before final inspection of the fighters.  Unless there’s anything else for me go ahead and get going with pre-flight preperations.  Aggressor Squadron needs to be the toughest out there if we’re going to be of use to the group.”

“Of course sir,” Sh’iv responded. 

Ming smiled at Sh’iv with a mix of professional confidence and friendly warmth as he said, “Very well.  I’ll touch base with you in a little while for the final inspection.  Dismissed for now Lieutenant Sh’ivhohlol.”

Ming was still getting to know the senior staff.  He figured that was important given the fact he was now, in theory anyhow, a department head himself.  He found that a bit amusing as his department’s area of operation was OFF the ship.  Now that he was faced with that irony he found it a bit amusing…in an ironic sense anyway.   

There was one department that had a focus that had been an area of curiosity if not interest for a while.  It seemed of special interest based on the rumors he’d been privvy to based on secure transmissions he’d gotten from colleagues on other ships.  Things like that had impressed him about fighter command if he really allowed himself to be honest.  Either way, if his pilots were going to see action, he felt honorbound to find out all he could to ensure they were ready.  He was almost fanatically committed to bringing everyone home after all.   

Toward that end, Ming opted to take a bit of a walk.  He gave Andrews a warm smile as he left his office and walked through the fighter bay.  He was feeling a bit more like her older brother than anything else at the moment which was ok with him.  Hopefully, that’d not turn awkward later on he thought as he started to make his way through the corridores of the ship.   

After a short walk, a hello or two and an amiable nod or six he was where he aimed to be.  The placard next to the door announced that this office belonged to “Riandri Nalam.”     

Ming offered a mental shrug at the thought of it being time to see what could be seen and activated the door chim.  He then opted to stand at parade rest as he waited for a response.  

Riandri was half-listening to the latest intel report on the capabilities of the Dominion vessels as her mind wandered. After watching the report for the second or third time she was confident she had pulled out all of the key information. The sound of her door chime activating brought her attention back from her wayward thoughts. Sitting upright she straightened her jacket, “Enter.”

Marcus took a steadying deep breath followed by exhale before entering. After he entered and the doors automatically closed he maintained a mask of professionality as he made a quick mental assessment.  Pleasant looking El-Aurian woman. Blond hair and blue eyes that he realized seemed quite observant.  Maybe it was his mind imposing the expectation of her species but he sensed it was not.  

Riandri smiled at the man who walked in, “What can I help you with,” she glanced at his rank insignia though she already knew who he was, “Lieutenant?”

He said formally, “Lieutenant…..I hope that I wasn’t interrupting anything important.  We really haven’t formally met outside of attending a command level briefing or two.  Lieutennant Marcus Ming….Bravo Flight CO.  It is an honor to meet you.”   

“Lieutenant Ming,” Riandri said as she stood and shook his hand, “It is a pleasure to meet you. I had been hoping to cross paths with you soon and please call me Riandri.” She gestured to one of the chairs in her office and sat back down, “How are you settling into the Denver? I like to think it is a good ship, though I will admit I am still very new to her myself. Most of my time assigned to her has been while we have been in orbit of Earth.”

Ming nodded and offered a bit of a lopsided smile as he moved to the offered seat to sit as he said, “Very much appreciated, Lieut….er…Riandri.” 

Once the pilot took said seat he said, “I arrived on the Denver recently myself but it’s been a matter of so far so good overall.  The toughest thing so far has been hammering my flight into a cohesive unit which they’re doing well at as illustrated during our first action over Wyoming.   I’ve picked the one Denver veteran as my XO.  Seemed appropriate as she is an exceptional pilot, has the most experience and I think she has leadership potential based on her record and what I have seen so far.  The remaining three pilots are new to the squadron and all graduated since the start of the war.  All of them, as you might expect from Starfighter Command, are top notch pilots.  Most of the bad ones don’t last long in our line of work if they get assigned into it I have found.  Something to be said for piloting small craft during times of war I suppose.  It’s the ultimate pass/fail course and, as the old Earth saying goes, the dice have no memory.” 

That last part was said with a grim tone of experience tempered with a matter of factness.  He knew how cold it sounded but if anyone would appreciate facts it was likely to be an intel officer.  He added, “Hard truths but war is full of them.  History, especially the history of war, is full of them.  It was a pattern I started seeing while I was in school and it has only been reinforced as I have gained real-world as well as outworldy experience.”  

He let off a snort followed by a wry smile, “And they say I used to have a cheerful disposition.” 

Riandri lips turned up into a sad smile as she nodded in agreement, “As you say, it is the stark reality of war. Especially this one.” She shook her head slightly as she glanced over at the small picture on her desk. “War… any conflict really does test everyone involved and I can imagine that your pilots will feel that test more acutely than most.”

She paused for a moment, “Would you like a drink?” She waved at the replicator on the wall beside the door. “Thank you for asking.  Purple tea with honey, chilled if you don’t mind,” Ming said.

Riandri nodded and stood up, taking a quick step to the replicator, “Computer, Peach Ice Tea, Unsweetened and a Purple tea with honey, chilled.” She picked up the two drinks and returned to her desk after handing the purple tea to Ming.

“I am glad to hear that you thinking highly of your flight, I am sure the Captain will put them to good use. I am curious though, how are they doing as a whole? Is the team cohesion coming together?” Riandri said before she took a sip of her tea.

“They’ve done surprisingly well with coming together as a team in such short order.  I found a natural second in command with Sh’iv which is especially helpful,” Ming said.  

He tacked on after a breath, “How about you?  How’re things coming along with Denver’s Intelligence department? Hopefully well as if not better as expected I hope.”  

Riandri let out a little chuckle, “It isn’t much of a department really especially as we act as a front-line vessel. Just myself and Ensign Fernla. That said it is going fair well, the ensign joined recently and will be assisting with the processing and interpretation of all data we receive. The main job is really liaising with the intelligence teams from command.” She shrugged but her smile showed she did enjoy what she did, “Lots of desk work and number crunching.” 

Marcus looked thoughtful for a moment then smiled, “I see.  Not the excitement, intrigue and adventure that the holonovels like to illustrate it as I suppose.” 

Ming knew better.  He also was well aware that it wasn’t always the boring desk job Riadri made it out to be albeit that was some of it much of the time.  He waited to see the reaction and the response put forth by the El-Aurian intel officer as much curiousity as any alterior motives he had in mind.

Riandri let out a short laugh and smiled, “No, definitely not like the holonovels, well not all the time. There are moments but depends on the assignment. That said I am sure the undercover officers and such have a lot more intrigue than the analysis teams that I work on.” Her eyes shifted to the wall behind Ming and lost focus as she thought back to events in her past before her expression grew serious, “What it lacks in intrigue it makes up for in identifying threats and allowing us Starfleet to act, such as with the last Borg attack, that intel allowed us to get the ships in place to destroy the cube.” 

“I bet that extrapolating possible motives and next moves makes some of the desk work more challenging…sometimes at least.  But, it’s pretty obvious Starfleet Intel has at least a fair idea of what they’re doing as your choice of events illustrates along side many others.  I realize it can be a dice throw at times but I’ve admired your department’s work more than once.  Point in fact it was one such case that saved my last ship as well as my last wing’s collective ass in what would’ve an utter defeat had we not gotten some very good intelligence leads prior to that action,” Ming said.

Riandri cracked a smile, “I am glad that the intel was good and that it saved your ships. We do our best to ensure what we have is credible. I will do everything I can to ensure your team and this ship has everything they need before any engagement, sadly though,” she said as the smile faded, “sometimes things are missed and lady luck doesn’t always play for our side.” 

Ming scowled slightly but nodded.  He added, “Sadly the latter seems to be the way the tides of war are shifting towards.   Collegues at Starfleet’s new Starfighter Command seem to be reporting some victories and increasing….setbacks.  I realize I am a lowly lieutanant in charge of a flight of five fighters total but I’d very much like the chance to figure out ways to turn the tides in favor of the Federation, Klingon Empire and, I can hardly believe I am saying this, the Romulans assuming they formally weigh in along side their fellow Alpha Quadrant residents.” 

Marcus’ severe annouance and frustration over the matter was something he wasn’t even bothering to hide.   He loved the Federation and sum of the best parts of it.  Even with the lukewarm aspects and handful of faults that he was well aware of seemed pale compared to some of what was out there beyond it’s borders.  He’d never been fond of fighting.  He’d learned early on, however, that it was a necessity sometimes and when it came time shying from it wasn’t quite in his nature.  He was wagering that the disclosures he’d just made would pay off.  He hoped that he was right. 

Riandri shared his frustration as she let out a sigh and leaned back in her chair, “I know what you mean. The future is daunting at the moment. As for the Romulans, only time will tell. From my experience with them you can only ever count on a Romulan doing what they feel is best for themselves…” She let that statement hand in the air for a moment. “I do believe they will see that they need to act soon. They have leaned that way in the past but the destruction of their fleet, well the Tal’shair’s fleet, seems to have changed that. Or there are some well-placed changelings within the Romulan military and senate,” she mused. 

Ming listened as the ship’s intelligence officer spoke.  Once she finished he mulled over what she had said and his violet eyes all but sparkled.  He said, “I have seen some rather wild things during my life.  Improbable things to put things mildly.  From what I have learned over the years I can’t say that you’re wrong about the Romulans.  The Rihansu, as they like to call themselves, tend to look out for themselves first as a rule and cloak & dagger is a sport to many of them.” 

Ming took a second pause to form his next words.  He added, “Something like that last scenerio would be most likely do the trick.  If Starfleet happened to maybe help the Romulans discover such a thing….I strongly suspect it’d help things along quite nicely.  That would be amazing albeit improbable though wouldn’t it?”  

Riandri couldn’t hide the smile at the statement, “I cannot say that I know of anything along those lines but I would not be surprised if it is something that is being investigated.” She shrugged slightly, “Time will tell.” As she spoke her computer chimed and she glanced at it, “I hate to cut this short but I have a debriefing I need to attend. If you ever need to chat feel free to drop by Marcus.”

Marcus David Ming fixed Riandri with a slight smile that mixed cordiatlity and a certain slyness.  He said, “Aye….Time can tell for sure.  I’ll look forward to our next conversation.  In the meantime I’d say don’t get into trouble however think simply saying ‘don’t get caught’ might be more fitting.” 

Riandri laughed at that comment and smiled, “I will see what I can do about that.” She stood, “Be safe and we will speak soon.”

“See you soon then,” Ming said maintaining the same smile.  He nodded cordially then turned to leave this office and back to his.  The war just got a hair more interesting and he liked it.  

Twin moons hung over the city like a pair of oncoming headlights. The lights of the city obstructed the stars leaving the sky a murky black. Thin tendrils of clouds drifted along partially obstructing the moons as they floated upon unseen aircurrents.

The buildings of Lukar City were dark silhouettes against the horizon. A single street light pierced the darkness as a Romulan woman stepped into the light. She wore a loose fitting leather cloak that billowed around her as she walked. The butt of a disruptor briefly poked out from under her cloak as a breeze of the bay caught the opening exposing her belt.

She continued down the dark street, her heels clicking along the stone walk.  The darkness enveloped her once again when she turned right into an alleyway.  Approaching a closed door on the left a man stepped from the shadows. 

“Were you followed?” The man demanded his face concealed in darkness. It was spoken in a soft conversational tone. Whispers were suspicious and carried father than one thought.

“You know me better than that Garok.”

“Yeah, but you’re no longer part of the Tal’shiar senator.”

“My loyalties are to the Empire.  They always have,” Senator Tomarah t’Sei said. “That is why I left the Tal Shiar for the Senate.”

“You were never one of us,” Garok said casually. “But I had never seen someone so good at her job. You could have gone far.”

“I don’t share your ruthlessness,” Tomarah said with an edge to her voice. “Loyalty to the Empire is one thing, but destroying families without a chance of redemption. We all make mistakes Garok. Mine was letting you recruit me out of the Naval Academy.”

Garok sighed, “I misjudged you. I thought you were more like your mom. The nobility tend to look down upon those who are not.”

“My mother and I have few things in common.”

“So I have discovered. Why are we here?  I assume it wasn’t to catch up on the old times and rehash old arguments.”

“No, it is not. It’s about Vreenak.”

“Your old political rival,” Garok said flatly. “What about him?”

“I would not go that far,” Tomarah said with a shrug.  “I have never met him,  and we share no sub-committees together.”

Garok shrugged,  “But, when it comes to the issues, you two are rarely in agreement.”

“We probably wouldn’t agree on much outside the senate chambers either,” she added. “Where is he?”

Garok stared at her for a long time his face expressionless. “Soukara. He’s there for a high-level diplomatic meeting with the Vorta Weyoun. We also believe the Female Changeling will be there as well, but our intelligence that deep into the Dominion is… murky at best. She mostly keeps to herself and acts through Weyoun.”

“Soukara? What is Vreenak doing there? The Empire has already signed the non-aggression pact.”

“Now, that I do have answers for. The Dominion has offered Romulas a formal alliance and acceptance as a member of the Dominion.”

Tomarah swore. “Those fools!  I knew the Praetor was a moron, but I had no idea he was that big of a fool. We have to stop them. The Dominion will never allow us to live as we have.”

“We cannot stop them alone. When the Dominion crushes the Federation/Klingon Alliance they will come for us unless we are a part of them. Our society will change, but at least it will be intact.”

“You are no fool Garok. Tell me you don’t believe that.”

He shook his head, “I do not. We Romulans are a proud race. As we are we are a threat to the security of the Dominion. They must break our spirit like they are doing the to the humans.”

“Then we must join the war with the Federation.”

“That could kill millions,” Garok exclaimed.

“Don’t give me that fake righteous outrage. You have never had a problem killing people. Especially when you thought it would maintain the status quo. This is for the good of the Empire.  It’s this or live under Dominion rule.”

“Very well,” Garok said. “I have never been able to say no to you.”

“It’s because I am right,” Tomarah said. She turned and without a goodbye headed out of the alleyway and disappeared as she turned onto the main street.

“Thank you all for waiting,” Rebecca greeted as she entered the ⁠Denver’s observation lounge. “I was getting a final briefing from Fleet Captain T’rak of the 10th Fleet.”

Riandri sat quietly watching the room as the Captain began her briefing. She knew the general point of the new orders as star fleet intelligence had reviewed it in advance but she was curious to see how the rest of the crew would respond.

Collins looked up from his seat at the briefing table. “And what does the Fleet Captain have in mind for us this time, captain?”

Rebecca slid into her seat and shuffled through the PADDS and slid one to him, “Since you asked Mr. Collins, you and your teams get to pretend to be Dominion boarding parties. You have been assigned the USS Andromeda and the USS Catalina. I expect you to brush up on your Jem’Hadar combat tactics.”

“Ah, that should be…..interesting. How nice of T’rak to come up with that.” Collins picked up his padd and made some notes. “Captain, I’m assuming this exercise is to be non-lethal.” He smiled at his joke.

Rebecca smiled, “Mr. Collins I don’t think that would be at all fair to those crews.” Taking on a serious tone she continued, “We took on two crates of modified Jem’Hadar weapons in the armory.  They can only stun. Getting shot shouldn’t be a pleasant experience.”

“They’ll still leave a mark, physically and mentally.” Collins remarked. “I’ll have the teams start practicing today. We’ll be ready when the time comes, captain.” He nodded.

“That day is today,” Rebecca quipped.

Ming watched with quiet interest.  His violet eyes tracked the action going on during this briefing. The reactions of his crewmates was just about as important as the briefing itself.  As was often at the forefront of his motives:  He kept an ear out for any useful information especially as it pertained to the Knights. 

“Mr Ming,” Rebecca said turning her attention to him.  “You’re most likely not going to like this, but these are the battle plans.”  Sliding a PADD to him she continued,  “Get your crew chiefs to modify your fighters to look and act like Jem’Hadar fighters.  As wing leader it’s your job to make sure they fly like much larger ships and use appropriate tactics.”

Marcus  looked thoughtful for a brief moment then nodded.  He said, “Understood.  I, and most of my flight, have seen enough Jem’Hadar in action I don’t think we’ll have too much issues imitating their flight styles and tactics well enough…Whatever we don’t know we can fill in the gaps in short order I expect.  War games are nothing new so no complaints here.” 

The Knight’s commander smiled now and added, “I suspect Chief Xellath will have a grand old time when I present his job as a challenge.  I am not sure magic is real beyond parlor tricks but if anyone can convince me of it Mr. Xellath’s knowledge of and skill with those birds just might.”  

“Good.  You don’t have much time. The mission starts at 09:00,” Rebecca added.

Ming’s eyes slipped out out of focus in thought for a very brief moment before he confidently nodded and said, “We’ll be ready, Captain.”

Rebecca slid a PADD to Crawford,  “Your job is to make the Denver look like a Jem’Hadar battleship.”

Peter scanned the data.  He’d been working on some ideas before the meeting.  He gave a nod, “It’ll be as close to perfect as I can make it, Captain.”  He focused on the PADD some more.  He had some work to do.

“Mr. Conroy, make sure our phasers are turned down and locked so we don’t accidentally blow a hole in the side of Admiral Jackson’s flagship. Also, kindly review Dominion tactical procedures. And, Ms. Jones.  Not a whole lot that’s different for you; however, a Dominion battleship is a little less maneuverable than that of the Denver. Show some restraint, will you?”

“Aye, Captain. No barrel rolls.” Lt. Jones quipped with a smile. 

“That would be correct,” Rebecca said with a smile.

“I think one or two barrel rolls would be acceptable.” Collins said, with a smile on his face.

“Finally, as you may have noticed the Kyo’s and Mr. Lovecroft are absent from this meeting.  The Kyo’s have a family emergency. Mr. Lovecroft is at Starfleet Academy helping us mitigate our fleet shortage of engineers.  That means it’s the next one up.  Ms. Nalam you are now acting XO.  Mr. Crawford I want you covering engineering. Any questions?”

Riandri, not usually one to be caught off guard stumbled in her response, “Ah, yes ma’am, captain. I would be happy to do that. Anything I can do to help.” 

Crawford allowed a thin smile across his lips.  He’d whispered an off the record suggestion to the captain about Riandri and his opinion of her standing.  She was as good as anyone and the life she had lived would be helpful at the moment.  He gave her an encouraging nod, “Wouldn’t trust anyone else to be XO.”

“Peter, is your assistant ops chief up for taking over for you?”

Crawford’s thin smile faltered and faded, “Ready as she’s going to be captain.  She’s got a stellar crew behind her, so have no doubt they’ll help her shine when she needs.”

Ready Room – 08:45

Rebecca sat behind her desk with Riandri giving her last minute intelligence report. Rebecca savord her coffee only half listening. It was vital information,  but for the most part nothing had changed.

“Honestly Captain, not much has changed from the last report,” Riandri said with a sigh as she set her PADD down. “The most recent intelligence reports show the Dominion is sitting tight.” She stopped for a moment and adjusted herself in the seat a little, “It just doesn’t seem right. With DS9 back in our hands they need to do something…”

“They don’t need to do anything,” Rebecca said absently. “They can just sit back and breed soldiers and build ships.”

Rinadri snorted at that comment, “That is very true. But I just do not see the Dominion or the Jem’hadar as the sit-and-wait-around sort.” She paused and picked up her peppermint tea and took sip, “Maybe I am just paranoid. Maybe they will bid their time. In a way it would be the smart thing to do, let the interest in the war wane, promote infighting within the empire, weaken us while they grow stronger.”

Rebecca shrugged,  “Certainly not out of the realm of possibility.  That side mission,” Rebecca asked suddenly.  “Have you had chance to get a feeling how many of the crew would be with us if we left the Federation to get away from the Dominion?”

Riandri exhaled and clicked her tongue a few times, “It is really hard to gauge if I am being honest, I haven’t spoken directly to anyone about it,” she shrugged in and exasperated manner, “for understandable reasons. But if it comes to it, and the war is lost I get the feeling that we would have crew. Some would want to leave to be with their families but enough would remain especially if we do what we can to rather survivors and other ships. But it will be a difficult call…”

Riandri was cut off as the com chimed and the voice of OOD officer spoke. “Captain, we are receiving a distress signal from Betazed.  They are being attacked by the Dominion.”

Rebecca gave Riandri a “we were right” look before standing from the table. “Scratch everything.  We’re going to war.”

Riandri cursed aloud, a string of words she doubted the translator even knew as she jumped to her feet and began to make her way to the bridge. As she walked she couldn’t help but mutter an ancient poem under her breath as a sinking feeling overcame her, “Boldly they rode and well, Into the jaws of Death, Into the mouth of hell…”

Rebecca answered the door as she wrapped her robe around herself tighter.  As the doors parted to reveal Master Chief Jeter she blinked.  “Chief, is there a problem?”

Jeter nodded in greeting to the Captain, “No, but we have received our orders. The fleet has brought the training manoeuvres forward. They want all ships ready to depart shortly.” He then paused momentarily while he glanced past her into the quarters, “I am sorry to disturb you, I was nearby and thought it best to inform you in person.”

Rebecca stepped aside,  “Come in Master Chief. We’re just eating breakfast.”

Jeter peared into the room, “I would hate to impose.” As he said that he could feel his tomach rumble at the thought of food, “But if you insist I guess I could join.”

Rebecca shook her head in exasperation. “Fresh brewed coffee is in the pot. Can I get you anything else?”

Jeter smiled, “Fresh coffee would be great, beyond that a bagel or toast will be fine Captain.” Stepping into the room he nodded to Milo, “Milo, apologises for the intrusion.” After he spoke, he grabbed an empty mug, poured himself a cup of coffee, and took a sip before turning to face them. “Wish we had more of this on the ship.”

“It came from the ship,” Rebecca said over her shoulder as she worked the replicator controls. “Milo ain’t so picky. I have a substantial stash squirreled away on the Denver.”

Jeter raised an eyebrow at that.

Milo chuckled,  “She swears she can taste the difference between the real stuff and replicated. I can’t. It just tastes like coffee to me.” Standing he extended a massive calloused hand,  “No intrusion Master Chief it’s good to finally meet you. Becca speaks highly of you.”

“If your mirror universe counterpart isn’t evil does that make you evil?” Aimee asked.  Her twin sister, Livvy, looked horrifed and elbowed her in the ribs. Aimee shot Livvy a dirty look.

Milo glanced down at his progeny and simply shook his head. 

Jeter let out a little laugh, “It is good to finally meet you as well Milo.” Turning to Aimee he shrugged, “Not every mirror universe counterpart has to be evil, but I guess only time will tell. Your must be Aimee then.”

“I am!” Aimee beamed. 

“And I’m Livvy!” Her sister added not wanting to be left out.

Jeter nodded in greet, “It is nice to meet you both. Do you enjoy living on the station near Betazed? I hear it is very nice here.”

“We just stay on the station,” Livvy said.

“It’s because there’s a war on,” Aimee added.  “The station is all right I guess. The holodecks are fun. Did you know you can ride horses in there?”

With a soft laugh Jeter smiled, “I did know that actually, I have been known to use such programmes myself.” He then knelt down and leaned into Aimee, “You know, my niece on Earth told me of a programme where you can ride a mythological hippocampus through the god Neptune’s underwater kingdom with coral reefs and fish everywhere while you complete quests. The best part is you don’t need to have to worry about scuba gear. She loves it. I think it is called Neptune’s Garden or something like that. If you like I can have her send me the programme if the station doesn’t have it. Would that be of interest?”

“Hipp-oh-kam-us?” Aimee asked forming the unfamiliar word in her mouth.  “Is that like a hippopotamus?”

Jeter’s let a out deep laugh, “Yes and now, it is a creature of greek mythology, part-horse, part fish. Think of a horse mermaid. If you aks the computer I am sure it can give you a lot of information about the stories they appear in.”

“A horse mermaid?” Livvy asked skeptically. “That’s weird.”

“i bet its back is slimy like a fish,” Aimee speculated.

“If you rode a hipp-oh-kamp-oh-potamus wouldn’t you smell like a fish then?” Livvy asked.

“Well maybe, most likely,” Jeter agreed, “But that is the beauty of the holodeck, you don’t need to worry about that smell.”

“Girls, you know, Chief Jeter approves everyone that comes on board?” Rebecca said over her coffee after settling down at the table again. 

“I thought you were the captain?” Livvy asked confused.

“I am, but the Chief, is Chief of the boat.”

“Oh,” Livvy said thinking.  “Chief can we go on the training mission?”

Jeter cocked his head slightly and glanced at the Captain as he tried to gauge what she was thinking, “I…” he started and paused before continuing. “I think that we could make something work if it is ok with your parents that is?”

“It is,” Livvy assured.

Rebecca smiled and nodded to Jeter.

“Well then, I think we can sort something out for you then.” Jeter paused for a moment and thought, “That said we will need to find work for the two of you. You any good at scrubbing jefffrey tubes clean?”

“Clean?” Livvy asked her eyes wide.

“We’re too young to work for Starfleet,” Aimee said through a mouthful of pancake.

Jeter shrugged nonchalantly, “But how else will you earn your keep?” He stopped for a moment to gauge their reaction before continuing, “Though I guess we do have some new holodeck programmes for kids that need testing, that might work. If you’re up for it that is?”

“For kids?” Livvy asked.

Jeter nodded, “Yep, kid-friendly training simulations and such. They are meant to be fun.”

“Do you need anything else Chief?” Rebecca asked as she refilled his coffee.

He took the coffee and shook his head as he straightened his stance, “No Captain, just the change in schedule for the departure for the training. I will be heading back shortly to ensure everything is in place and all crew are recalled.”

“No to eat,” Rebecca laughed. “We have a whole replicator of options.  Not as good as the real thing but convenient.”

With snort and a shake of his head Jeter let out a sigh, “That makes sense….” He drank some of the coffee letting the warm liquid course through him, “Well, I guess two poached eggs of granary toast with cracked pepper on top.”

“And on that note,” Milo said standing from the table and ruffling both his daughter’s hair to a round of giggling as they pushed copper locks out of their eyes. “I best be getting to work. Especially if I’m taking tomorrow off.” Rebecca stood and she gave Milo a quick peck on the lips before returning to her seat. Milo extended a massive and callused paw to Jeter, “Nice meeting you Master Chief.”

He took the hand and shook it, “It was a pleasure, the Captain speaks very highly of you sir.”

Milo grinned behind his walrus mustache,  “The same.” He bowed his head. “I’ll see you girls when I get back. Ethan make sure you get your homework done before you hang out with the Morris girl.”

“That ‘Morris girl’ is the daughter of my goddaughter,” Rebecca said. “But yes, homework first then you can see Trinity.”

Ethan rolled his eyes not liking being ganged up on by both side, “Okay, I will.”

Milo frowned. He would have like a “yes sir” but at 13 you pick your battles and being late for work with a guest is probably the best time.  Sighing he bent down and kissed the twins on the foreheads and was gone. At the same time Rebecca was serving Jeter his breakfast.

Jeter took a seat at the table and happily tucked into his food. After a couple of bites, he stifled a little laugh, “Always seems like food replicated by someone else tastes a bit better, or maybe my replicator is just slightly out of alignment.” He took another bit and looked over to the Captain, “What are your thoughts on the training manoeuvre the fleet has scheduled?”

Rebecca had finished her meal and was sitting back sipping her coffee, “Better than actual combat.”

“We’re done,” Aimee announced. “Can we go play?”

“Put your dishes in the replicator,” Rebecca said with a nod. The girls slid out of their seats and with plates in hand ran to the replicator before disappearing into their room.

Jeter nodded at that, “I agree, I hope though that it keeps us on our toes and ready for when combat resumes.” He paused for a moment and looked out the viewport, “I am concerned though that some will view it as a game. Maybe not those in the fleet but those who haven’t seen the war up close. Though I guess it doesn’t matter too much as long as the crew is ready.”

“You don’t go to the ballet without at least one dress rehearsal,  and I have found that having fun often yields the best learning.”

“That is very true captain,” he said before taking the final bite of his breakfast. “I will ensure the lessons are taken to heart by the crew.” After a brief pause, he placed the utensils across his place and wiped his mouth, “I should likely get to it, with your permission Captain?”

Rebecca smiled,  “I’ll be there in a bit once I get the girls ready.”

The door swished open to reveal Maveren as she stepped onto the Dasad‘s bridge. Flanked by a pair of Jem’Hadar the Vorta approached the newly appointed commander of the Cardassian 12th Order.  

For the last week the 12th Order along with the Dominion 8th Tactical Wing had been assembling in the Calandra Sector. Slowly at first so as to not attract attention from Starfleet patrols the attack force was now assembled. Betazed was within their grasp, and then the heart of the Federation. 

Intelligence had indicated that the Federation’s 10th Fleet which had been charged with protecting the planet had moved out this morning for a training exercise.

“We’ll, Gul Ranek,” Maveren greeted with a smile worthy of a used car salesman. “Are we ready?”

Ranek inclined his head, standing with his hands loosely clasped behind his back. He didn’t wear the normal uniform of a Gul, given that he wasn’t Cardassian. A fact that he knew rankled with every single Cardassian under his command. 

What they couldn’t argue with though was the fact he’d clawed his way up to his position with a violent ruthlessness that had left even the most ambitious and brutal of his opponents in the dust. Usually bleeding their last. 

“We are,” he replied, his manner clipped and taciturn. He didn’t give much away with either words, his expressions or his body language. Which meant his expression as he looked down at the Vorta was unreadable. He didn’t like the Vorta. Any Vorta. He didn’t trust them as far as he could throw them. “The final ships have arrived and reported ready.”

“Good,” Maveren replied. “The Founders will be pleased.  I am no military tactician. I expect you are capable of leading the Dominion element as well?”

Ranek inclined his head. “I am indeed. You will need to cede command to me,” he said. It wasn’t a request, more… an expectation of compliance. 

Maveren smiled and clapped her hands in a single soft smack. “Already done Gul.  My expertise is not tactics, but diplomacy and politics. The fleet is all yours to command for the glory of the Founders.”

Starbase 75 Several hours later…

The dusty street baked under the noon day sun as Ethan slid out of the saddle. In the saloon a ragtime piano played a tune.

“Fancy meeting you here cowboy.”

Ethan grinned to see Trinity standing on the boardwalk. She wore a pair of men’s period trousers with a loose fitting white blouse tucked into them. On her hips was a gun belt with a pair of Colt revolvers.

“Women wear dresses in this time period,” Ethan said as he stood with his back to her while loosening the cinch.

“Have you ever seen me in a dress? And, I am sure as hell not going to wear a corset.”

Ethan smirked and looked at her over his shoulder. “I don’t blame you for that one.”

Trinity Ryder was fine boned, with the perfect mix of Caucasian and Eastern Asian features. The woman moved like a lioness stalking her prey.  It was a bit unnerving,  but sexy as hell.

 “Well… it is a holonovel. I reckon you can do whatever makes you happy,” Ethan concluded.

“Damned right,” Trinity replied. 

The ground shook. “Earthquake?” Trinity asked.

“No…” Ethan replied with suspicion.

The red alert klaxon blared over the holodeck’s speakers. “All hands battle stations!”

“We’re under attack?” Ethan asked.

“No kidding Sherlock,” Trinity replied snarkily.

“Computer end program,” Ethan announced and the old west town vanished to reveal the gridded array of the holodeck. “We have to get back to our quarters.”

He grabbed her hand and they ran out of the holodeck as the station shook again.  The lights flickered and there was a rumble from the deck plating themselves.  Starfleet officers pushed past them carrying phaser rifles.

The station shook again. This time it was so violent that Ethan and Trinity both fell to the deck in a pile. The lights went out and this time they did not return, replaced only by the red emergency lights.

“Come on!” Ethan said, pulling Trinity to her feet.

“Look out!”

Ethan spun and a pair of Jem’Hadar soldiers had come around the bend in the corridor.  The enemy was only a meter away and were just as surprised to see the two teens.  Ethan lunged as he drew the Bowie knife from his belt.  The pistols on his costume may not have had real ammunition, but the 12 inches of sharpened steel was very real.  He plunged the blade into the chest of the nearest Jem’hadar and they both fell to the deck, the polaron rifle falling from his grasp the clatter on the deck.

Trinity didn’t skip a beat and picked up the falling polaron rifle and while laying on her side she lifted the weapon and fired at the second enemy sending him flying back. Trinity was on her feet in an instant and retrieved the second rifle, handing it to Ethan who was staring horrified at the blood on his hands.

“We got to go Cowboy!”

Ethan absently wiped the blood on his jeans and followed Trinity down the corridor.  “They must have a massive fleet to be already boarding the station.

“Yeah,” she replied.  “We need to get out of here.”

“Where? Our quarters?”

“Escape pods,” Trinity replied.  “Mom taught me a special code just in case.”

“What kind of code?”

Trinity shrugged, “I don’t know. She just said if I get into trouble to transmit this code, either her or some of her associates will rescue me.”

“What does that mean? Who does the code contact?”

Trinity shook her head, “I don’t know, but we are in trouble aren’t we?”

“Yeah… we are.”

The two rounded a curve in the corridor and more Jem’Hadar were advancing on them.  Ethan and Trinity fired in unison as fast as they could.  They had been lucky so far but eventually. That luck would run out when they emerged onto the promenade. The two were immediately  surrounded by Cardassian and Jem’Hadar soldiers.

The federation’s defenses were pathetic. Ranek’s lip curled back as he marched along the promenade of the captured base. Soft. They were all soft. No wonder they’d fallen so easily. 

A commotion up ahead caught his attention, the crowd of soldiers parting to reveal two—

“Children?” he demanded, looking at the ranking soldiers in the group. “Why has it taken so many of you to secure two children?”

Ethan was half-unconscious supported by a pair of Jem’Hadar. A wound from the butt of a polaron rifle streamed crimson. 

Trinity was still on her feet fighting with a Cardassian officer as the rest watched in amusement. He swung a massive fist that had it connected would have ended the fight then and there. Ducking she rolled to the deck.  Kicking out with both heels of her boots she slammed into the Cardassian’s knee. 

She didn’t have the strength or weight to do real damage,  but the Cardassian howled in pain and stumbled backwards. 

“She’s too fast for you Likor!” Another shouted to thunderous laughter. “What’s the matter? A little girl is too much for you?”

More laughter. 

Likor bellowed in rage. As he bent down to pick the urchin up Trinity hit him in the nose with the heel of her palm. The nose made an audible crunch and spurted blood.

Likor howled in pain again clasping his face with both hands. The crowd roared with laughter. Even the normally stoic Jem’Hadar cracked a few smiles.

Trinity was on her feet.  She lacked the size and strength, her sole advantage was her speed and ability. She swung onto Likor’s shoulders and started pummeling him with all her might.

Likor frantically grasped behind him.  Grabbing a handful of black mane he peeled Trinity off of him letting her fall to the deck knocking the wind out of her.  She lay on her back coughing,  her body pushed beyond the limits. It was over. Likor smiled maliciously through a bloodied face. He raised a boot to smash her head in.

“Oh for…” Ranek sighed and pulled his disrupter pistol. One shot later and the universe was down one Likor. He looked around the rest of the group. “Anyone else?” 

The Jem’Hadar in the group found spots on the walls to look at rather than face his ire. The cardassians blanked their expressions but he felt their hatred, loud and clear. He ignored them, looking down at the girl on the floor. 

“That was an impressive level of skill for someone so young,” he commented, as though he was commenting on nothing more than the weather. “Who trained you?”

“What’s it to you,” she snarled through ragged breaths the hatred evident on her face.  “Get it over with.”

He watched her, a bored expression on his face. “Get what over with?” he asked, his voice a deep rumble. He motioned for the Jem’Hadar to bring the other kid forward. Grabbing his hair, Ranek tilted the kid’s face up. He was almost out of it. 

“This one isn’t trained. You are. By who?” He looked at her, his expression hard. “I warn you, I will not ask again.”

Trinity’s heart was still pounding and her lungs burned trying to get more oxygen into her system.  Crawling to one knee she scowled at Ranek. Her limbs were weak a rubbery. If she lives to see tomorrow she was in for considerable pain.

Her fear had long ago evaporated,  but her heart ached for Ethan. Was it love?  She was too young to be in love. Yes! Yes it was love. She loved that dorky cowboy with all her soul and it crushed her to see him like that.

“Santa Claus,” she said through breaths, “Master Santa Claus, the leader of the Order of the North Pole.  They are a group of elite assassins, and when they hear of my capture, alive or dead they will rain down hell upon you. They are the stuff of nightmares. Elvish warriors riding into battle on reindeer impaling the enemy with their antlers.”

“Really now?” Ranek raised an eyebrow, amused despite himself by the girl’s spirit. He should just kill them both and have done with it, especially the boy. He was little more than useless. But the girl… Ranek’s eyes narrowed as he looked at her. She could be useful. Somehow. He wasn’t sure how. Yet. “Would this be the same Santa Claus who climbs down chimneys to leave presents once a year? Perhaps a distant cousin, no? If he is as feared an assassin as you say.”

“Fine,” she said in defeat her arms extended and palms up. “Not that it matters really anyway. My mom… Well grandmother,  but she raised me as her daughter. She is the Strategic Operations Officer here, but she’s back on Earth doing something. What, I don’t know. Why did she train me?  I don’t know.”  She smiled and started laughing at the absurdity of the whole situation. 

Seeing his expression she shrugged,  “Death smiles at us all whoever you are. All we can do is smile back. You don’t mind killing. That much is certain by the way your soldiers fear you, but do not respect you. The callus way you killed Likor makes me think you enjoy it. So, get it over with.  I tire of being the mouse in your game.”

“Callous?” Ranek smiled, nodding at the guards who held Ethan and then shoved him toward Trinity. “That was merely a matter of taking the trash out. Nothing more, nothing less. I do not take pleasure in killing. It’s too… final. A corpse can’t talk, or impart information.” 

She couldn’t hold him up so the best she could do was attempt to break his fall.  Ethan still fell hard to the deck and she glared at Ranek.  “I don’t know anything.”

Ranek’s grin was slow and chilling. “No, I wouldn’t expect so. You’re not who I’m after.” 

He clicked his fingers at the soldiers around him. “Bring them. We’re leaving.”

She couldn’t help herself, her curiosity getting the better of her, “Which is whom?”

He looked back, just in time to see her glaring at the soldiers who were trying to grab her. She definitely had spirit. 

“You’re a smart kid,” he winked. “I’m sure you can figure it out.”

“The obvious is the station commander,  but something tells me there’s a problem with that or you wouldn’t be dealing with me and you would have let Likor kill me.”

“You talk a lot,” he commented, striding along the promenade. He didn’t moderate his pace, forcing the soldiers and the girl to keep up. “I’m trying to work out if that’s a lack of survival instinct, a lack of common sense, or both.” 

He didn’t even know why he was still talking to her. She was… human, he figured. A starfleet brat, as was the other. Which meant someone would want them back. And people were funny about their children… who knew what they’d be prepared to do or offer to get these two back?

“You talk a lot for a butcher,” Trinity replied dryly. “My why is… well I don’t know precisely why. I do figure when you are done with me I will die. Maybe it’s just sheer pettiness.  I can’t harm you, so I may as well annoy you.” 

“I am not a butcher,” he replied calmly, stepping onto the transporter pad and indicating the one next to him. The boy looked worse for wear, but he didn’t interest Ranek, other than as a hostage. “I am a surgeon. It would do you well to learn the difference.”

“You keep telling yourself that,” Trinity replied as she kneeled next to Ethan. “Maybe it will come true.”

Ming was really enjoying the small talk with the new helm officer.  She was outgoing as get out and he was getting a massive kick out of her accent and word usage.  If he was being honest with himself Irish, various British, Scottish Highland accents and those from the “Deep South” region of North America varied from fascinating to engine revved to full throttle.  Arin could very well transition Irish from the former to the latter if things got interesting.   

Of course, he didn’t even realize it and, frankly, it was just a night out with a fellow officer whatever else she may be.  He was going on, at her behest, about the strengths of the Lockheed P-38 Lightning and why it was arguably the most effective fighter/bomber of the early 20th century.  In fact, the fighter pilot was both passionate and adamant about it as reflected in his presentation of the facts and the analysis of said facts as seen from a literal expert in the field.   

She let him run out of steam a bit. She loved the Lightning, though there were certainly easier fighters to fly. “If I’m to fly something with two engines, I’d rather have the Mosquito. More firepower and an equally esteemed record. Though if sheer destruction is your game, the Hawker Hurricane Mark IID has twin 40mm Bofors. Tanks, ships, trains, anything that moves.”  She said with glee in her voice. Reaching the holodeck, Arin said.  “Computer, load Jones Hangar primary. Code orange delta three.”  “You may enter when ready.” The doors opened onto grass mild. Morning dew burned off under the sun. Two hangars were just ahead. The Olive Drab building on the left had a sign that read, “Slice A’ Heaven” and the one on the right was a more austere medium gray and read “Smithsonian Cream of da Crop”.  Arin commented. “Computer. Patio set with fabric gazebo and two chairs.” she set the tumblers down. Pouring them each two more fingers, Arin handed Ming the rock tumbler saying, “Real stuff I fly.” her arm pointing to the green hangar. “Stuff I helped scan or wanted from the Air and Space Museum back on Earth.”

Ming nodded, “Went to the Air and Space Museum in Washington City a number of times myself.   The one in Tucson Arizona in the North American Southwest which evolved from what WAS the Pima Air and Space Museum as well and the old Davis-Monthan AFB airplane boneyard.  That’s where I rubbed elbows with the F-14, P-51, and P-38.  They had two prestine SR-71 Blackbirds too that they’ve had literally since they were retired from the United States Air Force at the end of the 20th Century.   Again, based on the tech of the time at development, fairly impressive for the most part.  By retirement not so much.  Things started developing much faster as the 20th turned into the 21st Century….War does that as I suspect we’ll be learning from experience shortly.  That’s why the Peregrine is the main fighter at present and the Valkyrie fighters may well be the next in line if they’re as good as we HOPE they are.    Hoping we get a couple on Denver for trials.  Captain Talon was going to try to swing that with command.  I’ve sent a similar request to my contacts in fighter command.  We’ll see if that bares fruit.” 

Marcus looked around with some admiration and said, “Incredible setup.   I guess some of my imagination was stunted growing up in New Berlin, Luna.   I likely wouldn’t have thought of something like this.  I really didn’t come to Earth much unless it was for field trips or tagging along with my folks to their jobs on Earth until I started at the Academy.  I might’ve eventually if the war hadn’t started when it did.  We’ll never know unless we start hopping parallel universes I suppose.”

“I traded my labor for file access. Since I was flying accurate ww1 simulators by the time I was ten, collecting a stable of aircraft seemed natural. As I got older, my choices were more mature. These are all of them. Computer, Hangar three.” Arin offered. 

The scenery changed. A long wide building with double doors seemed to stretch for miles. The red aluminum reflects in the sunlight. The attached runway was paved and sized to take nearly anything. 

Nearby was a lake with an attached covered dock. “You name it, I probably have it, including the Blackbird, I like flying the F-15E, or even the F-16XL. You mentioned something open air though, so what did you have in mind?” She asked as they reached the door to the office. A pair of slow ceiling fans kept the air moving a bit. She sat in her leather desk chair, setting down the tumbler and refreshing both back up to three fingers. Tapping the panel on her desk, she selected a playlist, and some soft Spanish guitar started to play. 

Ming looked around before nodding approvingly.  He even seemed a bit impressed as he said, “Very nice collection you have here.  Interesting choice in music as well.  I….Like it!”

Marcus took his newly refreshed glass and looked Airn square in the eyes as he raised his glass saying, “At the risk of sounding a bit redundant…To new friendships and the new adventures that follow!”

Arin countered with “New wingmen, and flying for beauty, freedom, and all the wonders of powered flight.” Around the office walls were hung pictures. Occasionally they changed to different aircraft from the archives. 

With a slightly lopsided grin Marcus raised his glass a bit closer to Arin’s and said, “Cheers!” 

Arin toasted, “I drink to your health when I’m with you, I drink to your health when I’m alone, I drink to your health so often, I’m starting to worry about my own!”  She drained one of the two fingers left in her glass.

Ming slugged back the contents of his glass and grinned.  After a moment he tilted his head and looked thoughtful. 

His head shifted to the other direction as he said, “I got curious and looked up your record the other day.  I’d be damned tempted to shanghai you into the Knights if I didn’t think It’d likely that I’d get keel hauled by either Captain Talon or Commander Kyo.  I hear that is rather serious on a Nebula class.” 

He added a bit of a wink as well as a much lighter tone at the end of his statement signaling that he was  being less than serious.  Buried in the back of his mind was his own internal realization that he really did find Arin beautiful.  If he allowed himself to let the thought out of that deep, secure and blocked off section of his mind he might say something foolish.   Instead he glanced at the bottle of whiskey then back at Arin looking inquisitive.  

“So fighters are impressive and I cannot say it’s not tempting, but trust me, you want someone that knows what they doing at the helm of the Denver. If she were a Defiant, that’s one thing. She’s a much bigger dancing partner. Like flying an old PBY Catalina. ” She glanced over at him and could have sworn he was staring at her, but dismissed the thought. She poured another two fingers. “In a fighter, you get to be more in the moment and fly by the seat of your pants. Like the old P51D. Some aircraft are so balanced that flying is less thought.  The Nebula is like playing chess. I need to think where the ship needs to be two minutes from now.”   

“Versus a fighter where you need to be 2-3 steps ahead of the asshats you’re going against, 2-3 steps ahead of the aforementioned enemy and, for a flight commander, you have to be 2-3 steps ahead for the other four folks you’re leading.  Makes life extra frisky in times of war.  Would’ve been nice to keep my astronautical tactics degree theoretical but the war damned well makes it an applied science it seems,” Ming said with a slightly sour tone for that last sentence.  

He sighed then tossed back the contents of his glass before putting it back on the table.  With a slightly rueful tone, he went on, “I never minded a scrap here or there.  Hell, I figured the worst we’d see would be a set of skirmishes with the Klingons or Romulans before things cooled back off and we went back to the status quo.  Man, was I wrong.”

Ming suddenly went from rueful to sheepish when he added, “Sorry.  I need to try to let go of the shop talk sometimes.  With…..all that is going on it can be tough.  Especially when other lives are on the line besides just mine.”     

“Because it’s all too real now,” Arin said. She drained her glass and poured another finger and passed the bottle to Ming. “Entering the Academy, I was always aware of the reality. Being Orion, and trust me when I say people don’t see half, I am either taken as a sex object or dismissed as something other than trustworthy and the best is dumb. since I got the looks the brains must be only to move all this around.” Snatching the bottle back, she poured two more fingers, drained half, then refilled her glass before finally handing it back to Ming. “The other part of my nickname you don’t know is that on the holodeck or any other competition. Mercy stands for No Mercy. I take life in all it’s forms seriously.” Arin replied, taking a sip. 

Ming actually chuckled.  He replied, “I always had a grasp on many realities in this universe.  Others…New Berlin, Luna had many reality checks but not as many as someone with your background might have.  Dumb you aren’t as illustrated by what I’ve seen so far and by the fact you’re at the helm of a starship and the lead at that.  Idiots or otherwise unintelligent folks usually don’t get anywhere near as far.   Beautiful as you are nobody is so one-dimensional.  Again, you’ve shown yourself to have many facets to you well beyond just one.”

He took a sip, swallowed then snorted, “My flying style and tendencies to not back down from a fight got me the nickname of ‘The Lunar Lunatic’ early at the academy.  Lunatic became my callsign thanks to that.  I can’t quite play it as fast and loose as I once did due to the war and my current position but while I don’t often pick a fight I’m damned ready to finish one once started often enough.”    “We’d be lipstick on a pig if we didn’t know how to fly agressively. Otherwise, I’d be a shuttle pilot.” Arin qiuipped. She poured them each enough to give them two fingers, downed the tumbler, and smacked it on table. “Get off yer duff, Boyo. We have a plane to fly. Computer. Move the Basler DC-3 to spot 1.” “Aircraft in place.”

Walking out the office door, straight ahead lay the shiny fuselage of Douglas DC-3. The turboprops were obvious to any with more than a passing knowledge of aircraft. Opening the rear door, she climbed, heading for the cockpit. Taking a pair of Ray-bans out of the nearby cubby, she slid into the pilot’s seat and wasted no time running through the starting sequence.  

Ming followed Arin aboard and climbed into the co-pilot’s seat next to her.  He scanned his surroundings and realized it wasn’t overly different from the B-24 and A-26 simulators he’d flown in the past.  Smiling he said, “Computer….Replicate eyeware Ming Hardshell variant 2.”

As he finished saying it a pair of hardshell framed sunglasses with brownish/gold lenses appeared in his lap.   He put them on, turned to give Arin a grin, then started up the co-pilot checklists he’d learned in repeated simulations over the years.  While he’d never flown this exact model there were a few consistancies among similar aircraft of the era.  He’d been told often his instincts for such things were eerie but he’d never seen it.  Nonetheless, he went down the checklist in his mind with nimble-fingered proficiency.   

Arin turned the boost pump on the port engine, moving the throttle to start, and watching the pressure build. Once it reached 13.5 NG. she hit the starter, watching and listening to the turboprop spool. Repeating the process for the starboard motor, the oil warmed as the turbines engines came up to operating speed. Releasing the brakes, she lined up the aircraft on runway 90. “Basler N4440T requesting clearance for takeoff.” “N4440T, this is Tower. Have a nice flight. The area is clear.”   Turning to Ming, she said. “take her up. The tail will lift at 50 knots once you apply light forward pressure on the stick, and the takeoff speed is 84 knots. ” She set the flaps down and waited for Ming to run the engines up.  

Marcus’ eyes gave the gauges and dials a casual and rather perfunctory once-over able to take in what he needed to confirm before he eased the throttle forward.  He glanced at the woman in the next seat over for a cue.  He’d learned early on that a co-pilot always followed the lead of the pilot…., especially in a classic rig like this. There was also the other major factor….First time with a new pilot.  

She took the controls, realizing he might not be familiar with the operation of a turboprop conversion of a radial engine antique. “Watch me. Pretty simple once the engines are warmed up.  Set the parking brake, spool up the engines to full throttle, slowly, then release the brake once the engines reach near full power.”Arin added “Turbines like a smooth response. You can’t always just punch it to the firewall.” Her hand rested on the center throttle. Spooling up to full throttle took several seconds. The turbines fought against the mechanical hold of the wheel brakes. Releasing the brake, the shiny metal beast slowly started to roll. Without cargo or passengers, the aircraft was more nimble than usual. The run-up to 50 knots came fairly quickly. She pressed forward on the rounded yoke, and the tail came off the ground, the noise changing slightly. 60, 70, 80, 86, she liked an extra knot or two before pulling back with enough force and the wings generated enough lift to fly. Quieter as the wheels came up. She secured the flaps. She offered the controls to Ming. “She’s a bigger girl. Respect the mass.”

Ming chuckled and said, “Sounds familiar.  I never got around to the civilian models and only got around to the bombers three times, and I am sure I was acting gunner or bombider on most.  I was more into the fighters when I first started in the holodecks.  Mustangs, Lightnings, Zeros, and a few of the Messerschmitt and Focke-Wulf lines.  I started working my way up to various fighters of the 1950s, 60s, and the early first decade or two of the 2000s.  Not used to a big, beautiful lady like this.  More mass than I’ve played with.  Of course, we graduated to the Sparrows at the academy.  Great for training, pinprick hit, then fade runs, races and airshows in my NOT very humble opinion.  The Peregrins reminded me of one of my two late 20th-century loves….The A-10 Double Uglies.  Not fast, not as manuverable as the Sparrow, but they can both give and take a beating.”He paused then angrily said, “That very trait is why I still have five pilots after that shitshow in Montana. The intel on their air potential was negligent to the point of near criminality.   Günter limped back to the Denver early on.  Sh’iv barely made it to the local civilian airfield.” 

That last sentence came out as a fierce growl.  Once he heard himself, he did a series of deep breaths in and slow releases.  He glanced apologetically over at Arin and said, “Sorry.  I get quite protective of my pilots.  Bad enough when you’re dealing with an entire ship’s crew.  It gets a bit more real when your sphere of influence is a crew of five, and all you’ve got between you and them is a series of relatively small fighters.  I’ve had to do runs against Galor class ships and their Dominion counterparts before.  Nothing like being made to feel small.” 

Marcus was smiling by the end of this last set of comments.  He wrapped up the statement with a small, not entirely unhappy snort.  It was a 180 shift in moods he’d later realize.  As it was, he was back in the moment and enjoyed feeling airborne in the old aircraft with, as he had thought before, a very beautiful and rather complex woman.  For the first time in months, he felt a glimmer of something he could only describe as….Happy.    

Now at close to cruising speed, “Now, I want you to hold the controls on your side, just like before. Hand over mine. You’re going to feel even smaller.  Pushing the throttle to the firewall in a smooth but fairly swift move, the incredibly reliable Pratt & Whitney PT-6 turboprop spun up angrily. The push from 240 to close to 300 knots, then she pulled into a steep climb. Or tried to. ”This is where helping would be nice. We are going to do an Immelman, rotating clockwise on my mark.”

He’d done the Immelman turn a few times in a few fighters which is how the Imperial German pilot Oberleutnant Max Immelman originated the move.  With this type of aircraft he knew it wasn’t quite the quick maneuver he was used to however.  With that in mind he complied with the request a bit more deliberately and something like but not quite gingerly as he might’ve with said fighters. 

The aircraft complied reluctantly. It was no fighter, but she had it where it counted. She climbed turning speed into altitude as the aluminum bird slowed, then rotated the wings before pushing over so the aircraft flew in the opposite direction. 

“She will do the things. Just not quickly.” She took her hands and feet completely off the controls and got up. “Take over.” Getting up, she grabbed the pilfered bottle and found two aluminum coffee mugs. Arin shrugged. “Still great whiskey she muttered. Pouring three fingers each, she passed one to Ming, and sat back down. 

I picked this plane for a few reasons. Like the Nebula, she isn’t the fastest or best armored, but she’s a beauty for what she was meant to do.” Arin said, the sentence taking on her Irish brogue. While the speeds are different, the sense of flow between the fighter and larger ships isn’t that dissimilar. 

Ming nodded,and said, “I completely understand.   That sentiment is likely part of why I have liked the Pegrines so much.  When I was younger I loved taking out the A-10 Thunderbolt II for a fair stretch of time.  It isn’t totally analogous but enough similarities that I felt at home once the Fleet adopted the figther.  It’ll make switching to the Valkyrie a bit more interesting however I suspect.  They say she’s a more balanced fighter.  Time will tell however.”

He took the mug given to him raised it in toast before slugging the contents back.  The whole time he did so one hand stayed on the controles and the front of the pane stayed solidly within his peripheral vision.  He returned his attention forward like any good pilot in flight would but not before giving Arin a genuine smile.

“Oi, that’s what’s were doin?!” Not one to back down, she mirrored his actions in salute, gulp, and smile.” She blew out slowly. “That’s so good, I think we should land, before we finish the bottle.” Passing him the bottle, she spun back in front of her controls and took over. “I have the controls.” Arin offered. Banking the plane she made a wide lazy turn, then punched the throttle to the firewall. “She’ll get just above 300 knots.”

Soon approaching the field, Arin lowered the landing gear, and then the flaps. Lining up on the runway, she feathered the throttle to idle and let the carry over speed get them past the grass onto the runway. The airplane kissed the tarmac with hardly a bump.  She killed the engines, while setting all the switches to pre-flight status.Turning to ming she split the remains of the bottle between them. “I think we need more whiskey or coffee. I can’t tell anymore.” Then snickered.

Ming chuckled and said, “I’d call it a toss-up myself. I could go for a bit of both before we roundout the night.   If you’d like, I’d guess the next question would be….where?”

“Someplace we can make good coffee for the drink. We need to get something straight. Right now, I need pilots that I can trust more than I need physical intimacy. Especially with what we both know is on the horizon. Adding to that, we just met. Don’t rush yourself out of the competition.” Arin hinted. “If it happens, You’ll be the first to know. Be my friend first. It’s all we ever have at the end.”

Marcus paused and turned to face his companion his face turning more serious and certain.  He said, his voice matching his face, “Arin….At this point all I have aimed for has been comradery and a fun evening.  So far the night has not dissapointed.  I have no plans on taking things more than one step at a time.  At this point, IF I died tomorrow, I’d be content having a nice time with a crewmate.  Not that I intend to die at all….I intend to live forever.” 

He let that least statement hang in the air for a moment before he winked, smiled and started to chuckle slightly before he added deadpan throughout his next statement, “Last moment joking aside I am perfectly ok with friendships.  If anything else comest out of it….Well, if that happens be sure to let me know.” 

And so the evening went….Two newly minted friends enjoying an evening in like minded company.  One evening of relaxed company in an all too brief respite from war.  

Ming smiled.  The meeting had ended only a few very short moments before and T’kown was deep in meditation, while Erikson and McPherson were having a discussion with Sh’iv.  Last he had caught it was discussions about Gem’hadar tactics and the best ways to utilize their knowledge to “kick the Federation’s ass up around their ears” as McPherson savagely put it.

Ming had his own ideas and was starting to adjust some research he’d done into a battle plan for the aggressor squadron that was likely to be the best avenues to train and win the scenerios put to them.  He looked up as Xellath was loudly (and rather happily he thought) issuing orders in between checking the work being done.

There was one face decidedly missing from that line of action.  His new protégé had to start somewhere and, well, it was her idea to start here in the flight bay.  He tapped his combadge and said, “This is Lieutenant Marcus Ming to Órlaith.  Please report to the flightbay…I’d recommend attire apporpriate for getting your hands dirty.”

Holodeck 3…

The Klingon swung his bat’leth, massive muscles bulging as he brought the weapon down from an overhead chopping blow that would have split Órlaith in two. She rolled to the right, the blade missing her by inches.  Órlaith ould smell the Klingon’s sweat, and sour breath stained with too much bloodwine

She slammed the bucker in her rignt hand into his face crushing the nasal bone. It was a powerful cross body blow swung from the hip. At the same time she stomped down on his instep with the heel of her boot and felt the bones under her foot give way.

With her opponent stumbling back and dazed this created the separation she needed to use her arming sword.  In an upper slashing blow she sunk the yard length blade of steel into the body of the Klingon, and immediately the hologram vanished.

“This is Lieutenant Marcus Ming to Órlaith. Please report to the flightbay…I’d recommend attire apporpriate for getting your hands dirty,” the com interrupted

Órlaith glanced down at her attire.   She was wearing a loose fitting white pirate style blouse, an pair of high waisted form fitting trousers,  and  soft leather riding boots that ended just below the knee.  Shrugging,  she tapped her combadge,  “On my way sir.”

Hanger Bay…

Ming had just finished speaking with the newly minted Lieutenant (JG) Sh’ivhohlol and was smiling as he watched her go.   She’d have to get over her embarassment for positive recognition just like she needed to show grace under the negative.  She showed great potential on levels that he’d seen only few times before.  Not that he considered himself a great measure of such a thing.  He’d just learned a long time ago that certain feelings were good to trust.  This felt like one of them.

He shook his head snapping himself out of his revelry (as it were).  Looking up he noticed his young protégé entering the flight bay.  Crossing his arms he watched her head his way putting on his poker face that had helped win more than a few hands over the years.  She volunteered to learn from the ground up.  Her education and the show would soon be starting.

“Sir?” Órlaith greeted standing before Ming at parade rest.

“Thanks for getting here so quickly Miss Murphy.  The Knights are going to be playing the role of an aggressor flight for a wargame that is happening in not much more than half an hour. We rather had it sprung on us within the last couple hours and our flight crew is scrambling to meet the requirements posed upon us.  I’d like to have you work with Petty Officer Andrews over in the ordenance section.  That’ll be the first step in your training and, while I know you’ve got experience, I’m having you start on the ground level.  I want you to learn the Starfleet methods and procedures of things which may, if not not likely, varies from what you learned beforehand. in cerrtain ways.  I’d like to ask you to stick around to assist with putting things to rights when the drill is over,”  Ming explained in detail.

The Knight’s CO waited a moment to let what he explained sink in before he asked, “Any questions on the matter?”

“I was the daughter of a self-appointed Emperor and tyrant,” she said. “I did whatever I wanted.” She glanced around taking in the hustle and flow of the fighter bay. “I know a great deal about piloting,  but nothing about the Starfleet way. As for questions I have none at this point.”

“I slept and dreamt life is beauty, I woke and found life is duty,”  Ming quoted in a soft tone that still projected across the sound of the bustling bay.

Marcus eyes focused suddenly and sharply onto Órlaith and he said with a much more serious (and somewhat darker) tone, “What you just described was another universe and another life.  You’re here now and you asked to learn.  You can do pretty much what you want within reason on your own time, Órlaith.  However, right now you are on MY time and I aim for you to get the education you, quite frankly, need.  I will be fair, I will be honest and I will never ask you to do anything I am not or have not been willing to do myself.  What I will not do is tolerate insubordination or any other such bullshit young lady.  I know you’ve got intelligence and the ability to learn. You’ve got holes in your education and you’ll need to use both if you’re going to get very far.  You’ll also need to recall that you are not a princess in this universe and, while you have the opportunity to be respected, you’ll need to earn it.  You’re going to have to do that starting at pretty much the ground level, however.  Now, is THAT clear?”

“Crystal,” Órlaith replied. “No insubordination intended sir.” She was taken back by Ming’s outburst.

Ming got the strong sense of her honesty and shocked surprise.  Once he realized this his face softened and he let out a slow breath.

“Sorry for the intensity there.  Drill instructor moment over.  You’ll face similar at Starfleet Academy should you decide you wish to go that route.  You also might want to limit whom you discuss your acutal history with.  Many to most have a dim view of things and people with a multiversal background and I really don’t want it to be held against you.  I’d rather you be judged for your actions and your words rather than your history and other people’s ignorant bias,” Ming said much more amiably but in a more quiet volume.

He looked thoughtful and said, “Part of my decision to pair you with Andrews is based on a few reasons.  I won’t say that any member of this flight crew will act inappropriately however a nice looking young woman might be the target of such actions.  While locker room behavior might slide to a certain agree not taking a hint won’t.  There tend to be certain elements that can be immature which Petty Officer Andrews tolerates very little of.  Crude jokes are common in flight bays like this.   She’s good about not letting it cross any major lines though.  If you’ll casually glance to your 3 o’clock…The 6′ 4″ fellow, well developed muscles…”

“I can…  Sir, I can handle myself. My training has included various martial styles including Taekwondo,  and European sword and shield techniques.”

“Not bad.  Maybe we could spar sometime.  Regardless and at the least it’s good to have someone with you that can start to show you the ropes of the department and point out who’s to keep an eye out for,” Marcus started off before a brief pause.  

“Andrews knocked him flat on his back a few weeks ago for repeatedly commenting about her butt.  She asked him to stop as she wasn’t appreciating the multitude of comments after three or four times.  After he continued after the second warning she happened to be on a step stool at the time and popped him square in the nose.  He was knocked the hell out for a good five minutes.  I didn’t and Mr. Xellath didn’t reprimand him as the rest of the flight crew has been berating him.  That’s punishment enough considering this group,” Ming said allowing himself to sounding a bit amused.

“She’s also one of he most fair and generally even keeled members of this crew….despite an intolerance for unwanted advances.  She’s also helped forge inexperienced technicians into some of the best on this flight months in the span of a few months.  You want to learn from the best?  She’s one of the best. Plus she will pop any of the sharkes in the nose whenever needed.   At the least she’ll very likely warn you who’s who.  I’ll start expanding your training soon.  I’ve been playing with plans for that but haven’t settled on a firm training plan quite yet beyond what I felt was a good starting point,” Ming said with a slight but sincere smile.

“Yes sir. She sounds like someone I can work with,” Órlaith said. 

“Glad to hear it.  It’s a bit hectic getting ready for this war game esepcially with only about an hour to prep with some very detailed tweaks to be made.  As it stands…”  Ming was saying before he paused to look at his wrist watch (which was digital but made to look line an antique) before continuing, “Just under 18 minutes until we launch.  As such I’ll be rounding up the knights in a few minutes for a final and quick debrief.   I’ll leave it to you if you want to stick around for that and then jump into the proverbial fray with Andrews or else just skip the debrief and head right over.  I’ll let you make the choice on that one.”    

“Pilot briefings are for pilots. I’ll just stick with Andrews. I haven’t earned that privilege yet.”

Ming actually chuckled at his protege’s response.  He explained by saying, “I might be crazy but I feel like say with certainty that you’ll be sitting in on such things sooner or later AS a pilot.  However you prefer it however.”

He turned toward a knot of ground crew and barked, “Andrews!  Need to borrow you for 20 seconds over here!”Andrews was barking her own orders inbetween checking ordenance as he job entailed.  

When Ming’s voice cut through the hubbub she issued a couple of prefunctory commands of her own before trotting over.  She gave Ming a smile and said, “Ya got 15 sir.”

“Andrews, this young woman is Órlaith.  She’s pre-academy and the Captain agreed to take her on board for a bit of training.  She’s already got a fair deal of experience that you might not expect so don’t let any of those lugs out there underestimate her.  I don’t want to have to run interference again because someone offended her and got knocked on their asses like I did for you.  Comprende,” Ming said with that last word being a question as much as a statement.

The Ordenance chief looked from Ming to Órlaith, back to Ming and smiled.  She said, “Sounds like someone I can work with L.T.”She turned and said, “Órlaith is it?  Good to meet you.  The Lieutenant wouldn’t waste time bringing you down here if he wasn’t certain you’d be worth the time.  Which that leads me to think I’ll be glad to show you the ropes but before we get goin’ I gotta ask….what kind of background ya got with ordenance and being on a flight line?” 

“Ordenance? None. That wasn’t part of my prog… training. I have extensive hand to hand combat training from my father as well as rudimentary piloting and navigation. My mother’s focus was on the mind. Read works from Sun Tzu, the De re militari, as well as Voltaire,  Dickins, Dumas, Doyle ect… But, bombs,  torpedoes,  and missiles? Those were not in the curriculum.”

“That’s….quite impressive miss,” Andrews said looking and sounding impressed.   

She recovered her composure quickly however and continued, “If ya plan on being around these fighters for any period of time knowing what they’re shootin’, how they work and understanding when as well as how to use ‘em is a key bit of knowin’….Wouldn’t  you say L.T.?” 

Ming took the que and replied, “You’re right about that one Andrews.”

He turned to his new protege and said, “It helps knowing the limits and options with our weaponry.  Firing a torpedo at ⅓ yield vs full yield or switching to phasers can be a sticky wicket sometimes.  While hitting full force is necessary often enough there are times we have to worry about collateral damage….in many cases civilians or friendly forces and/or instillations while taking out targets.  Pretty much all the Knights had at least a semester of intensive and immersive experience with the weapons systems.  If you do end up going to the academy and eventually being a Federation pilot it’ll be important to know.”

Marcus smirked and added, “It’ll be good knowledge to have regardless and, if you pick up enough, you’ll get the chance to wow the instructors at Starfleet Academy.  I cannot emphasize enough how having an extensive knowledge of this stuff will help you down the road.  Again, it’s part of why I am having you start here.  And I am not sure there are many better to train under either.” 

Andrews colored and muttered a sincere, if embarrased, thanks for the complement.  Again she recovered with a smooth lack of effort she seemed to excel at.  She said, a touch more southern drawl, “If yer ready we can start yer lessons now.   No time like the present as my daddy used to say.”  

“Let’s do it,” Órlaith said with a grin.

Ming grinned and was quite glad at the response he just saw.  Órlaith was turning out as being at least a half step above expectations much of if not most of the time in his limited experience.  It was very nice to see.  The thought had just crossed his mind not even a heartbeat before when the hair on the back of the pilot’s neck started to stand on end.  His face must’ve betrayed his feeling because both women suddenly turned to face him as he muttered a soft, “Oh hell…..” 

“Sir?” Órlaith asked confusion etched across her face.

Ming was about to reply when the ship went on red alert.  The additional this is not a drill nailed his sudden alertness as confirmed.  He snapped into action by first turning to Andrews, “Get the Vaklyries weapons ready.  Full fangs and claws double time if you please Mikaela.”

As the ordenance chief headed out Marcus looked at Órlaith and said, “Go with her!  Nothing like real world experience I’ve learned.  Take care of yourself and listen to that lady right there.”

Órlaith nodded, turned and trotted after Andrews without any debate.

The lieutenant watched her go before tapping his combadge, “Ming to Xellath…Easier than tracking you down chief but the shit just hit the fan apparently.  Keep the holoemitters on the fighters but reset the computer settings for real combat.  I have a feeling about this one.”

Xellath came back saying, “Very unusual sir…..VERY unusual.”

“Trust me Mr.  Xellath.  There’s a method to the madness I promise,”  Ming said before cutting the connection.  He was about to open a channel to find out what the hell was going on but he was beaten to the punch.

“Talon to Ming,” Rebecca’s voice came over the com.

“Ming here…..Go ahead captain.” 

“Marcus, Betazed has been invaded by the Dominion. Starbase 75 has already fallen.”

“Mā de,” the pilot breathed.  His gut told him something was up but Betazed…..

“The flight crew is gearing the fighters back to battle ready, Captain.  They lept into action the second the alert sounded. What’s the game plan Captain,” Ming asked putting on his game face as his last flight leader called it.  

“Coordinate with the Combat Controller on the Tigris. They will be directing flight ops. Other than that prepare for the worst. Talon out.” 

“Ming out,” the Knight’s CO replied.  

The Flight Commander tapped his combadge again, “Ming to Xellath:  Keep the holoemitters active.  Keep the Gem’Hadar profiles and add a cloaking function.  I aim to bring all our fighters and pilots home and damned the technicalities.”

Tapping his badge again cutting off some caustic Tellarite cussing, “Knight Actual to all Knights….Report to briefing room in 10 minutes…..Mark!”

Marcus tapped his badge closing the channel before stalking to his office to reach out to the combat controller on the Tigris.  His flight was going into action and it’s first major combat engagement with the Dominion.  He aimed to be part of the battle planning and bring his flight home safe after, he hoped, kicking the Gem’Hadar square in their collective asses.

“Shields at 50%!”  Chief Engineer Ryong Ki held onto the console in main engineering as the Miranda Class took another pounding.  She had an open channel to the bridge where the captain had taken over the helm while the XO battled with a limited tactical scope.  They’d come into this battle knowing they were the underdogs.  They were now fighting for their lives as phaser fire screamed through the air.  The glare of photon torpedoes reflected off every hull as the pitched battle continued.

The USS Flathead Lake banked for an attack run and let loose a flurry of fire, sending one ship into an explosive fit while taking its share of the attack.  Ryong growled, “Shields at 35%!  We need an exit strategy, bridge!”  Another thunderous clap shook the decks, and sparks erupted from EPS conduits across the room and ship.  Two consoles exploded as the power overloads cascaded.  And still, Ryong stood at her console, hands frantically shifting power to shields and weapons, pulling from everywhere she could.  She was a fresh Lieutenant and had been desperate to prove herself on the Flathead.  The deck shook again, “Shields at 20%!  Bridge, I’m going to lose warp engines next!”  She waited for a response.  Nothing.  She reopened the channel and called out again.  Silence.  The Chief could hear crackles of fire in the background.  She knew.  Grieving would come later.  She tapped at the console and took control of the helm, sending them on a skittish course as she fired what weapons they had left.  Engineering shuddered, and vents burst open.  Ryong kept at it.  She pushed the ship as hard as she could and smiled wearily with satisfaction as another ship burst into flames.

Then engineering exploded with a roar.  And her world went black.

USS Denver…

“Captain,  the USS Flathead Lake has sustained major damage,” the tactical officer announced.  “Their warp core is going critical.”

“Survivors?” Rebecca asked, looking over her shoulder.

“Picking up four escape pods and half a dozen life signs on the ship concentrated near engineering.  The bridge has been obliterated and is exposed to space.”

“Beam the survivors,” Rebecca ordered.

There was a pause as he entered commands into the console. As he did the Flathead Lake exploded in a brilliant explosion.  “I got twenty of the fifty I was reading, ” the tactical officer said regret in his voice.

Rebecca blinked.  There would be time to mourn later.  “Helm, evasive manoeuvres.”

“…you hear me, Lieutenant Ki?”  The emergency physician held on to the biobed as the deck shuddered.  “I’m Doctor Josiah Kurtz…can you hear me?”  The woman’s uniform was torched, and the orderly on the other side cataloged the injuries and severity.  Twenty survivors from the USS Flathead Lake had landed in the tumultuous room that was main sickbay.  The orderly tossed the PADD into his waiting hands as she rushed to the next triage case. Kurtz read through the report as a nurse slid up and began to stabilize the patient.  This was all done silently.  The medical staff of the Denver had been through enough hell and enough war to fall into an effective rhythm that, from the outside, would seem to lack care or bedside manner.  The reality was that war was hell, and the repetition of injured spilling into sickbay forced a team to be the best they could to get through until the next one.

“Ma…Comman…”  The nurse completed the last dermal treatment and went about sealing each wound.  Ki wasn’t sure where she was, but she knew it hurt.  “Pain,” she croaked, her eyes squeezing shut as the waves of suffering buffeted against her.  The waves kept crashing against her harder and harder until she felt tears spilling down her cheeks.  She still couldn’t see anything, and her ears were filled with a mix of noises she couldn’t decipher.

Kurtz gently pulled her waving hands into restraints, “Lieutenant Ki, you’re aboard the USS Denver.  Your ship was torn apart…you’re one of twenty survivors.  We’re doing our best to save you and your crew.”

The sounds slowly started to make sense.  She listened, her eyes still shut against the blunt pain of brightness pressing against her.  “Denver…safe.”  Ryong felt her heart sink to her stomach, “Only twenty?”  She fell silent.

Josiah also secured her legs, “You’ve had significant burning and internal injuries.  I’m giving you some pain medicine to help you feel better.  We must operate in fifteen minutes to repair the internal bleeding and injuries.  You’ll be out for the procedure, but I need you to stay still.”  He glanced up as he was called to a critical patient, “Steady, Lieutenant Ki.”

She sputtered out, “Call me Rye, Doctor Kurtz.  Please.”

He cocked his head to the side, “Very well.  Keep breathing evenly, Lieutenant Rye.”

She followed his directions.  She was safe.  She was alive.

A young ensign approached Rye, “Excuse me, ma’am. Our engineering department is severely short-staffed at the moment. Captain Talon asked us to see if there were any survivors that could help us.”

Rye laughed morbidly at the situation.  She’d nearly died.  They would be doing a procedure to put her back together in fifteen minutes.  And now they were asking for her help.  She replied, “If they clear me after my procedure, I’ll do whatever you need, Ensign.  Least I could do for the crew that saved my life.”  The ensign made a note on his PADD and moved on with purpose.  The duality of the chaos and order in sickbay redefined every metaphorical meter the young chief engineer had.  She lay back and waited.  Fifteen minutes could seem like an eternity.  The ensign returned a moment later as the medical staff began to prep her for her procedure, “The Captain will inform Lieutenant Crawford – he’s holding down engineering on loan from operations.”

Rye smiled faintly, “At least someone competent is holding her together.”  The drugs went to work, and she faded into darkness as they began to complete the procedure quickly.  Time was of the essence.

The USS Denver streaked across space. Rebecca now more aware than ever on how shorthanded they where, and her daughters were with her.  She wasn’t sure if that was a blessing or a curse.  On one hand she knew they were safe right now.  Ethan on the other hand she had no idea what his fate was with the fall of the station.

“Ms. Jones, ETA to Betazed?” Rebecca asked.

Glancing at the console, Arin replied, “Thirty-two minutes at Warp 8 Captain.” At the speed they were traveling, Arin was hyper-focused. It wasn’t the fastest the Denver could go by a long shot, but things came up fast at speed. 

Riandri looked over at the Captain and could sense the tension within her, more than just what was visible. Still unsure why she could sometimes sense more than usual she took a gamble and leaned over, “I am sure they will be fine, they will be evacuated to the surface at the first sign of trouble.”

Rebecca glanced at Riandri.  The woman had an unnerving way of knowing exactly what she was thinking at any given moment. “Is it that obvious?”

Riandri consider it for a minute, “Yes and no, just a sense I had Captain.” She turned back and looked at the view screen as her mind wandered slightly, “But anyone would be worried, everyone here is for one reason or another.”

“How many have family right in the middle of all this?”

Riandri pursed her lips and shrugged, “On the Denver, not many but some. There are a couple of betazoids on the ship unless I am mistaken and then within the fleet, too many.” Her face grew serious for a moment, “This war puts everyone’s family in harm’s way but you, we, have the ability to protect them more than most.”

Rebecca nodded embarrassed she had been so focused on herself she had forgotten about the others affected. “You’re right of course. Let’s focus on the job. We can worry about the consequences tonight.”

“True enough, we can worry about that later.” Glancing back at the empty tactical console Riandri cursed,  “With your permission Captain I will man tactical.”. She quickly made her way to the console. Their Chief of Security had been briefing the Recon team and had yet to return.   Shields and weapons systems were reading 100% across the board but she wanted to make sure. Running a quick diagnostic confirmed her fears, one of the ventral phaser arrays was still set to its lowest yield. With a quick command, she cycled the commands and reset the array to maximize its yield. With that, she pulled up the internal coms and typed out a quick message. Once sent she switched over and checked her link with command and intelligence to see if there were any further updates on the situation but all she could decern was that it was an ungodly mess they were about to fly into.

Several decks below them Jeter moved briskly through the corridors as he watched the crew move rapidly to their battle stations. Before him, he saw two new crewmembers who joined just before the planned train looking lost, “Why are you not at your stations?”

The young Bolian’s eyes when wide at seeing him, “Sir, ah, we, are on damage control.”

“I know that crewmen. Your team is assembling on Deck 3 section 4. Get there double time,” he said with a stern voice and watch them both head in the correct direction. With that, he stepped onto the nearest turbolift and exhaled calming himself and muttered under his breath the same poem that always passed through his head before a battle, “Once more into the fray, Into the last good fight I’ll ever know. Live and die on this day. Live and die on this day.” A moment later he stepped onto the bridge and nodded towards the Captain before taking a seat at the damage control systems.

Engineering… 

Crawford was in engineering.  He’d worked with the team as operations chief, and it was a natural shift to step into the chief engineer role.  He eyed the consoles, the displays, and the warp core.  Whatever happened next was out of their hands. What they did in response would matter.  Life and death felt like as if it hung precariously on a sliding scale.

Before him, a message icon flashed on his console, just two words; “Be safe, Ria.”

Flight bay…

Ming closed the connection with the Tigris and steepled his fingers thoughtfully staring at the now blank screen. Nightmare material for sure.  It was also big enough to warrant a change in immediate plans.  Standing up, he walked around his desk and out the door of his office so he was looking out into the flight bay.  

After a moment he placed two fingers in his mouth and let go a piercingly loud whistle.  Much of the activity stopped short but not all.  A second shut down the rest.  

“Pilots and flight crew….On me!  Double time,” he said projecting his voice so everyone could hear.  Everyone managed to get there quickly.  Pilots up front and a mix of junior and senior crew peppered from front to back. This was no time for sugar coat things.  

“Listen up folks!  There is no easy way to phrase this so here it is…The Dominion has made another push.  Betazed has fallen.  Starbase 75 as well.  We are en route to Betazed to fight back as part of a task group.  The fighter contingents will be coordinated by the Tigris and it’ll be our first action as a coherent unit against the Dominion,” Ming said.

The senior officer in the room scanned the faces looking at him.  Grim looks, nervous looks and looks of conviction all looked back at him.  He continued, “I will not candy coat things.   It’ll be a scrap for sure.  We’ve been trained for this and I have utter faith in all of you.  I cannot guarantee anything much but I can promise one thing….We are the elite…We are the pilots and flight crew of the Starfleet Fighter Corps!  If anyone can make it through a fight like this it’s us!  Flight crew, we’ve got a short while before we get into the tangle.  I trust the Valkyries will be ready to dance when we arrive….”

Chief Xellath gave Ming an affirmative nod.  Ready and sound then.  He looked over at the new Ordenence Chief who was standing next to his protege Órlaith, “Andrews….Full load out on the weapons? I want to be sure the pilots can give the Jem’Hadar the kick in the teeth that they deserve.”

The NCO nodded to him gravely.  Armed for bear then.   He then said, “Knights, now’s as good a time as any to start prelaunch.  Mount up and get all preflight protocols done.  When we launch it’s weapons hot and safeties off. Flight teams:  Prepare a ready deck! I’m not expecting battle damage but be ready just in case.  Ordenance:  Have additional ordinance ready to go in case we need a rapid reload at any point in the brawl.  We got this!  Get to it, folks!!!”

As the flight crew broke up to head back to their duties Ming noticed the grim and nervous looks had mostly been replaced by determination if not eagerness.  That was what he’d hoped for.  Now, it was time to finish getting ready for a starfighter combat version of a slugging match. 

Bridge…

The Dominion fleet loomed threateningly on the viewscreen as the Federation fleet raced back to Betazed. Rebecca gripped the armrests of her seat. It looked much worse than it was. “Report.”

Riandri quickly pulled up the sensor readings, “We are detecting over four hundred Dominion and Cardassian ships. Four hundred twenty-eight to be precise but there may be others hidden. The majority, two hundred fifty, are Jem’hadar fighters with 60 of the Dominion battleships. The rest are Cardassian cruisers manly.” As she continued to scroll through the data in from of her she shook her head in sadness and frustration, “Starbase 75 has fallen, though that was expected, it is still intake but has been boarded and all the defence platforms are either destroyed or offline. I am also getting reports from teh surface that troops have landed and fighting is taking place within across the planet.”

The final thought she had as she looked over the report, one she did not dare voice sent a shiver down her spine, ‘We are too few…unless something changes this war is lost.’

“Mr Conroy,” Rebecca started, “Ready weapons. ”Ms. Jones, maneuver at your discretion.”

His eyes quickly glanced over his sensor readings, as his hands moved even faster. Conroy had spent the last few hours preparing for a fight, but this what far worse than anything he imagined. A group of three Cardassian vessels on the port side changed their course to intercept. Those were his targets! “Weapons Ready! There are three Galor class cruisers approaching on our port side, should I raise shields captain?” He signaled for the closest security crewman, “I need you to prepare this.” He handed him a PADD and sent him on his way. 

“Mr Conroy,” Rebecca replied giving him an amused expression, “I think that would be wise. Ms. Jones take us in.”

The Denver shook as it was battered again by weapons fire. On the viewscreen a Centaur-class listed to port. The nacelles streamed plasma as the lighted windows flickered and whole ship fell black. A heartbeat later it exploded in an antimatter explosion bathing the bridge in a yellow-orange glow.  Only a few escape pods limped away.

“Captain, we just lost the Mississauga; fleet strength is down by almost 40%,” Riandri said from tactical as she selected the Jem’Hadar fighter which has destroyed the Mississauga and locked weapons. The telltale reddish-orange glow appeared along the main dorsal phaser array on the Denver before the beam shot forth striking the enemy vessel and piercing through its weakened shields causing it to spin out of control into a nearby Galor-class cruiser.

Riandri’s lips curled up into a vindictive grin moments before the Denver shook violently and the several consoles including her own erupted in fire. She was thrown from her feet against the bulkhead. Dazed she climbed to her feet but struggled to get her bearings as her vision swirled around her.

Jeter watched in dismay as damage reports come in on his console, the last hit caused an overload in one of the ventral shield generators causing a cascade reaction of explosions through the power relay system. “Captain, that last blow knocked out one of the ventral shield generators. Shields are down to 45%.”

“Diverting non-essential system to shields,” He checked his sensor readings and targeted the incoming Jem Hadar fighter. The Denver rocked violently, and Conroy adjusted his footing to keep his stability. “Jem’Hadar fighters are targeting escape pods headed for the surface…” 

Rebecca gripped the armrests as she glanced behind her with Conroy and Riandri side-by-side working. “Notify Lieutenant Ming to run coverage for the escape pods.  Mr. Crawford prepare to beam them to the ship.”

Crawford ran his hands across the console tasking both elements of the sensor systems and the transporter systems to be ready to move at the nimble tap of his hands.  It would need to be as near perfection as they could manage.  He was up to the task and metaphorically crossed his fingers for luck.  “Aye.”

Riandri nodded as her eyes refocused, “Right away Captain.” She glanced at Conroy, “Keep those Dominion vessels off us.” With that, she moved back to one of the operation stations and opened a direct link to Lieutenant Ming.

“Lieutenant Ming, we are detecting escape pods from the Mississauga and other federation vessels. Have your squadron provide cover for them while they make their way towards us.” As she spoke the Denver shook violently again as a Cardassian Galor-class cruiser started to bear down on them flanked by several new Jem’Hadar fighters.

Ming’s voice came back as a stressed but fierce growl, “Acknowledged Denver.”

Conroy targeted 2 more fighters with phasers, and torpedos one after another. It seemed like there was no end in sight. “Shields are down to 31%, structural damage on deck on decks 17 through 19 force fields are up injuries are reported.” 

“Ms. Jones keep those fighters off of us,” Rebecca ordered as the ship shook again. 

“Aye Sir. Setting new course, heading 040, mark 16. Mister Crawford, as I roll right, you’ll be able to bring more weapons to bear against our attackers,” Jones said.

Peter slipped his mind over to tactical and tapped gently at the console, bringing up the weapons systems.  Things were moving quicker and quicker – the speed of battle wasn’t going to be tamed or slowed for their efforts.  It would run over anyone in the way.  “Ready on your mark!”

On the viewscreen, the Galaxy-class USS Alaska rolled right in an effort to shake the tailing Dominion and Cardassian ships. The ship with the leadership of the Federation forces at Betazed was putting up a valiant fight. Banking right, it destroyed one Jem’Hadar fighter and disabled a Galor-class cruiser in a volley of torpedo and phaser fire. As it completed its arc a Jem’Hadar fighter slammed into the saucer of the Alaska ripping a hole through the starboard section. A second fighter slammed into the drive section at the connecting neck. A heartbeat later the Alaska exploded. 

“Damn!” Rebecca growled. 

Riandri watched the destruction of the majestic Galaxy-class vessel with a sense of shock and dread. Though not built for war they were very tough ships and for the dominion to resort to kamikaze-style attacks attested to that. Without a pause of more than a second or two she pinged the fleet communication channel to identify the next ship assigned command, “Captain, I am showing the T’Eris as the new flag seat.”

Jeter watched in shock for a moment before turning his attention back to the console, “Captain, I am not reading any escape pods from the Alaska. The fleet formation is starting to fall apart without the flagship to anchor it.” He left the unasked question hanging in the air, afraid to actually vocalize it even after all these years working in the fleet. He did wait long though as Riandri cursed and spun in her chair, “Captain, we cannot win this fight. We are throwing away ships and lives for no reason. We must retreat to hold on to some semblance of strength so we can continue this fight.”

“She is correct Captain, shields have dropped to 26%!” Conroy paused as he targeted a Cardassian cruiser, he glanced at Riandri and then up at the Captain. “Ma’am we’ve lost this battle, we need to regroup.”

“Not my call,” Rebecca replied as the ship shook again. Somewhere a console exploded.  “Riandri, request the T’Eris.”

Riandri responded with a simple, “Right away.” She quickly pulled up the communication ID for the T’Eris and routed a priority message through. Within 15 seconds she got her response, “Captain,  I have a response from the command, we have orders to regroup and withdraw. They are leaving Betazoid.” Glancing over at the Captain and the rest of the bridge crew she continued a moment later after her console beeped, “I have coordinates for the regroup.”

“Helm adjust course for the rally point. Mr. Crawford notify our teams on the ground we are about to pull them out.”

“Aye, Captain. ”Setting course 215 mark 113.” Ari n said, not looking down as her hands flew over the modified tactile helm console.

Peter’s hands now moved quickly as he sent the message and sent a firm order to the transporter team – get our people out, and get them quickly.  It took an agonizing forty-five seconds and he called out, “We have them – clear to depart.”

Sickbay…

Doctor Lorsa Efe scanned sickbay.  It will filling up with casualties. There were more than she or the Denver’s medical team could handle. “Nurse Calloway,” Lorsa shouted above the cacophony of voices, moans, and cries. 

Calloway pushed his way through the throngs. At six-foot five and arms the size of tree trunks the man cut an imposing sight. “Yes doctor?” He said in a deep rumble that could only come from a Southern man of African descent. 

“We need to set up triage. Walking wounded administer a pain reliever and send them to the man crew lounge. Serious, but non-life threatening you and your nursing staff stabilize for us.  Immediate cases get the biobeds… and those of no hope.. or will require hours long surgery administer morphine and make them as comfortable as possible.”

“Let them die?”

Lorsa sighed, “Calloway, we can’t save them all. Get to it.”

Starbase 75…

Trinity watched in curiosity from one of the consoles in the Operations Center onboard the starbase.  She was fettered to the seat and the console in front of her had been deactivated. Beside her Ethan slept softly snoring, the concussion making him sick.

She had never been in Ops before, yet it felt strange that it was being crewed by Jem’hadar and Cardassians. On the viewscreen the Federation fleet was putting up a valiant fight, but it was hopeless. Occasionally there would be brilliant flash of light as a ship exploded.  Sometimes it was a Dominion ship; usually, it was Federation.

Ranek stood, his hands clasped loosely behind his back as he watched the battle rage. His expression showed no emotion, even when a dominion ship was destroyed. He didn’t spare them a second thought, his attention on the movement of the two force’s around each other. It was a delicate yet brutal ballet, and just as glorious to behold.

As he watched, satisfaction rolled through him. His plan had worked, as he’d known it would. The Federation were so predictable it was laughable.

“I can feel you looking,” he turned to look at the girl they’d found on the promenade. She was an odd one, fierce as a warrior, but also protective of the injured boy. But resourceful as well. They’d had to tie her to the chair and deactivate the console in front of her.

“What else am I to do?” She retorted.  “Escape is off the table… for now.  And the…” She swallowed hard, the taste of the word like bile in her mouth. “The battle is like a shuttle crash.  You don’t want to see it, but you can’t look away either.”

“Then watch,” he ordered, his expression grim as he turned back to the viewscreen. “Watch the glory of the Dominion as the Federation forces are destroyed. Learn how futile it is to oppose us.”

“Bajor… you know your people opposed the Cardassians and sent them scurrying.  That doesn’t sound so futile to me. You know who else uses that word? The Borg.  Earth isn’t assimilated.”

Ranek shot the girl a hard look.

“Don’t let my outward appearance fool you. I am not bajoran,” he spat the word, shooting a look over his shoulder at two guards.

“They bore me, take them away. Lock them up somewhere,” he ordered. 

Trinity didn’t resist as Cardassian guards drug her and Ethan from Operations. Their ordeal at the hands of the Dominion was just beginning. 

Bridge,  USS Denver…

The Bridge was silent as the battered fleet fled Betazed.  In less than ten hours, the planet had fallen to the Dominion,  and the remnants of the two fleets limped across space, heading for Vulcan.

The leadership of the Denver’s fleet had been decimated.  The ill-fated training mission had led directly to the ease the Dominion had taken the system. Out of position, it was too late for them to mount an effective resistance. It was dark times, and victory never felt more impossible than ever before. 

Riandri sat in a bit of a daze as she kept an eye on the consoles around her as a stream of information continued to come in from the fleet and beyond. She sensed movement behind her and turned to find Master Chief Jeter standing there, a long gash that had been partially healed ran down his cheek and he was covered in oily smudges and a number of brusiers and minor cuts. “Chief, why haven’t you had those checked out?”

Jeter looked around, “Other people needed to be seen first,” he said with a tired smile as he looked off into the distance. After a second his attention snapped back, “The repair of the main systems is complete thought they still need to be optimized.”

“Mr. Jeter,” Rebecca said, her tone giving no room for argument.  “Get that taken care of. We have it here.”

Jeter looked over at the Captain and nodded without hesitation, “Right away Captain.” Without pause, he turned and stepped onto the turbo lift, “Medical.”

“Now what?” Rebecca asked in a low voice. She was leaning towards Riandri so they could only be heard. “Where do we go from here?”

Riandri face darken at the question, “I wish I knew…” Turnign to look at the viewscreen and the image of the ships around them traveling at warp,  “With the fleet, until we are ordered otherwise and hope something changes.” She brought her hands to her temples and slowly massaged them before she spoke again looking at Rebecca, “If something doesn’t change and soon we look after those we can and do whatever is necessary….” 

Rebecca sighed. He family was separated.  Milo was still on Betazed,  and Ethan missing.  She fought back tears that were threatening to burst. There would be time for that, but not in the bridge. “How do I tell the girls their father is missing? Oh, God, what if they hadn’t come with us?” She clinched her fists the thought sending cold chills down her spine. 

Riandri reached her hand out and placed it on top of Rebecca’s, “Be honest with them; they are old enough to know the truth. It will be hard but it is the right thing to do. Believe me I know.” She paused for a moment and exhaled as she thought on her next words, slowly she spoke, “I wouldn’t count Milo and Ethan out. Milo knows what he is doing and the Dominion wanted the station, they had no reason to harm children. We cannot let go of our hope. It is for them, and the others we left behind that we fight.”

The auditorium style briefing room for the Denver’s elite Combat Recon Team was packed with over one hundred officers. Most were security,  but there was a smattering of engineers, scientists, nurses and medics grouped together along the back row.

The Chief of Security entered the auditorium and descended the steps to the small raised platform.  “Good morning,” he greeted setting the PADD in his hand down on the podium.  Entering some commands the large screen behind him activated.

Gus had a large padd in front of him. He didn’t really need it but the hard copy was useful for tasks in other ways. 

“I know not all of you are members of the Recon Team,” the Security Chief spoke. “I have taken the liberty of assigning additional security officers to your ranks. Believe me, you will need them.”

Collins raised his hand.

Conroy nodded to acknowledge the Lieutenant, “Yes LT Collings, you have a question?”He lowered his PADD and gripped it with both hands in front of him.

“Will there be an opportunity for the new security officers to train with my people, sir?” Collins asked.

“Of course Lieutenant, If you look at the provided PADDs in front of you in appendix c, I have already assigned which security officers will accompany you,” Conroy paused for a moment to collect his thoughts. He turned back towards the screen behind him. “As we know Star Base 75 is under attack by Dominion, and Cardassian forces when we arrive there will be a lot of moving parts, and we all need to be in place. If the base falls base personnel will more than likely take refuge on the surface. If the base does not fall we will be assisting, and assess the situation from there.” Conroy clicked a button changing the information on the screen. “Whether or not the base has fallen, we will be in a fight. Our primary objective is to secure the base by repelling the attack or insure the safety of the personnel. The situation is still fluid, and I will make contact with Intel to see what other information I can dig up before we arrive.” 

He stepped forward, and down from in front of the podium, “Before any questions, and I know there are many Lt Collins will address you with more specific information for recon activities.”

As he stepped to the side he looked through his PADD trying to figure out what else needed to be said.

Collins moved forward to address the assembled group. “I’m not going to lie to you, this is going to be a tough mission. Will there be casualties? Yes. Remember your training and you may survive.”

A wide-eyed crewmember who looked like he had been plucked straight from basic training stood, “Sirs if I may, the scuttlebutt has it that Starbase 75 has already fallen.  Does that mean we are going planet side?”

Conroy looked over at Lt. Collins, “I’ll take this one,” Conroy stepped closer to the podium, “We are aware that a lot of you are new and this will be your first time out. So to answer your question yes, I have rearranged the duty rosters to 2 shifts, not 3. The extra personnel will cover for the bucks during training. I will meet with senior staff, and first-line supervisors at the conclusion of this meeting. They will keep all of you informed.”

That didn’t answer his question,  but the Jack Holland didn’t press the issue and simply returned to his seat.

Gus stood up and walked to the podium. “If I may Sirs?” When they nodded, he spoke calmly. “Most of us are adults here.” He quipped, repeating a line an old comrade used to use, breaking the ice. “We should know what we are in for. Plans are to pair you off so that the less experienced, veteran crew will be nearby for support.” He paused. “But I believe this is going to be one of those times when we are going to need to be stubborn.”

Collins nodded. “Yes, I agree.” He paused a beat. “The important thing is…..don’t get scared. You get scared and you’ll make mistakes. Trust in your partner, and you might survive. Anyone else?”

The briefing fell into the standard intelligence and tactics of a landing party. The Denver’s security forced would take the two runabouts to a landing point just outside one of the cities designated as “Sword”.  Their objectives were laid out and with that the assembled officers were dismissed to prepare for the mission. 

With the end of the briefing concluded Jack stood and filed out with the rest of the assembled security officers.   The Tactical Recon Team members interspersed amongst them had extra training and had a swagger about them that instilled some measure of confidence, but not much. He joined Starfleet not to be a soldier.  

None of them were really.  The best analog for even the Tactical Recon Team was the SWAT teams of police departments in the 20th and 21st centuries.  No matter how you looked at it, they were not soldiers.

“Where are the Klingons when you need them?” Jack muttered as he headed for the team lockers to ger suited up.

Sh’iv approached her fighter with her helmet under her arm,  and weapons officer at her side. “Greg, get in and get the systems fired up, and I’ll do the walk-around.”

The ensign nodded, “Sure thing.”

As she walked around her fighter she pulled the safety pins arming the ordinance.  Checking the control thrusters and the thin layer of ablative armor over the vital systems she was satisfied.  Entering the fighter she slid into the pilot’s seat and started the cockpit preflight checks.

Ming was finishing the exterior walk around and looked at the torpedoes slung under the port wing.  There was one quantum torpedo which wasn’t a standard load out even though the latter had been rolled out two to three years ago.   He turned and shot a big smile at CPO3 Andrews who was trailing him with Órlaith by her side. 

He asked, “Two quantum torpedoes each side?  Andrews, I could kiss you!”

The NCO smiled at him a heartbeat later and replied, “Ya don’t have enough time for that L. T.  If ya make it back in one piece though….Well, I might let it slide.  Just once mind.” 

She nodded toward her companion and said, “Órlaith here gave me the idea indirectly.  Once that bug went into my ear I remembered we had four in stores not snagged by tactical yet.  You and Knight two split em along with two photons each for the rest of the Knights. Figured they’d be more useful out there than in here from the way things sound.”  

They’d been moving during the conversation.  As he got to the ladder he paused before heading up and said, “You ain’t wrong.   From what little the Tigris told me and from what Captain Talon said, though details are scarce, it is going to be one hell of a tough nut to crack. Even a small ace up the sleeve like these are likely to be useful.” 

He smiled at the two women and said, “Nice work you two.”

Órlaith nodded, “Of course sir, but I am confused.  Don’t you need launchers to make these work?” 

“May I,” Ming asked directing the query toward Andrews. 

The NCO nodded and said, “By all means L.T.” 

Marcus nodded graciously then turned to the other woman and said, “Using them conventionally, yes.  In a toe to toe starship exchange that might even be the most effective use.  It’s not the only one however.” 

He briefly pointed for illustration before taking a step or two up the ladder while he talked,  “There is a circuit in each pylon that will activate the warhead with a command from the cockpits.  There are a few creative ways to use the full sized warheads from a fighter mounted like this since they’re better able to launch micro-torpedo casings in larger amounts.”    

“Arming and then laying them as mines is one very useful option for them.  Flying at high speed toward an enemy warship, dropping an armed torpedo and then pulling away abruptly allowing momentum to take the torpedo the rest of the way can also be of occasional use too.  Not always to the same effect as firing them from a starship torpedo bay but there’s some advantage to them coming from a small vessel like this too.  The Dominion won’t likely expect it either.  It’s not a tactic often in use by our starfighters.  They’ll get one hell of an education about it though,” the Knight’s commanding officer explained.

Órlaith raised an eyebrow.  After a moment. “Regular rearming will be necessary I assume.”

Ming replied, “Standard procedure on the flight line as I recall from my training on the flightline.  I presume that hasn’t changed, Petty Officer Andrews?”

“Yessir.  Pretty straight forward prep on our end, Miss Murphy.  Afterwards while out there the L.T. or any of the pilots hit a button in the cockpit causing the torpedo to roar to life,” Andrews said.

“Right before we drop it and it wreaks merry havoc on the bad guys.  It’s a tactic I wish we hadn’t had the need to figure out but it wasn’t quite a choice we could avoid making.  My mom used to tell me to never start a fight….but to make sure I could finish a fight if one was started.  A sentiment we all need to take to heart these days I think,” Ming added with no small regret in his voice toward the end. 

Marcus aimed a high wattage smile at the two women as he settled into the cockpit after climbing the remainder of the ladder and added, “Keep the campfires going for us.  We hopefully won’t be gone too long.”

Andrews laughed, “You got it!” 

His violet eyes focused Órlaith and said with a small but warm smile, “See you when I get back.  Try not to get into TOO much trouble while I am gone.”    

“Trouble is my middle name sir,” Órlaith replied.

 Marcus laughed and said, “Somehow that’d not surprise me one bit. Either which way I am quite glad to have you with us Miss Murphy.”  

Órlaith flashed Ming a smile and rushed after Andrews. 

Ming swung into the cockpit and started the preflight.  He was glad he’d insisted on the specialized flight suits. They which were leaner and space worthy versions of the old pressure suits worn by SR-71 pilots in the late 20th century.  Black with a departmental stripe at chest level much like the SOBs used by special ops.  The helmets were, likewise, black.  His had the word, “Lunartic” stenciled over the visor with a straight jacket within a sketch of Earth’s natural satellite, mostly referred to Luna these days, on each side. It’d not allow for much more than 45 minutes to an hour out in the big dark but that was something.  He tapped his com, “Knights….Knight Actual preflight complete, all green.”

“Knight Two, we’re green here sir,” Sh’iv replied. 

McPhearson’s voice came next, “Knight 3 – all green.”  

T’Kown followed with Erickson’s voice rounded the wing – All green.  Marcus gave the groundcrew a thumbs up indicating all good in a centuries old tradition to let everyone know all was ready to go followed by the signal to clear the launchways.  They’d be out of warp any minute and they’d be launching shortly thereafter if he’d read things right.  

He added over the coms, “When we launch we launch safeties off and weapons hot.  As discussed Knight 5 will have my wing with 3 and 4 on Knight 2’s wings.   I’ll call out any changes as needed.  Otherwise we wait for our cue to go.  Hold fast Knights.” 

After only a few elevated heartbeats later Captain Talon exhibited what seemed like perfect timing: 

“Lieutenant Ming,” the Captain’s voice came over his combadge. “We’re dropping out of warp. Prepare to launch immediately.” 

“Ming here.  Ready to go, Captain.  The Valkyries are ready to fly and the Knights are ready for a fight,” Marcus said with a cold, deadly seriousness.  

“You best get to it Mr. Ming,” Rebecca said flatly. 

The bay doors had been opened with the forcefields up allowing for a view of the starlines of FTL travel.  True to her word they dropped to pinpoints of light.  That was their cue. 

“Knight Actual to all knights.  We’re launching safeties off and weapons hot.  Knight’s 3, 4 and 5:  You have a photon under each wing.  I and Knight 2 managed a couple of ill gotten quantums.  Let’s put em to good use on the Dominion at the first solid opportunity,” Ming said over the flight frequency.

He waited a heartbeat before adding, “We’re out of warp! Launch, launch, launch!” 

At the third launch he took off and fired out of the launch bay at maximum launch speed at such conditions.  Once clear he turned and slowed waited for the other four fighters to join him.  As they did so his internal barometer sank by a kilometer or two.  His sensors, both the fighter’s and his mark 1s, painted a bleak picture.  They were, in simple terms, out numbered. He banished his worries as a thought brought a smirk to his lips:  Odds weren’t the end all and be all.  

He switched to a prearranged secure frequency,”Tigris control, Knight Actual.  Permission to engage.” 

The reply came within seconds, “Granted!  Join the Rangers and Sabercats in the attack against that Jem’Hadar Battle Cruiser 097 degrees z plus 5700 klicks from your current vector!”  Ming grinned predatorily and said, “As ordered!”   

A quick change of frequencies tied his flight in with the Rangers and Sabercats.  He radioed, “Knight Actual checking in.  Good to be flying with you Sabercat Actual.  Nice to fly with you again Rangers.  I hear we have a Jem’Hadar heavy to take out.  Let’s see what we can do with five Valkyries and 15 Peregrines shall we?” 

The feminine voice coming over coms next was one all to familiar to him, “Ranger Actual to Knight Actual…Good to have you flying with us too. You’re birds are more able to maneuver — I propose you fly cover for us while we make a run.” 

“Knight actual to Ranger Actual – Roger.  I hope you don’t mind if we take a pot shot or three if the opportunity arises.  Otherwise cover your collective asses.  On it,” Ming grinned at the chuckles both familiar and not.  He went on, “Let’s dance to their tune Knights.  Knights 2, 3, and 4 with the Sabercats.  Knight 5 and I will cover the Rangers. Please acknowledge Knight 2.”

“If we don’t get blown out of the sky I expect these ships to become more common once the field testing is done,” Sh’iv said as she formed up on Ming’s right wing. She bobbed her head and flashed him a “peace sign” through the cockpit window. 

Ming smirked with a confidence he didn’t feel quite like he let on, “Tsk, tsk.  We won’t win this one with that attitude Knight 2.  It’s the Jem’Hadar that should be peeing their flight suits at the sight of us.” 

Ranger Actual chimed in, “Still ignoring odds are we Knight Actual?”

“A beautiful woman taught me that trick Ranger Actual.  It’s served us both well so far.  We can discuss it over drinks after we regroup after this fight.  I’d recommend staying on mission until then,”  Ming said followed by a soft chuckle.  

“We’ve got incoming,” Sh’iv announced “12 o’clock high… and low. Looks like Jem’Hadar fighters on an intercept.”

“On it!  Five, maneuver Tango 2 Alpha!  3, 2, 1, go,” Ming ordered.

The Valkyries were living up to their reputations so far and Ming was starting to be glad Fleet had allowed Denver to be a testbed for the fighters.  Agile and decently armed.  He and Knight 5 dropped their speed and pulled a complicated maneuver pulling up toward the belly of two Jem’Hadar fighters.  They didn’t even get the chance to maneuver before phaser bursts and two micro torpedo slammed into each fighter’s underside.   The two Valkyries flew through the fading explosions and otherwise shredded materials that WERE two aggressors. 

That was a trick that almost certainly just lost it’s effectiveness.  That was fine because Ming had more.  There was a lot of astrometrical fun in Betazed’s star system.  The question was would they be able to take advantage of it?   He asked himself that as he and Erikson rejoined Ming’s old squadron.   

“Thanks Knight Actual and 5.   There’s one of the reasons we miss you in our squadron,” Ranger Actual’s voice said over the frequency. 

A gutturally accented voice came over the radio, “Knight 5 to Ranger Actual.  I think you have seen nothing yet.” 

There wasn’t much time for more conversation as the Battlecruiser started to spit out what amounted to anti-starfighter fire.  Ming swore before ordering, “Knights, Rangers and Sabercats – Evasive pattern Tigris Theta four! Hit this bastard and scatter in pairs.  Regroup at rally point Rapunzel.” 

Ming hadn’t intended to take command of this fighter element but it seemed he just did. He….hoped to good effect.   That explained why the Gem’hadar had moved out of the way.  He did what he did best….Focused on the job at hand.  

Sh’iv grunted as she flung her ship into a hard right, and then felt her stomach in her throat as she pushed the nose over ducking under the belly of a Cardassian cruiser with a fighter on her tail.

“Greg use the quantums,” she ordered.

Her weapons officer armed the two quantum torpedoes and jettisoned them from the under wing pylons.  Sh”iv slammed the throttle open as the Jem’Hadar flew into the explosives.  It immediately lost control and slammed into the Cardassian ship and was obligated.   The Cardassian ship took heavy damage from the impact and was now out of the fight.

As the fighter wings pulled away from the crippled craft Ming said over the channel, “Nice work Knight 2.   Nice work.”

The orders for the Sabercats came on the Tigris command channel sending them on another vector and mission over the command channel leaving the Rangers and Knights to take on the next mission with just the two squadrons.  That pleased Ming to some degree as he was familiar with the way most of the Rangers flew including his counterpart.  Despite that he had a feeling about the big picture overall that he didn’t much like but he pushed that to the back of his mind.  

At that moment another sinal came over the ether.  Riandri Nalam‘s familiar voice ordered, “Lieutenant Ming, we are detecting escape pods from the Mississauga and other federation vessels. Have your squadron provide cover for them while they make their way towards us.”

Ming checked the situation and scowled.   He saw that the Denver was in trouble too but that was the case with too many Allied starships in the neighborhood.  His voice came back as a growl as he switched over to that frequancy and said, “Acknowledged Denver.”

He wasn’t about to disobey a lawful order but he liked it not a bit.  He switched back to the Tigris designated fighter net and said, “We just got new orders Ranger Actual.  You all be careful out there.  I’m buying drinks for both wings after this so make sure you’re all around for it.

“We will just have to take you up on that Marcus.  Just be sure you and your wing is there for it too,” Ranger Actual responded. 

Switching back to the Knight’s frequency Ming said, “Alright Knights….Protect those escape pods!”

“Understood sir!” Sh’iv replied over the coms.  She adjusted course and after a few seconds she slid in beside Marcus, her micro-torpedoes loaded and armed. “Down to only a handful of torpedoes sir, but I will fly cover until I can’t.” 

“Hold fast Knight 2.  The Valkyrie Type IX cannons ain’t nothing to sneeze at.  Consider making your shots count be they phaser shots or micro torpedoes count every opportunity to be a standing order.  That goes for everyone although that apparently doesn’t need to be said,” Ming said with a smile coming across in the tone of his voice toward the end of the last sentence.

That smile faded a moment later.  The sense from the Federation allied fleet was almost tangible.  His sensors only confirmed what his senses were telling him.  They were losing.  Badly.   The blood in his veins turned to ice with one transmission among many.  The USS Tucson was faltering under heavy fire and the crew was abandoning ship. Ranger Wing was already lost in the tangle before them. 

Ming cut into the comm channel the Knights were using,“Knight Actual to Knight two….I’m going off mission for an indefinite period.  The Tucson is lost and I need to verify survivors.  I……” 

Ming hears the utter anguish in his voice a bit too late.  With a will of effort he steadied his voice and continued, “I cannot ask any of you to join me and disobey orders.  I will be back shortly….I aim to just verify there are survivors, radio any available ship to aid with rescue then return.  I shouldn’t be long.” 

“Don’t do it sir,” Sh’iv’s voice broke over the intercom. “We have survivors here that we know about, and we have orders sir. I don’t know what the Tucson means to you, but I know these people here mean something to someone.” 

Two things started to happen almost instantly after the Knight XO finished speaking.  First the escape pods started to vanish in the shimmer of Federation transporters.  The Denver and another allied ship moved in signaling that the Cavalry had arrived.  Ming’s sigh of relief went over the flight’s com channel before he said, “Sometimes it pays to be wrong…..”

The second was the stuff of Marcus Ming’s nightmares when he got cut off by a comm signal, “Ranger 3 to all Federation allied forces.  The USS Tucson is destroyed.  The handful of escape pods that managed to get out have been rescued but our wing and the Sabercats are under heavy fire.  Consider this a mayday!”

Marcus didn’t need any more prompting, “Knights….Our immediate task is at an end.  I cannot ask anyone to join me but I intend to do a smash and grab.  I still have two quantum torpedoes, ⅓ of a magazine of micro torpedoes and my phaser emitters have yet to melt.  I’ll be gone long enough to punch a hole in the enemy line long enough to bring the Sabercats and my old wing, the Rangers, back to the Denver where we can rescue the pilots if not the ships.  Short range warp jump, unleash hell, warp back with our friends and go from there.   I know the Rangers would do it for us in a heartbeat if our roles were reversed.  No hard feelings if everyone else wants to stay.” 

Barely a second passed before the com came back to life with Erikson’s accented Federation Standard, “Knight 5 to Knight actual….I’m your wing and am with you.  We must do what we must.”     

Sh’iv pulled up along Marcus, “Let’s get this done.”

Knight three and knight four spoke out in kind.  That was all Ming needed, “Let’s see how many lost sheep we can shephard home Knights.”

Switching frequancies he said, “Knight actual to Sabercats and Rangers….Hang on to your asses foks! We’re on our way!” 

There were so many prime targets but there was only so much damage he and his flight could do given the outnumbered nature things started with let alone where things were at.  He had to focus on only the enemy in the way vs the open season things started as.  Anything he and the Knights had left on the way home would take the brunt when they were almost back to Denver.   

They were on point in short order.  Somehow the Gem’hadar were otherwise occupied as they remained minimally harassed.  The Sabercats and the Rangers were less lucky.  Three members of each fof the other flights remained. Sabercat’s two, four and five plus Ranger’s actual, three and five.   The equal parts luck and skill that kept all five of his pilot/fighter pairs wasn’t lost on him.  Part of that was the balanced agility and fangs of the Valkyries.   If they made it home alive he’d have bottles of his favorite whiskey delivered to the responsible parties that lead to that. As it was he was now responsible in getting 11 pilots and fighters back to the Denver and whatever nearby starships that could accomidate the surviors.  

The blended fighter unit apparently drew some more attention than Denver’s own compliment had done as a Gem’hadar unit vectored in on them.  Ranger actual was the only death during the battle.  The last clear thing Ming would remember was the pathomless anguish and unmeasurable rage that fueled his warcry when his former flight leader as well as former lover died before his eyes.  The next thing he knew the three remaining Sabercats vectored toward a banged up Akira Class near the Denver. The remainining fighters were Denver bound.  Ranger three and his own Knight five had been exposed to dangeriously high radiation after an exchange of fire.  The remaining fighters were flyable but also took damage.  

That said all seven fighters had expended their ordnance and left the dozen Gem’hadar fighters destroyed or damaged.  Right then Ming couldn’t have said if it was a fair tradeoff or not.  His thoughts were broken into a moment later however.

“Denver to Lieutenant Ming.  We are pulling out. Return to ship,” Rebecca’s clipped voice rang over the comm. 

Ming’s own voice replied a moment later sounding ragged and detatched even to him, “Ming to Denver…declaring an emergency.  We’re two fighters heavy.  Ranger three and five have nowhere else to go.   Ranger three and Knight five are able to land but will need immediate medical evac once landed….Radiation exposure.  Please notify the flight bay and sickbay immediately…If they need to eject our spare Peregrines they need to do so now.  The Old Gods know we need whatever we can keep though.” 

“I’ll alert medical. Denver out.”

“Ok folks…We’re needing to land pronto and room will be at a premium.  Follow the ground crew’s signals as we go in per standard procedure.  Landing order as follows: Knight 5 followed by Ranger 3 due to medical necessity.  Afterwards Knights 4, then 3, followed by Knight 2 with myself coming in last.  Confirm by numbers….Rangers over Knights in deference to our guests,” Ming said after switching to the fighter’s main frequancy as established by the Tigris.

“Acknowledged Knight Actual,” Sh’iv replied as she held back her eyes visually scanning the area and then down to her scanners looking for threats. 

“Ranger 3 confirmed,” a familiar voice said with some weakness.  The acknowledgements came in as laid out by the flight leader.   

“Knight 5….(soft, pained grunt)…confirmed,”  Günter said sounding even worse than Ranger 3 did.  

The fighters went into the flight bay as ordered in order.   Knight 5 went in a little shakily but smoothly enough. Ranger 3 went in similarly.  Knight 4 went in without incdient.   

As Knight 3 started her approach something caught Ming’s eye.  A lone pair of Gem’Hadar fighters seemed to be just a bit too casually angeling toward them and the Denver.  That didn’t last long before they adjusted their trajectory and fired off in an entirely different direction.  Juicier targets abound or else orders to regroup Ming figured.  Either way their threat seemed to be gone.   

“I think we’re good Knight 2.  Let’s go home so Denver can get the hell outta Dodge.  There’ll be other fights where the odds will, hopefully, be more in our favor,” Ming raidoed directly to his XO.    

“A retreat to save from total destruction so we can fight again is no defeat at all,” the Andorian pilot responded. Sh’iv throttled up and contacted operations for landing instructions and shot towards the converted shuttle bay.

Once his XO was near the end of her landing pattern Ming started his own landing.  Signaling the landing bay for his own instructions a thought ran through his mind which included two phrases from the past.  This being a “tactical regrouping rather than a retreat” followed by “living to fight another day.”   

As his fighter entered the landing bay he noticed it was a hive of activity and a tightly packed one at that.  It was two peregrines heavy pushing the bay to it’s maximum capacity if not a little bit over.  As he touched down he realized whichever it was it was all thanks to this ground crew.  He’d be buying a literal buttload (the old measure) of drinks for these folks in the not distant future if he had anything to say about it.  

He went through the powerdown sequance with practiced ease even if a bit rushed.  Once done he unbuttoned his craft and exited post haste.  He pulled off his helmet and b-lined it as close to a full on run as he could toward where Ranger 3’s Peregrine and Knight 5’s Valkyrie were parked. When he got close he saw the pilots of both craft being beamed out with folks who were obviously from sickbay.  One of the remaining medical team rushed to meet Ming and said flatly, “What the hell happened to these two?”  

Lt. Ming wasn’t quite sure he liked the tone but decided to overlook it for the moment.  He replied, “The Knights went in to assist the remnants of some other flights with finding the most efficient egress from the battlefield possible.  We got tangled with the Jem’Hadar.  They seemed to be happy with near hits in the same manor of old style depth charges.  A barrage of enemy torpedoes went off in close proximity to a few of our fighters….They were closest.  So far as I was able to ascertain their shields wavered and both ships were overwhelmed with hard radiation.”The medcial officer looked less than pleased.  

Ming added, “The man has been my wingman for a while.   The lady is a member of my previous squadron.  Both are good friends…”

The other looked back at Ming and said, “We’ll do everything we can.  I need to get back to sickbay so I can assist with that.”

The Knight’s commander didn’t hesitate with a nod.  She dissapeared, Marcus assumed, back to sickbay.  He looked around and realized how much this bay was a picture of pure chaos but Chief Xellath was managing it…Bordering on gleefully the fighter commander noted.   He retreated to his office as much to get out of the way as to wright the after action report.  

He’d have to do his best to remind himself that Erikson’s injuries were the result of a war and not the CO’s actions. War took live and left other lives tattered.  Some of the latter more perminantly than others, some more visably than others.  He hoped his wingman’s injuries weren’t as serious as it seemed.  He genuinely liked Günther.  

His experience with this war to date added up to one thing: His day, and this war, were likely far from over.   It was, Ming reminded himself, time to get back to the dirty job of doing everything possible for the Allies to win this damnedable war.

Crack! Crack! The replica Winchester bucked against Milo’s shoulder as he levered another round into the chamber. With each shot there was satisfying ping and the bullets hit true against the steel target. When the rifle was empty Milo shuffled to the next station as he did he was drawing the Colt revolver and in fanning motion he emptied the six shots into the target in rapid succession.

“Time!” the judge shouted. He was a lean Betazoid man wearing a nineteenth-century suit and a bowler hat.

Milo tipped his Stetson to the judge and holstered his pistol and stepped away from the firing line.  Milo was a crack shot, but nothing compared to these men and women, and he was sitting dead last. When he got back to the station he was going to build a holodeck program to practice.  Next time he wasn’t going to embarrass himself.

The roar of engines drew his attention skyward.  A single grey beetle shaped ship lead a formation of six more ships as the flew low over the landscape.  They were heading for the city center. As the approached the edge of the city the ships slowed to a hover before dipping below the horizon.

“Those aren’t Federation,” someone observed.

“No, they’re Goddamned Dominion ships!” Milo growled as he slapped his combadge, “Talon to SB75.”

No response.

Milo repeated his request. Still no response from the station. He tapped his combadge a third time, “Lieutenant Commander Talon to Betazed Transporter control one to beam directly to SB75.”

Again there was no response.

“No go commander,” The judge said worry and fear etched on his face. “All communications are down.”

Milo looked around. Not a single shuttle, speeder, or even bicycle was anywhere around.  Everyone had just transported to this remote shooting range. He rushed to the shooting line and picked up two Winchesters and reloaded them from the nearby ammo box, and filled his pockets with ammunition. There was a horse tied to the fense and Milo shoved one of the rifles into the saddled scabbard. Drawing the reigns Milo swung into the Western style stock saddle.  “Sit tight,” he shouted at the others before spurring the horse into a full gallop heading for the city.

Federation Landing Zone: Sword…

Runabouts Mialoss and Rappahannock broke through the clouds escorted by fighters.  There were a dozen other shuttles and runabouts from around the Federation fleet shuttling ground troops to the planet to repel the Dominion invaders. The runabouts attached to the USS Denver set down, but left their engines spooled up, and as soon as their passengers had exited the ships they lifted off and shot into the sky.

Collins jumped out the shuttle before it took off. His team had taken position behind some rocks. Soon the Dominion would be upon them.

Viat was always near the first in and one of the last out of any fire zone landing. “Spread out down the line so we can cover Collin’s flank.”

A large group of Jem’Hadar had seen the runabouts land and the moved on the elite Starfleet security team.  Their rifles raised and keeping to cover as much as possible nearly one-hundred moved towards their enemy.

A newly commissioned Ensign took a polaron blast to the chest sending him to the dirt. He never even got a shot off.  Another Jem’Hadar dropped his shroud behind a Chief Petty Officer and plunged his kar’takin into the man’s back. The Jem’Hadar smiled as the victim convulsed on the ground drawing his final breaths. “Victory is life,” the Jem’Hadar said softly.

Raising his phaser rifle, Gus fired at the attacker. The Jem’Hadar dropped. He spat. “Not this time, coward.” His face was neutral, but his eyes weren’t. Addressing the team, he added, “Short bursts. Cover your teammates. Eyes and ears on a swivel, people.”

“Don’t fire blind!” Collins yelled. “Wait for them to decloak before firing!” 2 Jam Hadar appeared 500 feet in front of him. He fired off two quick blasts, hitting each Jem Hadar in the head, their heads exploding.

They were outnumbered, outgunned, and out-trained.  “Ramirez, Bazooka.” He pointed to a cluster of soldiers in the distance, dropping their cloaks. The nearly two-meter tube was a bit clumsy but packed a punch. “Cover fire!” Gus yelled as he added the weight of his rapid bursts to his teams. Interlaced between the TRT members were the other members of the crew, filling out their lines. That way, the TacTeam could shepherd as many as possible. That they would lose people was blatantly obvious. The ferocity was surprising to even Gus. The tube fire carrying the explosive charge close enough to the pack that a small handful went down. 

Collins watched the group of Jem Hadar disappear in the blast. He was starting to lose too many people. “Everyone! Prepare to advance to the next ridge line! Stay down. Squads 2 & 3, lay down suppression fire!” When the squads opened fire, “MOVE!!” yelled Collins. 

There was a thundering of hooves as a cowboy in complete regalia crested the rise. He raised his rifle and made two quick shots sending two Jem’Hadar reeling. He rode into the the center of the Starfleet line and using the rifle as a club he struck a third across the head breaking the wooden stock. 

He dropped out of the saddle drawing his Bowie knife as he did. In two quick motions he cut the cinches letting the saddle fall to the ground. He peeled off the bridle and slapped the horse on the rump with the flat of his blade. He scooped up a Jem’Hadar rifle lying on the ground and shot a fourth.  “Who’s in charge of this shit show?” The cowboy demanded. 

Collins, caught off guard momentarily, responded. “I am, and you the hell are you?” Collins kept firing at the Jem Hadar.

“Milo Talon,” the man replied as he picked off another Jem’Hadar. Milo didn’t bother stating his rank or position.   He technically outranked the man, but he wasn’t there to take over. “What’s the staus of the Starbase?”

“As far as we know, it may have been overrun.” Collins responded.

“There’s a planetary security office two clicks to the northeast.  I suggest we hook up with the locals,” Milo said.

Collins didn’t know what to make of the person, but getting some support from the locals was better than being picked off one by one staying here. “Agreed.” Collins looked around. “Pack up! We’re heading northeast!”

From the other side, the Vulcan Tactical Officer couldn’t hear the exchange and couldn’t care less at the moment. As long as it was a supporting action, that was a positive event in his eyes. In fact, the diversion allows Gus to spur his troops to provide covering fire. They needed more. In an instant, an idea came to mind. Whether it was a good idea, only time would tell. Crouched behind a small rise, he popped the cover off of a type 1 phaser (Cricket) and rigged the circuitry. Seeing a potential grouping forming, he activated the weapon, it’s shrill started low and built rapidly. Gauging the distance, Gus threw the phaser and yelled “COVER!”

It tumbled in flight, not being very aerodynamic for that purpose, landing a bit short of a three Jem’Hadar. The resulting explosion created a huge crater in the middle of the pack, throwing dirt, rocks, and bodies. In the long run, throwing hand phasers wasn’t ideal, but it was time to be creative. Viat led from the front. 

It was time, the Jem’Hadar might be unshakable, but he wanted this. “Attack!” Backing Collins’s play, Viat ordered his squad forward. Near the front, a Jed’Hadar uncloaked feet in front of Gus. Completely instinctively, he then used the type 3 phaser to buttstroke the enemy, the crack of the neck apparent. “Damn,” the rifle power cell cracked. Tossing it aside, he grabbed the polaron weapon from his attacker and kept moving. 

Collins moved his unit closer. 2 of his unit were killed, while at least 15 Jem Hadar bit the dust. He kept an eye on the visitor in case he proved to be a Changeling, sent to infiltrate their lines. 

Milo took an energy blast to the shoulder.  He stumbled and fell face-first into the grass. He rolled to his feet, swearing in pain.  It had been a glancing blow, but the wound bled, the anti-clotting agent in the weapon aiding in the hemorrhage. 

The TRT was holding its own, at least for the moment. If they took the surrounding space, the next reinforcements would be Starfleet. If not, Gus pushed the thought from his mind. 

It took a better part of four hours to push their way to the security office two kilometers from the initial landing zone. Once they had pushed through the initial Jem’Hadar line resistance had been fairly light,  but they could hear fighting going on all over the city as they approached.   

Still armed with a Jem’Hadar polaron rifle Milo had two more slung over his shoulders. In the shadow of the skyscrapers, he lead the team around a corner. The planetary security building was in smoldering ruins.

A series of Federation photon torpedoes airburst close enough away for the TRT team to see and hear the assault a dozen kilometers away. Massive amounts of EMP were causing problems with comms. Several of the TRT comm badges hissed and crackled.  =^= “annock….respond.=^= 

Three Jem’Hadar fighters flew overhead. A bolt of phaser energy reached out, striking the lead vehicle, clearly from a capital ship-sized phaser bank. A second later, it exploded.  The remaining fighters peeled off, being chased by two Danube class runabouts. ”This is the runabout Rappahannock. Bloody hell, she needs a shorter name. We’re coming in hot. New LZ 200 meters west of the security building. 2 minutes. We’re bugging out.”

The site of the runabouts brought cheers to the group. Then the bug out order was heard. They would still need to fight to the clearing. Parade ground just to the west of the building, as Gus conjoured up the image of the layout.  At the smouldering ruins at least should be less of a target, having been destroyed. Gus turned, “Ramirez, I want that bazooka ready just in a case. We also may need to spike it before we leave.” Ramirez nodded, reaching for the reload, knowing Gus intended so as to not leave any usuable material behind.

“We’re not giving up with a fight! New power packs in your weapons! ARE YOU WITH ME?” Collins yelled.

Milo nodded. He tossed the polaron rifle he was carrying to the ground not knowing how much energy was left and and switched to a spare. “Lead the way Mr. Collins.”

“We’ll head this way,” pointing to a point where the Jem Hadar were scattered. “Hopefully we won’t run into many.”

During a very brief respite, Gus checked as best he could on the alien weapon. “Take a heartbeat, gather your thoughts. This is where things got hairy. Ingress and egress. 

Two minutes later, two runabout started the set-down sequence. Noses facing the same direction, it allowed the runabouts, to horizontally stagger and cover each others field of fire. 

“LET’S GO!” Collins, at the front, led the troops, his troops, started running forward to cut off the Jem Hadar and clear the landing area.

Milo fired and a Jem’Hadar fell. Quickly adjusting his aim he shot another one aiming for Collins.  It was pure chaos.  This was nothing like the stories of battles he had read about. Even the rare training simulations weren’t like this. His arm ached where he had been hit and blood was still seeping through the bandage.  “Damn Dominion,” he muttered under his breath.

Collins laid some suppression fire to give his people a better chance at making to the ship. If a Jem Hadar showed his ugly face, it got a rifle blast in the face.

Shouldering the polaron weapon, Gus’s right hand fell to his sword. He’d take to the ancient Indian Kukri design at a glance. Its 41cm blade was hardened steel, and weighing less than a half kilo, and made short work of most things. Plant or animal.

The runabouts were close. Safety was rignt there, just a few meters away. They had pushed the Jem’Hadar off the parade grounds,  but it was only temporary.  At the airlock Milo paused.”

“Lieutenant Collins,” Milo shouted over the noise

Collins called to him while he kept firing. “What??”

Milo pulled off his gold wedding band and handed it to Collins, “Tell my wife… Tell her I love her. My post is here, not the Denver.”

Collins took the ring. “Are you crazy? You’ll be court martialed for desertion. Plus….if your not around, a lot of guys will be waiting to date your wife.”

Milo chuckled,  “Let them. I not worried about her.” He placed a hand on Collin’s shoulder.  “My post is here. Yours is on the Denver. Keep my wife and kids safe. I’ll help organize resistance cells. We can’t just let the Dominion have it without some sort of a fight.  Hell of a team you got here.”

Gus took off his short sword, sheathed it, then yelled at Milo as he tossed it to him. “Bring it back. Used.”

“I can’y promise I’ll be able to return it, but it will be used.” The man turned and jogged into the city,  disappearing amongst the buildings. 

Collins cursed under his breath. “Damn him.” Once the ship’s bay doors opened, he got his people safely on the ship.

Off in the distance to the other side of the LZ, the steady but oddly patterned crumps of alien artillery could be heard. Thankfully, that was all they heard. Picking up his boot, he locked the cargo door and secured it while yelling. “Lift off Mister Jones.”  

Bridge Later…

Rebecca looked up when Collins walked onto the bridge looking a little worse for wear.  His expression told her that this was probably not a report for all of the bridge to hear.

Standing she motioned for Collins to follow her to her ready room. “Ms. Nalam you have the bridge.”

Collins followed the captain. 

Once safely sequestered in the office Rebecca went to the replicator, “Can I get you something Mr. Collins?”

Collins shook his head. “No thank you, captain.” 

“Okay, what’s the report?” She said getting straight to the point.

He took a breath. “The base was overrun with Jem Hadar soldiers. We took heavy casualties, but we gave as good as we got. Milo Talon appeared and tried to help us. Once we got the teams back on the relief ships, he gave me his wedding ring and asked me to tell his wife that he had to stay to form a resistance cell.” Collins placed the ring on the captain’s desk. “Last I saw of him he was heading off to the west.”

She picked up the ring.  She clinched it in her fist and closed her eyes momentarily over taken by emotion.  After a moment she sighed,  “He doesn’t expect to survive.” She took a deep centering sigh, “Thank you Mr. Collins.  You did well.”

Collins stood up. “Permission to return to duty, captain.” 

“Granted,” Rebecca replied sitting back in her chair. With a heavy heart she watched Collins walk out of the ready room.

Rebecca sipped her coffee as she stood beside the window, looking out at Vulcan below. Starships, civilian ships, and even a few Vulcan ring ships darted about. Vulcan was a core Federation world, and there was tension in the air. If Betazed could fall, so could Vulcan.

The door chimed, and Rebecca turned to face it. “Enter.”

Riandri stepped in as she brushed more than a few strands of blonde hair from her face. Since the battle over Betazed, she had been running flat out with fleet intelligence and work on the ship helping to get it fully repaired. The latest piece of intel had her excited and she wanted to ensure the Captain and crew knew about it, “I think you may want to turn on FNN, there has been a development. The crew might want to see also….”

Sitting down behind her desk Rebecca entered her access codes and brought up the news report. She gave Riandri a questioning look, shrugged trusting her and sent it out shipwide. 

Comm stations all over the ship flashed on as the FNN logo above bold red letters appeared on the screens. A news anchor appeared sitting behind a desk. “Good morning, we have a developing story out of Romulus today. Senator Vreenak, a hard-line anti-Federation Senator who helped broker the non-aggression pact between the Star Empire and the Dominion, is dead. Early reports indicate that the Senator was returning from a diplomatic meeting at Soukara with the Dominion when his shuttle was destroyed. There are no survivors. Based on early reports, the explosive used to destroy the shuttle seems to implicate the Dominion.”

There was a pause as the anchor listened to the voice speaking in his ear. His carefully neutral expression fell in disbelief, “This just in. The Romulan Praetor has declared war on the Dominion as of 08:00. In a statement, the Praetor announced that the Tal Shiar had located a data rod containing a recording of a high-level meeting on Cardassia in which the planned invasion of Romulus was discussed. The Tal Shiar concludes Vreenak’s shuttle was destroyed in an effort to keep their treachery. Stay tuned as this story develops. For FNN, I am Morgan Daniels.”

Rebecca sat back in her seat, speechless, waiting for that other shoe to drop.

Riandri smiled, “I don’t know who, or what, has been looking out for us but this may be the break we need.” She stepped up and look out the window and admired the ships, “I never get tired of these views, it really goes to show what can happen when people work together. It will take time to get the fleets organized, and joint operations with the Romulans will be a nightmare but we have a chance now. And a good one.”

“You think?” Rebecca asked curiously. “There’s still a long way to go.”

Riandri smiled and let out a short laugh before turning towards Rebecca, “Humans, well the federation, and Romulans do seem to rub each other the wrong way. The few I have met always seemed fairly reasonable though they were often outcasts.” Walking towards the desk she stopped and clicked her tongue a few times, “What do you think the next step for us will be? Guess we need to wait and see what the Dominion does with this news.”

“Looks like our new friends have already hit fifteen bases along the border. If I know the Dominion they will pull back and continue to build up their fleet.” Rebecca rummaged around in her pile of PADDs, “It has come to my attention that as my acting XO you are performing tasks not befitting your rank.”

Riandri cocked an eyebrow at that before a slightly concerned expression flashed across her face, “How so? Is there something that I have missed?”

“You are out of proper uniform,” Rebecca replied flatly.

“Captain?” She asked, as she glanced down at her uniform and patted it down without thinking.

Finally finding what she looking for she stood and moved to stand before Riandri. “I hereby promote you to the rank of Lieutenant Commander.” She added the black half-pip to her collar.

At a loss for words, Riandri opened and closed her mouth twice before she found her footing. “Thank you, Captain, I, I will not disappoint you.” As she said that her right hand went up to her collar and she ran her fingers over the new pip and smiled. 

“You are welcome.” Tapping her combadge. “Talon to Master Chief Jeter, please come to the ready room.”

Jeter walked onto the bridge just before the report came on every screen and stopped. As he watched he could hear the excited chatter of the bridge crew increase. As it finished he let out a little laugh, “Well this changes everything.” A few moments later his combadge chimed and the Captain’s voice could be heard. Responding quickly he made his way to her ready room and activated the door chime.

“Enter,” Rebecca immediately responded. 

Stepping into the room Jeter nodded toward Riandri, noticing the new half pip on her collar. “I see congratulations are in order Lieutenant Commander,” he said with a smile before turning to the Captain. “Captain, what can I do for you?”

“Master Chief thanks for coming.”

Jeter nodded in response and stood at ease, “Anytime Captain.”

“Starfleet Command is taking a hard look at several of our senior NCOs.  Your name came up on the list.”

He blinked a couple of times, “How so?” 

“Master Chief,  Starfleet is seeing it necessary to grant you a battlefield promotion and a rank befitting your years of dedication and experience.” Rebecca found a wooden box within the clutter of her desk and handed it to Jeter. “With your new rank there comes a new job. Strategic Operations Officer.”

Jeter took the box tentatively and looked at it for a moment, “I, um, I am not sure what to say.” He slowly opened the box and his eyes went wide, within where the pips for of a Lieutenant Commander. “Captain this. This is too much.”

“Nonsense. It’s not enough,” Rebecca said with a wave of her hand. 

Riandri smiled at the former Master Chief, “The Captain is right, you have served for years and your knowledge and skill is without question.”

Jeter, still stunned by the news nodes again before looking to Riandri, “Strategi Ops, guess we will be working closely together on this.”

“Very much so.  I also want you to continue to be a liason between the command staff and the crew. They know and trust you. Also with your position it means you will be working closely with Ms. Nalam. She’s pulling dual duty and can use all the help she can get. Censoring the crew’s correspondence isn’t the most glamorous job, but necessary in keeping operational security.”

At that Jeter visibly relaxed, “I can do that without a problem, Captain. Been filling that role for a long time and it is almost second nature. As for working with Ms Nalam, I am happy to help everywhere.” He stopped for a moment and smirked, “Does this mean I get new quarters?” He asked with a slight laugh.

“I think that can be arranged,” Rebecca replied.  “For now, you have the bridge.”

He nodded in understanding, “Right away ma’am.” With that he turned and walked onto the bridge.

Bridge…

Collins heard some of the crew talking about the news report. He assumed that the Dominion had captured another Federation planet, but when he heard that the Romulans had declared war on the Dominion, he was shocked. 

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!” Arin blurted in raw surprise very nearly making the sign of the Cross. Her Irish brogue was thick. “Better with us. Yay?!”

Conroy looked over at Collins and chuckled, “yea the more weapons pointed down range at this point the better.” Conroy walked back and forth between consoles, looking over the system status. It would be some time before engineering would get around to everything. “I wonder where the Romulans will strike first?”

A couple of minutes after he walked off the bridge Jeter stepped back onto it. No longer the Denver’s Master Chief but a newly minted Lieutenant Commander. As he s stood by the door looking around, listening to the excited conversations he realized that in reality, nothing changed for him, he was there to ensure the ship ran properly. “So, we have a new ally people; let’s keep focused. I am sure we will have more information soon on joint operations.”

Not one to resist a well-timed shot, Arin commented. “Does that mean we can have Romulan Ale?” 

Jeter laughed at that, “Maybe but let’s wait to see if the ban on it is lifted. I don’t want to see bottles of it in the lounge.” He looked around at the crew, making eye contact with a few, “If, there is by chance any on the ship, lets keep it in your quarters shall we.”

Security offices…

Ensign Jack Holland has been doing an inventory of the armory with Ensign Viat.  He glanced down at his tricorder, “Inventory of Type 1 phasers match our records.”

“Plenty of type I and II hand phaser, We are a little light on anything heavier. The longer Type 3’s are passed around to the TRT and anyone scheduled to deploy us, with the exception of the ship’s normal complement for security aboard.”

“I don’t know about you,” Jack continued making idle conversation,  “It’s a bit weird now.  Going back to standard security duties after all that’s happened.”

“Normal security duties may not return for some time,” Gus said without emotion. “With the religious background of our enemy and their drug-induced fervor. I anticipate a longer conflict.”

Jack glanced up at Viat. This man may have been only an Ensign but he had a career as enlisted and a veteran.  Jack gave the Vulcan the same level of respect had he wore admiral’s insignia. Most of the NCOs and junior officers did.

“I didn’t mean to suggest… Well, I don’t know what I meant.  But, let’s face it being on Betazed in the thick of things and now here we are inventorying the armory is a bit of a night and day transition.  I… I… still have nightmares from that debacle.”

Gus remained still and quiet for a moment. “You are far from alone in that regard. Even with the mental disciplines afforded by my race and culture, the memories can be disturbing, sobering, and at the risk of a peak behind the Vulcan veil, aggravating.” There was the briefest of smiles. Just enough for Jack to notice and it was gone. “Should you need assistance in that regard, whether that is a sympathetic ear, drink, or perhaps a form of meditation? There are many. I prefer antique firearms myself.”

“Thanks… Uh… antique firearms?”

“Usually. I find it can be oddly calming when things go right. Plus it helps that they do not shoot back.” Gus added, Tilting his head in acknowledgment of the fact. “The skills to a point, do transfer to other forms of pistolcraft. Our resident Cavalryman, Milo, demonstrated experience and was highly effective with his ancient west lever gun.“Join me for a drink, please. Perhaps something rare and expensive to remember why we fight.  The logic is that if we don’t drink it, it will stay rare, expensive, and unsampled.” Gus offered.

“That sounds good,” Jack said with a weak smile. “Can I ask you a question?  What do you think of Talon’s decision to remain on Betazed and organize resistance cells? Should we have stayed to help him and disobeyed the order to return to the ship? Am I a coward for wanting to get out?”

It took a moment for Gus to reformulate a response. “Talon is an accomplished and experienced security officer. While I am unaware of what the details are, worrying about it is normal, and yet unproductive. I have little doubt that he will be a constant irritant in the Dominion’s side. Remain vigilant and we may yet have to opportunity to improve the situation.”

“Of course,” Jack said snapping his tricoder shut. “Let’s go get that drink and celebrate the Romulans as allies.”

Fighter Bay…

Órlaith stared down at her hands.   Her nails were broken and ragged and the wrinkles in her skin was filled with lines of black from oils, soot and all sorts of grim and filth.  

Sighing she leaned against the wing of the ship her arms and eyes heavy and rubbery.

Ming was, he knew, in shock.  The USS Tucson, his former ship, was destroyed with few survivors.  His former wing was decimated with three of the five, including his former flight commander (who was also his former lover), was among the dead. Erikson (Knight 5), who was his wingman from the start of this assignment, was in sickbay with massive radiation poisoning and burns.  

The efforts of the Knights managed to save two of the Rangers and three Sabercats.  The pilots of the Sabercats had found refuge in one of the other ships that managed to escape the blood bath of Betazed.  

Xellath had managed to find space for the two extra Peregrines of Rangers Three and Five.  Misty “Starr” Rogers, who was Ranger Three, was in sickbay in better shape than Erickson but hurting still.  Ranger five, Abeo Abara, was in the flight bay talking with the maintenance crew regarding the two Ranger fighters.  The Ebony Druid’s bass of a voice echoed across the bay which made Ming actually smile.   

The Knight’s commander sidled up to his protege and gave her a once over.  He came up beside her and said, “Hell of a mess.  What was that old song?  Welcome to My Nightmare….That’s it.  Sums things up I’d say.”

Órlaith glanced at Ming before wiping an errant strand of straw colored hair from her face with the back of her hand leaving a smudge of black grease.  “Twelve days later and our wing is still not even back to full strength. What will happen to our guests is anyone’s guess sir.  But yours and Lt. Sh’iv’s fighters are done. Knight Three is in the worst shape. If I had to guess it’s going to take another three to four days. We have some major hull repairs to do.”

Ming nodded and added, “Yeah.  But the fighters survived and are repairable with some work.  We lost two pilots along with their fighters of Sabercat flight and three out of the Rangers.  I knew all the Rangers except for the XO. That was my old team and they were some of the best.  Unfortunately war is a combination of talent mixed in with happensance and dumb luck.  Lt. JG. Rogers from the Rangers and our own Ensign Erikson are being transferred to Vulcan.  Erikson needs more work before he can fly again…Rogers too to a lesser degree.”

His eyes lowered to the deck for a moment as he steadied himself.  He added, “We lost some damned good people in that fight.  My old ship, the USS Tucson, was among the losses.  Not many survivors.  My old wing, the Rangers, were decimated including the CO.   Another 80 personal reasons for us to beat the Dominion.   And that’s only the folks that I knew.  Every soul lost out there was a family member, friend, lover, parent, offspring or sibling.   On top of that I’ll need a new wingman.  Ranger 5 might be possibly the best option out there though.  He’s experienced and has flown my wing when I was XO of the Rangers.”

“My father would have said their deaths were the price of their weakness,” Órlaith commented.  “I don’t know that that is true. It seems to me a lot off it just comes down to dumb luck.” Órlaith shrugged,  “Sorry about your friends.”

“The United States Civil War – 1861 to 1865 CE by the old Terran Calendar.  Both the United States Army and the rebelling Confederate States Army had some of the best, most brilliant commanders of that generation on BOTH sides.  Most people do not realize that by 1863 The United Kingdom and France were damned ready to jump in on the side of the Confederacy, due to their cotton, at the first decisive victory by the CSA.  The Battle of Gettysburg, July first to fourth of 1863, is widely known.  What is not widely known is that the battle happened because some months before a Confederate courier dropped a full copy of Robert E. Lee’s order 191 which detailed his entire plan for the war.  It was picked up by a Union Army corporal, as I recall.  That lead to the US Army intercepting the CS Army at Gettysburg turning the course of the whole war.  Had a Confederate soldier recovered and returned that plan or had the order been lost and never recovered at all this timeline wouldn’t likely exist.”

Ming paused and glanced at the woman beside him and summarized,  “It was a real pivot point in history.  It was as much happenstance as skill and the perfect illustration to every war that has ever happened.  You can do everything correctly and still lose.  As I understand it that last comment was uttered by Captain Jean-Luc Picard himself. It’s damned true either way whomever did or didn’t say it.”

Órlaith shurgged,  “But at least for once some positive news has come out of this war.”

“Good news would be long past due. The trick is to make things happen to where we get more news like that in the future.  I…have a hunch…that we’ll likely be going in that direction.  It felt like one of my hunches that I’ve found are usually spot on,” Ming said with a bit more thoughtfulness toward the end.

Officer’s Lounge…

Ensign Aoife McKenzie approached Collins and Conroy standing at the bar having a quiet conversation. 

Collins saw the ensign approaching. “What you drinking, ensign?”

“My da would say the only drink is Scotch,” Aoife said with a grin. “But he’s Scottish.” The engineer shrugged,  “Whatever ya’ll are having I guess.”

Collins signaled the bartender. “3 bourbons.”

Aoife accepted the drink, giving it a critical examination.  “Well, you only love once.” She sipped the drink feeling it burn the back of her throat. “So, the Romulans… Are they going to make a difference in this war?”

“No Romulans might just be the turning point in this war that we needed.” Collins sipped his bourbons.

“Anything at this point is a help,” Aoife agreed. “Fall back and retreat is getting real old. For once I want the Dominion to do that.”

“I don’t think for a minute that the Jem Hadar and the Dominion are going to stop until the very end. It might come to the Federation, Klingon and Romulan alliance might have to kill every last Jem Hadar and Founder to end this war.” Collins took another sip of his drink.

“Well, that’s an uncomfortable thought,” Aoife said with a frown.

“Yes, it is, though it’s the right thought. How many ships, colonies and stations personnel did the Jem Hadar wipe out? Thousands!” Collins replied.

“Far too many,” Aoife said with a sigh.

Romulan Capital City…

“Going somewhere?” A voice from the shadows asked. Garok emerged into the light of the office as Tomorah lowered her disruptor.

Senator Tomorah looked at the Tal Shiar agent with a critical expression before picking up a framed picture and setting it into the crate. “Yes. I have resigned my position within the Senate.”

Garok raised an eyebrow,  “And what will you be doing my friend?”

“I have accepted command of the Warbird Xoval.” Tomarah pulled a trio of ancient books from a shelf.  Ancient Vulcan was inscribed in tarnished gold leaf. She gave the books a quick once over before placing them into the crate. “I pushed for us to enter this wat. I know I was just one voice amongst many, but I will not send loyal Romulans into battle while I sit here in the safety of my office.”

Garok gave his protege a  appreciative nod. “I can respect that. I’ll do what I can to keep Tal Shiar operatives off your ship.” There was a long silence as Garok watched Tomorah pack up her office.  “I wanted you to know the Yal Shiar has finished analyzing the wreckage of Vreenak’s shuttle and have officially named the Dominion as the likely culprits of the sabotage.”

Tomorah paused and stared at her mentor,  “You aren’t convinced.”

Garok shrugged,  “It’s a little too tidy.  Vreenak gets ahold of a recording of the Dominion planning our invasion and then the Dominion sabotage his shuttle? Why not send a warship and blame the Federation? There are imperfections in the recording.  That’s being dismissed as a result of the damage.”

Tomorah stood with hard hands on her hips, “Keep those musings to yourself my friend. We both agreed that this was the only outcome,  we might as well join now that later before the Federation and Klingons are no longer able to mount an effective resistance.”

Garok nodded, “I will trust you on this matter.”

“Good,” Tomorah said as she shut the case’s lid and clicked the locks into place. “Now, if you will excuse me. My ship awaits.”