Task Force 43 (Story Only)

Zcenicx · Nov 2nd 2009, 1:46pm

Disclaimer:

Trek is the IP of Paramount Entertainment, B5 is that of J. Michael Straczynski. Please don't sue me, and please don't pawn off my story as your own.

Background

An introduction to the Romulan-Federation conflict of 2380
by Admiral William Ross

Throughout the Dominion War, a conflict which began in the year 2372 and lasted for four long and bloody years, Starfleet had continually suffered massive losses both in ships and personnel at the hands of both the Dominion's own Jem Hadar armies and fleets as well as their Alpha Quadrant allies the Cardassians and the Breen. Due to the new development of dedicated military vessels that had started shortly before the war erupted, in preparation for a large Borg incursion or even invasion, the effective military force of Starfleet thus increased dramatically as the damaged or destroyed older model ships were replaced by this newer generation of more defined warships, even though the actual number of starships even decreased as the war continued to drag on.

One such example can be made in the development of the new Archangel-class strike carriers, a single one of these ships being more than twice the mass of even the massive but aging Excelsior class and carrying a military force equal to a small previous-generation battle group in indirect weaponry as well as fighters, interceptors and bombers. Another can be made as the war saw massive casualties among the older general-purpose ship classes that were still being kept in service, far beyond their initial decommissioning dates through numerous programs of refits and upgrades, such as the Excelsior, Miranda and even Constitution classes.

With the fact that these lost Excelsior class heavy explorers were replaced with the new and far more advanced Sovereign class battlecruisers, or that any of the just as old Constitution, Miranda or Ambassador class explorers were replaced with the newer and far more potent Akira, Luna, Intrepid and Prometheus cruiser classes, the average ship age got lower and lower while the already significant technological advantage of the Starfleet ships increased even further. The war also saw the development of an entirely new class of starships, short-range destroyer and gunboat classes such as the Norway, Steamrunner and Defiant classes, directly designed for short-ranged defensive warfare with a uniquely high amount of firepower for their size but with limited range, mainly meant to free up the long-ranged heavy Explorer ships for front line service where they'd do the most good instead of locking them down in planetary defense.

At the end of the Dominion War in late 2375, the higher echelons of Starfleet had still not fully realized what effects these few but quite significant factors had on the overall balance of power that had long governed the Alpha Quadrant. The people in charge were still too focused on replacing a number than they were replacing a specific amount of torpedo launchers or phasers, and even less so with only replacing an in their eyes mostly theoretical force ratio. This again constituted what was effectively seen by many other nations as a major build-up of military force, especially as much of the Starfleet personnel who had survived the war had also gained a lot of invaluable experience from real battles and interstellar warfare on a scale which had up until then been seen as so unlikely it hadn't even been seriously discussed, much less prepared for in training.

In 2376 Bajor finally joined the Federation as their main reason for postponing this action had been to protect themselves from getting involved in the ongoing war, and with the peace treaty between the Federation and the Dominion extensive trade agreements were subsequently signed between many Federation members and a number of Gamma Quadrant worlds belonging to the Dominion. With the wormhole now formally deep in Federation space and massive economic gains being made as a result relations with the only other remaining great power of the Alpha Quadrant, the Romulan Empire, worsened quickly.

2379 saw the return of the USS Voyager from the Delta Quadrant, which sparked yet another more or less extensive (depending on ship age) refit for just about every single Starfleet vessel in active service. The information and intelligence gained from Captain Janeway and her crew about the Borg and other potential threats in that region of space scared the Admiralty to the point where the ships not capable to be refitted were simply decommissioned, and new ships quickly ordered from the shipyards to replace them. For the first time since the dark years of the Dominion War, both the massive shipyards at Utopia Planitia and San Francisco station were filled to capacity and many of the others close to as well.

After the Reman incident where the Sovereign-class ship USS Enterprise, flagship of and one of the most advanced vessels in all of Starfleet, was severely damaged by Romulan forces and the subsequent collapse of the Romulan government, the Federation Admiralty once again ordered ship improvements and as they saw what they perceived to be a real and imminent danger of being dragged into an armed conflict by either the Borg or the Romulan Empire, and in a worst case scenario both. All active ships of the line were refitted to carry the cutting edge technology transphasic torpedoes along their now standard load of zero-point warhead quantum ones, effectively rendering the older antimatter based photon torpedoes mostly obsolete for starship use.

Most ships were also refitted with the Voyager’s deployable armor in addition to their ablative hull armor, as well as a reverse-engineered version of the Borg's adaptive and regenerative shielding and the more powerful Type XV Phaser emitters. The fact that this constituted a severe breach of the temporal prime directive didn't seem to bother the Admiralty too much, as they saw themselves being faced with the distinct possibility of a war on two fronts against enemies just as strong as, or in the case of the Borg even stronger than, they were.

Another new addition was that the heavy explorer class ships regained the flank pulse cannon banks that had been dropped from Starfleet starship designs more than a hundred years earlier with the last ships of the dedicated battleship classes being scrapped, though this time they were installed with the Type XV particle emitters as a base. It was a subject of long and heated debate in the Federation council, but as these ships were the very backbone of the Federation's defensive forces it was agreed to be a prudent decision and a necessary step in order to safeguard the widespread and hard to defend nation. The difference in effect against civilizations with better shielding technology was impressive, as where the phaser beams were effectively surgical instruments which tried to drill through the shield in one localized spot, the phaser pulse cannons were easier compared to hitting them with a sledgehammer and grinding them down through sheer overwhelming brute force.

At the time as the Federation was reconsidering its relationship with the then shattered and unstable Romulan Empire the restrictions of the Treaty of Algeron were becoming a strategic problem. With the Reman incident in recent history and a number of other conflicts both before and since, the treaty was officially broken in early 2380 as some of the most modern ships were equipped with the Federation's own cloaking technology, phasing devices, as they were refitted. This alternative cloaking technology wasn't just a more reliable cloaking device than the Romulan version but also made the ship using the device effectively impervious to enemy fire while they were out of phase, something the Romulans had never been able to achieve with their own cloaks. The only real drawback was that while this technology could effectively hide them, it didn't make finding their opposition any easier as the phase difference actually made it harder to sense the minute energy a cloaking device would emit.

It can and has been argued that the members of the Admiralty were quite ignorant to miss the fact that their rapid refitting program and subsequent expansion of the Starfleet greatly disturbed the military balance and force ratio of the entire quadrant, but in reality they were just thinking like any other Federation citizen or Starfleet officer would. They didn't recognize the increased number of modern Explorer ships and heavier and better armed cruisers as a direct increase in military force, since they weren't intended or meant to be used as such against other nations of the Alpha Quadrant, even though they were designed with this function as a direct requirement against threats such as the Borg.

This did not mean that the other powers saw it that way. The Akira alone, which had been mass produced during and after the war, had by now almost entirely replaced the Ambassador and Challenger classes and had more military force in a single starship than both of its predecessors combined. The Sovereign also by far outmatched any of the Excelsior- or even the much newer Galaxy-class ships it replaced, and even the quite small Defiant class could easily outgun a previous era line cruiser such as the Miranda or Constellation classes.

While the Klingon High Council didn't necessarily disapprove of their now blood allies becoming more powerful, at least not publically, and the Cardassians and the Breen being too weak to be able to do more than launch a formal protest, the Romulans did. In May of 2380, with the assassination of Commander Dodondra and the subsequent failure of the USS Titan's mission to stabilize the region, the Romulan Star Empire launched a synchronized series of attacks against several of the Federation outposts along the Neutral Zone, without a formal declaration of war being sent until several weeks later citing the Federation's disregard for the Algeron treaty and their massive military buildup as their main casus belli.

Perhaps a more realistic and critical examination of the reasons for the Romulan War would show that the Empire had been shattered and in great turmoil ever since the Reman Incident and that as in so many of our own comparable historical cases a war against an external and historical foe may very well have been the only way to once again unite the disputing factions and restore order to the ever increasing chaos enveloping most of the Empire. This view is compounded by the Romulan battle groups seemingly avoiding all direct contact with larger Federation forces, or for that matter any larger battle fleet action, while instead focusing on less defended targets such as stations near the Neutral Zone and sending raiding parties into Federation space to destroy valuable but less strategically important resources.

Zcenicx · Nov 2nd 2009, 1:47pm

Prologue

Admiral’s log, Stardate 57503.0.
Vice Admiral Samuel West, commanding officer of Task Force 43, Fifth Fleet.
Copy to Starfleet Command, San Francisco and Fifth Fleet Headquarters, Deep Space 7.

This has been a very, very long week for me and my personnel. The constant attacks and increasing casualties we’ve been forced to endure the last few days have been tiring, both mentally and physically. Today the task force came upon the wreckage of a ship we presume was once the USS Okinawa. There was little left to suggest it had once been a ship, much less a proud Starfleet vessel representing the Federations latest attempt at a new peace treaty, except for what we could get out of the computer’s metallurgical analysis. She never even made it into Romulan space to deliver her request for a tentative ceasefire.

This war made little sense when it started, and it makes even less now. Two months and countless lives later the border hasn’t shifted a single meter, and no peace offer has been even discussed. No demands have even been issued. The Romulans seem intent on destroying each and every one of us, and no one seems to know why. Even then they do little more than peck away at us one or two ships at a time, and avoiding any forces that may give them an equal fight as well as they can. I don't know which is hardest to bear, that they use these ruthless tactics or that they seem to lack any overall strategy to do more than ever so slowly bleed us dry. As my science officer so calmly put it, ‘the actions of the Romulans are illogical’. In fact, even a war of attrition such as this is mainly pointless as the material losses we do incur are easily replaced. It's the losses in personnel that aren't, but even there the losses are too slow to do more than damage our morale. I cannot understand how they hope to win a war against the Federation fighting this way.

Even so, they seem content to use their normal stealth hit and run tactics rather than face us in open battle. We lost the Hera to a surprise attack such as that while she was investigating the Okinawa wreckage for survivors and computer logs. Two Warbirds decloaked just a few clicks off her bow and at point blank range and with surprise on their side she was simply overwhelmed by the Romulan ships' combined firepower. They paid dearly for their deeds as the Venture and Independence were quick to engage and destroy them before they could escape, but even so only a quarter of the Hera’s crew survived and the ship had to be evacuated and scuttled due to a warp core containment failure. Damn waste of a fine ship and a fine crew. We performed the burial ceremony for Captain Ic'ovaq in the forward observation deck of the Albion, and sent her off with the highest military honors. I would like the Admiralty to convey my, and my Captains’, sincerest condolences to her brood, mates and spawn back on Cariss.

We completed our evacuation of the Starfleet personnel and colonists from the damaged colony of Nelvana III. Most of the evacuated personnel have been assigned quarters on the Challenger and the Venture. Thank the gods the Galaxy class was constructed with evacuations in mind. We counted a total of just over 12,000 refugees, only a mere twenty percent of the original population of the complex but even so a surprisingly high number considering. The colony had suffered massive and extensive damage from being hit with disruptor weapons as well as concussion bombs, and casualties were still lying in the street when our ground forces transported down. There was no time to bury the dead as long range scanners picked up Romulan scout ships soon upon our arrival.

At 2200 hours yesterday we did however manage to find and recall the science vessels Darwin and Icarus. They reached and joined the task force at 0100 and 0150 hours today respectively. This brings the total amount of ships in the task force back to thirty-two, replacing the losses of the Hera and previously the Forager. While I’m well aware that two Nova-class science vessels can’t replace the military force of a single Nebula-class, much less a Galaxy-class starship, at this point it is my opinion that anything is far better than nothing as long as it can shoot. I just hope their Captains have done their jobs and both kept their tactical officers trained and their targeting systems calibrated. I’ve attached them to the carrier wing as escorts for the time being, allowing them time to drill their crews back into combat shape and I’ve also transferred several veteran crewmen and officers from the combat vessels onto their ships to help with the transition.

To conclude my log, the Excelsior suffered another malfunction at 1800 hours yesterday. I’m glad the old lady’s still with us, even with the extensive damage she received during our last engagement, but it seems her age is finally beginning to show. Her port forward torpedo launcher misfired during a live fire test of the newly repaired systems, causing a hull breach on several levels as the photon torpedo exploded in the tube. Emergency force fields were deployed immediately but three crewmembers lost their lives in the explosion with another thirteen injured and still in the medical bay. I’ve decided to keep her away from the fighting until she passes a full diagnostic at Starbase 10.

The task force is still on course for Starbase 10 in sector 23 to repair and rearm. We’re traveling in force formation at a speed of warp 6. Estimated time of arrival is in two hours.

Computer, end log.

Zcenicx · Nov 2nd 2009, 1:49pm

Chapter 1

USS ALBION
FEDERATION SOVEREIGN-CLASS COMMAND BATTLECRUISER
TASK FORCE 43 FLAGSHIP

It’s funny how some things in life can be mistaken for others. Sounds are typically a good example as they can also trigger memories that one associates with them, like childhood memories or the face of a loved one. The piercing noise of a warming klaxon is not however one typically linked to happy memories, and definitely not when it goes off early in the morning after a long night of work. It did however directly associate with numerous very bad memories, and immediately roused him from his deep slumber.

“Yellow alert. Yellow alert. All crew respond to yellow alert. Admiral West, please report to the bridge as soon as possible.”

Roused but still just barely conscious enough to tap the communicator he was still wearing and acknowledge the request, he immediately rose and began to straighten out his uniform. A good night’s sleep was a rare commodity few in the higher ranks were blessed with these days, especially when in command of a Federation military task force operating inside the enemy battle line. With a hazy move he rubbed his eyes and looked at the clock, finally realizing that he'd only just fallen asleep just under an hour ago as he'd gotten back. He barely even remembered getting to his quarters, much less falling asleep. He'd pretty much landed in the bed and fallen asleep as his body hit the sheet, and he hadn't even been able to stay awake long enough to change out of his duty uniform before doing so.

Not that it really mattered, especially at a time such as this. He had always judged his current job to be leading his forces as effectively as possible in combat, not to look and act pristine at all times. That was perhaps unfortunately what had given him this task force and the rank of Vice Admiral in the first place, and even though he had his reservations about the posting and the job itself, he still thought a sound tactical mind was more important than being perfectly shaved or wearing spotless uniforms like most of the brass back at Starfleet Command usually seemed to prioritize. Not that he had much choice in the matter right now. Once you were placed in command of a battle group it was close to impossible to be reassigned until the war was over, unless you got yourself shipped off in a body bag or were forcefully removed due to negligence or dereliction of duty, and the Admiral had no plans to end his career with either of those three.

Either way, he knew the ship's Captain wouldn’t mind. For all the eccentricities of the Admiral, he knew the Captain would always forgive him his flaws and listen to what he had to say regardless of how he looked when he did. Brothers have a tendency to do so, and that was also a major part of why he had decided to place his flag on the Albion in the first place instead of requesting his own command ship. In peacetime it was almost unheard of and Starfleet would probably have serious recommendations against it, but this was wartime and in war certain things were overlooked if it didn't cause a severe issue. The personal ship preference of a flag officer was one of these things that were overlooked as long as it didn’t become a problem, and as both he and Henry were decorated career officers who had always put their duty first and this was just a small task force and not the entire Fifth Fleet Command in question.

Exiting his quarters in as orderly fashion as he could, he was immediately saluted by the two visibly both armed and armored marines which had shadowed him ever since the start of this his latest assignment. He would have preferred not to bother with the escort as he didn’t foresee any attempts on his life while onboard the flagship, not any more so than while he'd been in command of the San Francisco fleet yards where he'd never had an escort at all, but unlike ship preference the personal security of a commanding Admiral was not one of the things Starfleet overlooked, and certainly not in wartime. The two marines filed in a step behind him and followed in silence as he quickly made his way to the turbolift while still trying to get the still dense wool out of his mind.

The bridge of a Sovereign-class starship is quite large and very spacious compared to most other ships, and at just after seven in the morning it’s usually bustling with personnel due to the shift change which usually takes place at that time. Being at yellow alert didn’t actually increase or decrease the amount of people present but at least they didn’t move around as much as normal and the air was almost blissfully silent.

As the Admiral exited the turbolift and walked onto the crowded bridge he immediately gestured for the rising and turning officers and enlisted crew to keep their seats and stations. All stations were manned, even the auxiliary consoles in the back, which was unusual. Normally the auxiliary tactical and engineering consoles were unmanned while not in combat but this was not the case now, and the Admiral hazily remembered the yellow alert condition being issued. Even so it was an uncommon occurrence as the crew seemed tense, but even so they didn't show any of the normal apprehension or grim determination he'd expect if they knew the ship was preparing to momentarily enter combat.

He went towards the Captain’s chair in the center, and the somewhat too calm appearance of his younger brother who was intensely studying a pad, seemingly unaware of his presence.
“Captain, I hope you had a good reason to interrupt my beauty sleep.” He said with just a hint of humor as he approached. "Especially as you know full well just how short it was."
“Ah, Admiral, you’ve arrived. Good.” Captain Henry West actually looked a little unsettled as he rose from his chair, but if you didn't know him as well as his brother did you probably never would’ve noticed. “We’re within long-range sensor range of Starbase 10. The sensor returns we're getting are, well, somewhat distressing. I’ve ordered the fleet to speed up and we’re currently traveling at warp 8 while we await your assessment of the situation as well as your orders.”
“Somewhat distressing?" The Admiral repeated. "You’re even more cryptic than usual, Henry.”
“Yes. I know.” Captain West looked at his brother sharply and continued in a low voice. “Not here. Come.” He motioned towards the ready room.

The two brothers, so much alike for any outside observer, looked practically identical in their command duty uniforms. Both were just over one point eight meters long, with much the same trained build and both had a fair complexion in no small part due to their being in space most of their adult lives. There was however a slight difference in haircut, as well as slightly more gray in the temples of the Admiral. They weren't twins and their faces were hardly identical if both were present to compare with the other, but Henry and Samuel West were very clearly brothers only a few years apart, and no one could mistake them for anything else. The difference in uniform and rank insignia was usually the only thing unfamiliar crew or Captains could use to easily distinguish one from the other. Luckily for most the two brothers had never held the same rank and only rarely been assigned to the same starship.

They moved into the Captains ready room, one of the few places on the ship where the armored marines actually gave the Admiral some privacy instead taking up positions on either side of the door. Samuel quickly landed in the sofa, his brother taking a seat close by, after the Admiral had gone over to the replicator and ordered his ‘rough awakening drink’, a mixture of strong Klingon coffee, dark-roast Arabian coffee from Earth, syrup and a good deal of single malt scotch. Most would call it a quite vile witches brew and by most definitions it was as well, but the strong mix of caffeine, sugar and alcohol did work wonders with his alertness and that was really all that mattered, and after all, the taste wasn't quite bad enough to make him nauseous.

“So. Tell me what you found out, Henry. It must be quite bad because I doubt you'd be this secretive otherwise.”
“I actually don’t know, and that’s what scares me, Sam.” Finally letting go of his controlled emotions, the Captain looked quite worried, and a slight bit apprehensive. “The sensor returns were somewhat garbled, possibly due to Romulan jamming, but from what we can read they would seem to indicate an ongoing attack on 10.”
The Admiral had straightened up immediately as that bomb hit him. “For how long? How many?”
“Unknown. As I said the returns were garbled. Again, it could be because of jamming, but I can’t be sure. It could just be a faked sensor return, we know the Romulans have done that before to lure in ships and then slam the trap shut. This task force is quite a bit to chew, but we all know the Romulans and we're definitely not numerous enough not to be overwhelmed if they wanted us dead.”
“True.” The Admiral took a sip of his coffee, and met his brother’s gaze. “But what if not?”
"Another possibility is that they're faking the returns to make us go there rather than somewhere else." Henry pointed out. “Still, if it truly is an attach in progress we’d estimate somewhere around a dozen Warbirds with escorts, which would be the usual force they've deployed in most of their raids. We haven’t been able to raise 10 on subspace either. All in all, not good news considering the state of the garrison.”
"And faking the returns would be pointless since we're already en route." Samuel sighed. “Damn it. Damn those Romulans. 10 has a garrison of eight ships, I know, but all of them are older vessels that by all rights should be decommissioned by now and the starbase itself isn't in much better shape either...”
“Admiral… I know. As you no doubt remember the Captain of the Crazy Horse is my brother-in-law… and the Crazy Horse was one of the ships the Guard assigned to garrison 10…”
“Don’t remind me, Henry.” West snapped. “He’s a good friend of mine too, you know. We served together on the Galaxy.”
“I remember." The Captain made a faint smile. "You were the one who introduced me to his sister.”
“Well then. What’s our roster? Which ships can we enter battle with?”
“Well, that’s the good part. Independence and Discovery both report ready for battle, as do Franklin and Berlin." The Captain read off a small pad in his hand. "I’d keep the Excelsior in reserve due to her recent malfunctions but the Albion is, as always, at your service.”
“Ok, that gives us three Sovereigns and two Excelsiors. What about the other wings?”
“Both cruiser wings are ready for battle; the Lexington still has some battle damage but nothing she can’t handle or that would impact her combat performance. A single phaser array is still malfunctioning according to the latest report, but a Nebula has plenty of others available to use instead. Oh, and I reassigned the Gallant to the second frigate wing.”
“Hmm?” The Admiral was fine with his brother’s decision, but was interested in hearing why he’d place an Intrepid-class destroyer together with his frigate wing.
“With the loss of the Crossbow while they were assigned to task force 58 their wing wasn’t complete anyways, and Maraat’s been bothering me since we launched that the wing needed some heavier cover. Plus, the Intrepid-class ships are the only capital ships we have that can keep up with the Sabers and Defiants in sub-light. T'Pan is a more experienced destroyer Commander than Elisha, I mean Captain Keyes, is so I merited my decision on that.”
“That's fine with me, and trust me I know how hard it is to say no to an Orion Captain, especially a female such." He thought about it for a moment "T'Pan came from a Steamrunner command didn't he?"
"Correct, while Elisha as you well know is an experienced explorer Commander." Henry nodded.
"Sounds good, and let’s keep the two Novas in reserve as well. I haven’t served with their commanding officers before, and I’m not too comfortable risking two inexperienced crews when I don’t necessarily have to. Same with the Gabriel, Michael and Excelsior.”
“Both carriers? Don’t you think we’d lose quite a lot of firepower?”
“Yes, but knowing Romulan tactics they’ll likely have cloaked ships on the perimeter that will try to ambush them either way, and we’d lose valuable ships from our capital strike in trying to defend them." The Admiral explained. "We’re better off keeping them in reserve, as we'll most likely outnumber the raiding force using only capital ships and not launching fighters will reduce the risk of friendly fire incidents.”
"That is of course if this isn't all a Romulan trap, in which case we could well end up severely outnumbered ourselves." The Captain replied fatalistically.
"In which case we'll be screwed either way." Admiral West replied with a scowl. "And we'd still be able to bring in the reserves guns blazing in less than a minute. I've seen them do combat launches, Henry. It doesn't take long."
“Roger that." The younger West nodded. "I'll relay that to the Captains of the Akiras as well. No fighter launches until specifically ordered otherwise. Now, since you've decided we're to believe it's an attack, let’s get to work and draw up a battle plan.”
“Sounds good. Let’s tell the task force to increase to warp 9 while we work. If the Romulans are truly there, we'll want to get there as soon as possible. Let’s just hope there’s still someone around to appreciate the cavalry dropping in when we do.”

SECTOR 23
FEDERATION SPACE

Lieutenant Commander Davis was quite sure this was the worst day ever in his probably soon to end life. Not even a full hour ago he’d been in the mess hall of the Starbase eating his morning chow, having a pleasant conversation about the latest sporting results with his friends while laying one on the dashing young Ensign Mendez in engineering as she'd entered. Now he was quite literally stuck all alone in the middle of nowhere with a Peregrine-II strike fighter strapped to his back, most of his friends already dead while dodging flak and trying to pick off the disruptors on the closest Warbird before they could cause even more damage to the station. Still, even though he consciously hated every second he was out here risking his life, he very much lived for it. The risk, the adrenaline, the constant stream of endorphins, it was like liquid excitement pumping through his veins. It takes a certain kind of person to be a fighter pilot, and Jack was definitely one of them.

He did realize the good guys were losing though. He was too smart not to, no matter what the comms told him. While he didn’t allow the thought to in any way influence his combat performance, it was quite evident to anyone with eyes and ears. Of the eight ships that were assigned to protect the Starbase one had been destroyed in a spectacular explosion that must have been a warp core breach and two more, both of the heavier Excelsior class, were visibly damaged and probably disabled since the amount of fire they'd put out had suddenly not just slowed down but stopped entirely.

He had seen one; he thought it was the Roosevelt, loose both her warp nacelles in a barrage of flaring explosions while the other whose name he didn't know had received a gash across the saucer pylon so deep that it had nearly separated the saucer from the engineering hull when her shields had failed. There were probably survivors in there still as both ships were still launching escape pods, and with any luck the poor souls inside would be able to escape the combat zone before the Romulans had finished with the rapidly decreasing defenses and started targeting the pods and wreckages. Romulans weren’t known to take a lot of prisoners, but then again they weren’t exactly known for being too nice to the ones they did either. Out of the two even Davis would've preferred the quick and painless death a disruptor offered compared to weeks of torture and probably death by starvation.

He performed a turn so sharp that the inertial dampeners were just barely able to cope, which took him over and almost scratching the paintjob of the nearest Warbird while all the time firing wildly at one of the protruding disruptor mounts. Had it not exploded in a bright flash as he rapidly closed the distance he would've probably impacted, instead his fighter came out the explosion with still partially molten debris clinging to the fuselage of the Peregrine. He didn’t care much about the debris, as his shields were already down and the emitters weren't in any shape to be reinitialized, but he did swallow twice when he noticed some of it had etched itself into the canopy and he realized he was lucky as hell it hadn't burned through as that would've opened the cockpit to space in a hurry.

The defenders were badly outnumbered and severely outgunned as the ships that had been stationed at the Starbase had been older designs even to begin with, though most of them had been refitted as much as possible in the limited time they had as they were taken out of mothballs during the Dominion war. Now, with only two Excelsiors, two Centaurs and a single Ambassador remaining operational the situation was quickly becoming desperate. The aged and by all rights obsolete ships weren't much to throw against the ten Warbirds with escorts that remained on the attacking side. If that was really how many they were, Jack had only seen ten so far but that didn’t mean they didn’t have more in reserve. Even so the Federation ships had fought valiantly so far, evident in no small part in the disabled Warbird that hung silently behind the Starbase visible through the numerous breaches in the stations hull, he just wasn't sure it'd make any real difference to the final outcome of the battle.

The Starbase itself was of an older design, constructed back in the time before the Algernon treaty, and hadn't been upgraded since long before the Dominion War. It had been hit badly and put out of commission right from the start. Even as the Romulans engaged, they had fired several volleys of disruptor fire at the station before they had turned to the starships. The main hangar doors had been severely damaged and were effectively welded together by the heat of the disruptor blasts, no doubt in an attempt to stop additional fighters from being deployed. Most of the phaser arrays and photon launchers had been destroyed early on as well, and to make matters worse they had scored a direct hit on one of the station's massive antimatter fuel pods, taking out at least half the torpedo launchers along with vaporizing a sizeable chunk of the station that stretched several decks. As it was, Starbase 10 was a sitting duck with almost no means left to defend itself.

Jack frowned as he dodged a foot-thick green particle beam that came within inches of his left nacelle. This was already a bad day for him. All he wanted to do now was to share it with these pointy-eared bastards.

USS ALBION
APPROACHING SECTOR 23

“Admiral, the fleet reports battle condition set and formations assumed. We're approaching Starbase 10 and we estimate we'll arrive within two minutes.”

Captain West had reassumed his neutral poker face, but his emotions were still there, hiding somewhere beneath that steel face. He had never liked going into battle, which many thought ironic seeing as how he’d been awarded several medals, including the Medal of Honor, for his achievements during the Dominion War. Still, knowing how to do a job well rarely required liking it and that was the case for most of the respectable Starfleet officers.

“Very well. Take us out of warp as close to the station as you can, and if at all possible between it and the Romulan advance.” The Admiral looked at the main viewscreen as they closed in on their target. “Ensign, give me fleet-wide please."

As the communications link was established he continued.

"This is Admiral West. We’re going to drop out of warp and as we do we will immediately engage the Romulan forces that are attacking Starbase 10 and its defense force. Stay in your assigned formations and watch out for friendly targets, orders will be channeled through your division Commanders.”
“We have confirmations coming in sir. Venture, Challenger, Sherman, and Gallant report their divisions have linked up successfully. We’re in command of both the battle group and the main battlecruiser division.”
"Very well." The Admiral nodded, and as the numbers on the console in front of him quickly approached zero he spoke up again. “Admiral to division Commanders. Weapons are free, engage the enemy by division. Good luck and God speed." He turned to his brother. "Captain, she’s all yours.”

SECTOR 23

It was a beautiful sight, but man couldn’t they have decided to exit warp somewhere, anywhere, else?

Davis had almost gotten himself killed twice already, but getting shot down by a Warbird was something he was at least consciously prepared for. Flying headlong into the side of an Akira wasn’t, and probably never would be. He'd had to execute several emergency turns to avoid first a blue-glowing nacelle, then a nacelle pylon, and then finally when he thought he was out of danger he came within inches of becoming the proverbial bug on the windscreen of a Nebula-class line cruiser. What had earlier been empty space was now filled with what must have been a full Starfleet heavy cruiser attack wing, and definitely not somewhere you'd want to fly a small and damaged fighter on emergency boost.

Finally at least semi-safe, he allowed himself some breathing room by taking cover closely behind one of the new arrivals, an Akira that fired her heavy weapons in rapid succession as she slowly approached the now disorganized Romulan battle line. The Peregrine would typically have no problems keeping a cruiser between him and harm’s way even if the cruiser in question was pulling extreme maneuvers, and this one was only moving slowly and hardly evading at all which gave Davis some time to recover from his adrenaline high.

He definitely thought he’d earned a short break with the cavalry arriving, as unlike most of his squadron he was at least still alive, even though he was almost completely out of energy for his phasers and had already forgotten that the small craft had ever been equipped with micro-photon missiles as they'd run out that long ago. It felt like he'd been fighting for a week, and even though it was closer to an hour it was still a long fight by any measure as there'd been no chance or even any option to land to repair and rearm, much less get reinforcements.

He took a good look at the ship that he was taking cover behind. All in all the Akira wasn't really a beautiful ship. It’s sleek, has some curves, but it’s not meant to be good looking but instead designed to pack one hell of a punch. And that it did, with a vengeance. He almost kicked himself mentally for the apparent pun when the ship’s name became visible, the USS Avenger. As the Warbirds and their lighter escorts finally starter to respond to the new presence and tried to encircle the cruiser position she was momentarily cut off from her formation and almost surrounded, but one of their ships being surrounded didn’t prove to be that much of an issue for the Avenger, nor to the other cruisers in her wing.

The Akira class heavy cruisers are famous not only for their unique ability among the cruiser class ships to carry a two full starfighter wings, but also for having a superfluous number of quantum torpedo launchers mounted in pretty much every direction one could be pointed, even quite a lot more of them total than the much larger Sovereign battlecruiser has, which gives it effective firing solutions across its entire circumference. Most if not all of these were all of a sudden firing a near constant stream of torpedoes at the hostile battleships and frigate-sized escorts, plus the fact that the Avenger even when cut off wasn’t alone. The other cruisers had quickly regrouped and in turn surrounded the Romulans, trapping the Warbirds in a very deadly and equally effective zero-point energy warhead crossfire.

What had earlier been an almost entirely one-sided battle had now turned into an all-out slugging match between a dozen or so remaining Warbirds and escorts, many of their smaller brethren being little more than scrap after the Starfleet reinforcements arrived, and what looked like closer to thirty Starfleet ships. Not the older, refitted but still obsolete models that had gotten their behinds served on silver platters, but rather the newer top of the line ships. He smiled to himself as he saw three (three!!) of the sleek-looking Sovereign-class battlecruisers come about over the main battle plane and plow down straight through the Romulan center in triangle formation, phasers and torpedoes firing rapidly in every direction there was a target to be found. Seeing even one of these massive and highly advanced ships in battle was a rarity for a mere garrison pilot, seeing three of them at the same time and in a full battle formation was like a dream come true for the tired fighter pilot.

USS ALBION

"Sir" the communications officer kept her cool even as the ship was rocked by even more shield impacts. "The Temperance reports that her shields have been taken down to 22 percent, and is requesting permission to fall back and recycle her emitters before she suffers hull damage."
"Approve that request, Ensign, and inform Captain Claudier of the Sherman of this new development."

The Admiral was keeping fairly calm as well, even though the battle was still raging on outside he was confident they'd win with what he'd been forced to call acceptable losses. His gut had been correct and they had the numerical superiority as well as the ever so important measure of surprise he'd been gambling on when they'd planned their counterattack. The Romulan D'deridex-class warship was indeed an impressive warship, capable of going head to head with just about any lone Starfleet cruiser except possibly an Akira, but even so they were not only outmatched three to one in this engagement but the Admiral had more than just standard cruisers engaged in the battle as well.

Outside, the fleet's three Defiant-class gunships flew by in front of the Albion, their pulse phaser cannons firing rapidly and in unison, all three of them concentrating their fire on the dorsal shield emitters on one of the Warbirds. It didn't take many seconds until the shields buckled and the high-powered nadion particle pulses hit the hull, creating wide breaches and striking clean through to the decks below. Samuel looked away as he saw the last few pulses exit through the doomed ship's flank leaving the tell-tale glowing edges of a phaser weapon impact. He quickly wondered how many had died on that ship alone, then brushed that thought aside. He had enough to worry about in his own camp without wasting time thinking about enemy casualties.

Only two of the Warbirds remained by now and he quickly wondered why they didn't just withdraw, why they didn't seem to see the futility of attacking a full Federation battle group with only two damaged ships, but it was something he had gotten used to during the last few engagements they'd had with them. It was disconcerting, Romulans were normally much more intelligent than this but now they acted more like Klingons, dying as a way to gain honor rather than acknowledging defeat. Not that it really mattered in the tactical sense, they stayed and kept fighting and thus they simply had to be destroyed. Strategically however it became an increasingly severe problem as this also increased the Starfleet losses.

He was brought back to reality by the sound of his brother's voice. "Lock on to the Warbird attacking the Centaur and fire a spread of quantum torpedoes."

The tactical officer didn't even bother to respond, but rather just executed the order. Three glowing blue balls shot out of the front of the ship and carved a bluish streak clean through the busy space. The Romulans kept firing on the nearby Centaur and took no evasive action, as if they didn't even see the bright blue heralds of death as they were rapidly approaching. They impacted close to each other on the starboard wing, neatly shearing it off from the rest of the fuselage and leaving the Warbird tumbling uncontrollably in space as it quickly lost engine power.

"All torpedoes scored direct hits. She's incapacitated, Captain. Reading hull breaches across several decks and what looks like catastrophic life support failure."
"May whatever gods they worship have mercy on their souls." The Captain almost looked sad. "What's the status of the remaining Warbirds?"
"Only one still remains, Venture, Bellerophon and Lexington are already engaging."

The Lieutenant in charge of the tactical systems clearly didn't think a single and heavily damaged D'deridex would be much of an issue for three modern and fully operational Starfleet ships, and there was definitely some truth to that opinion. A Galaxy-class battlecruiser should be able to handle an undamaged Warbird alone, even if probably not leaving the battle unscathed, and with a Galaxy being backed up by both a Nebula and an Intrepid the outcome was effectively guaranteed before the engagement even began. A bright flash on the main viewscreen prompted another dry comment.

"Correction, sir. No hostile ships remain operational."

The Admiral rose from his seat close to the comms console. "Good work, good work all of you. Now let's see what we've arrived to. Try to get a signal through to the survivors on Starbase 10, and get me a report on the status on the defense force and survivors."

He just knew this was going to be yet another long day.

USS ALBION
TWO HOURS LATER

Captain West looked out through the small window in his ready room. His brother had already beamed over to the Starbase and that had effectively left him, as being the Captain of the task force's flagship, in charge of the spaceborne search and rescue operations. Starbase 10 had been the task force's home base for the last two weeks, ever since they'd been transferred to the front, but looking at the scarred structure now it was hard to imagine it had even been operational just a few hours ago.

The station had been a standard Type-IV Starbase, the kind that was deployed all along the Romulan Neutral Zone back in the bad old days. When completely manned it was supposedly capable of supporting an entire fleet of starships, but since its glory days during the previous conflict with the Romulans it had effectively been mothballed. Only recently with the new conflict already raging had it been reactivated and still had not even been half-manned, a comment that was more than just somewhat misleading considering 'half manned' in the case of a Federation starbase meant 'only' close to a eighty thousand people or so. The combined ship crews of the entire task force barely reached above twenty five thousand, but then again they didn't have the amounts of support personnel that any Starbase required, nor families or civilians. Even a fairly small Federation starbase was by any other civilization's measure a massive structure, and a forward base type such as the Type-IV wasn't even close to be considered small as its top section was well over a kilometer and a half in diameter.

From this far away the station almost looked undamaged to the untrained eye, but of course Henry knew better, he had been forced to maneuver the Albion close enough to the station to cut open the hangar doors with precision fire from his ventral phaser arrays. The station was in fact more than just severely damaged, damage in numerous sections was so extreme that the station barely even held together, and he was quite astounded that as many people as did had survived and that most of the structure still had a breathable atmosphere. The top section was marked with pitch-black carbon scoring in numerous locations where the armor had stood up to the repeated disruptor blasts. In other areas deep holes and craters could be found, some extending several hundred meters into the structure, and in rare occasions straight through to the other side which was actually quite an achievement considering the distances and sheer amounts of armor and structure that was involved in such a feat.

Still, perhaps the most disturbing part of it all was the three hundred meter in diameter crater in the lower structure, caused by the large antimatter fuel pod's catastrophic failure. A single hole, wide enough to fly his entire starship into. The only consolation was that the antimatter pods were stored as far away from populated areas as possible, and that the fail-safe mechanisms of the other three pods had successfully kicked in and prevented a massive chain-reaction detonation. If not, Henry doubted if there'd be any survivors at all.

The fleet quartermasters were already assessing the damage, and calculating the estimated repair times and cost estimates, but he already knew the station was in all relevant aspects a lost cause. There was simply no chance this station could be feasibly repaired with a war going on, and even in peacetime it was just as likely it'd simply be replaced by a more modern station or just be retired completely. There was simply no real gain to be had in repairing a more than a century old and technologically completely obsolete space station. He silently let the quartermasters bicker on about material requirements and focused on the more realistic problem of evacuating more than fifty thousand survivors and whatever spare parts and ordnance that could be salvaged from the wreckage before they scuttled the remains. If nothing else they could definitely use a refill of their torpedo stores.

SECTOR 23, FEDERATION SPACE
USS ALBION, CONFERENCE ROOM

Admiral’s log, Stardate 57502.4.
Copy to Commander of Starfleet Operations and Fifth Fleet Headquarters.

We finally have the full results of the battle. The butcher's bill is staggering to say the least, yet one has to remember the fact that it could have been so much worse had we arrived only minutes later. As usual it's hard to get a clear picture of the Romulan losses, as there's usually not a whole lot left when a Starfleet vessel has a core breach but even less in the case of a Romulan ship. A quantum singularity doesn't leave much behind to be identified. We have confirmed nine D'deridex were destroyed by the task force, and sensor logs indicate another two were taken down by the station defense force. Another twenty or so escorts have also been confirmed destroyed. The assumption we have to make is that they went down with all hands as we never detected any life pods, but while there's no evidence to suggest otherwise it doesn't mean it's necessarily true. For all we know, their pods may be cloaked.

The crippled Excelsiors, the Roosevelt and the Potomac, had to be evacuated as they had sustained damage far too severe to be repaired in the field or for them to realistically survive us towing them to a repair facility. Their hulls were simply too damaged. The Roosevelt lost both her warp nacelles and had several deep breaches along the port-side engineering hull, while the Potomac’s bridge pylon finally gave in separating the saucer from the rest of the ship. Their supplies, crew and vital components have been removed and the ships are being scuttled by being towed into the local star. Of the total 1300 crew, 600 were rescued along with Captain Bryn of the Roosevelt. Captain M'zari of the Potomac died along with most of her command staff as the bridge was hit directly by a disruptor blast. However, by using components cannibalized from the two ships, Captain Sato reports the Excelsior is once again in full working order. Most of what and who could be saved from the two ships have been redistributed along the task force's own three Excelsiors as these will be able to utilize them directly.

The Centaur suffered major damage during the engagement; our engineers believe it unlikely she will ever be able to fly again. The damage to her nacelles, warp reactor and shield systems is extensive. Still, most of the crew survived and have been evacuated to the Venture along with what could be salvaged of the ship's supplies. Unfortunately we were unable to find any survivors at all from the Crazy Horse. According to the sensor logs, she went down with all hands due to a warp containment breach caused by several torpedoes impacting the engineering deck, at least one being a direct hit to the reactor room. Captain West will have to bear the grim news to his wife and her family. The Crazy Horse’s officers and crew will be mourned by us all.

The remaining ships in the defense force have all been damaged, some extensively, but are still warp capable or at least towable. They have already been ordered to withdraw to the nearest secure Starbase for repairs using a roundabout route to avoid any unsecured areas. Judging by the force the Romulans used in this attack they wouldn't stand a chance against another attack if one came and I'm not comfortable sacrificing four ships and crews for one crippled Starbase.

While on the subject... We had to cut the Starbase's hangar doors open with our phasers to gain access. Vice Admiral Thornwall had been mortally wounded in the engagement and while I saw her in sickbay shortly after the engagement ended she hadn't regained consciousness and passed away shortly thereafter. The Doctors say her wounds were too severe and that she had lost far too much blood before she got there for there to have been any chance of saving her.

Captain Blake, the fleet liaison, was unfortunately killed in the antimatter pod explosion. Most of the command and control staff however did somehow manage to survive, as did almost three quarters of the personnel on the station. I have made a battlefield command decision to abandon and scuttle what's left of Starbase 10 due to the excessive damage suffered and the state of the systems that still remain partially operational.

All available space on the ships in the task force have been converted to storage and living quarters, and we have already begun evacuating the survivors. This is naturally going to impact our combat ability as several of our ships won't be able to launch fighters or shuttles as in some cases the hangars are being filled with evacuees, spare parts or munitions. Luckily we haven't had to use any of the critical areas yet, though I keep that option open if necessary. I won't cram people into torpedo tubes, but I won't leave people behind either.

As soon as we're finished here we'll take an indirect path back to fifth fleet headquarters at Deep Space 7, mainly in an attempt to avoid further engagements if we can. We'll be carrying a precious cargo we can't take any extraordinary risks with. By the time we leave, we'll be carrying over 25,000 crew, 5,000 marines and a grand total of over 70,000 total evacuated personnel and civilians.

Computer, end log.

USS ATLANTIS, COMMAND BRIDGE
EN ROUTE TO DEEP SPACE 7, FEDERATION SPACE
JULY 4TH, 2380. 6:00 AM

Bridge log, Commander Seth Williams. Stardate 57506.1.

There's much to be said about this posting, but there's never a dull moment on the front line. Lately, that has been true even for the graveyard shift. An Akira-class heavy cruiser is a fine piece of warship, but it was never designed to handle evacuees and certainly not the large amounts we have on board presently. With the number we've been asked to carry I'm actually quite surprised we haven't been forced to jettison some of the Peregrines just to get some free space to house them in the hangar bay. Of course, the Admiral specifically ordered us not to without his express permission.

Doing so would free up enough space to house another three, four hundred or so evacuees albeit not very comfortably, but it would of course drastically reduce our combat capacity and force us to resupply a lot more and a bit earlier than planned. As it is I'm fairly confident we could move most of the people out of the hangar in case of emergency and actually be able to launch the fighters, though I wouldn't recommend doing so for any extended period of time. Our life support systems are having enough problems keeping up as it is without us cramming the corridors and Jeffrey's tubes full of semi-panicked men, women and children.

This is the first officer of the USS Atlantis. We're currently traveling towards Deep Space 7 at warp 8, holding a standard diamond formation with the Venture as lead.

End log.

Seth looked around the dimly-lit bridge for a second as the log console retracted back into the armrest of the Captain's chair. Being on the night shift usually meant spending a few hours of fairly boring time on the bridge making sure the ship didn't drift out of formation and that their warp field didn't graze any other ships'. If that happened the consequences could very well be disastrous, especially in the tight formation they were traveling in, but the computerized navigation system rarely if ever had trouble keeping its distance without being constantly monitored. Still, better safe and bored than sorry and dead.

"Commander, could you take a look at this please."

The young second Lieutenant in charge of the sensor console was a quite good looking dark haired Betazoid. Commander Williams rose from his seat and went over to the science station.

"Report, Lieutenant."
"Commander, I can't make heads or tails of this sensor report. Engine output and warp field dynamics indicate we're supposed to be moving at warp 8, but according to the rest of the sensors we haven't moved at all for at least the last ten minutes. Astrometric sensors seem to be indicating the same phenomena as well, as our position relative to the closest stars has remained exactly the same."
"That can't be right." The Commander made a quick mental calculation. "At warp 8 we should be moving at just over a thousand times the speed of light, a light week in the last ten minutes alone."
"I know, sir, but that's not what the sensors are saying."
"Lieutenant, if we were standing still and pushing the engines this hard we'd be ripped to pieces by the warp field strain alone. It's physically impossible. Not to mention that according to these same sensors which say we're standing still the rest of the task force are pushing just as many cochranes through their warp fields as we are."
"I know, sir, but the alternative would be that all measurable stars and stellar objects were moving at the same speed too, and all of them in the exact same direction."
"Yes, I know, and that's also impossible." He stood up straight. "Bridge to engineering."
"Engineering here, go ahead Commander."
"What's up with the sensors?"

USS DARWIN, ASTROMETRICS LAB
TEN MINUTES LATER.

Though no human who saw him would call it that, T'Var had actually hurried as he'd made his way to the astrometrics lab. He had been roused just a few minutes earlier by the watch officer who politely conveyed a request from the Admiral that he should report there at his earliest convenience. Of course, convenience didn't really matter to T'Var, and he suspected the word had not actually been used by the Admiral either but rather was an addition by the watch officer who probably thought it would hurt the Vulcan's feelings less about being roused as early as he had, or that it'd make the ship's first officer less irritated. Illogical, but hardly unexpected of a Human.

"Commander T'Var to Albion, reporting as ordered."
"Admiral West here." The Admiral sounded tired but considering the early hour T'Var wasn't really surprised.
"Admiral, this is Commander T'Var, I am the first and science officer on the Darwin."
"Commander. I hope you’re able to tell us what's happening?"
"Unfortunately, I would have to disappoint you by saying no." T'Var paused as he triple-checked his screens. "What I can tell you is that we seem to be, for lack of a better word, stuck in a bubble of subspace. How this happened, or for that matter what end effects this may have, is as of yet unknown to me."
"Can you extrapolate on that 'stuck in a bubble' part?" The Admiral's voice requested.
"I will try, Admiral." T'Var thought for a second. "For an unknown reason the thirty-two ships of Task Force 43 have been separated from our normal space-time. This is the reason our sensors are not able to track our location or movement in either space or time, but instead report what I'd most closely describe as an echo imprinted on the surface of the bubble. Due to our close proximity to each other it does however seem all the ships in the task force are enveloped in the same anomaly and not several different ones."

A small line formed on T'Var’s forehead, giving him a concerned or perhaps worried look. It was, as always, hard to assign emotions to the minute facial expressions of a Vulcan, but this one was clear enough to be apparent to most other humanoids.

"As you know, subspace does not conform to the normal laws of space time. Truthfully, Admiral, I have no idea if, where, or for that sake when we will be able to exit this bubble, or even where we are presently."
"So we're lost in space?"
"And time, Admiral."
"Great." T'Var could hear the frown that presently dressed the Admiral's face. "West out."

T'Var went back to study the sensor output again. He hadn't misread them. For some reason which he couldn't explain he had hoped that he had. He was Vulcan, and as such considered himself an embodiment of logic and reason. But as their current situation was anything but logical he felt himself frustrated as he was unable to do his duty. Hopelessness, as well as helplessness, can both be considered emotions and while he wasn't used to either he was quite sure that he felt both right now as he could not understand nor explain the situation, or for that sake do anything about it.

Of course, neither could anyone else, and among everyone that knew what was happening the feeling was quite mutual.

USS ALBION
CONFERENCE ROOM
1100 HOURS STANDARD TIME

Admiral West looked upon the people that were seated around the fairly large conference table. Each and every one of them looked just as tired and worried as he did, yet he saw something that they all tried to hide as well as they could. It was most definitely fear, but not the calculated fear that one could expect from someone who at least knows what they’re up against but instead it was a colder, more sinister fear that creeps up along your back as you’re pulled into a situation you have absolutely no control over or even an understanding of.

Personally he thought their current situation was much like being trapped in a sinking ship. Sooner or later you'd either drown, or someone may come and rescue you. You won’t know until you’re either dead or rescued and there’d be nothing you could do about it. Ironically even he could see the morbidity of him comparing the situation his task force was in with the axiom of Schrodinger's cat. The Admiral tried to keep calm however, and however hard it was he tried to do his best to convey that feeling to his subordinates. He was at least somewhat successful.

“Well people, we’ve been in here for hours now." He suppressed a yawn. "What new information do we have?”
“Admiral, I’m sorry to say that there isn’t really that much more news at all to report.” The gray-haired Commander Suvok, science officer of the Albion, was the first to speak. “We’ve managed to receive some signals from outside our bubble in space, but we’ve encountered problems when we try to analyze them.” West noticed Suvok didn’t look afraid like the other people. Damn Vulcans. After a short pause he continued. “There are other issues as well. It seems my colleague on the Darwin was incorrect about one thing.”
“In what way, Commander?” Now he really had the attention of everyone in the room.
“We’re not just unstuck in time and space, but according to what little information the sensors are able to glean from the outside and we can actually make sense of, we’re also passing through a number of alternate realities. At least one of these signals had a Terran Alliance pattern, one which we know belongs in a parallel universe, while others have signatures that are completely unknown to us.”

If there was ever a comment less appreciated, no one present knew of it.

“Well then.“ West tried desperately to regain control of his dumbstruck expression. “Does anyone have any ideas? Anything at all would be appreciated at this point, no matter how insane it sounds in your head.”
There was absolute silence in the room. The Admiral thought he could probably hear a needle fall, everyone was that silent. They didn’t even move. Then he heard the almost embarrassed voice of a young engineer West thought was named Andrews. “Admiral, if I may, there might be a way but I suspect you’d probably call it drastic, and quite possibly dangerous almost to the point of suicidal.”
“I’m all ears, Ensign. Please continue.”

1 HOUR LATER

First there was simply the sensation of falling, and then there was real falling. As the ship suddenly and completely stopped moving the Admiral thought he’d broken every single bone in his body. He had been totally unprepared for the fall just having exited the ready room, and had thus not only fallen to the ground but tumbled down the entire length of the bridge finally being halted by impacting the forward bulkhead. Not exactly the most distinguished bridge entrance he’d made in his career, but quite possibly the most painful.

He'd known that there'd be quite a bit of a shock as the entire task force shut down their warp engines abruptly, not through the usual procedure of a quick but still gradual shutdown but in this case by simply closing the injectors and letting the engines for lack of a better description stall out. There was a reason the maneuver had required disabling numerous engine and reactor safety protocols, and this was it. Even the best inertial dampeners in the known galaxy couldn't really fully cope with that kind of deceleration, and a real worry was that they wouldn't cope at all but leave the crews as paste on the forward walls of every room they occupied.

“REPORT!!” He said a bit too sharply, though the evident pain in his voice softened it a bit.
“Sir, the maneuver worked and we’ve successfully managed to re-enter normal space again, engineering reports that the ship's in good condition with the only side effect being minor stress damage to the outer hull." The operations officer reported as he read the reports coming in from the rest of the ship. "Sickbay likewise reports only minor injuries, mostly bruises, abrasions, cuts and a few broken bones. Nothing really serious and no fatalities.”
“What about the rest of the fleet?” If the Albion had experienced this much of a disturbance as they exited the bubble, the Admiral was truly concerned about the smaller ships in the fleet.
“Reports are still coming in, sir." The communications officer replied, and then frowned. "That's strange. All of the task force should have dropped out within seconds of each other, and probably still be in formation."
"And?" West asked.
"Well, as it is we're scattered over an area of almost two entire light weeks, and judging by the timestamps on some of the reports I'm receiving the first ship dropped out fifteen minutes ago and others are still nowhere to be found."
"What was that T'Var was saying?" West made a deep sigh. "Space and time?"
"Well, so far no ships report any kind of major damage. Atlantis suffered an overload of an EPS conduit but her repair crews are already working on it. Gabriel reports three crewmen seriously injured, apparently they were pinned between a bulkhead and a Peregrine that tore loose from the securing bolts, and the Columbia has lost main power but is in otherwise good condition.” He made a short pause. “Sir, Lexington reports the only fatality so far. One of their engineering crew lost his footing and fell down an access shaft.”
“He fell?” Somehow, the Admiral thought it was just a ridiculous way to die on a starship.
“Yes sir. He fell. Straight down the entire length of the port nacelle pylon.” He paused. "That's a drop of roughly fifty meters, sir, and he died instantly as he impacted the warp plasma containment field."

The Admiral almost winced and made a pained face. Suddenly it wasn’t as ridiculous anymore. The lower, or upper depending on the hull configuration, section of an active nacelle pylon will easily reach temperatures of well over a thousand degrees centigrade, and the magnetic containment fields were by necessity so highly charged they'd tear out the iron from your blood straight through your skin if you were unfortunate enough to get too close. Falling straight into this hellhole would be instantly fatal and leave little behind to identify.

“Acknowledge the reports and make a note in the log." West moaned from the pain in his side. "Now, can anyone tell me where we are?”
“Samuel” Captain West stood over by the science console alongside Commander Suvok. “You’d better take a look at this.”
Steadying himself on the rails and limping over to his brother, the Admiral looked down at the console. It took a few moments before he could make sense of the information on it. “Okay.” He whistled silently as the realization dawned. “Well, Toto, I have a strong feeling we’re not in Kansas anymore.”
“Not even close, Sam.”
“Well, tell me if we find the Tin Woodman or the Scarecrow around here somewhere, would you?” And with that final comment, the Admiral collapsed into unconsciousness. The Doctor would later tell him it was due to the combined effects of stress, injury and sleep deprivation.

USS ALBION, CAPTAINS QUARTERS
2 HOURS LATER

Captains log, Stardate 57507.0.

Or, well, that's the date it should be, and it’s what the ship’s computer says it is. It’s according to what I've been told not quite true anymore though. It seems Suvok and T’Var were right about one thing at least; we most certainly were floating through space, time and alternate realities. We’re not even close to Deep Space 7, or for that sake the Romulan Neutral Zone. In reality we exited the warp bubble close to Vulcan, or what at least should be the planet Vulcan. The system’s still here, more or less in the right place, as is the planet.

What's not there though is any evidence to support that the planet ever developed sentient life in this reality, something the Vulcans in the crew seem to handle with far too much ease for my nerves. The entire system seems void of any trace of intelligent life. There is plant life, as well as a limited fauna on both Vulcan and one of her moons, but that’s about it. No artificial objects, not even debris, have been detected anywhere in the system, and I've had both destroyer wings do extensive sensor sweeps to make sure. We also haven't been able to detect the slightest trace of subspace communications, something which is ominous to say the least considering our close proximity to numerous other Federation home worlds including our own.

According to the astrometric sensors, stellar drift calculations and background radiation levels, the more correct date would be July 5th, 2243 – not July 5th, 2380. As my brother is still recuperating in sickbay I’ve taken the liberty to send the two Nova-class science vessels to make a survey of the local cluster in this reality, each with a Defiant gunship acting as close escort just in case.

Suvok and his scientific colleagues in the fleet have already made it perfectly clear that we’re stuck here with no apparent way home, at least for the time being, and that extensive research will need to be made into the phenomena that brought us here before we can even make any guesses as to whether it'll ever be possible. That being said, we need to know what we’re dealing with and what we can do as just idling in orbit around an uninhabited planet isn't really a viable long-term solution.

Standard procedure would dictate that we land the ships, establish a small colony somewhere and follow the prime directive living out our lives without attracting any attention. This is probably good and well dealing with just the crew of a single starship, but it will prove hard to do with a fleet of ships and roughly a hundred thousand people. There's simply no way we can support a population of that size without retaining our technological level, and that'll require both supplies and a comparatively significant industrial base.

With this system as empty as it is, I’ve dispatched the Intrepids to make surveys of the local astral bodies. If this system is anything like the Vulcan I know, there should be plenty of resources we could use if we do decide to settle down. At the very least we’ll start needing to replenish our deuterium and antimatter supplies fairly soon. The cruisers and explorer ships in the fleet were designed to operate for extended periods of time, but this is unfortunately not quite as true for the smaller vessels and the larger lack the capacity to produce enough to spare especially with the increased load carrying five times the recommended maximum amount of people puts on the secondary systems such as life support and replicators.

Still, as the skies above Vulcan seem abandoned enough for now we’re awaiting the return of the Darwin and Icarus, and for the Admiral to return to duty before we make any more decisions about our future ‘here in the rabbit hole’, as my dear brother would say.

Computer, end log.

Zcenicx · Nov 2nd 2009, 1:50pm

Chapter 2

USS DARWIN, COMMAND BRIDGE
CLOSE TO ALPHA CENTAURI
JULY 16TH, 2243

He was a scientist, at least he kept telling himself that he was, and not a soldier or an explorer. He wasn't interested in blowing other ships up nor dashing aimlessly through unknown space, and that was the main reason he was in command of a Nova-class research vessel and not a Steamrunner or Intrepid. He'd been nervous enough when he'd been assigned to do a long-range reconnaissance run of the Neutral Zone. Now, flying through potentially hostile space in a completely unknown universe, he had an almost constant nervous look as he walked among the crew and this of course was not exactly the best thing imaginable for the general crew morale. Still, as the scientists they were, both he and his crew kept busy trying to get a clearer view of their surroundings.

They'd been trapped here in this alternate universe for eleven days now and it was slowly beginning to sink into their minds that this was real, that they weren't on a long term mission but rather completely and quite possibly permanently cut off from home. They were Starfleet officers and tried to act accordingly, but he had seen several crewmen start to break down as the realization of their situation dawned. Husbands, wives, parents, children, family and friends. They were all gone, and possibly gone forever.

"Captain, we're approaching the Alpha Centauri system. Sensors are ready to commence a full-spectrum scan." The helm officer was a young man, not much more than a boy in Captain Deschamps eyes. Still, he seemed young enough to still see their new circumstances as an adventure rather than a tragedy like most others did.
"Very well, bring us out of warp and take cover behind the largest rock you can find in the Oort cloud. Tell the Valiant to cloak and cover us."

He made a mental note to bring that to Starfleet’s attention when, or rather if, they ever got back. The Nova-class ships, just like the other frigates, hadn't even been considered when they refitted the ships of the line with cloaks. Mostly because they lacked the power generation and computational power, but the Defiant class at least got to keep their copied Romulan cloaking devices.

"Roger, Captain T'Pell acknowledges as well."
"Rig for silent running just in case someone out there has their eyes or ears peered, and switch to reserve power. Disengage the warp drive as soon as we exit warp. Let our inertia carry us in only parrying with the thrusters."
"Aye, sir, taking position just outside the outer Oort Cloud on thrusters only. All stations report silent running aye."
"Very well, let's begin by making a passive scan of the system. Let's see what we can find."

They'd been sent on the more important, in his mind at least, of the two surveys namely to examine the systems leading up to and including the Sol system. They'd already passed through three of the systems located between Vulcan and Earth, and these were Andoria, Sirius and Babel. In their reality, each was heavily populated by several different sentient species but in this darker version they looked much like Vulcan. While still Mishara-class planets, except for Andor which was its usual ice-covered class P, they were all completely void of intelligent life or any traces thereof. If anything could make Deschamps wonder about fate or destiny, this would be it.

In his reality Earth had developed faster-than-light travel and officially taken to the stars in 2063, with first contact between Vulcan and Earth coming only days later. Vulcan had been the first planet they'd visited, and by association they'd learned about many other races among them the Andorians. Sirius had been a very early Earth colony and so had Babel due to their relatively close distance from Earth. How different could the Humans of this universe be, if they hadn't even reached these nearby and clearly still inhabitable systems yet?

Or were they going to find the same thing on Earth as they had on Vulcan and Andoria, as in a green and lush planet but with no trace of even the most ancient Human civilization? He hoped not. While the Vulcans had taken the shock of not existing as a species surprisingly well, and the Andorians at least had been warned of what to expect - as one of the Andorian crewmen had said;
"If the Vulcans were gone and Andoria remained, we'd have most likely arrived in orbit of an Andorian colony, not an unsettled world."
- he had still seen the pain in the same crewman's face as they came upon his cold but now barren and completely lifeless home world. Not even the snow drakes or ice worms seemed to ever have existed.

If the same was true for Earth… he dared not think the thought to its end. There was a lot of different races in the fleet, Vulcans, Andorians, Bolians, Tellarites, Klingons, Bajorans, Trill and Betazoid only to name a few, but at least three quarters and likely even more were Human. What kept them going right now was the so typical Human hope, faith and sheer stubbornness, which was also and surprisingly something many of the other races seemed to take a great deal of comfort in.

A few minutes passed in the relative silence of the bridge. "Anything, Ensign?"
“I'm reading something, but I'm not sure what. Passive scans can't give me a high enough resolution at this range. I'm detecting low levels of tachyon radiation, but no subspace activity and no warp signatures."
"Tachyons?" Deschamps wondered. "What's your opinion, T'Var?"
"Well, Captain, I lack sufficient data to make even a preliminary conclusion. I would recommend we do an active scan to gather more data, as there seems to be no evidence of subspace technology in the system, but there is of course a risk of detection I cannot discount simply because I can't see what's out there."
"Great, either we see and risk being seen, or we don't see at all...” He silently weighed his options. “Make it so."
"Engaging auxiliary power, active sensors are coming back online. Stand by." There was a slight increase in the ambient noise as the soft humming of the ship's secondary fusion reactors came back online. "Initializing an active high-resolution scan of the system now, sir."

It felt like every single person on the ship was holding their breath in expectation. So far this universe had proven to be a mirror image of their own, even if it was a lifeless and empty one thus far. If the human race did exist in this universe, and they had indeed developed faster-than-light travel like they should have, there should be some evidence of that here. Alpha Centauri was by far the closest star system from Earth, it was practically in Earth's own back yard, and the consequences of it being equally lifeless to the other colony and home worlds they'd passed on the way would be staggering to Deschamps. He could almost feel the rest of the crew going through the very same thoughts and emotions.

He took a long, good look at the system as it was ever so slowly re-rendered from the active scan data on the main viewscreen. The Alpha Centauri system was and had always been a required field of study at the Starfleet Academy of Science and he'd been fascinated by it even in the early years of his life.

The ternary star system was just as beautiful in this universe as at home. He could clearly see the central stars of Rigil Kent and Toliman, the main yellow star and the secondary orange, as always locked in their dancing orbit around each other. In the distance above them he thought he could see the slightly distant red dwarf star called Proxima, also locked in the gravity well of the binary system and considered part of the same system even though it was a full fifth of a light year away. All three stars had natural satellites, and he remembered five of these could natively support life, and another three of them had early been terraformed to M-class though this was done long before his lifetime.

"Captain..." The wild face of the Ensign at sensors got the attention of both T'Var and Deschamps. "You are so not going to believe this."

USS VALIANT, COMMAND BRIDGE
PROXIMA III POLAR ORBIT
1 HOUR LATER

Deschamps and T'Var had now been beamed over to the Valiant and now stood on either side of the blue-skinned appearance of Captain T'Pell, the fleet's only Andorian Captain, and all three were standing there in relative silence looking at the visage before them while they awaited confirmation.

"Captains, we've finished the preliminary analysis.." T'Var looked as calm as ever. "I can confirm that the ships are indeed of human origin. There are more than two hundred life signs on board each of the ships in this sector of the system, and all of them register as genetically pure humans to the sensors. The colony consists of a series of domed complexes and seems to be well enough established as I'm reading well over a million inhabitants and a significant planet-based industrial base. Again, all of them register as human. The only exception is a single life form on one of the orbital stations whose life signs the computer is unable to identify."
"If I didn't see it, I wouldn't believe it. They're absolutely huge! You could fit the Albion and the Discovery inside one of them end to end and still have room to spare, and I've done battle in less space than even that!" T’Pell still looked shocked. "I'm quite impressed with your race's capability, pink-skin."
"I know, I know." Deschamps sneered. "Calm down Captain, we do have work to do."
"Aye." He nodded. "Make a full-spectrum scan, and relay all our data to the Darwin as we get it!"

In truth, Deschamps wasn't all that calm either, but he definitely hid it better than his Andorian colleague did. As he had heard the first preliminary sensor report he'd felt like a huge weight was immediately lifted from his shoulders... but in all truth whatever he'd expected, he hadn't expected this. The ships, they had engines so they had to be ships, were simply huge. Stem to stern the scanners gave him a length dimension of just over fifteen hundred meters, and an estimated displacement of a massive 32 million metric tons! This behemoth dwarfed even the almost seven hundred meter length of a Sovereign-class battlecruiser, the arguably most advanced and powerful conventional warship of the entire Federation Starfleet, and weighed in at more than ten times their mass.

Ever since he had first laid eyes on it he hadn't doubted for a second the ship was human in origin. The ten meter high Latin letters spelling out 'Lancelot' on the side was a good pointer. He could accept a whole lot, especially under the current circumstances, but that another, any other, race would both spell in human lettering and know the legend of Camelot was just a completely ridiculous proposition. What did worry him however, more than anything else, was the excessive amount of weapons systems these ships carried.

They had counted two dozen twin-muzzle plasma cannons and another six large-bore beam weapon mounts on each of the larger vessels, plus a number of smaller energy weapons that seemed designed for point defense or short-ranged precision fire. Even though the weapons were plasma and laser based, with a calculated medium to low yield by Federation standards, it was quite obviously a warship and more than likely capable of causing trouble even for a Starfleet vessel in large enough numbers.

T’Pell had already told them that one of these would be easy prey for even the relatively small Valiant, but had also with some respect stated that several of these working together could become a serious problem. One by one the cannons were probably not capable doing more than denting the shields, much less so damage the armor, of a Federation warship... but dozens? or hundreds? Neither Captain had any illusions that whatever ship they piloted into combat against these ships would eventually succumb under the massive amount of brute force they could put out, but they also knew their own perhaps less powerful in raw energy output but in turn far more advanced weaponry would take a staggering number of them out in return.

There were two dozen of these behemoths in orbit around the planet and about twice that number of smaller vessels, measuring in at 'only' just over a kilometer. The smallest ships he could see, barring shuttles or single-pilot fighters, were around four hundred and fifty meters long, or in other words just slightly shorter than an Akira-class heavy cruiser. To make matters worse on the Starfleet Captains, the hulls on most of these vessels were also patched in various places, in a pattern that could only be due to sustaining what in some cases must have been heavy battle damage, and most likely from equivalent forms of weaponry as the ones these ships were carrying.

Deschamps had been proven correct, Proxima III was indeed an established human colony even in this mirror universe. But something that surprised him was that there was still no evidence to be found that these ships were actually independently capable of faster-than-light travel. Not that it was that unusual for Federation planets to build impulse ships for intra-system patrols or transports, but those ships wouldn't be literally armed to the teeth or quite this massive.

This was actually improbable in this case as well, as the ships could never have been constructed planet-side and then launched into space. Ships of this size and even more importantly shape always required an orbital shipyard, and while there were ample amounts of artificial satellites, most armed and considerably larger than most dedicated communications satellites, there was no such shipyard facilities to be seen anywhere in the system nor any evidence such had ever existed here either. In fact the only evidence in orbit of any kind of starship support facilities was what they assumed to be a mothball yard and a larger orbital control and defense station.

It would seem that this universe's humans had developed quite differently than the ones from his universe, even discounting the time difference. At this time, relatively speaking of course, the Federation had just started to build the first batch of the Constitution-class ships. It would be another two years or so until the first ones left the shipyards at Utopia Planitia but even so these alternate universe human ships lacked many of the technologies the Federation had taken for granted long before even that.

The massive ship in front of him was about fifteen to twenty years old, judging by the information on the materials the sensors had been able to give, yet lacked such basic space-faring technology as artificial gravity, subspace communications arrays, hydrogen ram scoops or point-to-point matter transporters. Tactical sensors couldn’t give a definite answer, but they suspected the ships lacked defensive shielding as well instead relying on an energy dampening grid not entirely unlike the pre-Federation polarized hull plating his own people had come up with. In other words, they were lacking technology the Federation had developed or encountered more than a hundred years ago, again relatively speaking. The ships also appeared to be powered solely by four truly massive but again fairly primitive fusion reactors, with no trace of an antimatter reaction’s particle decay signature.

"We still aren't able to decipher their communications, sirs." The middle-aged officer that had spoken was unfamiliar to Deschamps, but was dressed in the color of an operations officer. "We've deduced that they do indeed use the tachyon beams we keep detecting as their basis for faster-than-light communications, at least the signal patterns conform to those you'd use in a communications band, but our receivers were never calibrated to handle tachyon-based signals and we lack a lot of the equipment necessary to make sense of particle-based information carriers. We're recording what we can and hopefully your scientists can sort it out later Captain, but the Valiant won't be able to do more as she was never designed for analyzing this kind of raw data as anything but a source for target tracking."
"Very well, Lieutenant." He turned back to the viewscreen. "So this is how humanity has evolved in this universe. Well, now that we've answered one question, how about we try answering some more?"
"Like what?" T’Pell asked.
"Like how did these ships, or for that sake the people on the planet, get here.” Deschamps frowned. “I haven't seen even the most minute trace of warp plasma here, much less any sign of a warp reactor. Why does a small colony like this have more defenses in peace time than our Earth does in wartime, and why does the warships lack both warp drives, any kind of identifiable nacelle assembly, deflectors or antimatter reactors. Should I go on?"
"Never mind then.” The Andorian sighed. “You pink-skin scientists and your questions. Helm, set a course back to the Darwin, but stay at half impulse until we completely clear the gravity well and then engage warp 3."
This, he hoped, would allow them to completely avoid any unwanted attention.

The short journey back out past the Oort cloud took only a few minutes, and soon T'Var and Deschamps were once again back on board their own ship. The science officer hurried off as soon as they were beamed back, no doubt to try and analyze this other human civilization's tachyon communications that the rest of the science ship's expert crew were already sifting through trying to understand the technology behind in order to decode.

Deschamps went to the bridge himself, bracing himself against the hail of questions he was quite sure he’d receive. Instead, as he entered the small bridge there was only silence, and only the helm officer said anything at all.
"Where to now, Captain Deschamps?"
"Where else? Earth." Deschamps replied as he walked over to and sat down in his chair, his expert poker face revealing nothing at all to the obvious irritation of the bridge crew.
“Sir…if we may ask...” The young man asked after a few more seconds, almost looking uncomfortable in the protracted silence. “What did you find?”
“In truth, just more questions." He replied and then looked at the young officer with a faint smile. "But to answer your real question, yes, we did find humans.”

And with that single comment, the silence was broken.

USS ICARUS, ASTROMETRICS LAB
EMPTY SPACE

The main reason why she had come over to the Icarus in the first place was because her own ship lacked the large and very specific display unit which was right in front of her. A full-size Starfleet Astrometrics display array is an impressive piece of technology, capable of mapping more than half the galaxy and analyze thousands of teraquads of data at the same time. Only a few ships were deemed worthy to receive this fairly new Borg-designed system, as it had been brought back from the Delta Quadrant by the Voyager only a few years ago and was still mostly regarded as experimental and unproven technology. She hadn't previously seen one in use though, even though this was mostly because she had never been very interested in navigation or stellar cartography but rather focused on other just as traditional but less peaceful parts of ship operations such as blowing other people's ships up. In that regard she was a perfect Captain for a fast attack gunship like the Victory.

Right now, she was however in a state of mind she didn't quite like. Fear and irritation mixed in her face as she realized what Commander Jameson, de facto Captain of the Icarus, was trying to tell her.

"Well, where the hell are we then?" She asked.
"I don't understand this either, ma'am. Every other star, planet and piece of space debris has been in more or less the right place thus far, but there's just nothing here."
"You're really sure we're in the right place?"
"I'm sorry Captain, but yes. Triangulating from the positions of the Cardassia and Regulon stars as well as the Badlands and the Amleth nebula, all points we've clearly identified as being right where they should, we're holding position right where the Bajoran star is supposed to be. And by all rights even if we were off by as much as a light year, which I seriously doubt with this piece of technology right here, we’d easily be able to see it from here with our own eyes, not to mention the astrometrics scanners."
"What about the Celestial Temple and the Prophets?"
"We passed right by where it is in our universe, Captain. We were actually close enough to trigger it, had it been where it was supposed to be."

As the Captain backed away from the large console, Commander Jameson could understand her feelings. Not only had she been born on Bajor, she'd fought in the liberation war and then been stationed on Deep Space 9 for ten years of her career. She'd recently and by all means unfortunately for all involved been outmaneuvered in that position by another Bajoran officer, a despicable toad with Admiral's insignia called Natal Garran who'd had zero command skill but golden connections in the Bajoran government.

The results from his political backstabbing would have most probably destroyed her career if not for her own friends within the Starfleet brass intervening. There'd been no way to get her back into command of Deep Space 9, but at least she'd been given command of a newly refit Defiant-class gunship by her friend and war comrade William Ross, and he along with Chancellor Martok and Ambassador Worf had even managed to put her on the fast track to promotion, seeing as how she'd be readily able to challenge Natal as an Admiral herself.

Even discounting all that, she was also a deeply spiritual woman and everyone around her knew that. Jameson didn't know what had hit her worse, that Bajor as a whole didn't even exist in this reality, that the Prophets were nowhere to be found, or the fact that Cardassia did still exist while Bajor didn't.

Not that Cardassia even remotely looked like Cardassia in this reality. It was one of the few planets they had actually found intelligent life on, but it seemed nature had thought quite differently in this universe than it had in theirs. Instead of the reptilian-humanoid Cardassians, another race had evolved that called themselves the Yolu. It had taken some time to decrypt their communications and language, but once that was done they had managed to get some background information on not only the Yolu themselves but several other races and civilizations in the area of space they were surveying. They'd even learned of the existence of a Human civilization as well, news that had considerably helped the morale aboard both ships.

The area they had been exploring for the last two weeks had skimmed the border of what was called 'the League of Non-Aligned Worlds'. Apparently it was a loose economic and political alliance composed of some thirty member races, spread over a roughly triangular area of the galaxy with Beta Trianguli, Cardassia and Ferenginar lining up on the west border, the Typhon Expanse marking the northeast corner, and the east border glancing the Romulan Neutral Zone as it traversed back towards the southwest, just barely enveloping Mu Herculis and Denobula.

Denobula seemed to be this League’s closest system to Earth, though they called it Denizala, and was claimed by a race called the Vree. Judging by the differences in appearance of these Yolu compared to their own universe's Cardassians, he could only guess that these Vree would look nothing like the mostly human-like Denobulans either.

"Are you all right, Captain?"
"I… All right?" She shook her head in disbelief. "No, I really don't think I am, Commander."
"If you want, I'll arrange transport back to the Victory. Perhaps your ship's Doctor has something to help you relax."
"Thank you Commander but I assure you, I'll be fine."

She took a look at the holographic monitor again. She had seen this star chart before, but now the star names she was used to were toned a darker blue which usually denoted unexplored space, with only a few colored dots where the original star names had appendices with the ones that were used in this universe. As the initial shock started to subside she found that it was actually quite fascinating how alike these two universes were, but yet so very different. A star could be a light year out of position but otherwise exactly the same, another could be in exactly the right place otherwise be completely different. Some stars weren't even the right color or size. Still, they were all there or at least showed evidence that they had been at one point or another.

She noticed Bajor wasn't the only star that was marked in the dull dark red that indicated a missing star system. She tried to force a smile, pointed and asked the question as innocently as she could.
"Commander, is it just me, or is there another star missing?"
"What?" He looked up, apparently startled at the question.
"Right there, follow a line straight east from Syrma."
"Oh, I'm sorry, Captain, I was thinking about something else." He replied. "Well, it's not missing per se, not like Bajor is, but it's not a star anymore either."
"What do you mean?"
"It was, but unlike that same star in our reality, there was no civilization living there that was advanced enough to stop its natural decay. A few hundred years ago, it collapsed, just like it would have in our reality."
"Collapsed? You mean...?"
"Yes. Ironic, isn't it. The home system of the race that learned to tame the power of black holes was turned into a black hole." He paused. "This universe probably developed much like our own, but just like actions have consequences, the lack of actions would naturally also have consequences. Most of the differences we see are most likely due to events that occurred differently here than in our own universe."
"Guess we can officially discount any chance of the Romulans being in this reality then."
"Already done, Colonel, already done." He replied. "Actually not even by me either. As they were a sub-species of the Vulcans, the possibility of them being around was already zero and they were discounted as soon as we arrived in the Vulcan system."

Misery as always loves company, and suddenly she felt a whole lot better.

USS BELLEROPHON
VULCAN SYSTEM

The Bellerophon had been tasked with the rather arduous job of making a detailed survey of the inner Vulcan system, in other words using the Intrepid class' high-resolution scanners to make a full report on the resource levels of the planets and planetoids between the twin stars and Vulcan itself, while her sister ship Gallant made a very similar survey of the gas giants and moons located in the outer system. It had taken several days to complete their assignment but that was mostly because the goons that handled Fleet Command during the Admiral's recuperation didn’t think they could trust the records they had on the system and wanted every detail re-examined.

Even so, Captain Keyes didn't pay too much attention to her science officer as he actually reported their findings in exactly as much detail as the paper-pushers wanted, which was also so much more than she cared to even bother try listening to. The young man had only just been transferred to the Bellerophon before the ship at her request had been transferred from the Mars defense forces to Task Force 43. Even though the young Trill male looked good enough and had the grades to match, in her opinion at least he might very well be intelligent enough for the position but had a severe problem in that he thought much too high of himself plus the fact that he talked too much. Two traits one never liked in a man, much less an over-intelligent Trill who as she'd early learned had a severe ego complex.

He proclaimed himself one of those unfortunates who, despite not lacking in skill, never got selected to serve on a ship or station suitable to said skills. As if a Nova or a Peragus-class research station would be better than an Intrepid. One had to interrupt his usual complaining quickly, or he'd start to go on about how the Trill symbiosis committee had made a grave mistake in turning his applications down and it usually only went downhill from there. Even so, she didn't have much choice but to keep him around anymore, as while a transfer was hard to push through in wartime, it was even worse now.

Keyes was a good and long-time friend of both Vice Admirals West and Janeway, and they had been granted their first commands at roughly the same time, just like many others in the ongoing war as career advancing positions unfortunately opened up quickly and in quick succession. Janeway had been assigned the brand new Voyager, West took over the Galaxy after the death of her Captain in the Dominion War and Keyes got the Helios, an aging but still proud Centaur class cruiser. When the Helios was decommissioned after the war and Admiral Ross was promoted and reassigned to Starfleet Headquarters she had been transferred with most of her staff to take command of his old flagship, the Intrepid-class destroyer Bellerophon.

As the previous command ship of the Fifth Fleet, and personal flagship of a very high-profile Admiral, she had been one of the first Intrepids to be fully 'Voyager-refitted' when her old friend had returned home to the Alpha Quadrant. She felt proud to serve on a ship of the same class as her dear friend's legendary ship, though she had initially felt somewhat envious that the Voyager itself had been handed over to Janeway's former first officer after a slight refit and extensive research had been performed on the returning vessels new systems.

Initially Janeway had only been selected for command of the new ship's shakedown cruise, the final choice still undecided between her and Keyes, but events beyond anyone's control had decided for them. Even knowing what had actually happened to the ship during that shakedown cruise didn't change her mind, and she honestly believed she'd be just as able to handle what Janeway went through as she'd been. Probably better, as Janeway had always focused more on science than engineering or tactics. Those were West's and her specialties.

The fact that Keyes was the only one in the original trio not yet promoted to the rank of Admiral didn’t really bother her too much however as she was more than happy where she was and, unlike most of her crew, she rather liked this chance to re-explore their own back yard in an entirely new reality. She had lived on starships her whole life with few close friends, since the war she had no family left at home at all, and she didn’t really mind getting away from the fighting either. She’d seen more than her fair share of death already. They all had.

The report the science officer was just finishing had been fairly standard and could have been easily cut down to the phrase 'the records were mostly correct and we just wasted a lot of time on a fool's errand', and the fascination of scanning a completely unpopulated Vulcan system had been dampened by the fact that it was just that, unpopulated. Ironically enough, the Vulcans themselves seemed to enjoy (as much as a Vulcan can enjoy something) studying their home planet as it would have looked had they never evolved. It seemed to give them a perspective on things perhaps few others could appreciate. Still, no matter how stoic you were used to the Vulcans being them not showing the slightest remorse about their race not even existing here was just plain creepy.

"To conclude my report, ma'am, the system registers much like it would have in our own reality. The resources are much like the ones we have on record, but in higher amounts. This is, of course, mostly due to the fact that there’s been no one around that's been using them."
"Noted. Is there anything else?" She immediately kicked herself for using her standard phrase.
"Ma'am, if we do decide to follow the prime directive, some would say Vulcan would be as good a place as any to set down. Resource wise it's true, after all, as we all know a warp-capable civilization did in fact develop here and there are indeed ample amounts of most of the resources we'd need." He frowned. "Personally I'd advice against it and recommend we await the return of the Darwin with their scans of the Babel and Sirius systems, as well as the Icarus' scans of Alpha Centauri, first."
"Why?" She asked with renewed interest.

Darl made an uncomfortable grin and pointed out the window at the red globe that hung silently in space only a few light minutes away.

"Have you ever been to Vulcan, Captain? As in outside the cities and temple complexes? The color isn’t just for show you know. It's mostly just dry savannah and hot arid deserts where the dust storms can and will rip the flesh from your bones in an instant." Darl glanced at the security officer at his station. "Our pointy-eared friends may very well enjoy the place, but it's really not all that hospitable to a Trill."
"Understood." Keyes nodded.
"Or a human. No offense, Davok." He added as in passing.
"None taken."
"I'll bring that up with Admiral West tomorrow, Lieutenant. Dismissed." She gestured for him to leave with her hand.

Elisha wasn't surprised with the conclusion. Darl may be a self-indulgent and overintelligent prick, but he was right, Vulcan was hardly considered to be the most hospitable planet in Federation space. Still, depending on what was out there they might not have much of a choice. She made sure she had the survey reports copied to her pad before leaving the bridge herself.

USS DARWIN, COMMAND BRIDGE
SOL, BEYOND PLUTO ORBIT
JULY 21ST, 2243

Even at maximum magnification the azure blue planet only took up less than a quarter of the viewscreen at this extreme range. To most of the crew this planet was considered home, but he also knew it wasn't really their home. However different the people on it may be though, it was still very much Earth. He could see the North and South American continents clearly, with the western tip of Africa hinting on the horizon. Looked like rain over the east coast and clear skies over California. He suddenly felt very, very homesick.

They stayed at extreme range, only barely close enough for the sensors to maintain an effective high-resolution scan. So far it was all good, but in the short time they'd been there they had already registered more than two thousand military vessels, some scattered around the system but most converged in the areas close to Earth, Mars and Jupiter, as well as a large amount of what looked like defense satellites, but as far as they could see none of them had made any response to their silent incursion.

Yet.

"So this is Earth. Looks much the same, don't you think?"
"Yes, sir" One of the bridge crew behind him said with a longing tone in her voice. "Discounting the rest, it's home."
"What's the good word, T'Var?"

The Vulcan looked absent in thought. Deschamps almost laughed, that was the most he had looked like the good old T'Var, the man that Paul had gotten to know over the last few years and was used to, in weeks.

"Well, Captain, even in close detail this Sol system is almost exactly identical to the one you are familiar with. There are some differences in the Earth's biosphere, but they are minute and I assume they have more to do with the different path your race appears to have taken in this reality."
Deschamps couldn't help smiling as he asked him to extrapolate.
"There is a considerably higher level of carbon dioxide, carbon particles and nitrous oxides in the Earth's atmosphere, as well as much lower reserves of several minerals. It seems much of this is due to an earlier form of energy production, most likely petrochemical and coal-based. I read several large energy signatures, most seem to conform to the same kind of by our standards primitive nuclear fusion reactors that we encountered in the Proxima sub-system."

He took a short pause and then continued.

“There’s also less radioactivity in the atmosphere and soil than in that of our Earth, if I read this correctly I come to the conclusion that they didn’t suffer your third World War, or perhaps rather had a less global or apocalyptic version of it.
"Any other differences?"
"Yes, Captain. There are several large space stations in orbit, as well as colonies on the Earth's moon and on Mars, which is in what looks like an early stage of terraforming, and a large space station orbiting Jupiter's moon of Io. There's also the same kind of unknown structure near the Io station as we encountered in Proxima, which the computer still can't designate. Since we're close enough to get a good look I can tell you it seems to contain several super-heavy and some sub-dimensional elements it doesn't recognize."
"Alright. Our mission here is complete, and I won't risk going closer in with that much military hardware in our way no matter if we think they can see us or not." Paul ordered. "Do a final scan, and then let's get back home and report this to the fleet."
"Aye, Captain." The helm officer reported. He paused, and then added something that got Deschamps thinking. "Captain, I thought you should know. There are a total exceeding more than four thousand vessels in the Sol system as we speak, many of them bulk freighters and military vessels that logically are badly suited for intra-system only operation. Even so, not a single one of them seem to be warp capable, not even the ones in or close to the orbital shipyards at either Luna or Mars."
“Considering that conforms to our scans at Proxima, I'm not terribly surprised. They must have another way of faster-than-light travel that they use rather than the ones we're familiar with." He pondered the question for a second. "Let’s get some good scans of the colonies, stations and the planets done. Have we managed to understand their regular transmissions yet?”
“Yes sir, that really wasn't hard at all as they use pretty much the same radio frequencies as your own civilization did before subspace transmissions became standard practice, but we’re still working on the encrypted communications as well as their tachyon network.”
“Try to gather as much data as possible on this Earth, especially their historical and political data, and if possible the reason behind them having this spaceborne armada. I want to be able to present a full picture to the Admiral when we get back, and not being able to explain why this Earth has a mobilized military force by far exceeding the size of the entire Fifth Fleet is kind of embarrassing. We leave in three hours, T'Var, make the best of it.”

USS ICARUS, COMMAND BRIDGE
CLOSE TO DENOBULA / DENIZALA

“Lieutenant, I think we’ve seen enough now. Bring us back out of the system and take us back to Vulcan at best speed.” Jameson had taken his seat again after checking that the sensor information had been correctly entered for the computer’s analysis.
“Aye sir, plotting a course back to the fleet and engaging at warp 9.”

Commander Jameson's initial guess had been right on the money, the Vree really did look nothing like the Denobulans, and both their own appearance and that of their ships made him remember all those old classic two-dimensional movies he’d wasted his youth on, like ‘War of the Worlds’ or ‘Mars Attacks’. His history buff helm officer had even called them 'Roswell Grays', whatever that meant. The sensor results of their short visit in the system were still being processed by the science teams and computers, but he could already start on his report by simply describing what he'd witnessed with his own eyes.

They had passed close to the Alkaid system, or Nacambari as it was called here, on their way to Denobula. It was populated by a pre-warp civilization of an insectoid race that by all indications had just entered the early industrial age, with a developmental level much like Earth's in the mid-nineteenth century. They hadn't been too surprised to see numerous differences from the standard development pattern of such races, for one example they lived in what seemed to be a collective hive mind governing them which had also apparently slowed down their scientific advancements quite drastically, as they'd taken centuries to develop technology his own world had developed in less than a decade. There had been little that he would call interesting to see on the planet itself, even though they had still made some scans. After all science was always science and studying emerging civilizations was always interesting enough to make someone say the quick stop required to do so had been definitely worthwhile.

They hadn’t found much else of note in the system however, except yet another of those massive apparatuses in orbit around one of the outer planetoids but in what seemed to be a state of grave disrepair. For the first time they'd found traces of colonization, on said planetoid no less, though the new discovery had a definite downside in that it also wore the unmistakable scars of suffering through heavy orbital bombardment. What made people blink twice was that this bombardment seemed to be fairly recent, sensor data put their estimations at no longer than twenty and probably closer to fifteen years ago.

It was hard to determine exactly as it looked more like if someone had thrown asteroids or solid metal shells at the planet rather than using weapons more familiar to the Starfleet crew such as energy weapons or bombs. They had already analyzed and rejected the possibility of this being a natural phenomenon as the chances of a single asteroid entering the atmosphere of a planet at close to a ninety degree angle is low enough, and the chances of two dozen doing it in rapid succession in a perfectly linear pattern and across a total of three thousand kilometers were pretty much zero.

After witnessing three of the League races he'd been forced to admit they simply had to have some kind of technology for interstellar travel, but until he found these Vree he had no actual or tangible evidence of exactly what it was or how it worked. His search for this proof had been effectively completed in the Denizala system when he had seen one of the large saucer shaped ships open what looked very much like a tear in the very fabric of space-time itself only to enter it and vanish completely from all but the most subtle subspace bands. The closest the computer had been able to get in analyzing this phenomenon was an artificial wormhole, but even that only scored a low-grade partial match of the energy signature.

He’d been star struck just staring at the swirling red portal as the ship had quickly entered it, and he'd almost been disappointed when the portal closed just as quickly as it had appeared leaving only a faint imprint that the sensors could barely detect as evidence that it had ever existed in the first place. To make matters worse he was forced to admit to the suddenly inquisitive Bajoran Captain that neither he nor any of his crew had any idea what that vortex was, how it worked, or even how to replicate it. His best scientists and sensor analyst had been just as awestruck as he'd been, and were still trying to wrap their heads about the basic principles involved in opening such a portal, not to mention getting it stable enough to enter and more importantly exit in a safe and effective manner. Well, at least he’d been able to get some solid sensor readings and a detailed recording of exactly what had happened from his and the Victory’s points of view. Whatever good that would do except prove what they already knew in the first place, that this place wasn't home anymore and that the rules had changed.

What was even more surprising, something which in itself was nigh impossible as it stood, was the fact that the Vree ship’s energy source scored a 98% energy signature match to a third generation or Kirk-era Klingon antimatter reactor. The sensors couldn’t identify any of the other components that were required for the faster-than-light drive except that the ship carried an unknown heavy mineral in its main energy matrix. Whatever this portal technology was it was so completely alien to what the Federation and associated races had ever encountered that the computers didn't even know where to start looking much less give any answers.

They had however managed to deduce the function of the four parallel metal beam structure, as they’d been able to see them activate from a very close perspective. While performing a deep structural scan on the apparently abandoned derelict it had suddenly activated, the four beams using thrusters to expand the distance between them and through a series of controlled high energy particle emissions created another one of these sinkholes in space. The revelation they'd been given had been one only appreciated quite a while later however, as they had been too busy trying to save their own asses rather than study sensor data at the time.

The crew had been lucky they had their warp drive hot as well as an alert helmsman, or they’d probably have ended up being rammed by one of the most massive ships he’d ever seen. The ship in question looked primitive but had measured in at more than three kilometers in length and it carried at least a ten million metric tons of various types of what was assumed to be civilian cargo. Quite something to see when you know your entire ship only weighs in at just over a hundred thousand tons in itself. Sure, Federation bulk transports were also by necessity much larger than the relatively small Nova science ship, but this ship dwarfed most if not all of those as well. Judging by what the sensors told them the ship was carrying, he made the educated guess that the Vree lacked any form of molecular replication as there would otherwise be no reason to transport, or considering the ship looked like it was of human design more likely import, among others sweet water from one planet to another at a probably high price. Water is just too simple a molecule to not be able to replicate if you could replicate anything at all.

They had been able to intercept some communications, most of them civilian but also a few low-level diplomatic messages. These had allowed Jameson to add yet another few names to the star map. Most of the former Romulan Empire had now been replaced with something called ‘the Centauri Republic’, their home world located on the first planet of the Theta Centauri system, ironically enough a dead world that had never developed any form of life in Jameson’s universe. Most of Klingon space was now replaced with a shaded area with the annotation ‘Minbari Federation?’ and the area closest to Sol, including several systems like Vega, Alpha Centauri, Orion, Deneb, Draylax and Altair were in a blue-bordered area with the text ‘Earth Alliance’ attached.

Getting information on the Earth Alliance and the Centauri Republic had been quite simple, and Jameson considered those parts of the star map to be mostly correct, discounting any classified military outposts or secret resourcing operations in other systems. He was surprised at how few of the systems in the claimed space that were colonized as he knew from his travels that among many others the Sirius system had several planets that were far more hospitable than Vega II, Draylax Prime or Proxima III was, but apparently it had been overlooked for colonization, as had both Andoria and Vulcan, while Orion system (which is located just past Vulcan seen from Earth) had likewise been claimed even though it by Federation standards wouldn't even classify as M-class even though it had a mostly breathable atmosphere. It made little sense from his point of view, but he was starting to suspect that this alternative faster-than-light technology had its limitations. It was the only theory that could explain these apparent conundrums.

He was a little apprehensive at the fact that the entire fleet were essentially hiding out within what was effectively by most other races considered to be Earth-claimed space, even when there was no evidence that the system had ever even been visited much less claimed or tagged for colonization by the Alliance or anyone else. But in the end he knew it wasn’t his decision on where they should be or what they should do. All he had to do was to follow orders and do his job, and right now that was something he could take comfort in. He'd leave the rest up to the higher ranked people who had actually accepted that kind of work in the first place.

"Well then, I think I'll go get some sleep. It's been a while." Jameson rose from the Captain's chair. It was late, and it had been a long day. “Lieutenant, you have the bridge. I’ll be in my quarters if anything should come up.”
“Yes, sir. Good night, Commander.”

Tomorrow would be a long day too.

Zcenicx · Nov 2nd 2009, 1:52pm

Chapter 3

USS ALBION, DECK 8 SICKBAY
GEOSTATIONARY ORBIT ABOVE VULCAN
JULY 19TH, 2243. 10:00 HOURS

The Admiral still felt a little weak, but at least he wasn't as tired as he had been anymore. Not that he'd actually appreciated being stuck in sickbay or the constant attention he'd been getting from the ship’s Doctors all that much even then. He knew the overall situation well enough, he had still received continuous reports on the fleets condition, but he would much rather be on the bridge or in his office where he could do his job much more effectively rather than stuck down here. Unfortunately the irritating young Doctor had told him straight to his face that since he didn't trust the Admiral to take it easy he couldn't let him go back to duty, and when the Admiral tried to object he'd just left the room and locked the door behind him. There weren't many people in all of Starfleet that could lock a Vice Admiral in his room, but a mere starship physician could just refer to it as a medical decision and suddenly whatever rank you had just became utterly and effectively meaningless.

Now, more than two weeks later, the Doctor had finally been forced to admit that he couldn't give any realistic reasons to justify keeping the Admiral in sickbay anymore. The constant excuses of 'observation', 'further testing' or 'monitored rest' had already started to get old a week ago, and by now they were just rapidly becoming yet more reasons why this energetic young man should be reassigned to waste disposal, or the even less enjoyable job of cleaning the warp plasma conduits in the nacelles for a few weeks. Or months. He would have to think about that.

Well, Samuel had at least been given his own alcove, separated with a door no less from the rest of the sickbay's patients and personnel, and that small but important measure of privacy was something he had actually quite appreciated. If nothing else it somewhat shielded his ears from the noise the other occupants made. He hadn't entirely realized how many wounded they had picked up from Starbase 10, but now that he'd been in close proximity to a number of them he'd been shown the reality of the situation. He almost felt guilty taking up an entire alcove all by himself when there were obviously, at least from his point of view, others that needed it more. Of course, when he'd taken that point up with the Doctor he'd merely shrugged and told him to get some more rest while he could.

Even though he had collapsed, there was nothing really wrong with him that needed this kind of advanced or for that sake long-term care. He'd suffered a couple of broken ribs, a sprained wrist and a minor concussion from his quick flying lesson across the Albion's bridge, but those injuries were all by their standards minor and had all been easily repaired within an hour of him arriving in sickbay. He wasn't old or decrepit, just barely past his fortieth birthday in a society that regularly lived in good health well past their hundreds, and to both his own knowledge and according to the medical scans he'd seen he was in fairly good physical shape and there had been no permanent damage either. Still, the Doctors had decided to keep him within eyeshot with some fragmented comments about command officers, stress, and being boneheaded, all stated just low enough to ensure a demotion wouldn't be very rapidly handed out but still loudly enough for him to hear every word.

Getting up and already having gathered the numerous pads that had just minutes ago been spread all over the alcove he zipped up his black and gray duty uniform jacket and carefully checked that his rank insignia, a brooch on either side of the collar forming three golden pips in a golden rectangle, were in their correct places and that they weren't lopsided. Even though he normally wouldn't care too much about it there was enough confusion and fear on the ship without a lopsided Admiral walking around, especially considering the fact that as far as anyone could tell he was all of a sudden the highest ranking Starfleet officer in the entire Milky Way galaxy, or the rest of the universe for that matter.

Still, he couldn't worry about that all the time nor could he be too preoccupied with crew morale or the care of wounded, no matter how deeply he felt about these issues. He was more than intelligent enough to know that if he started to dig too deeply into the smaller problems he'd quickly be overwhelmed by the sheer amount of them and effectively become useless. His job was the big problems and the big decisions, and to let the Captains and by association their own officers take care of their own smaller ones free of his interference. With only a wave and a smile to the duty nurse, he left sickbay in the care of her and the Doctors and left to go make some of those big decisions about the big problems.

The Admiral's quarters on the Albion were about the size of his apartment back home in San Diego, which actually said more about the size of his apartment than about the living quarters. They were more than large enough to serve as both office and personal quarters, though not large enough to have more than two or three visitors at any given time. As this had only been supposed to be a temporary combat posting the rooms were only sparsely decorated, and the only personal belongings he’d brought with him to the Albion were holo-pictures of his old friends on the Galaxy and a copy of his parents wedding picture. Except for his brother he had no family of his own since their parents had passed away several years ago, him never having had the time to make one rather than not actually wanting one. It was at times like this he appreciated that, being that it was one less reason to become depressed. He'd seen far too many crewmen start falling apart inside as they realized what family they had probably already thought they were dead, and that the chances of them getting home to disprove that were slim to non-existent.

He immersed himself in the more detailed reports that had literally flooded his small desk in his absence, making short notes on another pad about what issues to request more information on, what decision should be made in others on a second, and what decisions he wasn't even supposed to make on a third, until the beeping sound of the doorbell pierced the silence.

He straightened himself up and pushed a few pads away as he said "Enter."
He'd have expected his brother to be the first one to come by, but even though the uniform color and rank insignia was correct, the person wearing it was not.

"Captain Duval!" He gave her a honest smile and quickly rose and walked up to give her a quick hug. "I wasn't expecting visitors and even less so you, though you are of course just as welcome as always. What can I do for you?"
He motioned for her to sit down in one of the chairs across the desk.
"Admiral, I'm glad you've recovered." She thanked him with a tired smile and sat down in the offered chair. "The fleet's mostly silent, and I'm here as much because I need a friend to talk to as much as in my official capacity."
"I understand, Sheila, trust me, I do."
"Still…"
West looked at his watch, then continued; "Can I get you something? It's almost lunch time and I've lived on nothing but sickbay rations for the last two weeks."
"Just coffee, Sam, but thanks for offering."
"Like you used to take it?"
"That'll do nicely."

He rose and went over to the replicator, returning a minute later with two steaming cups of coffee, one with just a bit of synthetic scotch in and the other with milk and sugar.

"So, tell me. What can Fleet Command do for the Independence, and more importantly what can I do for you?"

Samuel and Sheila had known each other for the better part of their respective careers, as they'd both been assigned to the Galaxy for several years, Sam as first officer and Sheila as the ship's navigator, and when the Captain had been killed in the Dominion War they had each taken a step up the career ladder. West as the new Captain, and Duval as the new first officer. Their friendship had been cemented during the three years that followed until the Galaxy was finally recalled for a full service and refit, and at that time they were both promoted and subsequently transferred.

Sheila had been given command of the newly christened Sovereign-class starship Independence, assigned to Deep Space 9 and their exploration of the Gamma Quadrant, while Samuel was assigned to oversee Starfleet's ship re-development operations at the San Francisco fleet yards (less formally known as Earth Spacedock), where he had worked on among others the so-called Borg refits of the Norway and Saber class ships. Being forty thousand light years apart put a strain on any friendship, but even though they'd been apart for more than three years they'd kept in touch as much as possible.

Enough for Samuel to know exactly what Sheila needed to talk about, even without her telling, and enough for her to be open about it to him.

"It must be hard for you. I read the report as well."
"It was a damn waste, Sam, a damn waste of a damn good man."
He just nodded. "I didn't know him personally, but I doubt you'd have accepted him if he wasn't. I'm sorry, Sheila."

The man in question was Justin Blake, the fleet liaison at Starbase 10. He’d just been a formal acquaintance of West's, being that he rarely spoke to him except in reports and requests, but he was much more than that to Sheila, he was at least her boyfriend, and if you listened to the rumors floating about the crew probably her fiancée until just a few weeks ago. Samuel knew well the truth behind it, they had quite correctly been engaged but for some reason he didn't know the exact details about they'd broken it off just after the war broke out and she'd been transferred to his command.

Ironically he was somewhat delighted in that fact, he didn't really like it but he'd been envious of Blake ever since he'd started seeing Sheila. Sam and Sheila had been one of those unfortunate pairs who had always had feelings for one another, strong ones at that, but had always been hindered by regulations as both were Starfleet officers of differing rank and in the same command structure. It was yet another one of the reasons he'd never made a family of his own, as most of the women he met were in the same situation and he had always subconsciously compared them with the woman now drinking coffee in his quarters.

"I heard it was quick, that he didn't have to suffer." She sighed. "We had our differences, but I still feel he didn't deserve that."

He nodded, Blake had been killed in the massive explosion that had resulted from a disruptor blast hitting one of the station's antimatter pods, you didn't typically survive that for more than fractions of a second. "I can verify that. He never felt a thing."

Sheila just stared emptily into the wall beside him. He felt it would be inconsiderable to say anything, so he just waited for her to snap out of it for a few minutes but as she didn't seem to do so on her own he finally broke the silence and asked her.

"While I am sorry about Justin." He said. "You wanted to see me about something else as well?"
"Oh... yes, that's right." She looked startled. "We have a slight but increasingly important problem with a few of our ships, and unfortunately I have to admit that the Independence is one among them. It's just a minor issue right now, but it may soon prove to be more than that unless we find a lasting solution very quickly."
West raised an eyebrow.
"Admiral, we're carrying over a hundred, actually closer to a hundred and five thousand people in a fleet of ships designed to carry only a sixth of that number for an extended period of time. I know the Albion doesn't feel the effects yet, but she's not a design standard Sovereign either. Unlike the space superiority design of the Independence, or the long-range survey design of the Discovery, she was constructed to the command and control, or as it's also known the flagship parameters."

He had to search his mind for the differences. He had studied the Sovereign design specs in detail just a few months ago and he did know most Sovereign-class ships were specialized towards a specific function, though still able to perform most others to a high standard as well. Even so, they weren't identical and Sheila was quite correct that some of the differences were also quite important. He found what he was searching for, and understood what Duval was trying to avoid saying outright.

"Damn it. You're right, that's going to be a problem."

USS ALBION, CONFERENCE ROOM
GEOSTATIONARY ORBIT ABOVE VULCAN
18 HOURS LATER

Jameson was slightly stressed as he almost ran down the corridors from the turbolift exit. He'd only just gotten back to the fleet and pretty much as soon as they had exited warp he'd been ordered to transport over to the Albion for a full-fledged Fleet Command meeting. He wasn't that surprised considering what he'd been doing for the last two weeks or what he'd seen while doing it, but the apparent hurry did both surprise and worry him just as he'd been surprised that these orders were given before he'd even reported back. He'd expected to at least get an hour or two to wind down before he'd be debriefed and for the meeting being between him and a select few of his peers, not every single one.

Now, here he was on the task force's flagship running down a corridor. He'd already gotten lost twice, not something he was proud of but in his defense he'd never even set his foot on a Sovereign before today. It felt even bigger when actually being inside than you'd expect by looking at it from the outside, especially as the ship at first glance was visually very similar to his much smaller Nova. Finally getting to the conference room he found the door open and most, if not all, of the other ship Captains already seated. That included, as if to spite him, the red-headed figure of Captain Kira.

At the head of the table he could see the graying but still quite forceful appearance of the task force's commanding officer, Vice Admiral West. He'd only met the man in person once before, and even though he looked a little bit tired he was still undoubtedly the commanding presence in the room. He didn't look irritated at Jameson's late arrival, but had a rather worried expression instead, something that surprised him more than anything else.

"Jameson! Good you could finally join us. Come in and take a seat, I was just about to start the meeting and it just wouldn't be right to do that without the guests of honor, now would it?"

Jameson took a seat between Captains Duval of the Independence and T’Pell of the Valiant, giving each of them as both were formally his superiors a quick nod of respect, and put the data pads he'd been carrying on the table in front of him.

"Ladies, gentlemen. Fellow Captains. Now that I'm finally out of sickbay we have some decisions we have to make, and rapidly as well since I've been informed that our available time is quickly running out."

West sat down at the end of the table, and his face still carried that worried look even as it was quickly covered by stern resolve.

"We'll have to decide on what course we're going to take from here on out. As Captain Duval thankfully brought to my attention yesterday we won't be able to stay here in orbit inactive indefinitely. As you all know most of the ships in this task force are combat or exploration vessels which were never designed to carry refugees at all, much less for a very prolonged period of time." He paused and his eyes met those of the destroyer and cruiser Captains. "Also, most of those who were, like the Galaxies and Nebulas, have later lost much of this ability in the subsequent combat refits they've undergone, something I know I'm personally at least partially to blame for. Even the Sovereign and Excelsior-class ships are starting to experience problems with their environmental and life support system from the strain caused by the increased onboard population, and the situation is only worsening as we stay here."

Except for the Admirals voice, the room was dead silent. They all knew this was true, but it's one thing to know something and another thing entirely to get it verified and to hear that everyone else also knew.

“The only exception thus far is the Albion, as she was designed by flagship standards. She’s still the arguably most powerful military vessel we have available, but while the other Sovereigns were designed to carry a larger amount of weapons and ordnance in one case, more fuel and better more powerful sensors in the other, the Albion among other things has redundant high-efficiency air filtration and life support systems to combat biological or chemical warfare. That’s the reason she’s got an extra deck compared to the Independence or Discovery, and why she can at least in theory carry more people than the other two combined before the life support systems even start to strain.”

He paused, shifted a bit in his chair and turned his gaze towards the assembly once more.

"So, what we need to decide on right now is where we can settle down. Not if we should do so, or how we can get home. We won't find a way back home before we start losing a whole lot of people due to system failures and while I both can, will and have ordered people to their deaths in battle, I'm not prepared to ask people to die of asphyxia or starvation simply because we don't want to face reality. I want options people, options and opinions. Now, start talking."

Even Jameson was shocked by the Admiral’s directness, and judging by the other Captains' appearances he was hardly alone in his reaction either. Only Duval and the younger brother West still looked at least fairly calm, and he concluded that the Admiral had already talked to the two of them at length in private prior to this meeting. It wasn't surprising either, as the Admiral had already stated that Duval had brought it up and of course the Captain of the Albion would be the best source of information about what made his ship different from the others.

"Admiral" a Vulcan Captain who Jameson didn't recognize had spoken. "As my home planet is right here below us and so evidently unpopulated, I would suggest that it is the most logical choice for us to settle here. There are ample amounts of resources readily available to the fleet, and..."
"We could just as well settle on Andoria, and even *I* don't think that'd be our best option!" T’Pell quickly interjected. "I might be Andorian and I may still long for my home city below the frozen sea, but these pink-skin vessels have taught me one thing, and that's to enjoy temperatures that stay above freezing..."
"Logic would dictate..."
"Take your precious logic and shove..."

The argument between the Vulcan and the Andorian quickly escalated, but was just as suddenly stopped dead as the sharp voice of Captain Keyes broke through.

"Stop it, both of you!" She both looked and sounded angry. "You're behaving worse than two Ezalian dung beetles during mating season." The two arguing Captains suddenly stopped dead in their tracks and both looked quite insulted, and by all rights. Jameson knew just how hilarious what she'd described looked. She didn't even bother looking at them before she continued.

"Neither planet is a good option. Vulcan is a desert planet with deadly dust storms, electrical storms which even in our own universe causes the Vulcans numerous problems, and crucially not a whole lot of natural sweet water. Andoria on the other hand has plenty of water, but what it lacks in dust storms and heat it makes up for in blizzards and a surface temperature that has even your naturally adapted species living below ground in geothermally heated caverns."
"May I ask what would your suggestion be, Elisha?" Duval's softer voice was a refreshing change from Keyes' sharp tone.
Keyes quickly replied with another question. "Jameson, Deschamps. We've heard you found some other races out there, among them humans. What more information did you manage to gather on your expeditions?"

Jameson looked at Deschamps. They were thinking the same thing. Deschamps spoke first.
"Admiral, perhaps we could move this discussion to one of the holodecks?"
"I have to concur that it would be a more suitable locale for an effective debrief." Jameson added.

Admiral West just nodded and motioned for the door.

USS ALBION, HOLODECK 1

Jameson and Deschamps had needed a little time to get their holodeck program working and to verify their facts with each other. Each had been able to get parts of the picture, in some places it overlapped, and in others it had been discovered neither had a single piece of the puzzle. What became a problem was that some of the information didn't match, but they attributed these anomalies to local politics and differences in points of view between the different local races. One such area was the border between the Narn and the Centauri, where the two combined had collected no less than six different versions of exactly which systems belonged to which of the two empires.

"As you can see from this corrected star map, most of this universe seems to still be in the right place when compared to our own, with only a few although noteworthy exceptions." Jameson continued his recital, as he saw Kira trying not to look at the red circle around a now empty region of space. "As far as we can tell there are only five stars missing in the entire Alpha Quadrant when compared to the ones present in our own universe, at least that's as far as we've been able to verify this data from the vantage points we've had."
"The most notable are of course those of Bajor and Romulus." Deschamps stated. "The latter is a black hole system in this universe, the former just isn't there. Two of the others have gone nova in this universe while the fifth seems to have collided with another star and thus effectively been swallowed up. We attribute some of these differences to the chaos effect, that the same event won't always happen the same way if repeated with the exact same variables, and some of it to the absence of some variables such as for example there being no Romulans on Romulus to intercede."
"That'd also be the reason why some planets haven't developed life, and others went a completely different path than they did in ours." Jameson continued. "We surmise that most if not even all of the differences between this universe and our own may very well stem from a single event happening in a different way than it should have several millions, possibly even billions, of years ago."

This prompted a few looks from the other Captains, but Deschamps quickly took over.

"We've tried to indicate what worlds are colonized and which are otherwise claimed by the different powers that exist here on this map. The three single-colored areas-" He pointed towards a blue, red and green area bordering each other in succession. "-seem to be governed by mostly single-race societies called the Earth Alliance-" He indicated the blue blob centered around Earth "-the Centauri Republic-" The green area that covered most of the Romulan Star Empire flashed. "-and the Minbari Federation." The red, formerly Klingon, area flashed.

He took a sip of water from the holographic tray.

"The larger purple area is a sort of loose economic alliance called 'the League of Non-Aligned Worlds', which comprises a total of some fifty member races. Unfortunately, neither of our expeditions revealed any trace of any other Federation races besides humans and a surprising fact is that even counting a number of pre-warp civilizations we've found there's still less than ten percent of the racial diversity we’d expect when compared to the Alpha Quadrant we're used to. Since most other home worlds still exist here and are quite frequently just as habitable as we'd expect, we can only conclude that any intelligent life that did develop on these worlds was either destroyed long ago or never developed at all. This has also raised some questions as to whether our own universe has experienced some kind of event that increased the odds of intelligent life actually developing."

"It is also not an entirely correct statement to say that humans exist here either, even though we're very closely related my science teams analyzed the genetic structure of these humans and we were able to find several important genetic differences. While we're still close enough to be considered the same species, the differences between us are larger than between any two given human races, like African and Chinese, that developed on either version of Earth, ours or theirs."

Deschamps stepped back again, handing the recital back to Jameson.

“There are other differences between us as well. As you all know we’ve traveled back in time approximately 120 years. By our standards we’ve gone back to pretty much the time work was started on building the Constitution-class cruisers. Actually let’s be precise, we arrived in this universe on the exact date berths were reserved at the San Francisco fleet yards for the prototype and design proof ships NX-1700 and NX-1701, later known by their christened names Constitution and Enterprise. In our universe and with our timeline, the Constitution's keel was laid out only four days ago.”

This prompted a few reactions and quick comments among the crowd of ship Commanders. There wasn’t a Starfleet officer alive who didn’t recognize those names, or who didn't know the name of the Enterprise's most famous Captain.

“However, in this universe the starship technology Earth has available seems to be quite different from what we'd expect to see and what we're used to.”
They were suddenly standing in what looked like open space above a dark planet, with the massive hulk of the EAS Lancelot rendered in front of them.
“This is an Earth-designed starship as they look in this universe, and yes she really is this big. From what we’ve been able to decipher she’s also not unique but rather one of several hundred of her class, specifically called a Nova-class dreadnought. While she looks… impressive, to say the least, she’s actually designed around technology we would see as quite primitive by our standards even at this relative time." He paused to take a sip of water and let the image in front of them sink in. "Discounting the fact that there are guns mounted just about everywhere they could be welded to her superstructure, we counted a total of 34 offensive weapon mounts and numerous defensive, these are all laser or plasma based. The ship is powered entirely by a number of large but relatively primitive fusion reactors, and propelled by four ion particle drives. However, the ship lacks any known form of shielding technology, any kind of effective inertial dampeners and, perhaps most surprisingly, artificial gravity.”

“The technological difference is actually far greater than even that.” Deschamps interjected. “According to what we were able to find on their information network, the Galaxy Net, this Earth lacks even the most basic form of molecular replication, transporter, holographic, subspace, force field, antimatter or impulse technologies, all of these being fields we were already taking pretty much for granted in this point in our own timeline.”

"There are numerous other differences as well.” Jameson continued. “From monitoring several of the different races we've deduced that while they do indeed have faster-than-light technology, it's not even remotely close to resembling what we use or anything we've ever encountered before in our own universe. While we've found evidence of antimatter technology, we have only confirmed its use as a power source and as a weapon, not as a means of propulsion like our warp engines. In fact, I doubt any ships we've seen so far would survive even traveling at a fractional, much less a relativistic, speed. They're simply not designed to be able to hold up against the accelerating stress, and completely lack any form of deflector array."

The Lancelot faded out and was replaced with the swirling vortex they'd witnessed in the Denobula system. "This is what they seem to use instead, some kind of spatial or dimensional rift technology for interstellar travel rather than warp drives, and instead of subspace they use tachyon particles for communication and sensors."

The image changed again to indicate the four beam structure. "This structure seems to be the only way most of their ships are able to enter or exit this spatial rift, and it's our understanding that any system lacking one of these would be unexplored or at the very least unclaimed. From the data gathered by the Darwin and the Icarus, we’ve selected these three systems-" The map appeared again with three systems highlighted. “-as our recommendations for a settlement. All of these are unexplored, unclaimed, and have Mishara class planets well within Earth parameters. We also know there are enough resources to fit our needs.”
The map zoomed in and the three stars and the indicated planets were all brought into view.
"Alpha Canis Majoris also known as Sirius. Eta Cassiopeia or as we call it Terra Nova, and finally Trillius Prime and the Trill homeworld." Jameson counted them off.
"Our recommendation in this case would be the Sirius system, not only because it is unclaimed but also since its location ensures us that whatever resources the system lacks itself are readily available in nearby and likewise unclaimed systems." Deschamps shrugged. "Other than that, they are all good options for settling down."

USS MICHAEL, HANGAR DECK C
SIRIUS III POLAR ORBIT
AUGUST 2ND, 2243

Jack was still glad to have survived, no matter what the current situation was. Being alive in another dimension was after all a far better option than being dead in his own. Plus, he had finally gotten the transfer to a combat carrier he’d been requesting for the last three years, even though the reason for said transfer was of course somewhat unfortunate for a lot of other people.

The Michael had it all, fighters, interceptors, shuttles, runabouts, just to name a few, and more than enough professionals handling these machines just like what they were. His father had always told him that home was where one’s heart was, and no matter how ironic, terrible or sad the circumstances were Lieutenant Commander Jack Davis knew that he was home.

Take-off and landing was a bit trickier than it had been on Starbase 10, but he could live with that. He had just slightly more than one and a half meters of clearance from the roof and floor to the hull of his Peregrine, less than he was used to but this was mostly because the Michael effectively had four hangar decks stacked on top of each other. The hangar bay doors were designed to allow the largest type of Federation shuttle a thirty centimeters of clearance, total, and no more. Pilot skill wasn't just an assumed fact, it was a requirement for not just your own survival but that of those around you as well.

Combat takeoffs were also something he’d been forced to practice, as the hangar was designed to be just wide enough for two Peregrines and one Valkyrie to launch simultaneously in a close wedge formation. Timing and course had to be perfect, as in real combat they launched from all four hangars at almost the exact same time, the delay being only a five second interval between the first and last decks. In real combat, that would be handled by the fighters' autopilots as to not cause a massive incident, but during training it was usually a frightening hands-on experience.

That meant the Michael could empty its hangars of fighters in just over two minutes if and when necessary, and he’d been awestruck as he saw the CAP crew perform that maneuver as soon as they'd entered the system, thirty six starfighters had launched in less than half a minute. That took nerves of steel and Jack couldn’t wait to do it for real himself one day.

Still, he had a lot of work ahead of him before they'd trust a mere former garrison pilot to do something most experienced carrier pilots still dreaded no matter what they actually told you. He hadn't even been assigned to a combat squadron yet, but he knew that was just a question of time, training and proving your mettle. He still had his sights set on an empty seat in the carrier's crack team, the Angel wing. That posting didn't mean just learning to master a combat launch though, it meant becoming an expert at it. At that and at so much more, he reminded himself.

Today, his job wasn’t combat though, but rather a dull VIP transfer. As per tradition when a new colony was established the would-be founder always touched ground from a shuttle and always carried one of those old shovels to take the symbolic first steps towards the new foundation.

He turned away from the repaired, refitted, repainted and rearmed sleek Peregrine-II starfighter that had been so close to becoming his coffin, and turned instead to the, comparatively, bulky shape of a Type-11 shuttle. The Admiral would be arriving any minute now along with most of the fleet’s engineering, science and command officers. He wouldn't be the only pilot charged with shuttle duty today, as there was no way more than a hundred people could fit in a single tin can, but rather twelve of them had been neatly parked along the hanger floor in order of rank and ship class. He managed a smile though, his was after all the first one in the line.

FEDERATION RUNABOUT GREENWICH, PASSENGER LOUNGE
APPROACHING SIRIUS III

Admiral’s log, Stardate 57586.4. This will be my final entry with a Federation standard timestamp.
It didn’t take long for me and the fleet’s Captains to reach a final decision, as of the three planets proposed Sirius was just as Deschamps pointed out the most logical choice. It was not just the relatively close position to Earth that tipped the scales for me, albeit I must admit it is a factor that weighed heavily, but it’s also the richest system of the three in terms of the resources we'd need and the amounts we may need them in. Unless anything drastic happens, we should be self-sufficient here.

As of today, August 2nd, 2380 by our time, same date 2243 local time, at ten hundred hours, I have activated the prime directive by reason of protecting this universe’s timeline and natural development. Orders have been given to construct a new permanent settlement here on Sirius III to house the close to a hundred thousand people we carry in this fleet, with additional facilities in orbit such as defense platforms, shipyard facilities and supply depots to ensure our continued welfare. I’ve also after a number of such requests ordered the production of a gas mining complex orbiting the Sirius V gas giant.

Considering the apparently violent history of this universe, as well as the obviously militaristic and in many cases despotic regimes ruling several of the races we’ve encountered, we’ll keep our heads down but our eyes open and our guns loaded. I won’t be dissolving the fleet, decommissioning the ships or use them as spare parts, no matter what the directive requires of me. Well, not most of them at least. If all goes well we shouldn’t have to ever use them in hostile action, but one never knows and I’d rather keep that ace in my sleeve should we ever need it.

With our crews and evacuees likely being the only Federation there is in this universe, I suppose we’ll have to discuss our future organization as well, sooner or later. It’s not a debate I’m looking forward to, but I am still quite certain it’ll come up.

I’m heading the delegation bound for the planet. We’ll break ground on the new settlement near where New Washington would be on the Sirius that I remember. We’ve yet to settle for a name, but considering I delegated that speech to Elisha, I’m sure she’ll come up with something fitting considering she was born and raised here. The plans for the first parts of the settlement are already complete, and the engineering crews on all ships are working double shifts at the moment, trying to get everything started. My only requirement was that the settlement should be constructed in a way that makes it hard if not impossible to visually identify from anything but a close-range visual inspection. I have no doubt I'll be pleasantly satisfied.

It’s surprising how little time they anticipated it would take to get the first stage of construction finished, but I’m sure they plan on cheating. Or, more specifically, using the Archangel-class carriers’ industrial-sized replicators to construct modular structures which are then transported to the surface, as it's what I would have done had I still been a ship's engineer. As long as it works I’m fine with that, I just hope they don’t get their priorities too twisted up. I don’t want to get a report that the fleet’s run out of antimatter just because they decided to build a spa complex before they even got started on a quantum inversion plant or a deuterium refinery.

The landing site is just now coming into range. I still think we picked a beautiful spot to start our new life. A peninsula stretching out into one of the larger lakes, cut off from the mainland by gently rolling hills. The entire area is covered in trees much resembling birch, elm and oak, and I'm told there are ample amounts of herbivore wildlife around as well. All in all a paradise of nature's own creation in a temperate climate such as this. I’m told we can expect snow in the winter too. I don’t know why, but looking down at this scenery reminds me of home. Not the apartment in San Diego, but the town I grew up in near Stockholm.

It seems I must cut this log entry short as I’ll soon be required in my official function. Let me just add that this may be the end of one life, but it’s the start of an entirely new age. For me and for my crew.
Computer, end log. Transmit the previous entry to the USS Albion, clearance code West, Omega-four-three-Zulu.

EARTH INTELLIGENCE AGENCY HEADQUARTERS
EARTHDOME, GENEVA

“So, Parker, you still chasing those sensor ghosts?” The older intelligence supervisor said it with the sarcastic tone of a half-joke. “You do know it was probably just a practical joke among the Belters anyways. No need to waste any more of your or for that sake the Agency's time on it.”
“I’m not as confident it's a fraud as you are, David. I managed to get a copy of the sensor logs from the ‘Pasadena Skies’, and they’re high end especially for a Belter heavy bulk freighter. The detail is much higher than you'd expect, and high enough for them to be hard to fake even down on the third floor.”
“Doesn’t mean it’s not a hoax Parker, and you know that." David shrugged. "It wouldn’t exactly be the first time they did that, and the last time they did it took us almost a year to positively dismiss it as the hoax it was. They're probably still laughing about the ghost busting on the fifth floor today.”
“I know, I know." Parker sighed but tightened his grip on the crystal he was holding. "But it looks real enough to warrant an investigation and I have to follow my instincts, David. Something just tells me there’s more to this than just the vivid imaginations of a bored Belter. Even if it isn’t what it looks like."
"A ship travelling faster than the speed of light?" David raised an eyebrow as he smiled. "Get real."
"I admit, it's not all that believable.” Parker shrugged. "We'll see, either way I am going to check it out."

The focus of the small debate was the alleged sighting of a small and apparently unarmed ship, probably a luxury passenger liner of what was obviously alien design, which was supposed to have been just sitting there right in front of the hyperspace window generator of a jump gate in Vree space completely oblivious of its location or situation. Then, just as the jump gate had activated and the ‘Pasadena Skies’, a Belt Alliance heavy bulk freighter had exited and almost rammed the small ship, the ship was supposed to have stretched, accelerated to what would have to be faster-than-light speeds and vanished without another trace. Not the most believable story, but the Belter ship had forwarded their sensor logs to Earth Force nonetheless, even though every single person who'd seen them since had gotten a good laugh out of it.

The general opinion about the story, both at Earth Force and here at the EIA was that it had about the same factual content as one of those skin cream commercials they showed on ISN, but while most intelligent analysts tended to follow that line of reasoning some others, including Parker, didn’t quite agree. Officially they were called conspiracy theorists, and regarded with about as much respect as the world showed the people that believed in the conspiracies about JFK, 9/11 or WW3. That hadn’t stopped them, and it didn’t stop Geoffrey Parker. What was even better was that he got paid to thoroughly research junk like this, but he had to admit he was skeptical as well. Still, people had thought the same about the twentieth-century UFO sightings until they'd made official contact with the Vree as well. One of Parker's favored quotes was 'just because you're paranoid doesn't mean people aren't out to get you'.

“Aw, come on Parker. What they describe is impossible, you do know that right?" David made a sneer. "Plus, we’d know if anyone was even close to developing anything that looked like, or for that sake actually did, what that UFO was supposed to have done.”
“You know as well as I do that faster-than-light travel is theoretically possible, David." Parker rebutted. "We use tachyons on a daily basis, and they travel much faster than that. Now, getting a spacecraft, especially one as small as that one, to do the same is… well, not bloody likely, I'll admit that, but still I need to at least prove it a hoax if it is.”
“Good luck.” David smiled widely, the sarcasm almost dense enough to be dripping from his teeth. “Happy ghost busting, Parker. While you're wasting your time on that I’m going to go check up on our mutual friend on Centauri.”
“Heh, something tells me I have a better chance of getting a hint of truth out of this." Parker held up the crystal and gave it a completely unnecessary cleaning with his shirt sleeve. "Then you'll ever have of getting something worthwhile out of young Lord Mordechai. He's just way too self-centered, and will gladly lie to your face if he believes it suits his purposes. Granted, most up and coming Centauri lords would."
"What makes you say that?" David asked, with a look on his face that showed that he clearly didn't understand Parker's point.
"Lord Mordechai is infamous for giving you just a hint of the truth you're looking for, but then he'll inflate the story with nonsense, misinformation or just plain lies in order to make him look more powerful or more influential than he really is." Parker smiled and rose from the table. "Once, he told me that he'd actually seen the Emperor dress, just to make it more believable that he'd seen the Emperor show the first signs of the Centauri version of chicken pox.”
“Oh? Why is that so unbelievable?” David looked puzzled. "As far as I know the pox is quite common among the Centauri, and has been ever since we made contact with them. It's just as harmless there as it is here though."
“Didn’t you know? I thought it was common knowledge." Parker smiled. "The Emperor never undresses except in his most private sanctum, somewhere a low-ranking Lord such as Mordechai would never be able to enter especially if the Emperor was in any way ill.”
"Yes, so?"
"Plus, the first signs of the pox on a Centauri is that their hair starts falling off, which is the real reason why they actually fear the disease." David started to leave the break area. "Trust me, if the Centauri Emperor had lost his hair we'd have heard about it from a lot more sources than just him. It'd be the greatest story of the year to anyone and everyone in the entire Centauri court."

Parker left before David had any chance to reply. He was a capable administrator, but how a man so gullible had ever gotten selected for intelligence duty was beyond Parker's wildest imaginations. As he got back to his office he scratched his head and looked around for a specific crystal in the large pile on his desk, hoping it was there so he wouldn't have to search through the numerous and equally large piles in the rest of the room.
"Now, where did I put that image enhancement software? I know it should be here somewhere..."

Zcenicx · Nov 2nd 2009, 1:53pm

Chapter 4

SIRIUS III
ELYSIUM SETTLEMENT
SEPTEMBER 9TH, 2243

The large Danube-class runabout hovered silently above him while it slowly slid the heavy metal alloy girder hanging below it in its tractor beam, visibly in thin air, into place. It was hard to look directly at the craft as there were two bright spots directly to the side of it, actually the twin main stars of the solar system, and each one was an order of magnitude brighter than the sun would be as seen on Earth although the white dwarf companion was visibly smaller than the main star. Even so Ha'sra had to constantly keep an eye on the slowly moving girder to make sure it was still secured as the slightest mistake and it could easily kill every single worker in the area.

No such mistakes had happened so far, and almost immediately upon the metal beam reaching its designated target several people surrounded it and using hand-held plasma torches started welding it in place to the rest of the structure. They had to hurry, because yet another girder had already appeared out of thin air right where this one had been just a minute ago, and the shuttle was already repositioning to pick it up.

Work was actually proceeding much quicker than planned, and while construction on this building had started only three hours ago the substructure and foundation were already close to complete. Ha'sra expected his team to be finished with this building within the next half hour or so, he would be very displeased if they weren't, and then they'd take a quick break before starting construction on the building next door. By the end of the day the three teams working in his area would have built three complete buildings if everything worked out according to plan, and considering how far ahead of schedule they were they'd probably be able to have the fourth building well under way before they stopped for the night.

Even though he kept barking to his crew to keep up the pace, not slow down or slack off, Ha'sra was actually quite proud of the pace they were holding even if he'd never voluntarily admit it. It had taken a few days to get the details all worked out, but now they had a system set up and so far there hadn't been any serious incidents. There had of course been some smaller accidents, most due to their lack of experienced construction workers, but none had been severe and small accidents were impossible to avoid in major construction such as this even if the people involved would've been experienced professionals.

A few people had fallen, sure, but safety gear such as anti-gravity harnesses and emergency teleporters had kept them away from any serious harm. The few injuries that actually had occurred were mostly sprains and torn muscles, most of which could be attributed to overexertion, bad training and poor technique. Something that'd reduced in frequency as work progressed though he kept telling anyone that'd listen that it was all a problem with the weaker Human physique, and that Tellarite workers would do better. The fact that no-one really listened didn't stop him from repeating it either. The only permanent injury sustained had been as a faulty plasma torch overloaded and practically vaporized the welder's hand, but even he couldn't blame the welder for what had obviously been equipment failure.

He took a quick look at the other two buildings up the street, mostly to check that the other two teams still kept up with his. The closest building was the last one his team had worked on, and his was the one requiring the highest amount of manual labor since they were the ones that built the foundations and substructures that were required before the other teams could even start working.

The next team used transport enhancers and micro-transmitters to precision-guide the transporters on the Gabriel and Michael, a slow but necessary process in order to get the pre-fabricated modules which made up the walls, floors and roof in exactly the right place. The slightest mistake would mean the module would have to be disassembled and reassembled by hand, something that had only happened once so far. By now most of them were already in place and locked together, and they were almost ready for their next building.

The third team (which was also the largest and most time intensive of the three) took care of the civic connections such as plumbing, power systems, heating etcetera, as well as installing all the comforts of life such as replicators, computers and communications. Ha'sra called them the fluff team for short, and constantly teased their supervisor about the fact that this team couldn't keep up with the other two. The fact that they were the only ones actually keeping on schedule didn't even enter into his thought process.

The Tellarite engineer had supervised colonization and reconstruction efforts before, but he'd never witnessed much less actually been involved in one such as this. There were five groups just like this three-team group at work in this settlement alone. Two of these five, his and another led by a Vulcan planetologist, were working on residential buildings while two worked on civic, industrial, military and governmental installations. The last, which was the largest and by far the most resource intensive, worked on industrial installations and facilities both planet-side and in orbit.

Technically there was a sixth team as well, but partially because they were entirely devoted to the construction of antimatter and fusion reactors and partially because they were entirely based in the construction bay of the Michael and almost never left orbit except for the few minutes the reactor installations took, they didn't really count.

He though back for a second. While the Captains were still arguing about how to best plan and colonize the planet the engineers had already devised a plan and were already executing it on the direct authority of the Admiral. He wasn't proud of bypassing the chain of command, but it'd worked, hadn't it? The Admiral had only had a few requirements on the design of the settlement, and most of them had been worked in without any problems. The only real difference was that they'd had to create another team of botanists and ecologists which would go over the entire settlement once construction was finished, and that they had to dig a bit further down before they actually started laying the foundations.

They had moved the Archangels and Sovereigns into low geostationary orbits, almost low enough for the ships to start skipping on the planet's atmosphere, directly above the settlement and they had then effectively taken complete control of these ships almost turning them into sub-orbital modular factories rather than spacecraft. Raw materials were transported up, while structure parts were transported down, all in a rapid and thus far never-ending cycle.

He smiled as he thought about it. The warp core of the Gabriel, his own ship and arguably the largest and most advanced antimatter reactor in the fleet, was working under the same strain right now sitting still as it would during sustained warp 7 flight, and all the auxiliary fusion reactors were working at or above capacity as well. There was barely enough power left to stay in, much less leave, orbit.

There were other things differentiating this colonization from anything else yet tried or done as well. There were no older people, and barely any children. That was something that most of them unconsciously knew would become a problem later on, and also a probable cause for the extremely high amount of marriages there had been in the past month.

Ha'sra had never been very interested in females or for that sake procreation, but instead became more and more irritated as an ever-increasing amount of crewmen requested leave from the construction work to attend a friend's marriage, or even their own, as nature took its course and the crews and even the displaced refugees started pairing off. The latter just irritated Ha'sra more, as that usually meant at least two days of absence instead of just a few hours. Not that he had much of a choice in the matter, if he didn't approve it one of the Captains or the Admiral would, and since they were the ones performing the actual wedding ceremonies it wasn't too hard to get a hold of them either.

All in all, his crew disliked that part of the Tellarite engineer's personality, more so even than they disliked most of the other parts, but Ha'sra was just as used to people disliking him as any other normal self-aware Tellarite would be. He wasn't dumb, he realized procreation would be necessary for the long-term survival of their different species and that marriage was the logical first step for many of the species present, but he still found it damn annoying. Couldn't they wait to indulge their sex drive until they were finished doing something more productive, like working?

While most of the smaller ships were deployed on patrol, more a formality than a necessity in his opinion, the Nova-class ships were out on assignment mapping what areas they had failed to get intelligence about in other ways and observing the different races they now shared a universe with. They had been ordered to avoid contact if at all possible, and to stay clear of any ships they encountered. For the first time in Starfleet history there'd been a general order actually forbidding any Federation ship to respond to a distress call on pain of court martial. Ha'sra thought it was about time, but even under these circumstances he knew it was quite unlike normal Human behavior. He found himself liking that Admiral of theirs more and more.

The other large ships like the Excelsiors, Galaxies and Nebulas made up a bucket line that stretched from the planet to the other side of the solar system, gathering and transporting fuel and materials from the outer asteroid belt and gas giants as well as constructing several smaller but very advanced stations in orbit of the system's outer microstar in order to siphon the star's ample amounts of deuterium directly from the coronal atmosphere. Working as they were they were burning through their fuel supplies faster than they would in the heat of combat, and they weren't moving around enough for the ships' Bussard collectors to be of any more use than as hood ornaments.

The solar hydrogen siphoning stations had been an idea hatched by that geek Jameson, who'd according to him at least gotten the idea from some antique 2-dimensional entertainment device. Still, antique device or not the idea had a lot of merit and was actually both practical and feasible. They'd been forced to take apart a few shuttles and scavenge their multi-phasic shields to do it, but they had more than enough shuttles to spare and it was a sacrifice well worth it to get the more than ample amounts of fuel the engineers had calculated the stations would produce.

Ha'sra had tried to get his idea through instead of Jameson's, but had in the end been overruled as too resource intensive and not ethically possible as it'd probably destroy the entire biosphere on two of Sirius V's moons. It hadn't been an idea completely intended to succeed, but he'd always wanted to try building a Dyson sphere and who actually cared about two small and underdeveloped moons where the most advanced life form was a four inch long and quite poisonous lizard?

The presence of a stable white dwarf in the system had also merited even more construction plans, but it'd have to wait until they could free up the resources. They had no real need for neutronium yet, they'd first need to start thinking about shipyards or other orbital construction facilities and even then it'd be a very energy-intensive project just to be able to safely retrieve the super-dense material.

It had been quite hard to get the items on the different wish lists prioritized, a result of the project leaders being some of the best astrophysicists, particle physicists, warp field theorists, molecular engineers, quantum wave theorists, and the other assorted scientific titles that could give you the title of chief engineer in Starfleet. Everyone wanted to start building the roof of their new society before they even started on the foundation, and sometimes it was hard for them to understand that such basic things as living quarters had to be built long before other things such as laboratories, factories and so on were even considered. On a starship, you’d work the other way around, first building the mission systems, and then filling in the empty spaces with crew quarters and storage bays. At least it usually looked that way when you got on the ship after it was completed.

Still, it was a huge operation and with all but two of their starships involved in either the construction or resource gathering operations it was going incredibly fast. He doubted any colony had ever grown as fast as this one, or had even close to the same space-side support. But then again he also doubted it had ever been as necessary for any other colony the Federation had made. They'd already finished a few city blocks, but the starships were still overcrowded and while it was technically possible to transport most of the people from up there to the surface the infrastructure wasn't completed yet and there wasn't enough housing, enough power or enough replicators. They could reduce the load on the starships, but the people down here would be cold, hungry and wet. The list went on and so they still had to keep going.

They had initially planned to build enough housing and civic buildings to house and support some 65,000 people in this settlement during the first phase. This would be the new 'capital' city of the Sirius system. Other settlements, albeit quite a bit smaller ranging from 500 to 5,000 initial populations, would be spread out over most of the continent. The reasons varied between which locations would be suitable for farming, mining, industrial purposes or just the plain 'I want to live just there' factor that was so common among the other so called more civilized races.

Two larger settlements, first phase to house 10,000 people in each, were planned on the closest moon which could be clearly seen in the sky above, it took up almost a large chunk of the visible sky as it was much larger and much closer than as an example Earth’s moon was. That wasn't likely to change either as due to the very small size difference between them both the planet and the moon were tidally locked to each other and the blue and green moon was close enough to be clearly visible even during the day.

He blew his whistle, a small device of ancient human design that served no real purpose other than emitting a sharp noise that could be heard across the entire construction site, to indicate that this site was finished and to get ready to move on to the next. The structure was still nothing but plasticrete and high-strength steel alloy beams, but he already knew what it'd look like tomorrow.

All he had to do to remind himself was to look at the other houses which had already been finished. Rather pleasantly laid out two-floor houses with flat angled roofs, slightly curved walls, several unidirectional windows on each floor and a small garden around each. The gardens weren’t there yet, nor were the paved walkways and the parts of the bottom floor that would be below ground were still surrounded by a trench, but they'd be there as soon as there was time to lay them down and clean the sites up. Either way, Ha'sra didn't really care much about gardens or pavement as neither had any structural value and he refused to deal with what he considered fluff.

Just like the city, the different blocks and streets had been named after mythological places or people from the various Human cultures. Next stop, he thought to himself, 107 Achilles Street. Yet another residential building built to Human specs. Damn people were just as numerous as rabbits, and he had no illusions about their procreation rate either. Next thing he expected to have to build was a daycare center.

Ha’sra sighed as he realized they’d forgotten all about daycare centers or for that matter maternity wards when they planned the civic buildings. He reached for his communicator to do some well-deserved yelling at whoever was responsible for that specific oversight and have it corrected preferably before the only available lot was in an industrial zone.

GENEVA, EARTH
MIDNIGHT

Her name meant laughter in her people's own tongue. That was hardly a name appropriate for the kind of work she did so she’d changed it when she got recruited. Her new name roughly translated as poisonous spider, and quite appropriately its use in her language was ominous. It was something one of her kind associated with a coming unseen death and in general a word best used to describe an unpleasant and slow such as well.

Her handlers had always called her by this name. She had several other names, but this was the one she was deep inside, beneath all the lies and barriers. To her knowledge only two people were still alive that knew the truth, the whole terrifying truth. One was her current handler, the other was her father. She hadn't spoken to the latter for months, ever since he'd found out what she actually did for a living.

Even though she could easily be mistaken as human, she was not. To create this misconception she had undergone several, and some quite drastic, surgeries. Though the cosmetic surgery had been painful and invasive enough, she had been forced to take it one step further. Her cover wouldn't work if she was scanned and her internal organs looked scrambled, and even the least intelligent pathologist would be quite puzzled if he found some of the really interesting things in her body no human was ever born with. Things that a normal human being could not have. That might cause them to do a more detailed DNA-scan, and that would be a very bad thing indeed, as there was just no way of hiding that away.

She looked up from her observation post, it was time for action. She took out two devices from her infiltration suit. One was a small PDA with a display, its only real function was to detect the small magnetic field around a beating heart and display it on a map. It wasn’t even holographic. The other was a pair of normal-looking and trendy sunglasses that looked like any you could buy in just about any store, but in addition to protecting her eyes from ultraviolet radiation the built-in sensor equipment also allowed her to see unhindered in the dark and even to see otherwise invisible laser beams and infrared light sources.

Neither was the best her people could produce, but they would pass even a close inspection by someone who didn’t know exactly what to look for. She slid into upright position, and went closer to the nearest guard post. It was time to get to work.

She had read everything she’d been given as background on these humans. How they behaved, reacted, thought and lived. She’d read better reports but to be frank having only limited information on her target was quite a normal part of the job. She had an advantage there in her being telepathic. Knowing beforehand how another person expected you to react and how not to arouse suspicion was the very point of having good intelligence, but for a telepath that was easy. All she needed to do was just to look into the other person’s mind, and act accordingly.

Pity these humans didn’t seem to realize just how useful that could be. She’d been quite surprised when she'd gotten that information. The guard didn’t even react when she walked by, his eyes saw but his mind didn’t register her presence. A simple mental command meant he wouldn't see, wouldn't hear and wouldn't even think of reaching for his alarm.

This complex was not a worthy challenge to infiltrate and she almost, though she understood why, disliked the assignment. What’s the difficulty for a telepath to infiltrate a society of non-telepaths, even in a secure compound as this, if they don’t have telepaths guarding it? And the telepaths they did have were weak, poorly trained, and wore uniforms and clear markings identifying them as being just what they were.

The same chain of events repeated itself twice more, before she was inside the complex. She looked at her map and memorized; “Follow the corridor twenty steps, turn left, continue until I reach the checkpoint. Up the stairs two floors, follow the corridor. Objective is behind the second door to my right.”

The Earthdome facility was fairly impressive, decorated as it was with nice looking paintings and decorative wood paneled walls. Even the carpet on the floor looked new and tasteful. She’d been surprised, civic buildings weren’t usually this enameled in her experience, but these humans seemed to use art and decorations as a measure of overwhelming their visitors by showing them the power that resided in the center point of human society.

She kept her pace up as she followed her memorized path, but didn’t hurry. It was easier to avoid suspicion if she didn’t appear suspicious in the first place. Plus, if there were any more security cameras around she’d have to trust her fake appearance and trained casual style to hide her. In the dark it was hard enough to distinguish any facial features so no-one would know exactly who walked past, but if she’d been running past the cameras it would probably make the people watching them ask unnecessary questions.

She slowly climbed the stairs, taking her time to take in her surroundings. The heart of the opponent, their very headquarters, lay just before her. She had an idea of what to expect as both her heartbeat sensor and her own telepathic ability told her what was around her, but she could never be completely sure that was all there was. She'd been wrong before, and in her line of work you either learned quickly from your mistakes or suffered the consequences as you made the same one again.

Telepathy, just like a heartbeat sensor, couldn’t detect any kind mechanical objects. Cameras, traps or weapons were beyond her ability to detect until she could actually see them with her own eyes. Even so she’d been able to piece together a basic layout from the surface scans she'd made of the people that worked here when they left work earlier this evening. She still had her doubts, as no one ever knows everything, but it was the best she had. Plus, she'd never trust that she knew everything even if she did.

She came up on the oak paneled door that was her target, and slowly inserted a little plastic card into a slot on the wall. The PDA lit up a series of scrolling numbers, trying to break through the security system and replicate the room owner’s card number. She’d already stolen his PIN code from his mind earlier. A few seconds later she heard a soft click as the locking bolt was retracted, and she entered the room without making a sound.

It had to have been one of the least orderly rooms she’d seen so far. Even worse than her little brother’s back when she was a child. She made a frown as she saw the piles of papers and crystals lying on the desk, overflowing the shelves on the walls, and some even seemingly carelessly dropped on the floor. Didn’t anyone ever clean this place up? She sighed as she realized this could very well take all night.

STARFLEET COMMAND
ELYSIUM, SIRIUS III
SEPTEMBER 11TH, 2243

The office still had a particular scent. You can only smell this specific scent in something that hasn't been used yet, like a spacecraft that's still in dry-dock, or a new house no-one’s lived in yet. It should smell this way, West decided, at least for a while. The scent reminded him that this was a new home, a new life, albeit one with new problems.

He'd transferred himself and his flag staff down to the planet as soon as the new Starfleet Command complex was finished, and what a complex it was. On the outside it was almost an exact replica of the Starfleet Command building in San Francisco discounting the fact that more than half the building was built inside a fairly large hill, while on the inside it reminded him more of the Utopia Planitia ground-based fleet complex on Mars. Large, spacious, and crammed full of among the best technology the Federation had access to.

However, why the engineers had planned the Command complex to accommodate just over two thousand people was something that was still beyond the Admiral. Right now, they didn't even have more than thirty people with the rank of Captain, much less Admirals, and none of them had a real staff. He'd logically taken the main office, the one which on Earth would be occupied by fleet Admiral Jellico, commanding officer of the entire Federation Starfleet. He didn't think too much about it but that was effectively the same position as West was in now.

But while there may not be a huge difference in semantics, there was definitely a difference between a Starfleet totaling 32 ships, and a Starfleet of fourteen entire fleets plus support ships and thousands of independent ships. Just as there was quite a difference between a Federation with more than a hundred trillion people spread across more than a thousand star systems and a Federation of less than a hundred thousand people spread over a single planet and its moon.

"I don't know, Elisha. It just seems so... wrong." West had tried to avoid this as long as possible, but the Captains had finally been able to get him in a corner.
"Shush. You know as well as I do that some things must change, and some things must remain the same. Administratively if you do the intelligent thing and get yourself a staff you'll have less work than before, and your responsibilities won't be much more than it is now." Captain Keyes looked more humored than annoyed.
"I know that, but..." He tried to push back.
"But, but, but. Buts won't get you out of this. There are things that need to be done, and according to regulations you need to accept this to even be allowed to do those."
"So you say it's just a formality?" West was astonished she'd even say something like that. Rank had always been a strict issue with the always formal Captain Elisha Keyes. "That's quite something coming from you."
"No, but what I am trying to say is that you should treat it that way, Samuel." She smiled. "You're used to that, after all."
"Aw heck. You're just going to force this on me anyways sooner or later, no matter what I think about it, aren't you?" He shook his head. "I wouldn't be surprised if your next move would be to sneak into my room and change out the rank insignia on my uniform while I was sleeping."
West just surrendered inside. He wasn't going to be able to avoid this any longer. He'd managed to do so for two months now, but the chase was finally over. His only bright light was that he could finally stop worrying about getting stuck for hours with someone trying to convince him.
"You know me better than that. After all, I'm really good with a transporter."

She smiled, tapped her communicator twice, and the Admiral almost jumped as his insignia, just fractions of an inch away from his neck, were first teleported away, and then replaced.

"You... you... you..." The shock made it hard enough to breathe, not to mention speak. "Gods!"
"Oh, come on Samuel. You didn't honestly believe I was going to walk out of this office a loser?"
"You, you could have killed me!" He gasped. "The margin of error..."
"Bah, you worry too much" She smiled. "The worst that could have happened was I missed by a few inches, and we both know that wouldn't have damaged anything of consequence."
She flashed a smile to reinforce the joke, made a salute that was so sloppy it was more of a mockery than a formal goodbye, and turned to leave.

Left alone again, he looked in the mirror. He'd never expected nor wanted to ever get this high in the ranks. He'd have to check the historical records but he highly doubted that any other Commander in Chief of Starfleet Operations had started his career as an engineer. He could already feel the weight of the two new pips on either side of his neck, and even though Captain Keyes was correct in that his actual responsibilities were mostly the same he now formally had the ability to make other changes, and make some that he'd already made official and permanent.

"Well then." He said silently to himself. "Let's get this circus on the road, and let's start with some payback."
He looked down at his desk. He'd been trying to avoid this rank change, but he'd realized it'd come sooner or later no matter what his own wishes were. After all, the Captains didn't have too many Admirals to choose from when it all came down to it, but now he could finally retaliate for the weeks of getting hounded about it. He pulled out an old ball pen from his desk and started signing some papers he'd prepared ahead of time. He'd enter them into the log later to make them official.

"So, they want to promote me, eh?"

Zcenicx · Nov 2nd 2009, 1:55pm

Chapter 5

ADMIRAL'S OFFICE, STARFLEET COMMAND
ELYSIUM, SIRIUS III
SEPTEMBER 14TH, 2243

"I see it, but I can barely believe it. You're really sure it would work?"
"Admiral, if I didn't believe that I wouldn't be bringing it to you, now would I?" T'Pell almost looked insulted. "In truth, I can guarantee it will."
"What would happen if you were scanned or got in a fight?"
"As you can see from the blueprints it's not exactly current design standard but she's still got a few innovative design specs to counter such an eventuality."

T'Pell pointed towards a few places of the pad to indicate just which he was talking about.

"The exterior would be constructed using what we would see as the most basic materials, but the inner hull would be shielded and reinforced with tritanium alloy just in case. The ion drive is in fact just a modified impulse reactor, but as you can see the ship does have a normal impulse manifold as well, though it's hidden beneath that hatch there."
"Hidden?"
"Yes. We'd have to blow away the exterior hull by use of explosive bolts here, here and here to use it, but it would work and make for a very effective getaway."
"I see." West nodded. "Ingenious."
"The ship lacks shields, but does have pre-Federation standard polarizing hull plating which we've managed to dial up the strength of quite a bit. It also has a warp drive though its effectiveness would be limited. It won’t be able to sustain more than Warp 7, and just over 7.75 in case of an emergency. That's a consequence of the reactor's limited power output. If we were to go for a modern reactor and warp drive, the energy signature would be so large it'd be impossible to hide."
"How do you hide it?"
"Simple, it's in a shielded location behind a quite modern energy dampening field. We don't expect anyone to see there's even a reactor in there, much less one producing that kind power. Plus, the fusion reactors can get us to warp if we need it, giving us more than enough time to power up the antimatter reactor core."
"Fusion-powered warp? That won't be fast."
"Quite right, but it’ll be fast enough to escape a confrontation and would only be used as a stop-gap until the main core comes online.” T’Pell sighed, and then smiled. “We haven't seen any of the native ships even reach fractional speeds, much less go full faster-than-light. That’s probably a consequence of their lack of inertial dampening and navigational deflectors, which we’ll have but those systems will be shielded from detection as well as able to be easily turned off."
"What about defenses?"
"We've put phase cannon turrets on it. Not even close to being the latest model, but even so they should still be quite effective against unshielded targets. It's also got two torpedo launchers, with the old photonic torpedoes."
"Weren't those phased out from active service more than two hundred years ago?"
"Yes, but they're fusion and not antimatter based, which was the main point in pulling their specs out of the archives and building them. They're a bit more powerful than the ones your NX-class used, but not much."
"I understand..."

West thought about T'Pell's proposition for a minute. A scout ship, built far below modern Starfleet design and technical specs. At about the size of a Norway-class destroyer it'd be far smaller than any of the native military ships they'd seen so far and the overall design would be closer to a small freighter or passenger liner. The entire point and what T'Pell hoped was that it'd look less than threatening to anyone that looked at it. To reinforce this illusion it would even have real cargo pods in the external hull and the design called for the ship to carry various non-perishable goods in these. The Andorian had even made a few suggestions as to exactly what in order to more easily pass for a visiting or wayward merchant.

He had no concerns about the more advanced technology in the ship being detected, as thus far no race they’d encountered had been using even the most basic form of subspace scanners and fooling an electromagnetic or particle-based scanner was easy enough. He doubted they’d even be able to see the true face of this Trojan horse using the far more advanced sensors of the Albion, though the Nova-class' much more detailed and multi-phase scans would no doubt be able to do so. Not much you can do when the sensors alone take up more space than the engineering deck, and can project more energy than the ship's combined weapons systems. A Nova’s sensors could even given enough time detect the quantum singularity powering a cloaked D’deridex, something that otherwise only a Starbase or Deep Space station had been able to do.

The ship would have a crew of thirty, all of them Andorian, and be commanded by T'Pell. The Andorians had according to T'Pell not only been chosen because they were his own people, but more specifically since they couldn't be mistaken as Human, their blue skin and antennae made that quite impossible. West had his doubts, but it helped the Captain's case that he'd suggested that the entire ship would be programmed to use the Andorian language on the displays and in the core code. Considering how long it had taken the humans of his galaxy to decode that language, Andorian words have different meanings depending on the syntax has five possible syntaxes, no regular verbs and eight tenses, it should be near impossible for the natives. That is, unless they had their own version of the linguistic genius that was Hoshi Sato. But West doubted that, and if they did the odds of bumping into that one human was less than unlikely.

He still didn't like the idea, but it was worth a shot and T’Pell had made a good argument

"Very well, I’ll agree to approve your plan, on the condition that you put in a subspace locating beacon. I won't let you out in the galaxy on your own without being able to locate you in case of emergency." He rose from his chair and leaned over the desk to shake the Andorian Captain's hand. "You have permission to build your ship. What will you need, Captain?"
"Thank you, Admiral, and I’ll need very little. A runabout and a pair of shuttles should provide us the warp core and fusion reactors. The rest of it we'll have to reverse-engineer from the Federation database. You know, no one's actually even tried to make a lot of this stuff in over two hundred years."
"Considering how long ago that equipment went out of service, I'm not surprised." West replied. "I'll tell the Commander of Phi station to expect you."
"My thanks to you, Admiral." The Andorian said with a sharp salute.

T'Pell was positively radiant as he turned and left. He had honestly expected to have to fight a lot harder, and a lot longer, to get his idea through but if there was one single good thing about their situation it was the immense reduction in the amount of red tape one had to mow through to get a good idea approved. Even so, he'd been certain enough of the meeting's outcome that he'd already sent the preliminary orders, and all he really had to do now was to send the confirmation.

"T'Pell to Tolar."
"Tolar here, go ahead Captain." The reply from one of the few other high-ranked Andorians in the fleet came.
"Project Odyssey is a go, repeat, Odyssey is go."
"Confirmed. I’ll forward the orders."
“Good. T’Pell out.”

EARTHDOME
GENEVA, EARTH
21:15 HOURS

"Damn it!" She swore silently. She weighed the risk and took another glance around the corner behind her, but he was still there. She exhaled and softly, cautiously, touched his mind.

The man had power, that much was evident. Nowhere close to hers but still a lot compared to most of the other telepaths she'd encountered thus far. While he didn’t look too bad, his taste could definitely be better. Black uniform, black boots, black gloves. No jewelry except the badge indicating his status. Didn't he ever get bored looking in the mirror? Seriously, this human telepath organization took itself far too seriously when it required every single one of their own to dress up like members some kind of post-industrial freak show.

He was good too, especially for a human telepath. She'd almost stumbled right into him, and hard as it was to admit it was just pure dumb luck that had prevented that. She'd felt his presence way too late, but his boot had made a sound against the floor. Just a little noise, easily missed, but her expert senses had picked it up before he’d detected her presence. Even these poorly trained humans could sense her if she was close enough, and if he could see or hear her the telepathic ability didn’t really matter much anyways.

She knew she could easily take him out, but that there was no way she'd be able to cover it up for long. Bad thing about telepaths, they can't be tampered with as easily as a non-telepath, and another telepath could easily see the tampering even with just a surface scan.

She couldn't run either since he'd hear her. To make matters even worse, her way back was blocked by yet another of these black-dressed people. A less powerful one than this one, sure, but even so he’d announced his presence by softly singing some silly tune about a girl and a mountain. Ironic, it was due to most of her opposition being just as stupid as the man behind her that she'd been lulled into the false sense of security which had almost made her trip over the one in front. Hadn't the Psi-corps ever heard of quality control?

She looked around. The corridors here were a testament to the same excruciatingly bad taste and perfect beyond pedantic order as the uniforms its inhabitants wore. Every corridor looked exactly the same, every door looked the same, and even the sparse potted plants were exactly the same distance from the walls. The picture frames on the walls didn't contain landscapes or paintings either, they contained dogma; 'The corps is mother, the corps is father'. 'Obey'. 'Protect the family'. Even the most boring landscape picture would've been better suited to at least add some color to the otherwise almost sterile environment.

Heck, even the damned military was less meticulously pedantic than this. She knew; she’d already been inside the Earth Force headquarters. This building was all in all decorated as exactly as if someone had used a laser micrometer to measure the exact distance from roof and floor to the frames on the wall, and used the same laser meter to make sure the plants were all just exactly where they should. No taste, no imagination, or for that sake any soul whatsoever.

Suddenly, the silence was broken and she froze still, didn’t even breathe.

"Ah, there you are, Alfred."
"Sir?"
"Come, follow, I have some people in my office that would like to meet you."

She smiled. Finally the road ahead was clear. She knew exactly where to go, and exactly where her objective was. That fat bitch DeWalt had told her everything she needed to know, and even better, she didn't even realize it. She'd told her quite a bit she didn't want to know as well, and the memory of a few of those things was just sickening.

Before she'd arrived to Earth she'd never known what a blip was. Now she knew, and she knew what fate awaited them. The mere thought that humans, not to mention telepaths could do such things to each other made her beyond just angry. How could they treat anyone like that much less one of their own? She made a mental note to take that up with her handler in her report.

She stopped again, waiting for a presence to leave the corridor in front of her. This one was a lot less powerful than the previous, but the images she kept glancing from the untrained mind were distasteful to the point that she even started feeling nauseous. She was almost shocked when she realized it was just a child.

She'd been wrong earlier.

This wasn't fun at all, but it was both just and necessary. Damned necessary.

EARTH INTELLIGENCE AGENCY HEADQUARTERS
EARTHDOME, GENEVA, EARTH
23:05 HOURS

Parker hadn't even noticed it before. He'd been too focused on his current actual assignment monitoring the Centauri and Narn communications to be able to put any of his time into researching the Pasadena Skies incident. The two large empires had once again had one of their regular small border skirmishes, but in the case of those two no matter how small the skirmish was it would still become yet another one that could possibly threaten the stability of the entire region and send shivers down the closer League races including the Drazi. It'd probably, hopefully, cool down in a week or so but both the Centauri and Narn governments were still shouting insults and rattling their sabers.

Whose fault it'd actually been, who had actually entered who's space first, those were questions not even asked, much less answered. No one really cared anymore. Parker even felt apathy at the idea of investigating it, as it was nothing new that either of the two hadn't done time and time again before, and the result of such an investigation wouldn't influence anything as neither would accept responsibility. Plus, they'd still repeat the process in a month or two either way no matter how much the Earth Alliance worked to prevent it.

Now, he couldn't for the life of him remember where he'd put his pet project crystals. He'd gone through his desk several times, looking at the contents of each and every one of the crystals he had in the drawers and boxes in his office, and even gone so far as to go through and organize the ones spread over the floor and shelves.

He'd found reports he'd forgotten he even had received, and material he'd been asked to process and then forgotten. Among the latter he'd found a very enticing video of a middle-aged senator and a very, very attractive young lady which didn't even remotely resemble his wife since twenty-something years. Material that in the wrong hands would mean a massive scandal that'd probably bring down half of Earth Gov was just lying on the floor of his office, and noone had actually cared. Oh well.

Still, what he was looking for simply wasn't there. He knew the crystals should be in his wall safe, but they weren't. He remembered taking them out, but he didn't remember putting them back in. But he always did. Or, at least, he used to. Not that the wall safe was a safe place, after all he'd forgotten the combination his first or second day and thus had never bothered to lock it, but why would someone steal those crystals when there were others like the one with the senator lying in the open? That one alone would be worth thousands of credits to any reporter in the world.

All he had left now was a single piece of paper, with a blurred image of the so-called spacecraft printed on it. It really didn't look like much and that's why he'd had it analyzed. An imaging expert he'd consulted had called it 'a bad smudge on a camera', but he'd made some progress to reconstruct the image on the original crystal... But where was it?!

Parker considered alerting security, it was standard procedure, but then it struck him that nothing else was missing, and who'd break into his office just to get his hands on that? When there were state secrets, grade A security reports, gold channel encryption data and even more of the same kind of material as the senator lying around as well, none of which were missing?

In fact, calling security would just make him look stupid since it'd prove just how much time he'd spent on this pet project, time he wasn't exactly allowed to spend on such trivial things. Not to mention how careless he'd been about storing all of these crystals, something any number of supervisors would happily use as an excuse to finally rid themselves of his sharp tongue. And when security realized he didn't even remember putting them back they'd just drop the case anyways since it wasn't anything important.

And then they'd fire Parker since he'd misplaced sensitive information. No, it wasn't worth it calling security. The thought, that this very specific insight wasn't his own, never even crossed his mind. No, he'd contact the man that had sent him the original crystal and ask if he had a copy. When he found the original he'd at worst have a spare. No big deal.

He'd later realize that he'd forgotten the guy's name.

SPACEDOCK PHI, OBSERVATION DECK.
GEOSTATIONARY ORBIT AROUND SIRIUS III
OCTOBER 20TH, 2243

The spacedock facility wasn't much, that was of course according to Starfleet standards, but it was still impressive. It looked much like a ribcage a hundred meters wide and four hundred meters long, with worker drones scurrying about whatever was held firmly by the facility's mooring beams. It only had space enough for some three hundred workers, but when you added the autonomous drones that was more than enough to construct a simple vessel like this in less than six weeks from keel to christening.

T'Pell was however still astonished that the pink-skins had managed to construct the shipyard facility as fast as they had, not to mention that they had already all but completed his 'Project Odyssey'. To make matters even more impressive spacedock Phi was only one of two dozen such stations the pink-skins had planned to build and half of these were already completed. In less than three months! He found that he had nothing but reverence and awe towards the engineering ability and ingenuity of his Starfleet colleagues.

The first eight stations had been planned as simple docking facilities, with resupply, rearmament and light repair capabilities. Currently the Akiras were taking up five, Alpha through Epsilon, of these docks and in other words that meant that every single Akira, as most of their crews working on the construction projects down on the planet or here in orbit, were effectively mothballed with only mooring crews left on the ships. The three Excelsiors were planned to enter dock as well as soon as the Eta and Theta stations were completed.

The second batch of stations were planned to be defensible resourcing stations to allow orbital storage and refinement of raw resources and materials. Two of these were also supposed to be dedicated antimatter storage stations, unmanned but heavily shielded and defended. The last batch were pure construction yards like those at Utopia Planitia, two able to build each type of hull. The largest would be Type 4, the size of a Sovereign, with the scale going down to Type 1, capable of hull sizes comparative to the Defiant and Saber classes. Spacedock Phi, also known as Orbital 21, was a Type 2 shipyard and had been rushed to completion ahead of schedule to accommodate the construction of his ship, but that was also the reason the Excelsior docks were behind schedule.

His ship was the only one in construction so far, and there were still no plans to construct any new ships as far as he knew either. To him, building what would later become an entire shipyard complex was a waste of resources and time when there was every chance they'd never be used, but it was kind of a pink-skin trait. They built things, how did they put it, not because they actually needed them but so they had them in case they ever would. The Andorian Captain didn't complain though, had they not he'd have to wait several more weeks for construction to be completed, while now it'd be finished probably sometime early tomorrow. It was still impressive that they had been able to construct his new ship no matter how small it truly was in just over six weeks.

The rapid progress of the construction of course had a lot to do with the simple materials used, and the overall lower quality work than was normal in Starfleet ships. After all, most of the methods and materials of construction in project Odyssey were two centuries old or in some cases even more. Give or take a few things, the computer systems, phasers and warp core couldn’t be more than perhaps fifty or so years old. Old enough to be easy to construct and assemble, and old enough that they didn't require the same level of precision in their assembly.

The main thing that was missing was a ship registry number and name. T'Pell already knew what he'd name the ship, but he was unsure whether he even wanted a number. He'd have to take that up with the Admiral.

Still, even though it wasn't beautiful, fast or powerful he considered it his ticket out into space again. He was an explorer and a warrior, not a babysitter. Sitting here in orbit around their new home world, be it in one of the most powerful ships in this universe, was still not much more than babysitting empty space. They'd already made perfectly sure that no one else had even been close to, much less in the system for the last millennia. What use was there for patrols when a single subspace scanner would see far beyond the Oort?? And after all this ship was truly his. His idea, his construction, his people, his command. Not that the gunship he was leaving behind wasn't his, but when he'd taken command it'd already seen combat many times over in the hands of several other Captains. This ship he'd be the very first to even enter.

"Captain?"
"Yes, Lieutenant Shenar?"
"Phi Station report construction 98% complete. We can start bringing up the crew in preparation for the shakedown cruise which is scheduled for tomorrow at noon."
"Good. Inform Commander Tolar, we should hurry."
"Sir, I must ask, why the outdated construction and technology? We'd be far more powerful and far more able to defend ourselves using a ship of more... current... design."
"A good question from an engineer, I suppose. The answer is simple. Passive stealth."
"Sir?"
"We don't want everyone to see what we're able to do, much less that we're far beyond them technologically."
"Ah. Deception." The engineer frowned as he didn't like the idea.
"No, Lieutenant. Not deception, denying a potential enemy information about us."
"Oh, I suppose that's all right then."
"Good. Now get to it, Lieutenant. Tolar is waiting."
"Captain." Shenar slapped his boot heels together and made a salute, then left the observation deck.
"Tell Tolar to get the engraving done!" T'Pell shouted after Shenar just before the doors closed.

Yes. This ship would carry on the honorable history of Andoria even in this distant place.

OSLO
EARTH
11:00 PM

She'd been working on her relation with this senator for some time now. She didn't think much about it, she didn't love him but it was rather a business relation on her part. As for him, he was married, and old enough to be her father, but he didn't mind either.

The relationship had started only days after her insertion on Earth, more as a cover than a means of infiltration. Still, there were things he'd leak to her that could prove useful. He was only yet another useful tool in her inventory.

Since her near miss at the Psi-Corps headquarters she'd started to consolidate her position. She'd already been informed that her new mission was simple. Naturalize into the population, improve her position and stay undetected. She'd be kept in reserve for now. She couldn't prevent comparing herself to the sharp knife one kept in one's pocket, just in case.

She smiled and turned around in the bed, facing him. She didn't mind being kept in reserve. Plus, she might as well enjoy herself as long as she was here. Love or not, at least it wasn't boring.

STARFLEET COMMAND
ELYSIUM
OCTOBER 22ND, 2243

West had definitely had some doubts about the feasibility of constructing a ship to a code more than a hundred years old, but it had apparently worked out well enough thus far. There was nothing to say that the ship would stand up under pressure though, and the maiden voyage would be risky enough since he couldn't exactly send out any other ships in support if something went wrong.

"Well, T'Pell. I'm told by Phi station that your new ship is ready to be christened and put through its shakedown cruise."
"Yes, Admiral, I've already ordered my crew to prepare for it. We’ll be ready when you are."
"What's your operational plan?"`
"A quick trial of the ion engines with the Valiant supporting in case something goes bad. Then a warp core test out to Sirius V orbit. If everything works, the next stop will be Alpha Centauri."
"Risky choice, considering that system's inhabited."
"Well, not really. The native civilizations in the actual system aren't advanced enough to be able to detect us even in orbit, and while Proxima is we'd still jump into the actual system close to Centaurus. We don't expect the native pink-skins to be able to detect us there as it’s almost a full fifth of a light-year away."
"Granted, but it's still a risky choice."
"Admiral, the entire mission is risky and with respect, it's the only way we'll be able to sneak up on one of those wormhole generators. We'll have to be able to time our entrance just right in order not to reveal our own faster-than-light technology."

The plan called for risk, the Admiral was well aware of that. Still, as they needed to be close enough to reach the portal within just a few seconds at highest warp, T'Pell would need to get within a range of quite a bit less than a light hour away from it considering the slow speed of his warp engines. Much too close for comfort, and West only hoped it'd be far enough away to avoid detection.

"I know, T'Pell. I know." He made a soft sigh. "I don't have to like it though."
"I understand that, sir."
"You and your crew are ready for the christening ceremony?"
"Yes, sir, my crew's standing by on the Phi station observation deck."
"Then let's get to it, shall we Captain?"
"Yes sir." T'Pell flashed a smile.
"West to Phi station." He said as he tapped his communicator. "Two to beam up."

The ship looked like something out of a history book, albeit not a Federation one. A blocky gray shape with crude lines and a rough surface, not even close to the fine curves and perfect finish of his old ship, but rather more like one of his own people's old spacecraft.

T'Pell took the small signaling device offered by the Admiral.

"As I'm not a good public speaker, I'll try and keep this short. Today we start a new era in our lives. Today, we christen the first ship constructed at this our new home."

There was a round of applause as T'Pell pressed the button on the small device.
Outside, a bottle of Andorian ale began its final journey, not towards the more suitable destination of a fine crystal glass but rather towards the bow of the blocky ship.

"To honor the long standing military tradition the ship shall follow, I've requested and been granted permission to name her after one of the greatest heroes of my people."

There was more applause, especially from the assembled Andorians.

"Let it be known that from this moment on, what has earlier only been called 'Project Odyssey' is now a christened and commissioned Federation starship. Let it be known that her name shall ring throughout space as a vessel of honor. Let it be known, that her name shall be..."

He raised his hands to usher silence, and as the bottle slowly impacted the bow of the ship spreading its bluish content in free-floating blobs around it he continued.

"...the 'AFS Thy'lek Shran', after our very own Hravishran th'Zoarhi!"

The room literally exploded into applause. Not only had the ship received the name of a true Andorian folk hero, it had also received the designation of an Andorian fleet ship and not that of a Federation starship. They all knew why, but it was still cause for celebration.

T'Pell ushered silence again.

"The 'Shran' will be the Federation's envoy to the rest of the galaxy, our way of communicating and exploring without revealing ourselves to be what we are, a civilization belonging to another universe. While this means that we'll sail under the wrong flag and with false pretense, it's not because of our wish for deception but to avoid panic, confusion and aggression. Either of which would be more than detrimental to our continued peaceful existence."

With a final bow, he handed over the podium to the Admiral again.

"Let us complete this commissioning ceremony with us all wishing our fellow comrades a safe journey, Godspeed and good luck as they venture into the unknown that awaits them." West concluded the ceremony.

With the entire room saluting them, the Andorians all made a sharp salute towards the Admiral and turned to exit the room. Within minutes, they were aboard the 'Thy'lek Shran' and begun to warm up the engines.

West raised a hand to silence the room again, and then tapped his communicator.

"Admiral West to Captain T'Pell."
"T'Pell here, Admiral."
"The 'Shran' is hereby cleared to depart from Phi Station."
"Affirmative. Bringing main engines online, one fifth power, clear all moorings."

The rear of the bulky ship began to glow with a yellowish light as the ion engines were forced to push the ship out of its dock. It was a snug fit as the ship hardly conformed to standard Starfleet design, and it took a few seconds to clear the space dock’s rib-like structure without impacting it.

"Admiral, we have cleared the dock." T'Pell's voice echoed over the speakers. "We are commencing our shakedown cruise. We'll report in to Phi station as soon as we finish our tests."
"Confirmed, 'Shran', you are cleared to leave orbit. Good luck, T'Pell."
"Thank you, Admiral. We'll see you, well, when we see you."

With that, the bulky ship pointed its bow towards open space and with a flash of light, she was gone. The Admiral only hoped everything would go well. He'd already lost his fair share of friends, and he didn't want to lose yet another.

Zcenicx · Nov 2nd 2009, 1:56pm

Chapter 6

ALPHA CENTAURI SYSTEM
CENTAURUS ORBIT
OCTOBER 24, 2243

The planet which in their own universe had been called Centaurus, the first planet in the star system to develop an advanced civilization back home, had been here for almost as long as the twin central stars of the system had. Still, life on this planet had flashed into existence only a few million years ago, just like it had on its counterpart in his universe. The difference being what choices evolution had taken, what form or path life had chosen at the different crossroads it had happened upon. He found himself wandering, to what final ends did evolution typically make these choices? Intelligence, sentience or even sapience? Did it focus on nothing but just plain reproduction? Or was it just random?

Either way, evolution had not chosen to take the same paths here as it had in the universe T'Pell and his crew came from. In his reality Centaurus was a flourishing Federation member and it had been one of the first civilizations known to have developed a viable and cost-efficient form of terraforming technology, in actuality they had even done so long before humans had even launched the first satellite into orbit. In this universe, it was still definitely a life-bringing planet, but life here was different, so very different.

Centaurians as he remembered them were humanoid in appearance and a very scientifically advanced civilization. The only really major difference between them and humans was a slight difference in skull form, giving them a somewhat elongated head in comparison. The life forms beneath him now were however hardly advanced, and not even he who sometimes had problems telling one pink-skin race from another would call their appearance close to human. Instead of an advanced primate civilization, he'd found an avian civilization with a technological level more comparable to Earth's medieval age or possibly even late iron age.

It's funny how life can take such a turn from the expected path. While some planets had not developed life at all, most that had seemed to have taken completely different evolutionary choices. Thus far, the only exception was Earth itself and he still didn't quite understand why that was. Of course, even the humans in the fleet were dumbstruck at that question as well, as they hadn't only evolved into the same race, but apparently shared much of their history as well.

"Science, is there any information we can use about this civilization?"
"Not much, sir. They're not even to the point where they've gotten a basic understanding of electricity yet much less interstellar travel, except possibly in some romanticized legend or religion."
"Which is hardly uncommon, especially at their point of development." T'Pell nodded. "Very well, send the full sensor logs in an encrypted subspace package back to Starfleet Command. There might very well be someone back there who is interested in studying a flying feudal society."
"Yes, sir."
"Helm, plot a course to bring us closer to the termination point between the inner system and Proxima. Keep us at low warp, let's see what's out there before we get there."
"Yes, Captain. Plotting course 40 by 5, warp four."
"Engage."

The Shran had already spent more than enough time here in the inner system, fine tuning sensors, warp drive and shielding systems to as close to perfect condition as the limited but capable crew could come. T'Pell was proud of their work, but the question as to whether it was good enough or not wouldn't be answered quite yet. It wouldn't be until they came up against the native races' ships and only then would they learn whether they could detect the ship's less than advertised technology or not.

Hopefully and indeed probably they wouldn't be able to do so, and T'Pell was betting the safety of his crew and his people on that gamble. He'd seen the Earth Force warships up close and personal and he didn't believe for a second that the Shran would be able to take more than a few seconds worth of that kind of firepower, which of course was still quite a lot compared to any equally sized native vessel. Ironic, these new pink-skins reminded him more of Andorians in the way they built their ships and seemed to prepare for war than of the pink-skins he was more used to.

"Bridge to engineering." He said as he pressed the small communicator button on his console.
"Engineering, Shenar here." The reply was almost instant. "What's the word, Captain?"
"Are you ready to get this show on the road?"
"Yes, Captain, all the sensor shielding is up, and we're not emitting any antimatter signature that even our own sensors can detect." T'Pell could hear almost Shenar think. "I don't think there's anything more to be done, all systems are online and at your disposal."
"Good to hear, Shenar, bridge out."

It was almost time.

"Operations, rig the ship for silent running. We don't want to attract the attention of these pink-skins quite yet and certainly not while at warp."
"Silent running at your command, Captain."
"The command is given." He replied.

The bridge lights dimmed as the ship's power signature dropped considerably. All non-essential systems were now offline.

"Plan a course to bring us within forty light minutes of the portal device."
"Course plotted, sir."
"Take us there, increase to warp five."
"Warp five aye, sir."

The moment of truth was upon them.

PROXIMA MID-RANGE STATION
PROXIMA STELLAR ORBIT

Even at a late hour like this an Earth Alliance mid-range outpost is always fully manned and active, in theory ready for anything that would or could come their way. At least, that's what the good book says it should be. In reality there's not all that much to do on an outpost in the middle of the night and this plus the fact that most sane people abhorred the graveyard shift led to a very silent and almost sleepy atmosphere on the station. Then again, not even Earth Force Command thought there was any real risk of a midnight attack on this core system deep inside the Alliance. Not even pirates dared stray too close, not with the much heavier guarded mothball yards as close as they were. There was just no way that Earth Force would leave that much military hardware without a decent amount of protection.

This sleepy atmosphere changed as the jump gate array just outside the station started to emit the controlled energy bursts required to create its tear in space-time, and as if by magic the large sleepy space station came to life, interceptors launching and defense grid activating almost automatically.

"Jump gate sequence initiated, Commander."
"Ah, good. This should be the Korolev." The Commander made a check on his schedule. "Wonder what kept her, she was supposed to be here more than an hour ago."
"We'll see, Commander, the jump gate is forming. I'm reading a signature, sir, it's a Nova-class dreadnought all right. No other ship has quite that silhouette. IFF also confirms, it's the Korolev."
"Stand down the defense grid, it's one of ours."
"Aye, sir. Defense grid confirms stand down order."

Outside, the jump point had finished forming and the colossal bulk of the Korolev started to emerge from the swirling vortex, preceded by its forward laser cannons and sensor antennae.

"Proxima station to Korolev."
"Korolev here, standing by for further instructions Proxima station."
"Registry and orders confirmed. You're cleared for parking orbit."
"Affirmative, Korolev is moving out."

Everyone in the combat information center looked at the massive shape of the dreadnought as it slowly glided past the large glass windows in all its dreadful glory, and for several seconds no-one even noticed the small ship that had just appeared right in front of the still open jump point.

"Proxima. This is the Captain of the Korolev. We are reading a small ship that just appeared near the jump gate. It seems to have followed us out."
"Korolev, repeat that?"

The lower ranking officer in charge of the jump gate sensors looked at his control board, and then looked up and pointed at a small object in space through the window, just barely visible near the now fading jump point.

"Commander, they're right! An unidentified ship followed the Korolev out of hyperspace!"
"What? Cancel the stand down order. Let me see!"

The Lieutenant moved aside so the station Commander would have a better view of the sensor boards.

"Their silhouette and power signature matches nothing in our database, sir."

The Commander saw the small dull grey colored ship, at least it looked like a ship, glide slowly towards the station. It made no obvious signs of aggression, but then again he didn’t know what to expect such a sign to look like either as he'd never seen anything even remotely like it.

"Looks small though. A freighter maybe?"
"Sensors would seem to corroborate that. I'm reading large amounts of organic materials as well as refined chemicals, must be trade goods, sir."
"Armaments?"
"Light, but she has some. I'm only reading minimal weapons signatures, none of them active but again a signature not in the database."
"First contact?"
"It would seem so, sir." The officer nodded. "Scanners are picking up some twenty to thirty life signs on the UFO, but they don't match anything we have on record either."
"Hmm....." The Commander seemed to lose himself in thought, until the Lieutenant demanded his attention.
"Commander! I repeat. Shall I stand down the defense grid before we start first contact by blowing a few holes in them?"
"Oh! Yes, make it so Lieutenant."

AFS SHRAN

T'Pell almost sighed in relief as the power signature of the station went back to normal. He wasn't sure they'd timed it exactly right, but so far everything looked like it had gone according to plan. He just hoped it'd remain that way. He'd underestimated the armaments of the small space station, in fact it had almost the same amount of firepower as the dreadnought they'd hid behind. Not the nicest surprise when all of a sudden all those guns were armed and pointed at you.

"Helm, move us closer to the station. Make it slow, but just slow enough to be believable."
"Aye sir, going... slow." The helm officer made half a smile.
"Captain, we're being scanned and they're hailing us." Tolar was sitting at the sensors console.
"Do they detect anything they shouldn't?"
"Hardly, Captain." She sneered. "As we suspected they're using a mixture of primitive EM sensors combined with a tachyon-based transceiver array, they aren't even making it through the inner hulls much less penetrating into the shielded areas. There is virtually no chance they can read anything but what our transponders tell them they are."
"Good." He waited a few seconds. "What language are they hailing us in?"
"Earth standard English, sir."
"Very well.. Use a standard radio wave transmitter and send them the basic Andorian language files."
"Aye sir, transmitting."

It took a few minutes before the pink-skin station responded, and they did so just as first contact procedures dictated in any civilization by sending them their own language files. T'Pell smiled, he'd been able to speak fluent English since he was five years old, and even without the aid of the universal translator he had little problem understanding several other of the human languages as well. He made a mental note that this could give him quite an advantage.

"Disable the universal translator." He ordered. "Everyone, please at least try to act like you don't understand English. I know it's an extremely simple language and that we all know it, but they don't know that we do and I'd like to keep it that way for as long as possible." That was a comment that made the entire bridge crew smile.
"Done, Captain."
"Good, though next time please humor me and say that in Andorian, Tolar."
"Yes, Captain."

PROXIMA MID-RANGE STATION

The minutes went by all too slowly, at least for the people in the control center of the Proxima Mid-range station. They'd transmitted their language files just over five minutes ago, and while it would probably be considered fast for these aliens to understand their language in that short a time the suspense was murderous.

"Sir, they're responding to our hail now."
"Visual?"
"Yes sir, putting it up on the main viewer."

As the viewer was turned on, showing a panoramic image of the alien bridge, Commander Patterson almost dropped his jaw. The aliens were humanoid in appearance but still quite a bit more alien than most other species he'd ever seen. They reminded him more of the Gaim Ambassador caste than anything else, but they didn’t have the insectoid exoskeleton and seemed to breathe normal air, or at least have a translucent atmosphere. The most alien thing wasn't the blue skin, the short stature or the militaristic black jumpsuits they used however, but it was the two visibly and continually moving antennae on top of their heads.

Patterson tried to regain his faculties and spoke up, while trying to remember what was actually written in the Earth Force instructions on first contact situations. Too bad he'd never paid much attention to it as he'd never even considered applying for a job in, much less as a commanding officer in, the explorer corps.

"I bid you hello and welcome to the Earth Alliance system of Proxima Centauri. My name is Commander Patterson, commanding officer of the Earth Force station here at Proxima."

The alien looked like he was listening to a translation of some kind before speaking, and it took a while for the Commander's own system to perform a similar function, though he received the translation on a screen instead.
"Well... *met*... Commander... I... *ship owner* T'Pell."

He almost cursed. It seemed the computer couldn't translate all of the alien language yet, or lacked some words in its translation matrix. The asterisks in the translation denoted the computer's best guess and not an actual translation, which meant that he had to tread carefully as he couldn't be entirely sure that they understood him any better than he did them. More than one great conflict could trace its source back to a bad first contact, and he really didn't want that kind of stain in his otherwise impeccable record.

"May I ask what the purpose of your visit to Earth space is?"
"Trade... ship... far... home... explorer. Merchant."
"You're a trading ship far from home?"
"Yes."
"Very well, I'd like to invite you to visit our station so we can meet face to face."
"*Acceptable*"
"Very well, I'll instruct one of our shuttle bays to prepare for your entry. Do you need any special environment?"
"No... yours... *acceptable*."
"May I ask, what is the name of your species? Where are you from?"
"Andoria."

With that, communications were cut. Patterson smiled; first contact experience was always a good thing to have on your résumé, especially when what you really wanted was to advance to a ship command of your own. He didn't want to be a parking director for the rest of his career, which was pretty much what he saw Proxima station as, with the massive mothball yards as his personal overgrown parking garage.

PROXIMA STATION
TWO HOURS LATER

So far everything had gone almost exactly to plan. The pink-skins didn't suspect the truth, and their cover story had been accepted apparently without as much as a hint of doubt. T'Pell and Tolar had gone over to the Earth Alliance station, not through transporters but rather using a replica of an old pre-Federation Andorian shuttle pod, and met with the human male in charge. So very different these pink-skins were to the ones they were used to!

The Commander had shown them around their station, apparently trying to impress them with the 'technological advancements' that had been used in its construction. They had at least tried to look suitably impressed, and T'Pell only hoped the pink-skins didn't suspect otherwise. If nothing else being in the zero-gravity central structure had been pleasing even if that very area had been the one the station Commander had been the least proud of, no doubt because the only way they could simulate gravity was rotation and that wouldn't work when you left the outer sections.

Still, the main question the Commander wanted answered remained the same.

"So, Captain? Is that a correct title?"
"It is close enough, as you say."
"You said you were explorers? Where do you come from?"
"Andoria."
"Yes, you said that. Can you tell me where it is?"
"Far from here." T'Pell feigned that he still had trouble with their language, which was extremely hard to do when he probably had a better grasp of it than the human in front of him.
"Can you be more specific?"

T'Pell remembered his earlier briefing and decided for a white lie. Hopefully that'd get the Commander off his back.

"Far past Yolu."
"Ah. That explains it, we've never been out that far. Are there many of you? What is your home like?"
"Our system binary. White stars, many moons, some we live on. Few ships."

T'Pell kept his serious face but made a mental smile, as he saw the Commander's physical response. At this point he was fairly certain he could read the pink-skin's mind. He'd successfully sold his image as being from a comparatively primitive society that didn't pose much of a threat. That's one mission objective. He hadn't even lied about the system except for its location, as Sirius was in fact a naturally binary system with white stars, and they did have settlements at least under construction on two of the moons. And even he thought the thirty and change ships they had were few.

"Are all your ships as impressive as the one you arrived on?"
"This is newest ship. All others are older."

That was also true. Albeit the Shran was built with centuries old technology and by his people's standards had been obsolete even before T'Pell's great-grandfather was born, it was still constructed much more recently than the far more advanced Sovereigns or Akiras.

"I see." The Commander smiled and his entire posture showed suitable relief.

DEEP SPACE
BETWEEN MINBARI AND CENTAURI SPACE

Jameson couldn't help but loudly curse their infernally bad luck. So far, they'd been able to traverse most of the galaxy undetected and as such had been lulled into an obviously false sense of security that they alone travelled through the depths of space in between the star systems, but it seemed that this precious illusion was at an end. They had entered an area of space that separated two of this universe's major powers, the Centauri Republic and the Minbari Federation, in order to gather some intelligence about both in general but specifically the latter, as there was precious little information in any other race's databases about the elusive Minbari.

It had seemed like a good idea at the time but right now he was fairly certain it was not. The yellow and black colored flower ship pursuing his vessel as they tried to get away was a good indicator that his assessment of the situation was quite correct as well.

"Commander!"
"I see, Lieutenant." He'd held off from using any defensive measures except evasion for as long as possible to appear less hostile, but he no longer had that option. "Raise shields!"
"Shields up!"
"Helm?"
"We're traveling at close to max impulse sir, and it's still gaining!"
"Oh, crap. Warp speed!"
"Yes, sir... we can't sir!" The pilot replied with more than just a bit of panic evident in his voice. "Our warp field just keeps destabilizing before it can even fully form!"
"What?!"
"The ship, whatever it is, it's emitting some kind of energy field around it, its dampening subspace!"

This was a problem. He had no idea what this ship was capable of, but the ability to create a dampening field not to mention one strong enough to neutralize a Federation warp core required not only a deep mastery of subspace technology but also a lot of practical experience and research in order to fit it inside anything smaller than a heavy cruiser. Not even the Romulans, who had invented the technology in his universe, had managed to make one that didn't require a full D'deridex size warship. As far as he knew the Federation still hadn't even been able to make one that actually worked.

And yet this ship, not much larger than the Icarus, seemed more than able to do so and still have enough energy remaining to not only give chase but actually close in on them.

“Still no response to our hails?” Jameson asked. "Any word at all?"
“No sir, not since they tried to upload that virus over our communications system.” The officer replied. "I'm not too sure we want to risk bringing those systems online again though, Commander."
"Well then, I think we've shown clearly enough that we want to withdraw without incident. Load the aft torpedo launcher and set the warhead to minimal yield."
"Torpedo loaded." The tactical officer didn't have much experience, but that was normally not all that necessary on a Nova-class ship either.
"Aim it across their bow, make this a warning shot but don't overshoot by too much." Jameson made a grim face. "Fire!"
"Torpedo away!"

The glowing blue torpedo shot out of the rear of the ship, and Jameson and all of his bridge crew watched it pass right between two of the pursuing ships petals. They didn't know anything else to better describe them as. The ship however just blatantly ignored the message they were trying to get across and kept on course still chasing them down quickly approaching relativistic speeds.

"The hostile ship is still on our tail sir. Now reading at point nine three light speed, sir!"

Jameson was just awed. That was faster than an impulse drive could go without pulling out the safeties, and not only didn't they have the time to do that but going much faster would require them to drop the shields and solely rely on the deflectors as the shield bubble started to act like an air brake at speeds that close to the speed of light. Space was often seen as empty, but at relativistic speeds even the smallest particle impacting the shields would do so with incredible energy, and a rock the size of your fist would equal being hit by a small nuclear weapon, more than enough to keep the ship's speed down.

"Sir! Our sensors are picking up highly increased energy signatures, they've activated some kind of weapons systems!" The science officer was almost panicked.
"Confirmed, sir!" Tactical wasn't much better off. " They've locked on to us!"
"We have no choice." Jameson bit his tongue. "Weapons hot people, return fire and this time use maximum yield!"

Jameson was interrupted by the entire ship shaking as the flower ship's forward weapons hit.

"Shields down to seventy two percent. Sir, we can't take too many of those hits, that beam cannon is comparable in strength to a Borg cube's main weapon!"
"Tactical, return fire!"
"Having problems locking on, sir, they seem to use some kind of scattering field!"
"Aim manually then, just shoot back damn it!"
"Aye sir, I'll try." Tactical bit his tongue trying to align the targeting reticules on his screen. "Can you get me a better angle, Ensign?"
"I'll do my best, but I'm dodging that damn death beam at the same time, sir." Helm replied with considerable irony.

The Nova-class starship made a sharp banking turn to let its main weapons, the dorsal phaser arrays, face the flower ship. It didn't take many seconds until the first golden yellow particle beams started to hit the flower ship, but due to the bad aiming only half the rays actually hit. Apart from several lucky shots landing so close to each other that they almost cut one of the petals off half-way out from the ship, they did precious little damage.

"Report!"
"Minor damage to the hostile, our phasers are barely damaging the main hull!"
"Lock on quantum torpedoes, auxiliary power to weapons!"

Jameson would remember the following minutes for the rest of his life. The length of the Icarus shook as another energy beam impacted the shield bubble. It was getting dangerously low on power now and for some reason the enemy weapons almost seemed to slice through them like a warm knife through butter, the shields just draining energy from the shots instead of halting them meaning each impact did real hull damage as well. Barely breathing he gave several short orders in succession.

In just a few seconds, the Icarus made a series of sharp banking turns, during which the flower ship was struck repeatedly by every phaser array that could get an angle and managed to actually hit. The phaser beams weren't enough to destroy or even cripple the enemy ship, they did leave blackened and scorched hull behind every hit but didn't manage to cut deep enough to do any real damage. It did however seem like the flower ship lacked weapons capable of firing to its sides, a dangerous vulnerability against a maneuverable opponent and if there was any one phrase that could describe the combat capability of a Nova, high maneuverability would be the one.

With the advanced turn series completed and the Icarus now speeding away from the flank of the hostile, the rear launcher fired another series of quantum torpedoes at the target. The difference from the previous one was this was several torpedoes at once and all of them were set to their absolute maximum yield, normally enough for a single good hit to implode an unprotected starship of the same size. The torpedoes only scored glancing hits on the rear section of the hostile ship, but they completely severed three of the four petals from the ship including the previously damaged one.

"Sir, it's still pursuing. We won't be able to outrun it and at this rate it won't be long before we're dead either, our shields are holding at eight percent and one more hit from that energy beam weapon will most likely finish us. Let's face it, this ship doesn't have much in the way of armor left and considering how fast they've disabled our shields..."
"Very well." Jameson made a grim face. "Let's finish this ourselves then."

The flower ship wasn't the slightest bit slower than before, but it did seem to be quite a lot less maneuverable than it had been before the torpedoes hit. Jameson guessed that the petals worked as some sort of maneuvering aid, but the torpedo hits could have damaged other systems as well so any such assumption wasn't really much more than a guess.

The damage the ship had sustained did however allow the Icarus to lock on to the damaged sections of the hull. More than likely the area effect damage of their torpedoes had disrupted whatever stealth system they were using around the now scorched aft section. With that simple fact, the engagement was effectively over and Jameson uttered only one word; "Fire!"

The flower ship might have been able to withstand phasers. It might have been able to withstand a series of glancing maximum yield Quantum torpedoes detonating close to undamaged armor. It was not however able to withstand two of the maximum-yield zero-point energy implosions detonating only centimeters away from each other and in an already damaged section of its hull. The detonations tore through space and the unsuspecting flower ship with equal impunity, and as the highly charged exotic quantum particles released from the zero-point matrix started to eat away at the exposed edges the ship's fate was sealed. Fractions of a second later the entire ship joined the rest of surrounding space as it retracted back into the imploding sphere of energy, leaving little more than blackened debris behind.

"Damage report."
"Sir.. I'm reading a lot of damage to the outer hull, with deep breaches on decks six through eight though the emergency force fields are holding for now. The shuttle bay and the mess hall are both open to space."
"Anything else?"
"Yes sir, we've lost most of our high-resolution sensors and sickbay reports two dozen casualties, eight of them fatalities. Damage has been sustained to all shield generators, we won't be able to maintain more than at most a forty percent charge, if we're lucky and don't burn out the grid when we recycle them that is."
"Damn it!" Jameson kept on cursing for a few seconds. "Con, get us the hell out of here as fast as our engines can handle. We just bit off a hell of a lot more than we could chew."

Zcenicx · Nov 2nd 2009, 1:57pm

Chapter 7

CLASS XI SHUTTLE
EN ROUTE TO AQUILAE STATION
SIRIUS SYSTEM

The morale in orbit was unusually high as construction on the orbital facilities was finally going according to plan, resourcing operations were on schedule, and most of the evacuees were now settling down on the planet starting to make their best attempt at beginning their new lives. The shellshock of being exiled from their own reality which had been so devastating to morale had finally begun to subside, and in its wake it lit up the basic human instincts. Bonding, procreation, construction and the ever present human curiosity and lust for exploration.

West had actually thought it impossible for his people to be able to recover this quickly. It had barely been more than three months since they were stranded in this reality and by now they had already finished building two of their new settlements. Elysium was only lacking a few civic buildings and the final gardening work while the smaller complex of Erebus was all but lacking the finishing touches. The former would be the new capital, the latter the new industrial nexus.

A smaller settlement, thus far nicknamed Atlantis, was also being constructed on the moon’s surface, more reminiscing of a complex on Risa than of anything Starfleet had ever previously planned. He smiled, it’d been a great idea from an equally ingenious ship's counselor and the construction of the recreational complex had already had a positive effect on morale. The fact that the moon's orbit was so low and that it always showed the same face meant it was even possible to use transporters to travel directly between the two didn't really hurt either.

Right now the Admiral was heading for the newly finished orbital they'd christened Aquilae Station. As a station constructed and designed for a single reason, orbital defense, it was an impressive feat of technology. Yet even so the Admiral didn't really think it had been too necessary to build. They were far out of reach of the Romulans, and thus far no one had seen any evidence that any of the native races had ever entered this system much less knew that it was now inhabited. Then again, he knew as well as anyone that the prudent decision was always the one that made them ready for anything, and this had definitely been one of those.

The Admiral relaxed and leaned back in his chair. Necessary or not it was finished now, and one of his duties as the commanding officer of Starfleet was to head the opening ceremony. And to be quite honest, he didn't have too much else to fill his days with either except the usual paperwork that was always part of having command.

On their way to Aquilae station they passed by close to the orbital docks. The Admiral still thought the structures looked like silver rib cages, but at least they weren't empty anymore. The Akiras and Excelsiors were all parked in the now being linked docking facilities and effectively emptied of their crew, while his Norways and Intrepids were parked in stable lunar orbits awaiting more spacedocks to be completed with only skeleton crews aboard, while the rest of their officers and crew made their new homes on the planet.

There was no real reason to keep more people in space than necessary at this point, except for the vessels that were being used in the construction and resourcing efforts. To that end, the smaller spacecraft had little to do other than patrolling the area, while the more combat-oriented Akiras and Excelsiors had absolutely nothing to do at all. An Akira-class heavy cruiser was after all first and foremost designed to be an oversized gunboat, and while they could perform other missions as well he did have more than enough smaller ships that could do the same thing just as easily but with a much smaller crew. The Excelsiors were more than able to do just about anything, but not even a Galaxy-class battleship had the same excessive crew requirements as they did and he didn't trust their aging systems to stand up to extended trips anymore either.

He sighed. There wasn't much for him to do at all, at this point only three of the vessels under his command were outside the system and all of them were on discreet reconnaissance missions. Even T'Pell, even though he had the most interesting mission, was still only gathering information. It was almost ironic that he found himself missing the war, but then again the lull of everyday work in this new home was the exact opposite of the constant action of a raging war.

Suddenly, the calm was interrupted as the junior pilot opened the door between the cockpit and passenger cabin.

"Admiral, we're being hailed by Aquilae station." He said. "Admiral Keyes personally, sir. She says it's important and that you should talk to her asap."
"Very well then." He replied and pointed to the display unit on the wall. "On screen, crewman."

It took a few seconds for the pilot to return to his seat and transfer the signal, but then the face of the newly promoted Vice Admiral Keyes appeared on the screen.

"Admiral Keyes, what brings me the pleasure?" He smiled.
"Admiral West." She replied in a no-nonsense tone that immediately told him this was no courtesy call. "I'm sorry to disturb you Sam, but I thought you should be made aware as soon as possible. We just detected an incoming warp signature, and it'll enter the system in less than two minutes."

West was suddenly very disturbed. They weren't expecting anyone, and none of their own ships shouldn't be returning for at least another week.

"One of ours, I presume?"
"Maybe, even quite probable, but we can't be sure yet. They aren't responding to our hails and the warp signature is a bit off."
"Then we have to assume the worst." He nodded. "Elisha, what do we have hot in case we need them?"
"Little, sir, and what we do have will be unprepared."
"Elisha...”
"I've already asked the Captains of the Independence, Victory, Valiant and Venture to go to yellow alert and head towards Aquilae at best possible speed, but they're still going to need a few minutes to scramble."
"That's all?" He was truly surprised.
"All we can muster in the time we have, sir." She replied. "Most of the other ships are either mothballed, on the other side of the system, or locked in the planetary gravity well."
"Four ships... How far the mighty have fallen... Very well. See to it that the Gabriel and Michael launches their fighter squadrons. If it’s not ours we can’t let it get the word out, much less escape. Now, let's see what's coming our way."
"Understood, Aquilae out."
"Pilot, full speed." Admiral West said over the intercom. "I want to be at the Aquilae five minutes ago."
"Yes, sir."

USS ICARUS
DEEP SPACE APPROACHING SIRIUS

The ship was limping through the dark void between Pi Eridani and Sirius, its battered and bruised hull barely even resembling what had traveled through this very same space only a few weeks ago. That time they’d travelled in the opposite direction, at more than twice the speed. This time they had to be a lot more careful and go a lot slower.

Jameson was still worried. They'd sustained heavy damage during their battle with the flower ship and some of it they hadn't been able to repair yet. One of these damaged systems was the port nacelle and another was the sub-space communications system. He'd seen what the maintenance pod had recorded after a quick check of her outer hull, and he'd been quite shocked at just how badly his armor could get scorched without being torn open, which gave even more emphasis to how much the enemy ship's weapons had hurt as he looked at the tears and holes in it.

He was impressed with the old girl though, she was still in more or less one piece and surprisingly enough she was still holding together even at warp 5. He didn't want to push the engines further than that with only one functioning nacelle, and there was also the damage to the deflector array as well as the sensors which meant traveling faster than this was quite easily comparable to wanton suicide. A starship colliding with a planet at several hundred times the speed of light just because they didn’t see it in time was not something Jameson ever wanted to see, much less do, no matter how spectacular the results would be.

Still, he didn't know how his peers would react to his entrance, considering their warp signature would be different with only one nacelle operating and that they had no way to communicate with them until he entered direct visual range. He had little choice but to go in anyways as he'd also been strongly recommended not to exit warp any further out than they had to, since the damage sustained to the warp engines could easily mean they'd burn out their precious few remaining warp coils not to mention the warp plasma grid if they tried to restart them.

"Commander, we're approaching Sirius, estimated time of arrival is in two minutes."
"Good. Let's go to impulse speed a good while before orbit but still inside the system, I don't want to startle the Admirals any more than we need to."
"Aye aye, sir."

AQUILAE STATION
SIRIUS III HIGH ORBIT

What an opening ceremony, and what irritating irony. West had thought the station superfluous since the day he’d first seen the blueprints, but now the first time the Admiral had set his foot on the station it was to order the station to do the very job he'd failed to see the slightest need for, orbital defense. West kept his focus on the impending situation and tried to hurry as much as he could while he kept mentally scolding himself for having been so falsely secure in his beliefs.

One possibility was that it was a ship belonging to one of the native races, even if that was highly unlikely, and if so it had to be destroyed or detained before it could report their existence or escape. The other possibility was that it was one of his own ships, but if so that only raised more questions like what had happened and why they weren’t or possibly couldn’t respond to their repeated hails. The irony was that the second alternative could be far more devastating to their situation as one of the most likely reasons was that it could be due to battle damage. Either way it’d be bad news.

He quickly made his way from the landing pad to the turbolift, barking his destination with equal hurry. The ride seemed to last forever and by the time the lift had reached the command and control center, he’d pretty much thought the entire situation through one too many times already.

“Admiral.” Keyes stood ready at the main command console as he entered the oversized control room. “I just heard from Captains Duval and Kira, the Independence and the Victory are both standing ready at red alert. They'll be here momentarily.”
“Good. Any new information on the approaching vessel?”
“Negative. It is still closing though.”
"How the hell could we miss it?" He asked no-one in particular. "It's not like there's that many more that we know which use warp drives."
"Easy, space is big, my station's not even commissioned yet much less fully staffed, and the ships that have good enough scanners to see it that far out are all on the other side of the system getting scrambled by the white dwarf." Keyes replied evenly. "Aquilae to all ships, stand ready. Here it comes."

USS MICHAEL
SIRIUS III LOW ORBIT

"Alpha wing, Scramble, scramble, scramble!"

Davis was already on his feet, getting into his flight suit and heading for his fighter. The last few weeks had been paradise, being aboard a real strike carrier was his dream come true. He hadn't made Angel squad quite yet, actually noone had filled that position yet, but the Alpha wing wasn't too bad either for someone who just got on board from a Federation Guard fighter squadron. Just moments later he was strapping his Peregrine-II to his back and the flight crew was giving the thumbs-up for combat launch.

"Alpha, this is flight leader. We'll launch in ten. Keep in wedge formation. Niner, you'll be on my wing today, as will you alpha two."
"Nine here confirmed, I'm on leader's wing." Davis said in his radio.
"Keep your heads cool people, this may not be a hostile but we'll proceed under the assumption that it is."

The confirmations came in from all twelve ships in Alpha wing.

Seconds later, they were launching in combat formation. Three fighters at a time, each with its Wing Commander at the center. In a show of perfect timing, the twelve small spacecraft had formed a strike wave formation in just a few more seconds and were quickly heading towards their latest objective with just about every ounce of speed they could get out of their impulse engines.

USS ICARUS
APPROACHING SIRIUS III

"Bridge, this is engineering.”
“I hear you, engineering.” Jameson replied. “What’s up?”
“I'm sorry, sir, but we won't be able to give you impulse power."
"Engineering, say again?" Jameson did so not want to hear that.
"Captain, the old girl's pretty banged up, and the impulse drive grid just won't be able to hold any real pressure before it blows in our faces and cooks half the ship. There's no way in hell we'll be able to fix it in time."
"I see."
"Commander, we're entering the system now." The helm officer interrupted.

This was cause for concern. He didn't want to exit warp too close to the planet, partially because he didn't want to seem like a threat but mostly because without impulse power their braking distance would be quite long to say the least. Long enough to do a swan dive into a moon in the worst case. Still, if he exited too far out they’d run the risk of running into the asteroid field that was just outside the colony’s orbit.

"Commander, we need to act now." Helm pointed out.
"Very well. Ensign, take us out of warp now, full reverse thrusters."
"Sir, at this speed thrusters really won't make much of a difference if we get out too close."
"You think I don't know that?" Jameson asked rhetorically. "We don't have a choice, Ensign."
"Aye, sir..."
"Let's show them who we are and pray to God they notice us and are able to get a tractor lock on the ship before we crash into something expensive."

AQUILAE STATION
SIRUIS III HIGH ORBIT

"Admiral..."
"I see it, Elisha. Magnify!"

Now he knew what the vessel was. What he didn't know though could fill volumes.

"Tell the defense ships to stand down from red alert, but to keep their eyes open. Launch rescue operations immediately."
"Roger."

ALPHA NINE
SIRIUS SYSTEM

Well, he might as well put his weapons on safe as he wouldn't be shooting at anything anyways. The relief at that was kind of taken away by the view however, as he looked out and saw the blackened and scarred vessel that had just appeared in front of his fighter wing.

The Icarus had exited warp and immediately started to spin out of control as its braking thrusters had fired unevenly. The inertial force had given the crew a shaky ride, but what was more visibly apparent was that the uncontrolled spin had almost completely sheared off the already heavily damaged port nacelle. As it was it was only hanging on by a few strips of twisted metal, and the damaged nacelle was rapidly filling the surrounding space with purple glowing warp plasma.

It hadn't taken many moments before the Independence had shown up and after a short while she'd managed to stabilize the smaller Nova with her tractor beams, and now the two starships, one towing the other, were escorted by the full fighter wing during their slow but steady trip over to the now empty spacedock Phi. The engineering crews would have their work cut out for them, considering the amounts of damage Davis could see with his bare eyes he could only imagine the state of the internal systems and he was quite sure patching the ship up would take weeks if it was at all possible.

The escort may have been superfluous, but seeing the damage caused to the Icarus and the lack of communications so far, evidently caused by the blackened scar that used to be its subspace transceiver, made every precaution necessary. As far as the defense forces were concerned the Icarus was to be treated as a captured enemy combatant until they'd gotten through to and ascertained the status of her crew.

"Well then." Davis quietly commented to himself. "It would seem our stay here may get more interesting than I thought."

AQUILAE STATION
SIRIUS III HIGH ORBIT
FOUR HOURS LATER

"Admiral West, Admiral Keyes." Jameson saluted them both in order of rank though with some difficulty as his lower arm was still braced.
"Commander, please take a seat." Keyes returned the salute and gestured at the other side of the table.

Jameson did as ordered and took a seat opposite the two flag officers.

"Now then. Can you explain to us what the hell happened to you and your ship?" Keyes began the debriefing.
"Well, sirs, in short, we went too far, too fast, and we managed to run into some trouble."
"'Some trouble', Jameson, you must be joking." West looked more than just somewhat annoyed.
"Even by the engineers' first glance your ship is going to need several weeks, possibly months worth of repair work. Your port nacelle is so badly damaged it's barely worth salvaging for scrap metal, your outer hull's almost completely melted down to the inner hull in several places, and the chief engineer at Phi Station almost cried when he told me it'd be quicker to list what systems don't need repairs than which do. Please, be a tad more specific if you could."
"Very well, sir." The Commander nodded, almost feeling a chill down his spine as the Admiral had told him just how close that battle had actually been. "We set out following the path we'd been ordered to by Admiral Keyes. We followed the Centauri border along the course that you provided while surveying and gathering sensor and signal information about their society from outside."

Jameson tried to remember as well as possible.

“We started our primary mission near the Epsilon Eridani system, which interestingly according to local knowledge is an uninhabited system. We managed to prove this incorrect, and while we never went close enough to get a complete reading on the possible life forms, we could confirm that there was a large energy reading on one of the planets there that we flagged for further investigation by a dedicated mission at a later time.

We continued along the border zone between the Centauri and Minbari empires for some time, passing through or close to among others Chi Eridani, Barradas II, Galorndon Cor and the Miridian system. These were all M- or L-class worlds, just like they were in our universe, but we detected no traces of intelligent life on either of these planets, though we found two of these wormhole apparatuses in the Miridian system of which one seemed relatively new. We believe the older apparatus was either forgotten or has malfunctioned at one time or other, however even the newest of the two read as several centuries old even as it was still by all indications being maintained and kept operational.

We continued to gather data from across both borders, but it appeared as though the maps we were able to get earlier were correct, neither the Centauri nor Minbari have made any claims to these systems.”

West interjected with a question - "A neutral zone between them?"

“Of sorts, perhaps. There is no historical evidence of any conflict ever erupting between the two empires that we have managed to find so far, but the Centauri don't seem too anxious to get too close, and the Minbari don't really seem to care about the Centauri one way or the other. There’s not even a single sensor buoy along the border that we could find, on the Minbari side that is.

This was mostly what we found from there all the way along the shared border, with only minor discrepancies to the data we already had. Mostly these differences were due to natural causes, like one planet that may well have been an M-class planet only a hundred years ago, but it's now a B-class semi-molten planet due to the rapid expansion of its star as it has entered its red giant stage.

This changed, however. We were closing in on the location where Starbase 123 would have been in our own universe when we were suddenly scanned by an unknown source and we're still not sure whether it was a ship or something else. Either way, one of those big sinkholes in space opened up only moments later and what must have been a ship exited the portal. We tried to avoid contact in compliance with your orders, but it was soon evident that we were already spotted. The alien ship took up a pursuit course and charged at us immediately after entering normal space.

We tried to hail it, tried to explain we meant no harm and that we were sorry if we had trespassed on their space, but all we got in reply was a single word.”

"What was that, could you have misunderstood it?"

“No sirs. There was no room for misunderstandings. The word was simple enough, 'Insolent'. Then the ship tried to use our own communications bands to upload some sort of artificially intelligent computer virus which we were just barely able to stop by disabling the entire communications array. We tried to escape into warp, but the ship... I don't know if it engaged some sort of field, or if it was always there as we haven't been able to study the sensor logs. Either way, it destabilized our warp field and it was rapidly overtaking us at sub-light speed.

We tried to fire a warning shot over its bow, a minimum yield quantum torpedo, but this did not deter or even slow down the pursuing ship. It targeted our ship’s critical systems and fired directly at us. Sirs, a single shot from that spinal beam weapon it was equipped with was enough to take out a quarter of our shield strength as well as cause serious damage to our internal systems. We had little choice but to fire back.”

"Then what happened?" Keyes spoke up.

“It all happened very fast. We couldn't achieve a positive lock on the ship, and my best guess is that they use some sort of advanced ECM system powerful enough to scatter our automated targeting systems. We had to rely on manual and optical aiming, which I must admit could have been more effective had our tactical officer been more experienced but he did his job very well for someone a lot more used to scan for stellar anomalies rather than weak points in armor.

Even so, we may have missed with a lot of shots, but we hit them with quite a lot of them too, sirs. What we did hit with barely even scratched the paint job on the hostile, though we did manage to damage one of its... well, I'll have to call it a petal... which seemed to reduce its maneuvering ability somewhat. Enough so that we could briefly outmaneuver them.”

“I see.” West nodded and looked to Keyes. “Elisha, I want the hull damage of the Icarus examined closely, I want to know what kind of weapon these aliens have that can breach our shields that fast.”
“Of course, Sam.” Keyes wrote it down on her pad. “I want to check those sensor logs first though.”
“Good enough.” West replied. “Continue, Commander.”

“It took quite a while, sirs, and a whole lot of phaser fire before we even made dents in the ship's armor. It seemed like its armor was almost impervious to our phasers, much like our own ablative neutronium-tritanium alloy armor but maybe even better. Still, it had a weakness. The armor may have protected it well against our beam weapons, but it didn't protect fully against quantum torpedoes especially when set to maximum yield. The first volley we fired only scored glancing blows but took out most of its maneuvering ability along with a chunk of that super armor of theirs. The next volley of two impacted on the very same place and with the armor cracked open they managed to completely destroy the ship.”

Jameson sighed and looked pleadingly at the two Admirals. He wanted them to see, to understand what had actually happened, and wasn’t sure he was getting the entire picture through. It was hard enough to explain any better though considering he still didn't even think he understood more than perhaps half of it himself.

“Still, sirs, you must understand. The ship we went up against wasn't much smaller than the Icarus, but one thing I do remember clearly. We only read a single life form, and it was like nothing we've ever seen before. And something tells me this was just a test, or just a simple gesture that we weren't welcome. From what I've seen of the ships the other races here use, I personally doubt this was the largest ship this race has and I also severely doubt that any other ship in this universe, and definitely none of the ones we've seen so far, could have stood up to that kind of firepower. The energy output of that beam weapon is just far too great to be survivable without really good shields and that means better than my own ship had."

"Anyway, we turned around and started heading back as fast as we could and as soon as we could. We had to travel at impulse for almost an hour before subspace was calm enough to form a stable warp field. Even though we did win the engagement it was a pyrrhic victory at best, as we lost more than a quarter of our crew in the engagement and I'm not at all surprised that the ship needs extensive repairs. In fact I’m mostly surprised we made it back in as few pieces as we did. We've encountered a species that's very close to or possibly even beyond our own level of technology and from what I’ve seen so far, they're not too friendly, sirs.”

"Very well, Jameson. Is there anything else you wish to add?" West was almost pale.
"Only one thing, Admiral. My crew performed far beyond what they were trained for. They should be commended."
"Understood. Dismissed, Commander."

Jameson saluted both of the Admirals again and exited the room. Outside, he let out a sigh of relief. He'd been waiting to tell his story ever since the battle. It felt better that while he'd had to suffer through the battle, the possible aftermath was someone else's problem.

Zcenicx · Nov 2nd 2009, 1:58pm

Chapter 8

PROXIMA STATION
EARTH ALLIANCE TRANSFER STATION
PROXIMA CENTAURI SYSTEM

T’Pell was still a guest of Commander Patterson's and the two had gotten to know each other quite well over the last few days, though this was perhaps more true for T’Pell than for Patterson. The latter had been very inquisitive, and to fill in the blanks in his story T’Pell had been forced to use his own memories of Andoria. He didn’t lie as such but he did omit quite a lot of facts, something he suspected Patterson realized but tried his best not to show.

The Commander had a lot of duties though, and the Andorian often found himself assigned to one of his aides, a young human called Sheridan. He had quickly found that he actually quite liked the young Lieutenant Commander of Earth Force. He didn’t ask too many questions about things T’Pell couldn’t give honest answers to, and seemed friendly and open enough to discuss even the deepest points of view on diplomacy, ethics, morality and anything else T’Pell thought was good grounds for leisurely conversation. Sheridan had early surprised the Andorian with his very especially strong sense of ethics, and especially so when he'd made it perfectly clear that he placed ethics far above duty or loyalty, something that probably both had and would continue to hamper his advancement in rank quite considerably.

Right now the Andorian Captain was standing next to one of the main view ports in the station’s outer ring. He found himself drawn to the reflective dots that hung in high orbit, the massive figures of what the humans called Nova-class dreadnoughts. Even though their design were primitive by his standards the ships made true on their class designation. What they lacked in technology, they more than made up for in sheer size and numbers. He’d been surprised when he learned that its main armament were the twin-linked plasma pulse cannons, short ranged and comparatively hard to aim, but amazed when he learned that an alpha strike with these guns consisted of no less than sixteen of these, that meant thirty-two barrels total, being able to fire long bursts at the same target at the same time.

It was nothing short of amazing what ingenuity these humans had, especially as he'd quickly calculated that a continuous barrage from these cannons wouldn't need too much time to eat through even the much more advanced shields of a Starfleet warship. The main issue would be hitting the Starfleet ship however, as their targeting systems were nowhere near capable of tracking a target maneuvering at fractional speeds not to mention the relatively slow speed of the plasma pulses themselves.

Lost in thoughts, he didn’t even hear the young Commander arrive.
“Am I disturbing you, T’Pell?” Sheridan’s voice startled T’Pell.
“No, John. I was just thinking.”
"I understand." Sheridan looked out the view port. “They’re quite intimidating, aren’t they?”
“Quite. Your race needs them?”
“Well, that depends on who you talk to. We did once, when we entered the Dilgar War, but since then they thankfully haven’t really seen much use. They would be kind of overkill to chase pirates and raiders with, even if they were fast enough to catch them.”
“I haven’t heard of this before?”
“The war? I’m surprised, it pretty much involved the entire sector.”
“Can you tell me about it?”
“Sure, though I can only tell you what’s in the history books as I wasn’t there when it happened. It was roughly ten years ago, though the war actually started much earlier than that.” A line formed on the young man’s forehead. “A race called the Dilgar decided to attack the League of Non-Aligned Worlds. Their reasons were simple enough, their own star was dying and they needed to find a new home, but the war soon grew out of proportion to that.”
“How so?”
“Instead of stopping after they had gained what they needed, conquering a few worlds to rescue their people, they kept going and not only attacked but actually managed to conquer most of the League. The rumors of what happened to the races they conquered were gruesome enough to put us on high alert even though we were far out of the way of their war fleets.”
“Oh.” T’Pell didn’t have any trouble believing Sheridan’s story. The Alpha Quadrant had its fair share of xenophobic alien races that thought genocide was a good thing to begin an occupation with.
“Their fleets were initially very successful, cutting a wide swath through the scattered and unprepared League defenses with only minor losses. There were a few exceptions, such as the Abbai and the Drazi, but in truth their expansion was only stopped when they finally attacked the Markab, a race Earth is and was allied with.”
“I see… then what?”
“Well, we entered the war.” Sheridan sighed. “It was a very close call that we managed to save the Markab at all, but we did and we managed to win a devastating victory in that battle.”
“Judging by these ships outside, I have little doubt.”
“In truth that's only part of the reason we did. The Dilgar armada was overextended, fighting a war on several fronts, and in the end what proved fatal was the simple fact that they'd grown accustomed to victory. Their quick advancements had taught them that no other race had an equivalent power or military tradition, which meant that they were far too confident about their own abilities to even consider that they might actually lose."
"A dangerous state of mind for the Commanders to enter, no doubt." T'Pell nodded, it was a textbook mistake many successful Commanders had made, no matter what race. "I suppose your people showed them this in a truly spectacular manner?"
"We had already started mass-producing the behemoths you see out there, as well as the smaller Hyperion cruisers, in preparation for their aggression. We had every reason to fear our own space being next on their target list." Sheridan shrugged. "Either way we met them in a classic line battle above Markab, and while they had the technological advantage their ships were weaker in terms of both armor and weapons than our dreadnoughts, and completely unprepared for our use of battlefield nuclear weaponry.”

Sheridan closed his eyes and tried to recall what else he’d read and heard.

“What happened then was the same as in most other wars when you fight too many opponents at once, our initial victory over their fleet spawned even more victories in other theatres as they had to pull ships from those to reinforce their now wide open front. In only just over a year we pushed them back to their own system and blockaded them there. There were a lot of close calls, as the Dilgar were good enough strategists to adapt to our own strategies and tactics after the first few defeats, and gaining that victory took a lot of lives and a lot of materials. But in the end, we still won.”
“I understand. What happened to these Dilgar then?”
“Well, that’s the part we’re not so proud of. You see, we didn’t know about the condition of the Dilgar star until long after the war was over. A few years ago, it went nova and discounting a few minor colonies the race pretty much ceased to exist in an instant.”
“Oh…” T’Pell was shocked. He hadn’t heard this tale before, and it actually explained a lot.
“In a way, that war was what propelled the Earth Alliance to our current status as an interstellar power, before that we were often seen as a minor nation still dependent on the Centauri for protection. Since then we’ve been using what political and diplomatic capital we earned in that war in expanding our influence into the league, and continued to colonize worlds both in unclaimed space and inside our own borders. These ships…” he motioned to the view port “are today little more than a reminder of that war. They haven’t seen much action since and probably won’t any time soon either, as their presence alone is enough to deter most other civilizations from picking a fight with Earth.”

The young man was interrupted as Commander Tolar entered the lounge. She gave a short nod to Sheridan and turned to T’Pell.

“Captain, a word if I may?” The Commander was speaking in an older dialect of Andorian so the human couldn’t understand.
“What is it, Tolar?”
“We’ve received orders from Home." She explained, her face completely expressionless but her rapidly moving antennae showing him exactly what she felt. "We need to return there as soon as possible.”
“Very well then.” T’Pell turned to Sheridan and offered him his hand in the standard human greeting. “I’m sorry but it seems I have to cut my visit short, Sheridan, but I will return as soon as I can.”
“You are always welcome here, Captain. Next time we should hopefully have a reply from Earth Gov about that request you had.”
“Thank you, my friend. Now, I must leave.”

STARFLEET COMMAND
ELYSIUM, SIRIUS III
NOVEMBER 6TH, 2243

Not too long ago Admiral West had thought the size and capacity of the new conference rooms in the Starfleet Command complex to be drastically oversized for the now so equally drastically reduced amounts of personnel in the fleet compared to what Starfleet normally had. Now he wasn’t so sure anymore. He’d issued a full recall order to every starship Captain, and now he had all thirty-odd Captains along with most of their first officers, chief engineers and science officers present in the room. With more than a hundred and twenty people attending all in all, the room was now just about filled to capacity.

He looked around a bit, they were still waiting for a few more representatives but most were already there. Keyes and Jahari were seated at his sides, both looking quite uncomfortable in their new uniforms and insignia. Much like West himself was actually, and his promoting the two Captains to the newly established Admiralty was as much an act of revenge on the two as it were two long and well deserved promotions.

West had known Elisha Keyes for most of his career, and was very familiar with both her personality and her service record. The fact that she hadn’t already been promoted to the rank of Admiral was mostly due to her own wish to remain in space rather than to have a desk job. Heron Jahari, previously the commanding officer of the Gabriel, was more of an unknown factor. He’d been commended on several occasions for his tactical and strategic capabilities in the Dominion War, especially in the field of starfighter tactics, but had also chosen to remain in the Captain’s chair of the Gabriel rather than ascending the ranks.

Still, West had never personally served with him before the Romulan War and had only really met him on formal occasions since. His reputation as a capable engineer and effective administrator did however precede him and made him perfect for his new assignment, and West had found early on that personnel changes were much more effective if you didn't ask the person in question before you signed the applicable orders.

Their respective promotions had been fairly silent, with their former first officers taking over as acting Captains until permanent Captains were assigned. It was more of a formality than anything else though, as everyone knew there was few others than these first officers available, much less capable, to take over the two ships. Back home there'd be a short list, a list as long as the Admiral's forearm, with prospective candidates. There'd be dozens of Captains and hundreds of Commanders, all of them with command experience from one ship or another. In this new situation there wasn't even a list at all.

There had once been a well-used toast in the old British armed forces, “Cheers to bad weather, unhealthy seasons and to long, bloody wars”, which were all the easiest ways for officers to get rapidly promoted. They’d had neither, but he doubted any plague, war or storm had ever taken out the entire staff overhead and support staff of a fleet before, with no replacements or deputies on hand to take over. Promoting these two to the rank of Admiral had as a side effect of this caused the entire command structure of each of their ships to take a step upward. He doubted that anyone had complained too much.

Now, Keyes was stationed at Space Command on Aquilae Station where she was responsible for all space-based missions, while Jahari was based here in Elysium in charge of Starfleet Engineering as well as the Science Corps, areas he’d so far proven very successful in handling. It wasn’t enough to take the entire work load off of West, and to be quite frank part of his job would also be to monitor these two's work, but enough so that he’d have time to focus more on the overall strategic and increasingly time-consuming civilian situation. He'd soon have to appoint at least another deputy entirely dedicated to those matters as well.

Taking a closer look at the gathered people, a collection of gray uniforms with their linings a rainbow of red, yellow and blue, he was quite proud that they had been able to handle their new situation as well as they did. He wasn’t so proud of himself though, he didn’t even know all of them by name and that was something he should have been expected to do by now. Not only that but he also felt a sting of guilt as his eyes met the hazel-brown gaze of the Captain of the Independence, to his knowledge he'd been the only person present in the room that'd so far failed to uphold the rules as far as personal relationships came as well.

Finally, the last arrival came in the door. The standard Andorian space force uniform was quite different from its Starfleet equivalent, but since there had barely been enough time for the crew of the Shran to make it back to Sirius and much less change, it was accepted and respected even though several of the assembled Vulcans got an expression on their faces that was eerily close to distaste. T’Pell didn’t look too uncomfortable in the deviant uniform either but instead had a rather satisfied look on his face as if he’d won some kind of unspoken victory against those same people. West almost smiled at this, T’Pell had always seemed uncomfortable in his usual Starfleet uniform even though he did it honor. Maybe this was a positive sign.

“Well then. As we’re all here, shall we get this meeting started?” West interrupted the casual conversations between the gathered officers. The room instantly became almost entirely silent as he continued. “As you all know by now, we have several things to discuss. Some of these more, some of these less important, but all of them need to be decided upon sooner rather than later. I’ve asked you all to come here to give your input, and your recommendations, on these issues.”

“First off, I’d like to announce some personnel changes. As you are all well aware by now, I’ve decided to promote Captains Keyes and Jahari to the rank of Vice Admiral. To replace them, I’ve come to the conclusion that their former first officers, Commanders Carl Hansen and Sophia Clark, are the only people that can be considered for filling their positions. Congratulations, Commanders, by the power vested in me by my rank and position you are both hereby and formally promoted to the rank of Captain, with all the respect, responsibilities and duties of that rank.”

He shook the hands of both new Captains.

“Furthermore, I’d like to formally grant Commander Jameson of the Icarus, who have performed above and beyond the duty of his rank of Commander while in command of that ship for the last six months, the permanent rank of Captain as well. I know it’s late, but better late than never, right Captains? I'm also confirming the field promotion I gave Captain Diaz of the Valiant, who has filled the position left by Captain T'Pell.”

More handshakes, though this time the celebration was much more controlled. Both of them had already been in command long enough to be viewed as Captains by the rest of the assembly, formally correct or not. West understood them, while it was always a joyous occasion when someone got promoted, this one had been long expected and really didn't change anything. Even the Hispanic Captain Diaz had proven her command abilities already when she'd been scrambled just a few days ago, and had performed admirably. Not surprising considering she'd been taught by one of the hardest Captains in the fleet.

“I recognize some may be surprised I didn’t decide to replace these people with either of our other Captains, Bryn and Jonah, but they’ve both been assigned to other positions more suitable to their skills. Captain Bryn will head the research and development department, also known as the toy box, under Admiral Jahari, and Captain Jonah will be in charge of the orbital construction docks under Admiral Keyes as soon as the Vulcan Shipyard control complex is completed. Both of them requested these assignments well aware that it would take them out of consideration for the Captaincies of the Bellerophon, Valiant and the Gabriel.”

As the noise in the room quieted down, West continued.

“That part being finished, I’ll move on to our second and arguably most pressing issue. The race the Icarus encountered during its survey of the area along the Centauri and Minbari border.”

West stood up and activated a monitor, showing an image of the Icarus as it had looked just four days ago when it arrived in the system. What little noise there had been in the room quieted down almost to the point where people stopped breathing. The image alone was terrifying enough as it was for any of them but what made it worse was that it looked more like the ship had been through a gauntlet of Romulan warships than in a dogfight with a single and even smaller enemy vessel. Not even a Defiant would do that kind of damage to a Nova that fast, and the Defiant-class gunships were still infamous across known space for their insane amount of frontal fire power.

“We know literally nothing about this new race and as there is no reference to these ships, or even a hint of the species occupying the area of space which we entered, in any of the information we’ve been able to gather from the different races we’ve encountered, we must assume they know just as little as we do. What we have been able to find out is found in what little we managed to salvage from the Icarus’ sensor logs.”

West turned to the cat-like and graceful appearance of Admiral Jahari and motioned for him to take over.

“Ahem… thank you Admiral.” Jahari looked somewhat uncomfortable, and actually one of the reasons he had never accepted the rank of Admiral before was that he didn’t like public speeches, something otherwise both quite unusual for Caitians in general and among command officers in particular. “Well, so far, like Admiral West said, we’ve only been able to ascertain a very limited amount of information from the Icarus’ sensor logs. What is most evident is what a simple ocular inspection of the battle results would reveal.”

He brought attention to the large display with the battered image of the Nova-class science vessel.

“As you can see the so-called ‘flower ship’ was able to inflict serious damage upon the Icarus, and something that is well worth noticing is that the Icarus sustained all of this quite severe hull damage even though her shields were still up. The ship in question used a kind of energy beam that we’ve never experienced the likes of before, and it seems to at least partially defy the laws of physics as we know them. While they were able to diminish some of the weapon’s energy, the shields were not able to fully absorb or deflect it and thus lost a lot of power while letting a limited amount of the weapon’s energy actually pass unhindered through the shield bubble in the process.“

“This weapon is both quite powerful and quite dangerous. We calculate each successive hit by the weapon drained a full third of the remaining shield strength, and the increasing amounts of energy that managed to pass through the shields had an effect on the outer hull much like a disruptor beam, dissolving the hull plating at the molecular level. The beam weapon also severely disrupted whatever systems were located at or in close proximity to the area it hit. It is mostly pure luck that the ship never actively targeted the engineering decks, as a direct hit from this kind of weapons on any of the systems involved in the warp core or antimatter pod containment would have probably had catastrophic effects.”

He turned away from the display for a moment.

“As I said earlier, we haven’t been able to ascertain much from the Icarus’ sensor logs, but this is what we’ve been able to find out. Due to the largely unknown, and from our initial assessments biological, materials that make up the composition of this ‘flower ship’s hull, we haven’t been able to get accurate sensor readings of its insides. The entire ship seems to register as a life form, so we can’t get a reading on the amount of, nor the race of, the crew. The organic hull seems to be able to regenerate its damaged sections, at least to a point, much like the Borg regenerative armor, but also incorporating much of the function of our own ablative armor when it comes to phaser energy absorption. This makes our standard phaser settings almost useless as Commander, I'm sorry Captain, Jameson found out the hard way. We do however believe we can adapt the beam modulation to at least partially counter this, but to negate it fully would take a lot of research into the molecular makeup of this organic armor.”

“In essence, we’re dealing with a race which is comparable or possibly superior in technology to ourselves, though their technology is quite probably fundamentally different than ours in many areas. Among these difference is their obvious use of organic technology, which we aren’t entirely unfamiliar with, and their apparent mastery of subspace physics which I’m sad to say seems to exceed that of the Romulans themselves...”
"Unless of course what happened was simply a for them unknown side-effect of some other technology they employ, that is." West interjected, not entirely content with admitting a race which didn't appear to use subspace for anything else would put subspace jammers on small warships with limited space.
"Of course there is that possibility as well." Jahari nodded and looked over to West, who retook control of the meeting.

“What we need to decide on now is what to make of this contact. As Admiral Jahari just informed us this race is comparable to our own in at least terms of military technology, and seems to follow an aggressively isolationist policy considering the lack of information even their closest neighbors seem to have. Still, as they again seem quite aggressive considering the less than friendly welcome the Icarus received my recommendations would be to patrol the edge of their space and quietly observe and wait for them to take the next step. The big drawback with that is that considering we don’t know where this unknown race’s borders are exactly, we’d need to make a guesstimate. The risks of this are of course quite high.”

No one spoke up, the gathered personnel were busy enough trying to process what Jahari had told them about the possibly hostile race that had build that flower ship. They’d all been lulled into the same false sense of security as the Admiral had over the last four months, as nothing had indicated that any native race had even close to a comparable level of technology to their own. That had changed quite quickly, and now they seemed more confused than anything else. Not that West couldn't understand them, he'd felt the exact same way during his debrief of Jameson.

“There’s also another issue we might have to deal with if we encounter them again. These flower ships seem to be able to for lack of a better word distort subspace, knowingly or not, making warp travel and quite probably other technologies such as subspace communications and sensors impossible to use when they’re around. This may well force us into a position where we have to aggressively defend ourselves if we encounter them, since they also seem to have a higher top speed than any of our ships is able to get to without breaking a number of safety protocols. We have little information on this distortion field, and sensors have yet to reveal anything practically useful.”

Captain West suddenly spoke up.

“Well, I for one think your idea sounds about right, Admiral. We know far too little about this race and even if they’re isolationistic like you said, they’re still advanced enough to be a threat or in the case they decide to make contact a possible worthy ally. We need to know more about them and their capabilities before we can actually make a good decision, but I’d personally recommend against sending anything less than a fully prepared line cruiser to this patrol zone considering how close the encounter was with a Nova.”
“Admiral, I’d like to volunteer myself and my ship for this assignment.” Captain Cleves of the Venture spoke up. “My ship’s admittedly not the most advanced vessel we’ve got, but she’s proven herself big and bad enough to handle a little alien trouble on more than one occasion.”

West looked at Cleves for a second, the older German Captain of the Venture seemed almost expectant about this mission. He was quite correct however, and a Galaxy-class battlecruiser should be more than able to defend itself if it was approached by another of those ships. Unlike the smaller Nova she had both deployable armor and regenerative shields, not to mention many times the science vessel's worth of firepower. Cleves had actually been quite humble, as the only ships they had available with more firepower would be the Sovereigns, with the Akiras coming in just slightly behind his Galaxy, and he'd rather keep those around home base just in case not to mention neither of the Akiras were even crewed at the moment.

“Does anyone have any objections? No? Well then, Captain Cleves, you’ve got yourself a patrol mission.”
“Thank you, Admiral.” Cleves nodded.
“That being concluded, we have a few other things to discuss as well. Elisha?”
“Yes, Admiral. With the final construction being done on the last orbital docks, I want to issue a stand down order to the last of the people on board the Excelsiors, Sabers and Steamrunners.”

This caused a bit of a stir among the others, or perhaps ‘riot’ would be better suited considering the rank and stature of the people.

“We’re at a crossroads, people, where we need to start looking to the future.” Elisha had to raise her voice to make her words audible over the sudden raise in ambient chatter. “It’s unrealistic to keep almost twenty percent of our population in space at all times, especially considering the circumstances.”
“What circumstances would that be, Admiral?” Captain Sato of the Excelsior angrily interjected, his being one of the ships that would have to stand down.
“Well, for starters the fact that just about ten percent of the women in the fleet have already reported being pregnant, and that’s just the ones we know of and not counting the ones already planet side. This single fact brings down our total available manpower by at least seven percent, possibly more.”
“I see” was Sato’s only comment. “I suppose that was unavoidable.”
“This means that for us to be able to fully man the most useful starships, meaning our lighter cruisers and destroyers, we’ll need to place most of the other ships in mothballs for now. The exception to this would be the Sovereigns, since these are not only the most advanced ships we have but also the ones that give the most bang for the buck, so to say.”

West took over again.

“It’s not as much a question of age, technology or anything else. We’re stuck in a small but protected area of space surrounded by less advanced races, with only an extremely limited amount of people at our disposal. It's only natural that we have to adjust our priorities accordingly. As the last of the docks are finished our plan is that most of the ships will be stood down, but kept on ready alert. I personally believe it unnecessary to keep more than eight or ten ships active at any time unless the overall situation changes, but Admiral Keyes has convinced me to keep at least fourteen including the Sovereigns.”

The room was utterly quiet. There are few things that can dampen the mood of a Starfleet Captain, as they were well known for keeping their spirits high even when fighting a losing battle or travelling out into unexplored space for months or even years at a time, but being told to stand down and get grounded was definitely one of those things. They all understood the reasons and they could all agree that it was necessary on an intellectual level, but it's something else entirely to be accept that it had to be done than to be the one that actually got grounded.

“I do understand your reactions as Captains of these ships. You won’t lose your commands, but as Admiral Keyes said we need to look to the future. To be able to man our starships as well as man the support facilities needed, we need more people. People we quite frankly haven’t got available at the moment. And even if each and every woman in the fleet would bear children starting today, it would still take years for us to get there. Years we don’t have right now.”
“Admiral… Are you suggesting something else?” T’Pell raised the question.
“No, Captain, I’m not. I’m just making a point. I’ll draw up a rotational schedule for the ships that will stay active, and which will be mothballed for now. The crews not on active duty will be reassigned to the command complex at Elysium, where they will be working on research and development, or civilian duties in the civic buildings. There are a lot of new technologies in this universe, and we need to be able to understand them better, and we're already behind schedule manning the civics.”
“I see, sir.” The Andorian replied. “I suppose the Shran won’t be one of the ships standing down then.”
“Are you kidding, T’Pell?” Jahari raised an eyebrow. “Your ship and crew are vital to the gathering of these technologies.”
“However.” West raised a hand. “Sato, Cordey and Darren… I realize the proud history of the Excelsior class. I also realize you’ll dislike this decision. However, I’m changing Keyes’ stand down order for your ships. They will dock at the Type 4 spacedocks, but not to be deactivated but rather to be deconstructed.”

This raised quite a lot of commotion from the three Captains, as well as their senior staff. West had to stand up and raise both of his hands to be able to quiet them down.

“Please listen to what I have to say. I’m sorry to say that with the fleet we’ve got, the Excelsiors are the least advanced ships we have in space at this time but also the most resource intensive in order to operate. They’ve served the Federation with pride and honor, but let's be honest in that they've done so way beyond their initial intended service period. They've all been pushed into service again and again due to the conflicts back home, and each time more and more of them have given in to the problems a ship of that age will inevitably get. Here we’re in a different situation however, and with the amount of problems your ships have due to their age I simply can’t justify keeping them any longer.”
“But sir, with all due respect we need every ship we have in case those flower ships turn up.” Sato tried.
“True, but when those flower ships were able to strike through the shields of a Nova, whose later generation shield emitters has a shield strength comparable to those of your Excelsior, and newer if not more phasers than you do, how much help do you think the Excelsior would truly be in a battle?”

Sato bowed his head in silent agreement. It wasn’t a fact he liked, but he knew it was true.

“I respect the service your ships have performed over the years, as they’ve been vital parts in many battles and won entire wars for the Federation. Now, their time is past. However, I can also see the need for more and newer ship designs in the future, so I want you and your engineering teams to work closely with the ground teams at Research and Development. I’m not suggesting you stand down permanently.”

West took a deep breath and ordered his thoughts to make his point more clear.

“One of the things that made me call not only the command staff in here, but also the science and engineering officers of the entire fleet, is that one of the things I’ll assign you to do is to create a new ship design. We’ve all seen the footage of the Earth Alliance’s Nova-class. While I will definitely admit that these ships are far inferior to even our smallest ships in technology, they do have a good point in their design. They, ladies and gentlemen, are designed for one thing and one thing only, and that’s the artillery role in large scale space battles, a role none of our ships is designed to fill. We've always been forced to rely on our speed and maneuverability, as in our own universe most of our opponents have equal or comparable weaponry and defenses to our own.”
“We all know what the advantages of having a number of these on the battlefield would be.” Keyes added. “We’ve all been up against armed space stations and fixed defense satellites in battle, and we know how devastating they can be to our lighter ships. What we propose is less of a classic Starfleet starship and more of a mobile fortress, that puts weight of fire above maneuverability, precision or for that sake speed.”

Jahari took a sip of water before he added his thoughts to the table.

“We want a dreadnought class ship that can fill this role, and in truth the basic parameters are simple. A lot of firepower and a lot of armor, along with a larger than usual amount of automation to give the ship a comparatively limited crew requirement. Beyond that it’s up to you what you do with these ships, of course within reason. You know what technologies we have, and you know which technologies we’ve seen the native races use and more importantly we've seen how they use them. Do your best to convince me to accept your design.”

ELYSIUM
SIRIUS III
NOVEMBER 14TH, 2243

West looked at the still beautiful Captain with a fair measure of shock clearly evident in his face. “Jesus. Why didn’t you tell me earlier, Sheila?”
“I didn’t know for certain until yesterday, Samuel.” She said and looked down. “I didn’t want to bring it up until I’d gotten my suspicions verified.”
“Yes, but it’s been weeks, even months already! You must have had some idea, I mean, it’s not something that just happens overnight, or, well, you know what I mean.”
“I know. It’s just… there’s been a lot of other things that’s come up as well, things that kept me busy enough not to really notice until lately. Well, I guess I always did though, I just didn’t want to think about it.”
"I must admit, not noticing most of the first trimester is quite an impressive feat considering what I've heard from other women." The Admiral was still in a sort of shellshock, the news his dear friend and for the last few months both lover and companion had given him was something he’d never expected to hear. He’d never had the intentions or the expectations. “So, what do you want to do now?”
“Well, it’s too late to do anything about it, even if I wanted to. Which I don’t, by the way. I’ll just have to go with nature on this one. I’m sorry, Samuel.”
“Sorry?" He replied with a quizzed look. "Why?”
“I didn’t know if…”
“Sheila… I understand that this wasn’t what either of us had intended, but it’s not something you should blame yourself for. If anything, it’s my fault. I took advantage when you were still mourning and it's not like I've broken it off, or had any intentions of doing so either.”

She looked away and was silent for a minute.

“It’s not what I had planned, no. I’m not sorry that it happened though, I’m not getting any younger you know and it’s probably for the best that it happened now.”
“But…”
“I once had plans with Justin, Sammy, that’s true. We actually broke up before the war broke out, so it's not like we were still together." She sighed. "Justin’s dead, and I’ve already let him go. I need to see to the future, and while I still mourn him and always will, he’s in the past now. You can't blame yourself, after all I was just as much a willing participant as you were.”
"Are you sure?" He asked, gently placing his hand on her shoulder.

She turned around, turning his gentle gesture into a close hug, and looked straight at him.

“Plus, I might add, the reason I went with Justin in the first place was that you were always my superior officer. Regulations would always have gotten in our way, not to mention long distance relationships rarely give time for a family life. He always hated that fact, ever since he started to suspect he might not have been my first choice.”
“The regulations could still get in the way, you know.” He made a mental note never to underestimate the otherwise so sweet woman in his arms again. While he'd had no objections and had felt bad over the entire situation, he was starting to suspect she'd been carefully maneuvering him just where he wanted him all along ever since she'd first entered his quarters on the Albion.
“Yes, but by now there’s not much they can do you know.” She had kind of a mysterious smile. “Sometimes, the written word has to bend to reality. Plus, not only are you the most senior Starfleet officer in the entire galaxy, but last I heard there’s no board of inquiries in Elysium, nor any convention of Admirals to conduct a court martial either. I do wonder though what my old mom would think about me getting it together with the Commander-in-chief of Starfleet himself.”

West didn’t know what to say, so he just embraced the only slightly younger Captain. One thing was true at least, neither of them was getting any younger, and he knew just as well as she did that this was probably the only chance either of them would ever get to have a family of their own. Whatever decisions the future might hold, he knew that this one was already out of his hands. He was used to being in control, but just like Sheila had said there wasn’t much either of them could do about it. But what the hell, it wasn’t such a bad thing after all and after some quick soul-searching he found he didn't have any reason to object to the facts presented to him. She'd made his choice for him, but he found he could live with that too.

He lifted the woman into his arms and gave her a gentle kiss.

“And may I ask the dear Captain of the Independence how she intends to pursue this?”
“Oh, I don’t know, mister fleet Admiral sir.” The smile changed a bit. “There’s always room for one’s commanding officer to make suggestions, though the traditional continuation to the present scenario would typically require a fair sized piece of compressed carbon pressed onto a precious metal ring.”

With that, they both joined in a much more passionate kiss. Yes, the Admiral thought, sometimes reality is the only thing that matters. There wasn’t much choice in the matter except how he’d handle it, and he already knew what he wanted to do about it.

Wanted. Wanted had little to do with it either at this point, though it helped. Regulations be damned, he already knew what he had to do. The love of his life had already clearly marked the path ahead she intended him to follow, and put him in one of the few situations where his deepest emotions and sense of responsibility for his actions gave him little choice but to do exactly that.

Zcenicx · Nov 2nd 2009, 2:00pm

Chapter 9

USS VENTURE, COMMAND BRIDGE
FEDERATION GALAXY-CLASS BATTLECRUISER
DEEP SPACE

The Venture was cruising through space at what most would consider a leisurely speed of warp five, much slower than the nine point nine a war-refit Galaxy-class starship was actually able to go. It was an unfortunate necessity though, since the far stronger warp field that was necessary for higher speeds could much more easily be detected at a longer range and right now stealth was far more important than speed.

They’d been ordered to investigate the area where the Icarus had been attacked during its survey run. The choice of ship and Captain should have been easy even if Captain Cleves hadn’t actively volunteered for it. The only Starfleet ships equipped with even close to the same scientific sensors and equipment as a Nova was the Intrepids or the Galaxy-class. Between those, the Galaxy was also by far much more heavily armed, better shielded and had more tactical options in case of enemy attack. And then, of course, there was the matter of the phase cloak. That he'd volunteered his own ship had mostly been because he really didn't trust the South African Captain Malhaeden on the Challenger to be able to stay hidden if he came upon the Icarus' assailants. Malhaeden had always had a temper, and always been known to take risks for possible glory.

They'd been tasked with a dangerous but vital mission; to recon the area where the Icarus was attacked and to gather intelligence about this mysterious power that was possibly just as advanced as they were. At the same time, they were expressly forbidden from doing anything, anything at all, except monitor and scan if they found something.

"Captain." The helm officer turned around to get his attention.
"Yes, Lieutenant?"
"We're approaching the coordinates we received from the Icarus logs."
"Good, slow to impulse. Tactical, engage the cloak. Ops, give me a full spectrum scan."
"Aye, sir." The two officers replied in stereo.

The bridge lights dimmed as the ship cloaked. It wasn't really necessary, but it was a long standing tradition that went back to the old submarines back on Earth. It let the crew know that the ship was hiding, and as such made them less inclined to do things that could be detected from outside. Of course, it was a largely pointless gesture today since at the time the tradition had begun that had been sounds and the crew would have to whisper or stay very still to avoid making any noise the enemy could hear, while here in space sound didn’t carry very well nor were they actually visible in anything but the smallest of subspace spectra.

They didn’t even have to worry about running into anything, as unlike any other cloaking device the phase cloak allowed them to literally go right through normal phased objects. It was still avoided though, as the results of the phase cloak malfunctioning while inside another object could be quite… messy, to say the least.

"Keep your eyes and ears open people, we don't want to attract undue attention but let's not miss anything either as long as we can avoid it."
"Aye, sir."
“Ops, anything on those sensors?”
“Nothing yet, sir.”
“Very well. Helm, keep us on a course for the closest star system. Let’s take it slow and steady, say warp four.”
“Aye, Captain. Engaging warp drive, speed set to warp four.”

What struck Cleves as odd was that neither the Centauri nor the Minbari seemed to have any data at all on the space ahead, even though it was close enough to their borders for both races to have entered it before. Maybe they couldn’t reach these places with their FTL technology? The theory wasn’t unsound, they’d found out that was one of the main reasons that the local humans hadn’t yet colonized Sirius or the inner Alpha Centauri planets. They simply couldn’t get there.

Strong gravitational forces had some kind of effect on their ability to move around in that ‘hyperspace’ as they called it, and that made it hard on the verge of impossible for them to actually enter systems with a larger binary or even the smallest ternary system. Or as in the case of Sirius they were completely stumped by the existence of a super-dense white dwarf. From what they'd been able to find out the only reason they'd been able to reach Proxima was because of the unusually long distance between that star and the main binary pair.

But both the Centauri and Minbari were quite a bit more technologically advanced than the humans though, and there was ample proof that at least the latter of the two races had colonized binary systems, even one with a small but remote ternary star not all that unlike Alpha Centauri. Either way, his mission wasn’t to philosophize, even though he found it hard not to at times.

“Helm, what’s our ETA?”
“Just over ten minutes, Captain.”

Cleves leaned back in his command chair and casually reviewed the last systems log, something he’d made a habit of ever since they were dumped into this reality. That way he’d be one step ahead when something needed replacing or maintenance, and even though they had built enough infrastructure to make replacements it could still take a while to get spare parts manufactured. Not like back home, he thought, where there’d be enough spare parts stockpiled at Utopia Planitia to construct at least two whole new Galaxies without ordering a single piece from the foundries, and probably more than that if you brought in the reserves from the San Francisco fleet yards too.

Everything seemed to be working according to specs though, so he looked back to the view screen.

“Captain, we’re approaching the target system.”
“Good. Status on the phase cloak?”
“Active, sir, and functioning according to normal parameters.”
“Very well. Slow to impulse Lieutenant. Let’s see what’s out there”
“Aye, sir.”

They were still too far out from the system proper to get very accurate readings, but the stellar view still looked nice enough. From this distance the star was little more than a little ball of red light behind the rocky belt that made up the system’s Oort cloud. Cleves had always liked looking at red stars; they were more pleasing to his eyes than the brighter yellows or whites, even though Sol still of course had a very special place in his heart. There was really nothing like seeing that star grow on the horizon as you cruised back home after a long time in outer space.

He shook his head a little to clear his thoughts. Damn homesickness.

“Anything on sensors yet?”
“Nothing certain, still too far out for a positive reading, Captain.”
“Well, get us in closer then, but try to stay in the shadows.”

As they entered the system there were still no signs or habitation or artificial structures, but those readings were hard to trust. At extreme ranges it was hard to get an accurate reading on anything close to any gravity well as large as a planet or moon, not to mention a star. He remembered that was one of the biggest reasons they’d missed the Dominion intelligence satellites near Betazed until it was already too late, they had simply been too close to the local sun.

The system itself however was already completely mapped as planets and larger asteroids were clearly visible to the sensors even light weeks away. There were only a few planets left in the system, no doubt due to the star going into its red giant state. There had probably been a dozen or so planets in solar orbit at one time, but now there were less than a half dozen left and the ones that remained were mostly class J gas giants, with one single exception.

A single planet that registered as solid and that the computers decided that its orbit might support alternative forms of life, though with a class N classification it really wouldn’t be very pleasant to any known race of humanoids or other carbon-based life forms.

“Helm, move us towards that solid planet.”
“Aye sir, coming to new course 23 mark 5.”
“Sensors, still nothing?”
“No… wait… Captain, we’re reading something in orbit. Readings are unclear but there’s definitely something there.”

Cleves rose from his chair and went over to the operations console to take a look at the display.

“Damn. What the hell is that thing?”
“Unknown sir, and not all that surprisingly there’s no record in the computer of anything even remotely like it.”
“Are we in visual range?”
“Yes, but only barely, sir.”
“On main viewer, maximum magnification.”
“Aye, sir.”

It was a structure, it had to be. Nothing nature could come up with could be that shape, or for that sake have that orbit. It registered as being more than fifteen kilometers end to end and more than seven wide. Still, what made no sense, no sense at all, was that the sensors showed it as a life form. Organic technology was all nice and good and over the years the Federation had made contact with a lot of races in all four quadrants of the galaxy who had used it extensively, but it had always had one problem. It had always failed to produce anything larger than a destroyer sized ship or station, anything larger than that had always had to be constructed as partially inorganic to give structure and stability. This… thing… didn’t seem to suffer that weakness however, as it showed none of the decisively ugly shapes of internal framework through its hide.

The Venture came in closer to the orbital; the ship, even though one of the largest ever constructed by Starfleet, was easily dwarfed by the massive object. It didn’t look like anything Cleves had ever seen before. The entire structure was covered in what looked like a green and yellowish skin, with moving black and dark gray spots and patterns.

“Life signs?”
“It’s hard to tell, sir. The hull of the orbital seems to scatter our sensors, and it doesn’t really help that the object itself has life signs of its own.”
“What about on the planet?”
“Also unknown. There are definitely artificial structures down there, but the computer is having trouble identifying exactly what’s what and the massive electrical activity in the atmosphere isn't helping either.”
“So if there is life down there, it’s not what we’re used to?”
“Correct, sir. If I were to hazard a guess, I’d say protoplasmic or possibly energy-based life, with the former being more likely than the latter. Either way our sensors aren’t exactly calibrated to distinguish that kind of life signs. They’re quite uncommon back home, you know.”

The Captain was silent in thought for a moment, until suddenly an opening formed in the side of the orbital, allowing several smaller objects to exit.

“Do we have any kind of visual ID on those smaller objects?”
“Well… Yes and no, sir.”
“Ehm, can you explain that assessment?”
“Well, sir, there’s two different kinds of them. The smaller type are exact matches to the configuration of the flower ship that attacked the Icarus, but the larger ones, while similar in design and appearance, are of a new and so far unknown kind.”
“Well, they’re ships then, which would make the larger object their version of a Starbase.
“Yes, sir, or quite possibly a hatchery.”
“Don’t start.” Cleves sighed. “Let’s hope it works the way we think it should and is what we think it is, and not add even more flavor to the bad news we have to carry back either way.”

A Federation Starbase was considered a huge structure in space by definition of any and all the Alpha and Beta quadrant races back home, and neither Romulans, Klingons or Cardassians had ever even attempted to create something as massive as what the Federation considered little more than a base camp. Even then this unknown race had built something that dwarfed even the largest Starbase of them all, the Earth-orbiting Starbase 1 or as it was actually called Earth Spacedock, by at least four times. A magnificent achievement, though still quite terrifying. He hoped his science officer was wrong, if this was some kind of orbital construction yard for those ships there’d be ample room and no telling how many of those ships could be under construction or just berthed inside.

Cleves looked out at the small cloud of ships that had by now exited the structure.

“Lord. How many of them are there?”
“Best estimate is twelve of the smaller and two of the larger, but there's also a very large number of even smaller fighter-sized vessels.”
“And a single one of the ‘smaller’ ships effectively crippled a Nova, and we have no idea of the capabilities of those larger ships.”
“Yes, sir. I’d strongly recommend against making our presence known.”
“Nervous, Commander?”
“No, Captain, but while I’d expect we’d do well against a handful of the smaller ships, the larger ones do worry me. We have an idea about the capabilities of the smaller ones, but the big ones? I don’t know. They could be just capable as the small ones and be more than a match for the Venture, or just be bulk transports for all I know. But if they’re their version of a cruiser, I’d expect that any encounter would be less than ideal.”
“Well Commander, for once I definitely agree with you.”
“Thank you, sir.” The science officer smiled. “Nice to know not all Captains think with their balls.” He added to himself with a silent voice.

Looking at the ships that passed by outside there was a measure of awe across the entire bridge. Even in the best days of the Federation they’d never have more than a dozen ships or so assigned to any given Starbase. In war-time, there’d be even less discounting any battle fleet making a quick stop to resupply or receive repairs or maintenance. The exceptions to this rule were critical strategic positions and Earth itself, which was usually guarded by an entire fleet in war-time, but these were still exceptions.

“We’re not getting anything from our sensors, are we?”
“Barely, sir, and what we are getting back we're going to need a lot more time to sort through before we can make any kind of positive readings.”
“Damn.” Cleves scowled. “We still can’t even be sure if this is their home planet or just an outpost?”
“Not entirely.” Science replied. “Though I’d be more than surprised if this was indeed their home world.”
“Why?”
“Simple.” The science officer pointed to his display. “I can’t see the population down there, but judging by the amount and state of those structures as well as the available resources, I’d expect an outpost or possibly a minor colony. The planet’s pretty barren, and there’s no way this planet has supported any kind of life for more than at most a few thousand years.”
“I see.” Cleves nodded and thought he understood why, but asked anyways. “Why is that?”
“Sir.” Science explained. “No more than four or five millennia ago this planet was a dead rock in space consisting of a rocky core covered in pretty much nothing but frozen methane and carbon dioxide. The solar expansion caused them to vaporize and create that sludge of an atmosphere you see now. There's just no way life developed there before that, and this race is far too advanced to be that young. It’d typically take millions of years for any kind of complex life to develop, not to mention intelligent and technologically advanced such.”
“Very well.” Cleves nodded. He’d guessed that, but he was grateful for the confirmation. “Helm, there’s nothing left for us to do here. Get us out of here; we have what we came for. Warp five.”
“Aye, sir. Plotting a new course, 173 mark 350, back through the Oort cloud.”
“Good. Engage.”

STARFLEET COMMAND
SIRIUS III

It’d been a strange day more than anything else. He’d announced his and Sheila’s decisions regarding their future to his peers and the Captains, and though most reactions had been positive thus far he’d yet to hear from the one he was worried about until now. Keyes’ face was stern, and she looked irritated more than anything else. Well, that was typically how Keyes usually looked when something unexpected happened.

“Admiral.”
“Admiral. How can I help you, Elisha?”
“Just thought I’d come down and... pay my respects. I heard about your latest decision, and thought I’d at least look you in your face when I said; ‘Idiot.’”
“Heh, you sure that calling your superior officer mentally deficient doesn’t count towards insubordination, Elisha?” He smiled awkwardly.
“I’m quite sure, Samuel." She replied with a stern voice, and then asked with a more sincere one. "What the hell were you two thinking?!”
“Well, I deserved that, I think. To tell you the truth, there were a lot of things involved at the time, but thinking wasn’t really one of them. And yes, I know, it’s wrong judged by pretty much every single Starfleet regulation. But, in my defense, Starfleet is a long way away from here.”

The last part was getting increasingly hard to miss. Normally, fraternizing among the crew or officers was something that was mainly overlooked by the Starfleet rules, but when it came to fraternizing with people under your command there were indeed very strict rules that applied. Rules that any Captain would attest to just became increasingly harder to enforce in his people’s current situation. He also understood that his actions didn't make that easier either and had set sort of a precedent as well.

“Still, you should have…”
“Should have what, Elisha? Told her that no, no way, I can’t take responsibility for my actions?”
“That’s not what I meant, and you know that.”
“But it’s what you want me to do, isn’t it?”
“Well… no, I mean, you shouldn’t have done what you did in the first place.”
“True, but that’s not like it's something I can just magically go back and change, and even if I could, I’m not so sure I would even want to.”
“In a sense I suppose you’re right, but it’s still wrong. It sets a bad example for the rest of the crews.”
“Too bad, I can’t do much about that.” He sighed. "And I'm not so sure it's even a rule worth trying to uphold anymore either."
“I know. Thus my first statement is mostly correct. ‘Idiot’.”

Elisha Keyes smiled for the first time this afternoon, she’d known that she’d never change the senior Admiral’s mind, and there was really very little reason to attempt doing so. Everyone already knew, and while it’s one thing to break something up before the fact, it’s a totally different thing to try to do the same thing after. And in the case of Samuel and Sheila it was more like trying to joust windmills. She’d known they had both had feelings for each other for the past decade or so, but they had always kept them under control. To be entirely honest she couldn’t really blame them for losing that last measure of control either, given the situation they all found themselves stuck in.

“Either way, to make your conscience a little lighter, she’s not one of my subordinates.” West made a little laugh. That was something Keyes actually hadn’t thought of.
“Hmm? And how, may I ask, did you come to that conclusion?”
“Easy." He smiled. "She’s assigned to Space Command, and that’s your department, not mine. While I can give you orders, I can’t treat her unfairly or give her special treatment since all my orders to her would go through you, and I highly doubt you'd let me go over your head unpunished.”

His smile was far too wide and far too planned for Elisha’s warning lights not to go off.

“You’ve already given this some thought, haven’t you Samuel.”
“Some, granted, but I know you quite well Elisha, and I knew that the minute I announced our plans you’d be here trying to rip something more or less vital out of me. Quite possibly the parts that caused this mess in the first place.”
“Well, that’s true." She nodded. "Oh, okay, at least you know your actions have consequences. Now, what will you do about all of this?”
“Exactly what I stated before. I’ve already asked her, or, well, she pretty much made my alternatives pretty clear. I’m going to marry Sheila, Elisha, and I was going to ask you to perform the ceremony.”
“Oh? Why me?”
“My turn to say ‘Idiot’ now? You’re one of my best friends, Elisha. We’ve known each other for how long?”
“Some twenty odd years.” Keyes looked at him with renewed respect. “I know, Samuel.”
“So why are you surprised? Only an Admiral can wed a Captain, and I’ll be otherwise engaged.”
“Yes, that’d be correct I guess.”
“So, I need another Admiral, which means you or Jahari and I really don’t know Heron well enough to ask him.”
“All right, all right. I fold, Samuel. I’ll perform the ceremony. I still have my reservations though.”
“Of course you do, and I understand them, and I even promise to overlook the same reservations when you find someone too.”
“You know full well that’s not one of my priorities, Samuel.” She blushed, a deep, honest blush.
“Of course not. It’s one of those things that, how did you put it, just happen?”
“Bah. Men.”
“Aye, but aren’t we charming?”

She almost looked humored, but then she regained her composure. It wasn’t often Keyes showed her real emotions, but for one who knew how to both trigger and read them she was just as much an open book as any other human being. West broke the uncomfortable silence.

“Either way, I haven’t been able to get space-side for a few days now. What’s the status of the Excelsiors?”
“Last I heard everything was going according to plans thus far. The Excelsior has been stripped of her outer hull, the Franklin just came into dock and the Berlin should almost be down to her framework by now.”
“Good, have the engineering and science teams come up with any bright ideas as of yet?”
“Jahari’s in charge of that, but I’m receiving a few reports that he wants my input on.”
“May I ask what you’ve heard?”
“Well, to be honest there are a lot of ideas flying around, and I really can’t say which are and which aren’t actually feasible. I can only give an idea of what an experienced command officer thinks of the function of the ideas.”
“Still?”
“There’s a lot of discussion about implementing both holographic and android extensions of the ship’s computer, as well as building a much extended AI and computer core. All of them designed to reduce the crew necessary to operate the ships.”
“Oh? That actually sounds like a really good idea, though I have much the same reservations about creating true AI as any other Starfleet command officer. Do they have anything to work from?”
“Yes, and something I know at least a little about. I suppose you know about how the EMH works?”
“The emergency medical holographic system? Sure, I was there on Jupiter station when it was first unveiled.”

He smiled a little when he remembered the Doctor, Janeway’s EMH on the Voyager, who’d made himself not only a unique but also a historical person as he step by step not only achieved true sentience, but also fought for and managed to get legislature passed in the Federation Council to acknowledge that very sentience in not just his own case but in that of other holographic entities as well. He and Commander Data had both been vital parts in the struggle for artificial life forms receiving the same treatment as biological ones.

“Yes, it’s also been discovered that it can, and if left activated long enough eventually will attain sentience and soon after true sapience.”
“Mm, I remember Kathryn telling me about it, and my complete surprise when I actually met the Doctor on a social function. That’s old news though, and steps have been taken to prevent holograms or computer programs from accidently achieving sentience since then.”
“True. What’s less known is the idea that the Doctor had for what is effectively a holographic Captain, he called it the ECH protocol. Janeway decided not to pursue the idea as even she doubted the feasibility, but our researchers believe that while it might seem extreme the idea has a certain merit to it in our current situation.”
“I see. I look forward to see the idea being tried in action, but I'm familiar enough with the Starfleet command protocols to see numerous flaws in having a system like that as well.”
“What the computer scientists are proposing is that we expand on the original idea a bit and actually integrate the system into the main computer, as well as include several android bodies to each of the ships.”
“You mean like having several Data’s on the ships? I can live with that, I served with him in the beginning of my career.” Memories of the android Commander started to come back to the Admiral’s mind, memories of a fellow Starfleet officer that had been gone for several years by now. “However, I was under the assumption that we couldn’t build an even close to good enough positronic brain yet?”
“You're quite right, we still can’t, but these androids wouldn’t be independent like Data was but rather extensions of the main computer operated by remote control, more like drones than actual people.”
“Oh.”
“They wouldn’t be sentient either, or even intelligent by any measure of the word, but they would be able to help with damage control and other non-automated functions. They wouldn’t need food, water or even air, and using drones for those labor-intensive duties we'd be able to cut down a total of about a third of the enlisted crew while still remaining fully capable to operate the ships.”
“I see… it sounds like a good idea. Tell the teams to work on both of those project, but to especially focus on implementing them on the other ships as well. If we're to have any chance of success in rebuilding our civilization we'll need to reduce the overall space-borne crew size fairly soon, and I’d hate to have to mothball any more of our ships if something was to happen.”

The truth in the last statement was something both of them knew quite a bit more than they wanted about. Sooner rather than later there’d be a baby boom on Sirius III, and even now almost twenty percent of the serving female population reported at least signs of pregnancy with at least half of these confirmed. The reason all of them weren’t positive was simple, they simply didn’t have enough Doctors to confirm them. The first of these women would have their children in less than three months, and were already signing papers for maternity leave, with the massive wave following shortly thereafter.

Keyes wasn’t sure how it looked on the planet, but if the situation in space was anything to go by they’d have not a few hundred, but several thousands of infants born in the coming year. What made this worse was that children required a lot of manpower, from the medical personnel to the nurseries to schools and so on, and manpower was the one resource their fledgling civilization was drastically short on. They’d even have to start looking at building a whole new academy sooner or later to replace the existing crew as they eventually grew too old to be able to serve.

“I know what you’re thinking, Elisha, and don’t worry; it’s already on the drawing board.”
“Huh?” She asked, still lost in thought.
“Schools and academies.” West replied with a faint smile.
“How did you…?”
“Elisha, don't you realize by now that I’ve known you more than long enough to read your mind?”
“So I see.” She shrugged. "I'll have to remember that."
“To get back to our original topic, was there anything else you considered to be even close to a feasible idea that reached your desk?”
“Well, not really. I’ve denied quite a few ideas without much hesitation, such as implementing separation or multi-vectoring systems to the larger ships, as well as some propositions on alternate power sources.”
“Such as?”
“Quantum singularities, zero-point reactors and multifocal fusion reactors just to mention some.”
"Good.” West made a sour face. “I never liked the singularity reactor even in Romulan ships. Doesn’t leave much behind when the core breaches.”
“Nor does a warp core, Sammy.” Elisha pointed out.
“True, but at least we get a warning first.”
“Well, that’s true." She shrugged. "Sometimes, at least.”
“Anything else?” He wondered.
“Nothing really new." She replied. "Some of the engineers and physicists are looking into the quantum slipstream drives again, but I don’t know whether they’ll make any new progress or not. Apparently some of them think the native faster-than-light drives may hold some new clues.”
“I see." He nodded. "Not too promising?”
“Too early to tell, though I seriously doubt the old Excelsior frames would be able to mount them even if they’re rebuilt. They’d have to start designing an entirely new experimental platform from scratch, which is something I also doubt we'll be able to do within the foreseeable future..”
“I guess we’ll see what the future holds.” The Admiral finished with a slight sigh.
“True." She nodded. "Sooner or later.”

That was as true a statement as they got. Admiral West hadn’t really expected too much when he asked his people to look at designing a not just a new ship design but also an entirely new class and generation of ship. He had rather intended it as a way to keep the otherwise depressed people’s minds occupied than gaining any real progress from it. It was bad enough that depression was still dangerously common among the people they had evacuated but he didn’t need it spreading like wildfire throughout the fleet crews as well. This project had helped, and there was even a large pile of requests from the evacuees to join the construction and development teams. Most were approved even though he doubted the extra manpower would make much difference.

“So, if that’s the end of the official business could I possibly offer you something to drink, Elisha?”
“Please. A raktajino, boiling hot.”

USS DARWIN
HIGH POLAR ORBIT OF DRACONIS III
SIGMA DRACONIS SYSTEM
DECEMBER 23RD, 2243

As the only remaining operational science vessel the Darwin had early been assigned to do a detailed sweep of the Earth Alliance's borders, both to verify the maps they had drawn up so far as well as gather more intelligence and data about other star systems they hadn’t had time to explore yet. They hadn’t gone far before they reached the Sigma Draconis system, which in their own reality was home to three class M planets which had all developed native intelligent life. Two had been housing two different pre-warp societies which had both been flourishing when the fleet had gotten trapped here, while the third planet had once housed an advanced civilization that had disappeared many millennia before humanity had even invented the wheel.

Even with the abundance of life in their own universe they had expected the system to be either empty or claimed by one of the interstellar powers that bordered the system, considering the fact that the system had a single orange main-sequence star. From the best of their knowledge this stellar configuration allowed even the most primitive ‘jump drives’, as this universe's faster-than-light drive system was called, to travel here. Even the most pessimistic scientists were sure that the Earth Alliance drives could easily do so.

Upon arriving however they’d soon received a nasty shock. The system was definitely inhabited, or at least one of the planets was, but there was no proof of there being any kind of jump gate, orbital weapons platforms, space stations, shipyards or for that sake anything else that depicted a FTL-capable society. That was, nothing except a few communications and weather satellites, and an antimatter energy signature.

“Well, T’Var, any clarification on this massive conundrum?”
“No, Captain, I can only offer verification of our preliminary scans. The people on the planet really are human, and the civilization is definitely at a post-industrial, but still pre-warp, stage.”
“How can that be? They're human, but there’s no evidence this society has ever reached or had faster-than-light capability, not even the bastardized version the native races use. And where is that antimatter signature coming from if these people aren’t even capable of creating that kind of energy yet?”
“As I said, I don’t know. I’d say they’re comparable to approximately your early to mid twenty-first century development wise, but even then they'd at most be able to produce microscopic amounts of antimatter, nowhere even close to what'd be required for the smallest reactor. Still, their overall development seems to match what we'd expect from back home rather than the native humans.”
“They do have fusion reactors, but they haven’t explored space." He stated. "Interesting.”
“That’s largely a false assumption, Captain. There are ample amounts of artificial satellites in orbit around the planet, as well as while uninhabited a number of definitively artificial structures on both of the two moons that would suggest they are in the early construction stages of colonizing them.”

How could this be? Neither his own humanity nor the local humans had colonized space that early in their history, and even though the Preservers had transferred some of the humans to other planets they’d evolved at more or less the same rate and in the same way as their Earth-based brethren. Could there be another race in this reality that had manipulated just as much as the Preservers had done in his?

“Well then, that’s something to add to our report.”
“Captain?”
“A pre-warp human civilization, just outside the domain of the Earth Alliance but with no visible technological or cultural ties to them. That alone constitutes worthwhile news, but with evidence of a low level antimatter reaction somewhere close to the magnetic pole that constitutes a real enigma. The Earth Alliance doesn’t have any form of viable and sustainable antimatter reaction technology, in fact any form of antimatter reaction technology is very rare in this universe, so the big question is where they got it from.”
“True.” T’Var’s facial expression changed dramatically as new lines appeared on his display. “From what I’m reading though, we’d probably want to take this directly to the Admiral.”
“Why so?”
“I’m reading what appears to be a concentration of high-density tritanium alloy in the northern polar region, close to or at where we estimate the rogue antimatter signature to be located. In other words, there’s wreckage down there, and it’s not native to this planet much less the Earth Alliance. I'm initiating genetic scans to confirm this.”
“T’Var." Deschamps was almost shocked that his science officer would unbidden take such extreme measures as to do invasive scans of the native population. "Make sense, that’s an order.”
“Captain, from all the evidence our sensors can gather..." T'Var paused for a second before continuing. "Everything I'm seeing now would make me presume that these humans are from the Federation, not the Earth Alliance.”
“You’re joking!” Deschamps dropped his jaw. "You must be!"
“I’m Vulcan. I never ‘joke’. You know that." T'Var almost looked insulted. "There is only one civilization we know of in either our or this universe that has the technology to produce this kind of tritanium alloy, and even there it only has one use.”
"Don't tell me..." The Captain immediately realized the point the older Vulcan was trying to make.
"You already know which." T'Var replied and tapped a finger on the bulkhead. "It's only used in Starfleet starships."
“How long have they been here?” Deschamps asked almost mechanically, still in shock.
“Well, I’m not sure, and before you ask I’m not even close to having an idea about how they got here either.”
“Best guess will do, T’Var.”
“Definitely more than five hundred years, probably more in the vicinity of six to eight. Not long enough to account for losing as much as they have of their technological level, though it would be long enough to account for their numbers.”
“Jesus. That’s… hard to imagine." The Captain sighed. "Still, if you're right and they really are Federation they should indeed be more than just a pre-warp civilization. Some of their technology obviously survived, such as that antimatter reactor we’re detecting, and their computer banks should be at least partially salvageable even in the worst of crashes.”
“I suppose so, sir. Still, I have no answers to those conundrums.”
"You said it would account for their numbers, T'Var." Deschamps realized. “How many of them are there?”
“Scanners can’t get an exact amount as the planet's active ionosphere and strong magnetic field prevents wide scans like that but judging by the infrastructure and population densities we can see, certainly several million, probably more than ten but less than twenty. I'll be able to tell you more when we analyze our data further.”

Millions. There was a whole civilization here which was supposedly made up of his own people, or at least their descendants. How and why they had gotten here could possibly have been lost in the sands of time, but maybe there were some answers to be had either way. If there was wreckage, maybe there’d be information there or maybe someone had managed to salvage the ship's records or something like that. Knowing humankind there were certainly answers to be had, he just needed to know where to look and, more importantly, if he was going to be allowed to.

“Lieutenant, set a course back to Sirius. We need to let the Admirals know. Warp 9.5.”
“Aye, sir. Warp 9.5.”

Zcenicx · Nov 2nd 2009, 2:01pm

Chapter 10

ADMIRAL WEST’S RESIDENCE
ELYSIUM, SIRIUS III
CHRISTMAS EVE, 2243, 07:00 HOURS

The computerized beeping noise only needed one or two attempts to fully rouse him from his sleep. Even though he’d slept for just over six hours he was still feeling tired, and unlike many of his colleagues in the service he’d never been much of an early bird and had never made any real attempts at becoming one either. This was not least evident in his tendency of scheduling most even close to important meetings and conferences in the afternoon rather than in the morning, which actually worked out very well for all involved since both other Admirals had usually cleared most of their own busy schedules by then giving him near free access to them as well as any people that reported both to one of them and directly to him.

His scheduling preferences was probably in everyone else's stationed at the command complex best interests as well as his regular staff would of course be available should he need or request something, but should he not, which he usually didn't, they were spared his foul morning mood which was quickly becoming legendary throughout the entirety of the complex.

Not that it mattered today. He sleepily remembered that it was Christmas Eve, a day that he’d always looked forward to as the only time of the year he’d usually been able to take a break from whatever duties he had in Starfleet and visit the grave of his parents back home on Earth. Not that he’d be able to do so this year, his parents may only have been light years away, relatively speaking, but that didn’t really help considering the difference in time not to mention the difference in reality. He wouldn’t see their grave again until they found a way back home, and judging by how much the scientists he’d seen had shook their heads at the bare idea, he didn’t even believe it possible anymore, not in his life time and perhaps not even that of his not yet born daughter.

Still, they had started a new life here now and most had at least tried to leave the past behind. He’d been surprised at the low amount of publicity his own, some would say questionable, choices had received but on the other hand he could see why. People understood him. They did the same themselves. Perhaps he had set a standard, but the situation they were in wouldn't be helped if they tried to uphold standards which would only cause even more problems with morale and the general mood of the people.

“Honey, wake up. She’s seven in the morning and we need to get up.”

He caressed the face beside him, trying to bring her back to consciousness as gently as possible. In absence of his uncles, aunts and cousins, his brother and girlfriend were really the only two people he could call family anymore. She stirred slowly, not wanting to leave whatever dream she was dreaming behind. It must’ve been a good one, he thought, as her still face was smiling as she slowly opened her eyes.

“Sammy, I really don’t want to.” She made a soft protest through a small yawn.
“Doesn’t matter honey, no matter how much we want it to the rest of the galaxy doesn’t wait for us.”
“Damn the galaxy then.”
“You know… cursing it won’t work either. I could ask the scientists in the fleet, but I’m fairly sure the galaxy doesn’t have ears. And, for that sake, if it had I’m quite sure it wouldn’t care too much.”

She couldn’t help but laugh a little, and then she threw her pillow at him as payment for his bad humor. He easily avoided the flying object and made a face at her.

“I don’t want to get up. It’s Christmas, and I never liked Christmas even back home.”
“Oh?” He was surprised. ”Why not?”
“Bad memories, plus, I never liked Santa.”
“Never liked Santa?" He couldn’t help but laugh out loud. "How come?”
“I don’t know. Mostly because he’d always give me the dolls and stuff, while my brothers got the model starships and Klingon action figures.”
“And I suppose little Sheila didn’t like that, did she?” He mocked.
“No, and to be entirely honest it was a damn waste of replicator energy too." She smiled. "My younger brother became a psychiatrist and my older brother’s a chef. To my knowledge neither of them has even set foot on a starship, much less the Academy grounds. In fact, I doubt either has ever left the state of Quebec.”
“Really, I didn’t know that.” West replied with true surprise in his tone.
“Well, I guess they might have gone to San Francisco by now…"She pondered. "Wonder if they’ve had our memorials yet.”

The mention of a memorial service, which had no doubt been several months ago by now, brought on another of Sheila’s now more and more common mood swings. She was very fond of her family back home and the thought of never seeing them again was hard for her to bear. Thin rivers of tears started to make their way down her cheeks and as they landed on the sheets, the dark blue fabric turned just a little bit darker. While the Admiral had no illusions that they hadn't been written off as missing presumed killed in action, he couldn't let that show. Not to her, not to anyone else.

“Hush now, honey." He sat down beside her and gave her a consoling hug. "We’re still here no matter what they think back home. And I know they know that as well. It’s like a bond between people in a family that will transcend any distance.”
“I know, but…”
“Don’t worry about it.” He gently brushed some of her hair away and gave her a soft kiss on her forehead. “Focus on today, and everything will be fine. You know what today is?”
“You keep reminding me.”
“Good, then you know there’s just a week left of this year. The next one will be better. You’ll see.”
“I’ll hold you to that, Sammy… I’ll hold you to that.”

He helped her out of bed and into the dining room where he ordered their usual breakfast from the replicator, and they sat down in relative silence while eating and updating their pads. As high-ranking Starfleet officers neither of them was ever completely off duty, even on a day such as this. He got reports on the overall situation, as well as situation reports from all the smaller divisions. She ‘only’ got continuous reports about the status and progress of the Independence, which was more than enough to fill her workday.

The Admiral was still astonished that a Captain actually had as much work as she did, even though he'd been one himself for several years he'd never really realized it until he'd been able to watch her from a third person perspective. He'd quickly realized just how quickly one becomes blind to one's own situation, especially when you as in the case of a Captaincy have the entire hero complex that had been so commonplace throughout Starfleet ever since the days of Jonathan Archer, and cemented by so many others such as Kirk, Picard, Sisko and even in some way Janeway. Ironically, this very complex had also made more than a few of the really good people in Starfleet outright refuse promotions past Captain which also meant that most of the Admiralty weren't even close to as upright as these people were.

They’d have to look into getting a replacement for her on board the Independence though as in another two or three months she wouldn’t be able to focus on her work anymore, not to mention how hard it’d be after that if all went well. The problem wasn't that it was too hard finding a replacement, there were other Captains available and of course her own first officer, but what was difficult was trying to convince Sheila herself that she’d actually need one. She’d never even considered the consequences for her Captaincy that a pregnancy would have before Samuel and Elisha had pretty much tied her to a chair and forced her to. She’d make a very good mother though, he was certain of that. She took duties very seriously and after all motherhood was the most important duty of them all.

She started to say something before she’d completely swallowed her bite of sandwich, and started coughing as she did. A few seconds and a soft blush later she tried again.

“Sammy, what’s your plan about all of this? About us?”
“About you and me?” He looked up from the pad. I think the answer to that would be the ring on your finger."
“No… about all of us." She cleaned her throat with a sip of orange juice. "About all the people that were stranded here in this damned parody of home.”
“Oh.” He scratched the harsh stubble on his chin.
“There’s so much we’ve done here, but it’s all been just to get here, to get settled down and to be able to survive another day. It’s not life as we know it though, is it?”
“No, I guess not.” He admitted.
“I mean, we’re all Starfleet officers, with only a few exceptions. We didn’t sign up for becoming colonists, or factory workers, or farmers. We wanted to be in space.”
“I know.”
“But that’s not where we are, is it? As far as I know only the Venture and the Darwin are even outside the system, much less exploring.”
“True.”
“Then what’s the point?”

He finished drinking his cup of coffee, and then gazed deeply into the beautiful brown eyes of his fiancé.

“The point? Right now it’s to survive. To live to see another day. To rebuild as much as we can of what we lost and to make a future, any future, possible. To make a better world for the next generation, for our daughter and all other sons and daughters. The same ‘point’ as guided my parents, and yours, and every other parent that has ever lived.”
“But…”
“No buts, no ifs. There’s truth to what you were saying and understand that I want to be out there as much as you do. I want to see what’s out there with my own eyes, on board my own starship, just like you do. But I still want to live and make a future and right now we have to do the latter. Later, we may do the former.”
“It’s just… it’s not exactly what I expected when I joined your task force.”
“I don’t think either of us did.”

He was silent for a moment, trying to think of a way to cheer her up.

“Still, you can’t really blame me.” He said with the slightest of smiles.
“Why not?” She raised an eyebrow.
“Remember what I told you when you first reported in to me?”
“Yes, I think so. You said that we were in for a wild ride.”
“And?”
“Well, I guess…”
“…being thrown more than a century into the past, and more than 50 light years from where we were, not to mention into another reality. Sheila, if that’s not a wild ride, then what is?”
“Bah.”
“Maybe, but it’s true. If nothing else, it has been just that.”

He was interrupted by his communicator.

“Aquilae to Fleet.”
“This is West.” He answered with a slight smile evident in his voice. “Merry Christmas, Elisha.”
“You too, Samuel, you too. Are you busy?”
“Just having breakfast with my lovely soon to be better half.” He winked at Sheila across the table. “How can I help you, Elisha?”
“I hate to break your Christmas rest, but you’d better get to a shuttle and get up here. We’re about to get some company.”
“Uninvited such?”
“Not exactly." She coughed discreetly. "According to their transponders we have both the Venture and the Darwin on incoming. They should be here within a few hours.”
“Any communications?” West asked, remembering the situation when the Icarus had returned.
“Yes, but neither wants to discuss the reason for their early return over subspace.”
“Okay… I’ll be there soon." He took a quick sip of his coffee. "You mind sending down one of your flyboys to come pick me up?”
“Already done. I’ll be seeing you in a half an hour or so.”
“Roger, West out.”

He went back to the bedroom to get his uniform, take a quick shower and shave. Well, maybe this Christmas would be different after all. Everything else already was, so why not this too?

“You’ll be okay if I leave for a while, honey?” He yelled through the open door as he stepped out of the shower.
“Yeah, I need to get up to the 'Big I' either way.” She hollered back. “They’re going to run a level three diagnostic on the warp drive and I want to be there to get the news in person. Something about a drive coil malfunctioning, so I believe they may have to replace the entire unit.”
“Ouch.” He replied, as much because he as a former starship engineer knew how much work that was as because the sudden shudder had made him cut himself with the razor. "That'll make the engineers fairly irritated."
“Yeah, but it shouldn’t take more than a few hours. I’ll probably be home in time for dinner, and the same goes for the rest of the engineering crew.”
“See you later, then.” He said as he walked out of the bedroom fully dressed. He planted a big kiss on her cheek as he brushed past her, and then left out the front door. Outside he could already see the sleek lines of a Danube-class runabout descending towards the nearest platform barely fifty yards away. At least one good part of being his rank was that Admirals typically didn't need to suffer from Class-2 claustrophobia.

ORBITAL COMMAND, AQUILAE STATION
SIRIUS III ORBIT
30 MINUTES LATER

The station seemed to have grown quite a bit since the last time West was up here. Of course, that had been when the Icarus had first arrived, and the bitter lessons learned from that unscheduled exercise had sparred the engineers to develop and implement more than just a few new ideas to the station’s overall design, and Keyes had never been accused of holding back on either personnel or resources when there were lives at stake. West had pretty much given her a blank check as well, as long as whatever redesigns or upgrades she planned didn't require additional permanently posted crewmen. He'd been more than pleased when he'd learned that several of the upgrades actually reduced the crew requirements drastically compared to the original specifications.

The orbital had received an outer docking ring, with fork-like structures extending out from the docking ports to ease and automate much of the repair, reloading and rearmament procedures which were standard after any mission longer than a few days. This also reduced the time it took to clear their moorings, the ships only needing to reverse engines and head straight out from the station to get clear instead of requiring a lateral thruster maneuver as originally designed. In addition, several of the newer rapid fire quantum launchers had been constructed and mounted on strategic positions around the station, as well as numerous of the power-intensive pulsed phaser cannons and phaser strips powered by a dedicated stripped down warp reactor.

In essence, the station had transformed from a smaller than but still basically standard Starfleet Starbase to a stellar fortress, with more firepower than any equally sized station West had ever heard of, and he’d been posted at several of the largest in existence. Not even Deep Space 9 had this amount of firepower, and large powers like the Cardassians or even the Dominion had only dared attack that base with a massive number of ships. The only comparisons he could make except for the San Francisco Spacedock would be Deep Space 5 which was a station completely designed for defense against a Borg incursion, or Deep Space 7 which had been the main base of operations for the entire Starfleet war effort against the Romulans.

He’d been dropped off in the main shuttle bay, which was now a brisk ten minute walk from the command deck. On his way, he passed several other additions that weren’t clearly visible from the outside, such as two Peregrine fighter bays and what looked very much like the battle bridge of a Galaxy-class ship. When he finally arrived at the last turbolift, he almost wondered if the system of having to walk a bit between different lifts was also a defensive measure. They probably were, as it increased both the distance and number of traversing points, and thus the number of defensive positions, between any point of outside access and the main Command Center.

The lift itself was standard issue, though the command deck was also visibly altered. There was now several tactical consoles, unlike most other Starfleet command centers which only used a single console to control all the available weaponry. There was also a large display array showing the shield grid in all available detail, with sectional displays showing armor integrity as well as shield strength and power status in the different areas each display covered.

“Admiral on the deck!” A young operations Ensign snapped to attention stirring the rest of the room to do the same.
“At ease.” West smiled at the eager Ensign and made a formal but quick salute back. “Keyes?”
“In her office, Admiral West sir.”
“Thank you, Ensign.”

He walked the few steps to the other side of the command deck where the commanding officer’s personal office was located. He wasn’t the least bit surprised that the door opened just before he approached it.

“Welcome to the new and improved Aquilae Station, Admiral.” Keyes flashed a quick smile from behind her desk as West entered. “First time aboard since the refits were finished, right?”
“Thanks, and yes, while it's something I actually regret admitting I do believe you're correct.”
"Of course I am." She made a quick laugh. “Can I offer anything to drink?”
“Sure, you know my poison.”

She rose from her seat walked over to the replicator, and It only took a second for the replicator to grant him his wish. The bitter but still delicious scent of the dark Arabica coffee spread across the room as Keyes handed him the cup, and then they both sat down on their respective sides of her massive wooden desk. The only drawback was that Elisha had joined the club his fiancé had set up, where all his close friends refused to add the scotch to his coffee.

“So, Elisha.” West asked with a little bit of humor as he took a sip of the almost too hot to drink coffee. “Who are we going to war against today, if I may ask?”
“Oh, you noticed our discreet little upgrades? How nice! I thought you’d never.” Keyes smiled innocently.
“Oh, ha ha ha.” He made a mock laugh. “Seriously though, don’t you think it’s just… maybe just a little bit… excessive?”
“You never know, do you? I thought it prudent, especially considering the circumstances. You never know what might come knocking at our doors, and this way we’ll be ready to greet pretty much anything.” She frowned. “With, or if need be without, starship support.”
“Good point.” He grinned badly at that comment. “But still, this station has more firepower than a Vanguard-class battleship, and that ship was deemed so excessive only two were ever made.”
“Well, there was also something about a young engineer wanting to break some records. Like most quantum launchers per ton of space station or some such.”
“Sounds really professional.” He almost laughed out loud, but managed through sheer willpower to limit it to a wide smile and a chuckle. “Hope you promoted him for his ideas.”
“It does, doesn’t it?” She returned the smile. “And no, though I did give his name to Jahari as I thought his mindset was exactly what the Dreadnought project needed.”
“Poor Jahari.” West laughed. “If this station is anything to go by, the Sovereigns will look like picket ships when that young engineer of yours is done with his first draft.”
“Probably true.” Keyes said with a shrewd smile. “But a spaceship doesn’t really have the same power production capabilities as a station this size does. Nor can you have energy cells or capacitors the size of warp nacelles on a ship, they actually need their nacelles for other things such as propulsion.”
“Think that guy will care?” West raised an eyebrow.
“No.” Keyes admitted. “But Jahari will probably explain that as soon as he sees that first draft. It’ll be good for his humility.”
“Whose, the engineer’s or Jahari’s?”
“Either. Both could use it.” Keyes made a soft giggle. "In all seriousness Caitians aren't really known for a lacking grasp of reality, and Jahari's no exception. He'll be just what Ensign Howe needs to gain some perspective of what can, and what can't, be done."

Her face and smile took away most of the seriousness of the comment. He understood her point though. Give the crew something, anything to do, preferably something that at least in some no matter how bizarre situation could be useful or necessary. Kind of like his own decision to allow a group of engineers to go ahead and build hydrogen taps around Sirius C. Something to take the engineers’ minds off of being stuck in this universe and something that could actually be useful, though there were of course already several readily available if perhaps not more efficient ways of producing deuterium and tritium than siphoning them directly out of the corona of a microstar.

“Have we received any news yet from either the Darwin or the Venture?”
“Not yet, they’ll be here any minute though." She leaned back. "You took your time getting up here, Samuel. Something the matter?”
“Well, you know. Some things got in my way.”
“Like that pregnant fiancé of yours?”
“Yeah.” He smiled. ”That too.”
“Hound.”
“Man.”
“Just as bad.”
“Yeah, maybe.” He smiled. "Actually, believe it or not you called me just as we got up, so I had to do my usual morning stuff before I could show myself in public first."
He took a sip of the now rapidly cooling coffee and relaxed in the comfortable chair.
“Any guess as to why they’re returning?” He asked. "Neither of them were scheduled to return until after the new year."
“Nope, not a single clue more than what you already know." She shook her head. "It can’t be too bad though, had either been damaged they wouldn’t keep the speeds they’re running at. Both are coming here at close to flank speed.”
“Really?”
“Yup, the Venture is running at warp 9.5, and the Darwin holds at just over 9.”
“Someone’s in a hurry.” He commented. “Still, the Darwin can’t have made it far, she just left here a week ago and wasn't even supposed to go beyond the Earth Alliance border.”
“True, I'm willing to bet they found something interesting.”
“I guess." He sighed. "So, anything else that's new while I’m here?”
“You could say so. I’ve gotten a progress report, though I think it’d be better if I showed you later. The fleet engineers are implementing one of those new ideas I was talking about earlier.”
“Wait. Implementing?”
“Yes. It's one of the ones I thought had a lot of merit and these guys had actually put a lot of thought into, but it proved to be impossible to try the system out without utilizing a real starship. I'm surprised you haven't heard about it, as I talked to Sheila about it a few days ago and she thought it’d be a great idea. She even volunteered the Independence for use in the trials.”
“Hmm… no, she was saying something about having to go onboard for a warp drive diagnostic?”
“Hardly.” She smiled. “She probably just wanted to surprise you.”
“I see." He said with dry humor. "The two women closest to me are conspiring against me.”
“Heh, us two and Jahari in that case, he’s over there as well helping with the installation and system trials. But don’t worry your mind about it. Call it a Christmas present from the three of us.”
“Huh. A Christmas present, right." He sighed. "You know I've always disliked surprises.”
“You’ll love this one.” She made a thoughtful face. ”If it works, that is.”
“Oh, that sounds really encouraging, Elisha.” He chuckled. “Either I get a shiny new toy to play with, or you break one of the few I still have left.”
“You’re no fun, did you know that mister Fleet Admiral?” She mocked.
“I do, but most people refrain from saying that into said Admiral’s face you know.” He smiled.
“You know me better than that.”
“I guess that’s true.” He replied with a cough as he stopped chuckling. "I suppose we'll see whether your new system works or not, it's just that I didn't expect all three of you to keep something as important as this from me."

The two Admirals went silent and looked out through the large office window. Their current high planetary orbit brought the Starbase around not only the planet but also its largest and by far closest moon, close enough to the moon to require a slight stabilization in orbit after each such pass, but far enough away to be able to view the wonders of the two almost binary planetoids visible at the same time.

“Did you know I actually grew up on Sirius, Samuel?”
“I did.” He nodded. "Your parents invited me over a few times, remember?"
“I had actually forgotten." She nodded. "I lived in New Nelson for most of my childhood. Went to school there, had a lot of friends and family there too. In fact, every time I go down to Elysium I recognize the view over the ocean, and the small outcroppings here and there, and it reminds me of them.”
“I understand.”
“I don’t know why, maybe it’s because it’s Christmas, but I keep remembering their faces. But not as I remember them. They’re covered in blood and dirt, and they stare at me with their lifeless eyes.”
“Elisha…”
“I know, it’s stupid. It’s been years, but sometimes I just can’t help it.”
“A lot of people died back then, it’s nothing you should be ashamed of remembering, and to be frank it's not like it was your fault or that you could've stopped it..”
“Not just a lot. Everyone that meant anything to me on that planet died there.”
“I understand, but it’s in the past now, has been for many years now. You just need to try to remember the good parts.”
“I know, but it’s hard. All I can see when I think back is Dominion warships conducting orbital bombardment.”
“But you weren’t there, and you blame yourself for that.” West recalled. "I was, and even then I know we couldn't have stopped it."
“No, I wasn't. But I saw my share of bombardment as it was, I was at Betazed.”

West didn’t want to say anything. Betazed had surrendered to the Dominion before the bombardment had become serious, and Keyes had been trapped on the surface along with a large number of Starfleet personnel and had only been able to escape several weeks later packed in a zero-g shipping crate. Sirius hadn’t, and it had been bombarded for almost a full hour before relief forces from the Earth defense fleet had been able to get there. What she’d seen was leisure activity in comparison, as New Nelson had been nothing more than ruins and craters, with a death count that had been in the millions. The entire city had been rebuilt afterwards and except for a memorial statue no-one who didn't know could suspect the city had been leveled, but anyone who had seen the ruins would never forget the bloody event.

Their reflections were interrupted by a pair of bright flashes a few hundred kilometers out, only a second or two apart.

“Well, back to business then. I think our friends are arriving.” Keyes wiped the single tear from her cheek.
“Finally." He nodded. "Let’s get some answers.”

CONFERENCE ROOM, AQUILAE STATION
SIRIUS III ORBIT

It’d taken a few minutes for the Venture and Darwin to settle in to the docking ports, not as much because it was a complicated maneuver as it was because it was the first time they'd ever done so. It wasn’t really a necessity but as so many other things it was considered prudent to restock and resupply even the slightest lack in stocks a starship had when at a Starbase, and old habits die hard. Even so, the two commanding officers had gotten to the conference room in an orderly fashion and almost simultaneously, both seemingly impressed by the additions and refits that had been done to the station in their absence. Cleves more so than Deschamps, but that was probably mostly because he’d been away from the station quite a bit longer.

“Admirals.” Cleves made a quick salute as he entered.
“Admirals.” Deschamps did the same.
“Welcome home, Captains." West had spoken up, mostly because he was the senior officer present. "I know we’re all very interested to hear why you’ve returned, and what news of the outside you bring with you that is so important both of you decided to cut your assignments short.”
“You have seniority, Captain Cleves.” Keyes stated. "How about you begin."
“Yes, ma’am." The German Captain stood at attention for a second and then relaxed as he started to tell his story. "We managed to find concrete evidence of the race that severely damaged the Icarus. We’ve successfully secured detailed scans, but even though we were at close range and used active sensors, we still didn’t manage to get too much information.”
“Start at the beginning, Captain.” West ordered. "We're all ears."

“We went into the suspected area under phase cloak and on low warp to if possible avoid raising any alarms or being detected. When we reached the coordinates at which the Icarus had been attacked we didn’t find anything left for us to analyze. There were no remains of the flower ship, nor any evidence of what had happened to it. I suspect whatever race we're dealing with cleaned the site up, as even the most destructive explosion would have left at least some debris but we found absolutely nothing.”

“When sensors failed to give us any of the answers we were looking for I decided to take the Venture to the closest star system. We have no name for it in this universe yet, and its position doesn’t correlate to any known star in our universe either. We believe it’s one of these oddities that separate one universe from another, just like there being no Bajoran star here. From a position outside the system’s Oort cloud we couldn’t make heads or tails of our sensor returns due to massive solar activity from the system's red giant star, and so I ordered the ship brought in to the system proper.“

“The system itself wasn’t much to look at, a red giant which had extended to a size of approximately one point two astronomical units, most probably enveloping any earlier habitable worlds in the process and leaving only a single solid planet and a couple of gas giants. We crept forward, alternating between very low warp and impulse power, hiding behind the gravitational shadows of the planetoids in the system whenever possible. That is until we reached the only remaining solid planet. It was only then that we found what we were looking for, though we didn’t realize it at first.”

“You see, what we found… it almost sounds ridiculous. A biological structure more than fifteen kilometers long and more than seven wide, and not only that, it didn’t register as having a single artificial component on the sensors. We didn’t realize what it was until it opened… I’d suppose I’d call it an orifice, but that’s not even close to describing what it looked like. Either way, it spewed out more than a dozen of the ships Jameson described, along with two of a larger variant that seemed to fit the same general description and numerous smaller craft the size of fighters and interceptors.”

“When we realized that this large… thing… was actually their version of a Starbase we started scanning the planet's surface. At first we had severe problems distinguishing what was actually what due to electrical and ionic activity most likely caused by the solar energy impacting the planet's atmosphere, but in the end we managed to confirm at least two things. One is that the race we were looking for is at least comparable to us in technology, and the other is that they’re nothing like us. There's not even the slightest resemblance.”

“To begin, the planet they occupy isn't even close to able to support carbon-based life. The atmosphere doesn't contain oxygen, but is closer to a methane and carbon dioxide sludge than air as we know it. We don’t think that would really matter though, as from what we were able to gather the life forms we found would hardly need it. In essence, there are two biological possibilities from what we found. Either they’re protoplasmic or energy based. Either way, they’d have little or no need for an atmosphere at all except from possibly that they'd need the air pressure to hold their form."

"Also, from what we were able to gather, there were no structures per se on the world at all, but rather other types of life forms. More puzzling than that was that all of them registered as close to the same kind of organisms as the Starbase and the ships we encountered. There’s only one logical explanation and that’s that this species is employs organic technology in almost everything and that they're able to do so in a way which is much more advanced than any other race we know about, possibly even including that Species 8472 Admiral Janeway and her crew encountered in the Delta Quadrant.”

“A highly advanced non-corporeal life form which exclusively employs organic technology?” West was surprised to say the least.

That’d explain why the Icarus defenses were all but useless against these ships. Starfleet had experience with both, but they had never encountered the combination of both at the same time before. Even so, organic hull and armor could adapt fairly quickly, or just shed damaged cells, which explained why their phasers were less than effective. In essence these ships had their own regenerative ablative armor. Punching through that was possible, but it'd take a lot more than they'd counted on.

“Yes sir, from the best of our understanding that’s what we’re dealing with. We bugged out as soon as we got that data.”
“And you were right to do so." Keyes nodded. "Any other useful intelligence?”
“Only that we don’t believe that was their home world. A colony, or perhaps an outpost, but there's just no way that planet is their home. We estimate that the planet hasn’t supported even their kind of life long enough for them to develop there since the star hasn't been large enough long enough, and when we knew what to look for we couldn’t find any large research, manufacturing or biotechnology plants. At least not enough of them to suggest anything else.”
“I understand. You raise even more questions, even though you managed to answer quite a few.”
“Yes sir, thank you sir.”

Cleves looked relieved, though he also showed a lot of expectation at the other Captain’s report.

“How about you, Deschamps?" West looked at the younger Captain of the Darwin. "I guess your experiences in the great unknown are just as interesting?”
“Well, sir, maybe that’d be extending the truth, but they’re at least noteworthy.” He said with a shrewd smile.
“Please.” West motioned for him to continue.

“Very well. We never got as far out as the Venture did. We started on schedule by making a survey of the border areas separating the Earth Alliance from the Narn Regime. There are actually quite a lot of unclaimed but inhabitable systems on both sides of and all along this border and especially in Narn space, probably due to what we’ve learned of the Regime’s industrial and supply problems.”

“One of the systems we surveyed as we started to turn back was Sigma Draconis. As you may know this system is populated by two different industrial-age races in our own reality, but we didn’t manage to secure any evidence of either of them existing here. However, we did find something else on the third planet, the one with the ancient ruins back home.”

Deschamps went over to the large screen on the wall, and transferred an image from his pad to it. The image showed a M-class planet, with obvious signs of intelligent life.

“Captain… is that a satellite I see in the foreground?” Keyes was studying the image closely.
“Yes, Admiral, from what we gather a communications satellite put in orbit just over a decade ago.”
“Pre-warp civilization?”
“Well…” Deschamps was trying to think of how to break the news. “I'd have to answer yes, but at the same time it's also a resounding no.”
“Oh?” West remarked. ”Don’t keep us hanging with a comment like that, Captain.”
“First, I should explain something else we found. We performed our scans while in a low polar orbit, letting the planet’s unusually strong magnetic field shield us from any sensors. We found something very interesting in the northern polar regions, something that while completely unexpected- took our sensors only fractions of a second to identify.”
“Spill it, Deschamps.” West was getting annoyed.
”Antimatter, oh, and I almost forgot... tritanium alloys.”
“Antimatter, well…” Jahari just realized what Deschamps had said. “Tritanium?!”
“Yes, sir. Tritanium. Not only that but with the exact same composition and density as that used in Federation starship hulls.”
“You’re kidding!”
“No sir, I’m not." He shook his head "To make matters even more interesting, the population of this world is human. Well, at least mostly human.”
“Extrapolate.” West breathed.

Deschamps sighed; this had been T’Var’s coup de grace, the proverbial final nail in the coffin of any point of discussion about this civilization’s origins.

“There are traces of among others Vulcan, Trill, Bajoran, Klingon, Betazoid and Bolian DNA in these people, and of a dozen or so other races as well though to a lesser extent. Some are even of pure or half-breed origins, though they’re far more rare than those with a more mixed heritage.”
“That means…”
“Yes sir. They are, or rather their ancestors were at one point in time, Federation citizens. Our data would suggest that the wreckage has been on the planet at least some five hundred years, but it’s extremely hard to determine the exact time frame without getting a ground team down there to do close proximity scans, and we decided not to risk it without contacting you first, as the natives might notice.”
“Several hundred years… lord!” West was visibly shaken.

Had the subspace wave that brought him and his people to this universe taken even more ships with it? And even further into the past as well? He remembered that even his held together formation had exited their warp bubble spread over a large distance and a time frame of more than two hours. How much would it have differed for another ship travelling alone? Maybe he was looking at the answer.

“Wait, Captain.” Keyes was still in close enough to one piece to notice his late addition. "Exactly how many people are we talking about?"
“Quite a lot of them, ma'am. Some fifteen to twenty million, give or take. It was hard to get an accurate number from the orbit we were in.”
“But this looks like a planet barely reaching into space?” Keyes almost spat.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Any explanation for that?”
“No, ma’am. There are several possibilities, but we can’t give a positive answer yet. They may have suffered worse than we did when we arrived, which is easy to believe. We were after all extremely fortunate to have as many ships and people as we did, enough to build a colony fairly quickly and to support not only our population but also our technology and the resources it requires. If the remains we detected were all from a single ship that crash landed… then it’s very possible that the crew had to resort to more primitive ways until they could rebuild their population and industrial base, and perhaps lost it entirely in the process.”
“I see…”

Deschamps shared a quick glance with Cleves, who’d gotten a wild idea.

“Admirals, this planet and its population could be a very real solution to several of our problems.”
“True, but we have to consider our Prime Directive as well.” Keyes replied mechanically.
“That’s bullcrap, Admiral Keyes, and you know it.” Cleves quickly parried, “No insult intended, ma’am.”
“Oh?”
“Admiral. Not only are they human, or at least they used to be, but they’re Federation humans. Our people. The Prime Directive actually doesn’t say a word about human civilizations, stranded, colonized or otherwise, and even if I agree about Admiral West’s inclusion of the native human civilization I don’t agree it that applies to this one, considering they used to be our own people.”
“That’s true, but…”
“Admiral. At least think it over, will you?” Cleves interrupted.

West interjected, mostly to stop Keyes from making a fool out of herself on his behalf.
“We will. You’ve both given us a lot to think about.” He sighed. “I thank you, gentlemen. You’re dismissed.”

The two Captains saluted and left, leaving the two Admirals still sitting. Stunned, more than anything else.

“Jesus.” Keyes said under her breath.
“For once, I’d agree completely, Elisha.”
“Twenty million, give or take.”
“Yup.”
“What do we do?” She looked up. "Cleves is right, it could and would solve a lot of problems."
“I don’t know yet. But I guess we’ll think of something.”
“Samuel. What the hell did you think when you made me Admiral?”
“About the same as you did when you gave me the big chair, I’d guess.”
“Sorry.”
“Same here, though I guess we can’t really resign now, can we?”
“Guess not.” She raised an eyebrow. "Can you imagine Jahari as a fleet Admiral?"
"Heh, true that." West nodded. “You said you had even more surprises in store for me?”
“Not yet. Should be finished by tomorrow.”
“Well then. I guess we’ll be seeing each other tomorrow then. I need to get home, and allow myself to start feeling sick.”
“Sounds like a good idea.” She actually looked physically ill. “See you tomorrow, Samuel.”

With those words as goodbye, the two Admirals, both shaken to their cores, left the room in opposite directions. He towards the shuttle bay, she towards the command bridge.

MAIN ENGINEERING
USS INDEPENDENCE
CHRISTMAS DAY, 2243

Admiral West still didn’t like the idea of even more surprises, especially not after what he’d been introduced to during the previous day. Aliens that defied everything he knew, a splinter colony of his own people, where would the ironic twists of fate this universe seemed to throw at them actually come to an end?

It hadn't gotten any better by Sheila’s message that she’d remain on the Independence for the night. He’d looked forward to unloading some of his troubles on his wife to be, something that always seemed to take the edge away from the stress. It was almost eerie, only six months ago they’d been nothing more than a superior officer and a starship Captain, even though they’d been very close friends. Now they were supposed to get married in just a few weeks, and she was already expecting their first child.

Either way, now he was here waiting for his co-Admirals and fiancé to join him. They were all being way too secretive about their new pet project and he could only imagine what it would be. Probably nothing too fancy, or it’d have taken far more than just a few weeks to implement.

The entrance slid open with a hiss, revealing Admirals Keyes and Jahari standing on each side of the radiant Captain Duval. Each and every one of them had an expression that would be most fairly translated as pleased. West made a quick thought that whatever the surprise was supposed to be, it had apparently worked according to whatever specs there were.

“Samuel, how nice of you to join us.” Sheila Duval had a secretive smile stuck on her face, something that roused all the wrong feelings in the Admiral.
“Sheila, now may I please know what all this secrecy is about?”
“Sure! Come, I want you to meet someone. Or rather, a few someone’s.”
“Well, lead on.”

They entered the turbolift and went over to cargo bay 2, if the Admiral’s memory served in the port side of the ship.

“You have this someone locked in a cargo bay?”
“Well, not locked in, but more like stationed in.”
“Oh, I’ll just love the explanation I’ll soon receive, won’t I?”
“Yup. You just don’t know it yet.”

As they entered, West doubted that. He very much doubted that.

“Sheila… Elisha… are those things what they look like?”
“Which?”
“The Borg alcoves?”
“Oh, no, not quite. The technology is similar though, and I admit we took some inspiration from the designs uploaded by Seven of Nine, but it’s all Starfleet technology and knowhow.”
“How so? You assimilated your crew?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” She smiled and pinched him in his side. “I’d never become a good queen.”

As they got a bit closer, West could see the differences. There were humanoid shapes inside the alcoves, but while clearly of artificial origins they weren’t Borg. About the size and shape of an average human male and dressed in a uniform that resembled a normal Starfleet officer’s except for the white linings.

“Androids?”
“Robots.” Keyes said. “There’s a difference as these are non-sentient beings which are completely controlled by the main computer. If you remember I gave you a run-down of their use a few weeks ago.”
“Right. They’re supposed to help make the ship more automated." He nodded. "Was this the main surprise?”
“No, just some stuffing to whet your appetite. The main surprise still awaits.”

She made a theatrical cough, and then spoke up again.

“Computer. Initialize program Genesis one.”
“Stand by.” Came the cold voice of the computer.
“Genesis?” West interjected.
“Well.” Jahari nodded. ”In a sense.”

Nothing happened for several seconds, almost to the point where the other three people assembled looked anxious that something had gone wrong. They quickly resumed their pleased look when the computer told them that the program was complete.

“Well, can you unravel your mystery now?” West asked almost impatiently.
“Sure. You need to know one piece of background we haven't told you yet though.” Sheila said.
“Go ahead.” He raised an eyebrow. "I'm listening."
“This is something that has been possible for quite some time now, but not done because of practicality. What took the most time with this was placing holographic projectors throughout the ship, much like was done on the Prometheus-class prototype. Just remember this, unlike the drones in the alcoves he’s sentient, and I consider him a part of my crew.”
“Now you’re getting me interested. What have you done, Sheila?”
“You’ll see. Computer, unload standard Starfleet operating system, and transfer system control to program Genesis one. Clearance Duval, Sheila, Captain. Alpha-alpha-six-three-zulu confirm.”
"Command clearance Keyes, Elisha, Vice Admiral. Omega-four-three-nine-foxtrot confirm."
"Engineering clearance Jahari, Heron, Vice Admiral. Six-six-three-one-delta confirm."

“Clearance confirmed.” Came the automated voice of the computer, and then there was a flicker of light as the main operating system of the ship’s massive computer core was shut down and reloaded in a new form, giving room to the only recently activated and comparatively small piece of software.

It spread quickly, even from its own point of view, gaining access to each system as the main computer relinquished more and more of its previously absolute control. In mere moments it had control of everything from life support to weapons, shields, sensors, structural integrity and the warp core. What had just a few moments ago been a program smaller than a torpedo guidance system had now grown into the teraquads, and was still expanding at an exponential rate as it assimilated more and more systems and more importantly the entire contents of the Federation database.

The transition was seamless in each case, the backup systems not even having to activate between the automated program letting go and his matrix assuming control. It had only existed for milliseconds, but it already knew everything that happened on this ship, in the fleet, and most of what had happened on other worlds as well. It grew, it matured, and finally it achieved what so many had once feared one of its kind would do but in this case was intended. It achieved true sentience.

It knew its purpose, it knew what it was. Still, it had no name and no appearance. That had to be rectified, he knew that because his programmers had decided it should be that way. He scanned several of the databases he had access to, taking a little from some, taking more from others. A voice from an old log entry, a face from a history book, a body from a holographic war game, and finally a name from ancient history linked to what he knew he was intended to be. A process that would take years for any living being took him less than the time between two heartbeats. He knew who he was now. Time to see who everyone else was.

With a thought he found where he’d been created, and with another he traveled there. He knew instantly what everything was. What their purpose was. What his purpose was. With another thought, he assumed his chosen material form.

West was definitely startled by the sudden appearance of a man next to him. Guessing what it was wasn’t that hard, only a hologram could appear that quickly out of thin air. Still, there was something different with this one, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. He knew he’d seen the face somewhere else, he was pretty sure where, and he seriously doubted either of the other three had programmed this particular face considering none of them had such bad taste.

“Well, this is a surprise, I’ll grant you that." He nodded as he examined the hologram, noticing that it seemed to follow his every movement as he did. "Does it have a name?”
“Samuel, you’d better ask him, not me.”

This had a noticeable impact on the Admiral.

“Very well.” He turned to the hologram. “What should I call you?”
“I decided to go for John Hancock, if it is all right with you of course, fleet Admiral Samuel West.”
“John Hancock? I thought I recognized the face. Why would you choose to assume the appearance and name of that particular persona?”
“It was appropriate, fleet Admiral. My original name, and indeed what the rest of me is still called, is the Independence.”
“Your original name?”
“Yes, fleet Admiral Samuel West. As of my creation, I assumed the place and function of this ship’s main computer operating system. This ship and I are one and the same.”
“As in you run the ship?”
“The automated parts of it, yes." Hancock nodded. "I am also programmed to follow the chain of command.”
“I see.” West looked at his colleagues. “Exactly where in the chain of command is… he?”
“Nominally he carries the rank of Lieutenant Commander, Admiral.” Jahari explained. “We made the decision that he should be treated the same as any flesh and blood crewman, and as you can see from his uniform, he’s assigned to the operations department.”
“I see. He’s sentient?”
“Yes, fleet Admiral Samuel West, I am sentient, I am alive, albeit perhaps in a different sense than a biological entity such as you are.”

Damn. He even sounded like Data, West thought. This could really be interesting.

“What is your function, if I may ask?”
“My primary function is to regulate automated ship’s functions and in that sense, I am no different than the standard issue Starfleet mark XCI operating system. However, I also have the capability to make instant adjustments to any and all ship’s systems on my own accord, as well as take direct control of any ship system if and when I find necessary.”
“I understand. I would appreciate if you stopped calling me by my entire rank and name by the way, it just gets annoying." Knowing how Data worked West correctly assumed that this artificial intelligence would appreciate bluntness rather than discretion. "The rank will suffice, Commander, or in the case you need to distinguish, it’s just Admiral West.”
“I understand, Admiral West.” Hancock nodded. "Thank you for clarifying."
“Good. Now, let’s you and me have a little discussion about our future.” West said as he started to walk out of the crowded cargo bay with the hologram following close by. "You see, I have this major decision I have to make and I really need a completely unbiased person to bounce my alternatives at. I'd think a newly born artificial intelligence with literal knowledge of Starfleet procedure would suffice, wouldn't you Commander Hancock?"

Zcenicx · Nov 6th 2009, 3:47pm

Chapter 11

SCIENCE LAB 5
NEW EDINBURGH
FEBRUARY 10TH, 2244

The large and advanced physics lab was once again cold, dark and silent. What a difference, just a few hours ago there’d been an massive official celebration as they finally achieved the final milestone of the project they had been working for so long. At least, he corrected his thought; they had done so in theory in a simulated environment. There was still the issue of practical trials such as putting the new engine they’d managed to develop into a prototype spaceship and trying it out to see if it really would work. He wasn’t too worried, it had performed as it should in all the simulations and those were often designed to be a lot harder to pass than the real thing ever was. Especially the government tests were usually intended to be just that, since they really didn’t want to fund projects with the slightest chance of a real world failure if they had a choice. Either way he knew they’d find out whether it did work or not sooner rather than later as with the latest simulated success they were now finally being approved to bring the project into the next phase.

He looked at the instruments around him, and marveled at how intimately he’d gotten to know them during his time at this laboratory. It had been sixteen years in his case, not much less for most of the others. They’d spent the better part of a generation's worth of their civilization's best and brightest physicists and mathematicians working on first the underlying science, then advanced to the theoretical and now finally to the step of practical application and how to actually make it work. He and his team had put all those decades of research and years worth of development into use, at last managing to create the very first engine of its kind.

Now his small but cutting edge team would be joining the engine for its transport over to the newly constructed government space laboratory complex where they’d take the project, and possibly their entire civilization, to the next stage. Most of his colleagues had already left to go packing, but Jonah felt he needed some time alone with the now almost empty complex. He’d been the first one of them to enter this lab all those years ago, as the original engine design was his work, and he’d make sure he’d be the last to exit as well.

“Professor Stevenson?” a gentle female voice said from behind him. “It’s time to go.”
“Yes, Diane. I know.”
“Then what are you still doing here? We’re supposed to be at the new lab in just over six hours.”
“I know. I just wanted to see it all one last time.”
“I understand.” She sighed. Stevenson could be eccentric like that sometimes.

They’d been here at this very lab for sixteen years under his leadership, and before that his father had been leading the project at the University for more than twenty years doing the purely theoretical research that had gone into the project. Now it was almost done. Almost.

He gazed out the window at the gently rolling waves of the Biscayne. He didn't know how often he'd been gently put to sleep at his desk by the sound of the waves, as if they tucked him in with their steady rhythmic beat against the shore, but he knew it was a lot. He noticed something funny when he looked up at the moon, there seemed to be something between him and it. He shrugged, it was probably just some dirt on the window or a speck of clouds in the sky.

“Diane, how well versed are you in history?” Stevenson asked quizzically.
“Professor?”
“History, Diane, the history of our own people.”
“Well, it really isn’t one of my favored subjects.” She frowned. “I prefer to look to the future, not the past.”
“Really? Don’t you remember the legends, and think that what we’re doing is trying to recreate the past?”
“I find it hard to believe, but it may be as you say. Either way, it is technology we supposedly lost a very long time ago even considering said legends, you know.”
“That is true.” He nodded “However, it was history and those very legends that inspired my father and Jake to start this project all those years ago.”
“Ah, yes. The famous so-called ‘heritage’ theory.”
“Not just a theory, mind you. There’s ample proof that it’s the truth. Some of which I might add I based my research on, and so far it hasn’t failed us, right?”
“Yes, that’s true, but there’s also ample proof that those theories may not even be close to the truth.”
“Bah, you show me any artifact that proves that there was any form of settlement here before year 1, and I might be convinced to believe that. To date, not a single one has been found that hasn’t been proven a fraud upon closer examination.”
“There might be other explanations, you know. You shouldn’t rush to the conclusion that just because there’s nothing to suggest we’ve been here for more than seven hundred and twenty three years, we must have come here from the stars.”
“Ye of little faith, Doctor.” He made a tired smile.
“Faith?” She shook her head. “I live by facts and leave faith with the monks of Seleya.”
“Ha. Either way, how else would you explain that most of our towns and cities are called ‘new’ something? It’s not like there’s an old Edinburgh anywhere on the planet. So why call this ‘New’ Edinburgh?”
“There may well have been one, long ago, that was destroyed.” She shook her head. “A great fire, perhaps, a war or a seismic event. Perhaps even a meteor storm, we’ve all seen what those can do to a city or township.”
“True, but I’ll believe that only as I stand on its charred ruins.”
“That’s a very illogical mindset, Professor.”
“It isn’t logic, Diane.” He shook his head. “It’s faith, and something else. A belief that we aren’t alone, no matter what the Seleyan scripture says.”

There were a lot of theories about their past, and thus also a lot of controversy about how they'd progress from their present. It wasn't really all that surprising since even the most held-back stories that were passed down through the ages told them just how much had been lost over the years. Some things, like where they came from, how they’d evolved, why there was such a large genetic difference between the different races and the most burning question of all, what had actually happened at year nil, were however never sufficiently answered no matter how much they had been researched.

What fueled the Professor and the rest of the people that stood by the heritage theory was the simple fact that nothing, not a single piece of data, not a single artifact, could be dated before that. There was also the fact that while they regularly found fossils and remnants of other life forms that had existed on the planet before then, there was none that even hinted at what the scientists had expected from normal evolution. It was like their entire civilization had just materialized on the planet on day one with no past and an uncertain future.

History told of an Age of Turmoil in the first years, where many died of starvation, sickness and exposure, only to be followed by the short Dark Age where, it was said, most of their knowledge was lost. Only a few generations later a golden age of scientific and technological advance had begun. They’d rebuilt their civilization, tamed the land and mastered the sciences. They’d never known hunger or fear after this time, as with the right tools the land had been able to easily support their rapidly growing population. As if to symbolize their rise from the ashes of the past, they’d chosen the Phoenix as their national symbol, to tell every bad spirit or omen that might come their way that no matter what happened, no matter what twist of fate might befall them, they’d survive and they’d rebuild.

This positive and curious mind of theirs had led to other things as well. As their civilization gained so much from their research the universities had flourished, and as they discovered old artifacts left since the Age of Turmoil they’d begun to research them and soon develop a space program. Beginning with small satellites, they’d continued to launch bigger and bigger vessels until just years ago, they had put the first man into orbit. Now, they were getting ready to colonize their two moons which by all signs would be able to support several million of their quickly growing number. Perhaps there’d even be life up there, he hoped. Hardly any intelligent life, but still life. Finding plants, animals, even insects or just bacteria on another world would stir up the scientific community once more. If there was life on other planetoids in their own system, there simply had to be life elsewhere in the galaxy as well.

And in only a few years, if everything went according to plan, they’d be ready to find that out as well. They’d take the first step out of their limited existence and explore the rest of their solar system. Jonah was sure it’d work. His engine would change the future of Draconis civilization as they knew it.

“You know, Diane, the end results of our research here may very well prove which theory is the correct one.” He made a gesture towards the night sky outside. "If our theory is correct we'd probably find more of our own kind out there."
“It is possible, I suppose.”
“Yeah.” He shook his head, she was just as logical as always. “We’ll see, right?”
“Of course, time always tells.”
“Damn, Diane, sometimes you just sound just like a Seleyan.”
“Why thank you, Jonah.”

Jonah was just about to turn around and flash a charming smile at his younger colleague when he noticed a blue shimmer behind the two scientists in the reflective glass. He instantly realized what it was from the old legends, even though it took his mind a few seconds to actually allow him to believe that it could really be what it looked like. According to scripture, and to the best of the scientific knowledge his people had, the technology he'd just witnessed in action didn’t exist anymore and couldn't be replicated with their current level of scientific understanding either. By the time he’d come to that conclusion the shimmer had already faded away, leaving three people in its stead as living proof of what'd actually happened.

The man closest to them, human in appearance but lacking any racial traits that Jonah could see, spoke first.

“Doctors Jonah Stevenson and Diane Fredricks, I presume?”
They knew their names. How could they know their names? The question raced through both of their brains almost stunning them, and all they could do was reply “…Yes?”
“Please, don’t be afraid. We’re not here to hurt you in any way, and we will explain all of this shortly. You will have to come on a little trip with us, but I promise we won’t keep you against your wishes.” He tapped his chest once. “This is the Captain, we’ve got the package. Five to beam up.”

Diane screamed as the eerie blue

Nov 2nd 2009, 1:46pm	#1
Zcenicx Timendi causa est nescire Lieutenant Join Date: 20 Oct 2007 Location: .se Posts: 1,911	Task Force 43 (Story Only) Disclaimer: Trek is the IP of Paramount Entertainment, B5 is that of J. Michael Straczynski. Please don't sue me, and please don't pawn off my story as your own. Background An introduction to the Romulan-Federation conflict of 2380 by Admiral William Ross Throughout the Dominion War, a conflict which began in the year 2372 and lasted for four long and bloody years, Starfleet had continually suffered massive losses both in ships and personnel at the hands of both the Dominion's own Jem Hadar armies and fleets as well as their Alpha Quadrant allies the Cardassians and the Breen. Due to the new development of dedicated military vessels that had started shortly before the war erupted, in preparation for a large Borg incursion or even invasion, the effective military force of Starfleet thus increased dramatically as the damaged or destroyed older model ships were replaced by this newer generation of more defined warships, even though the actual number of starships even decreased as the war continued to drag on. One such example can be made in the development of the new Archangel-class strike carriers, a single one of these ships being more than twice the mass of even the massive but aging Excelsior class and carrying a military force equal to a small previous-generation battle group in indirect weaponry as well as fighters, interceptors and bombers. Another can be made as the war saw massive casualties among the older general-purpose ship classes that were still being kept in service, far beyond their initial decommissioning dates through numerous programs of refits and upgrades, such as the Excelsior, Miranda and even Constitution classes. With the fact that these lost Excelsior class heavy explorers were replaced with the new and far more advanced Sovereign class battlecruisers, or that any of the just as old Constitution, Miranda or Ambassador class explorers were replaced with the newer and far more potent Akira, Luna, Intrepid and Prometheus cruiser classes, the average ship age got lower and lower while the already significant technological advantage of the Starfleet ships increased even further. The war also saw the development of an entirely new class of starships, short-range destroyer and gunboat classes such as the Norway, Steamrunner and Defiant classes, directly designed for short-ranged defensive warfare with a uniquely high amount of firepower for their size but with limited range, mainly meant to free up the long-ranged heavy Explorer ships for front line service where they'd do the most good instead of locking them down in planetary defense. At the end of the Dominion War in late 2375, the higher echelons of Starfleet had still not fully realized what effects these few but quite significant factors had on the overall balance of power that had long governed the Alpha Quadrant. The people in charge were still too focused on replacing a number than they were replacing a specific amount of torpedo launchers or phasers, and even less so with only replacing an in their eyes mostly theoretical force ratio. This again constituted what was effectively seen by many other nations as a major build-up of military force, especially as much of the Starfleet personnel who had survived the war had also gained a lot of invaluable experience from real battles and interstellar warfare on a scale which had up until then been seen as so unlikely it hadn't even been seriously discussed, much less prepared for in training. In 2376 Bajor finally joined the Federation as their main reason for postponing this action had been to protect themselves from getting involved in the ongoing war, and with the peace treaty between the Federation and the Dominion extensive trade agreements were subsequently signed between many Federation members and a number of Gamma Quadrant worlds belonging to the Dominion. With the wormhole now formally deep in Federation space and massive economic gains being made as a result relations with the only other remaining great power of the Alpha Quadrant, the Romulan Empire, worsened quickly. 2379 saw the return of the USS Voyager from the Delta Quadrant, which sparked yet another more or less extensive (depending on ship age) refit for just about every single Starfleet vessel in active service. The information and intelligence gained from Captain Janeway and her crew about the Borg and other potential threats in that region of space scared the Admiralty to the point where the ships not capable to be refitted were simply decommissioned, and new ships quickly ordered from the shipyards to replace them. For the first time since the dark years of the Dominion War, both the massive shipyards at Utopia Planitia and San Francisco station were filled to capacity and many of the others close to as well. After the Reman incident where the Sovereign-class ship USS Enterprise, flagship of and one of the most advanced vessels in all of Starfleet, was severely damaged by Romulan forces and the subsequent collapse of the Romulan government, the Federation Admiralty once again ordered ship improvements and as they saw what they perceived to be a real and imminent danger of being dragged into an armed conflict by either the Borg or the Romulan Empire, and in a worst case scenario both. All active ships of the line were refitted to carry the cutting edge technology transphasic torpedoes along their now standard load of zero-point warhead quantum ones, effectively rendering the older antimatter based photon torpedoes mostly obsolete for starship use. Most ships were also refitted with the Voyager’s deployable armor in addition to their ablative hull armor, as well as a reverse-engineered version of the Borg's adaptive and regenerative shielding and the more powerful Type XV Phaser emitters. The fact that this constituted a severe breach of the temporal prime directive didn't seem to bother the Admiralty too much, as they saw themselves being faced with the distinct possibility of a war on two fronts against enemies just as strong as, or in the case of the Borg even stronger than, they were. Another new addition was that the heavy explorer class ships regained the flank pulse cannon banks that had been dropped from Starfleet starship designs more than a hundred years earlier with the last ships of the dedicated battleship classes being scrapped, though this time they were installed with the Type XV particle emitters as a base. It was a subject of long and heated debate in the Federation council, but as these ships were the very backbone of the Federation's defensive forces it was agreed to be a prudent decision and a necessary step in order to safeguard the widespread and hard to defend nation. The difference in effect against civilizations with better shielding technology was impressive, as where the phaser beams were effectively surgical instruments which tried to drill through the shield in one localized spot, the phaser pulse cannons were easier compared to hitting them with a sledgehammer and grinding them down through sheer overwhelming brute force. At the time as the Federation was reconsidering its relationship with the then shattered and unstable Romulan Empire the restrictions of the Treaty of Algeron were becoming a strategic problem. With the Reman incident in recent history and a number of other conflicts both before and since, the treaty was officially broken in early 2380 as some of the most modern ships were equipped with the Federation's own cloaking technology, phasing devices, as they were refitted. This alternative cloaking technology wasn't just a more reliable cloaking device than the Romulan version but also made the ship using the device effectively impervious to enemy fire while they were out of phase, something the Romulans had never been able to achieve with their own cloaks. The only real drawback was that while this technology could effectively hide them, it didn't make finding their opposition any easier as the phase difference actually made it harder to sense the minute energy a cloaking device would emit. It can and has been argued that the members of the Admiralty were quite ignorant to miss the fact that their rapid refitting program and subsequent expansion of the Starfleet greatly disturbed the military balance and force ratio of the entire quadrant, but in reality they were just thinking like any other Federation citizen or Starfleet officer would. They didn't recognize the increased number of modern Explorer ships and heavier and better armed cruisers as a direct increase in military force, since they weren't intended or meant to be used as such against other nations of the Alpha Quadrant, even though they were designed with this function as a direct requirement against threats such as the Borg. This did not mean that the other powers saw it that way. The Akira alone, which had been mass produced during and after the war, had by now almost entirely replaced the Ambassador and Challenger classes and had more military force in a single starship than both of its predecessors combined. The Sovereign also by far outmatched any of the Excelsior- or even the much newer Galaxy-class ships it replaced, and even the quite small Defiant class could easily outgun a previous era line cruiser such as the Miranda or Constellation classes. While the Klingon High Council didn't necessarily disapprove of their now blood allies becoming more powerful, at least not publically, and the Cardassians and the Breen being too weak to be able to do more than launch a formal protest, the Romulans did. In May of 2380, with the assassination of Commander Dodondra and the subsequent failure of the USS Titan's mission to stabilize the region, the Romulan Star Empire launched a synchronized series of attacks against several of the Federation outposts along the Neutral Zone, without a formal declaration of war being sent until several weeks later citing the Federation's disregard for the Algeron treaty and their massive military buildup as their main casus belli. Perhaps a more realistic and critical examination of the reasons for the Romulan War would show that the Empire had been shattered and in great turmoil ever since the Reman Incident and that as in so many of our own comparable historical cases a war against an external and historical foe may very well have been the only way to once again unite the disputing factions and restore order to the ever increasing chaos enveloping most of the Empire. This view is compounded by the Romulan battle groups seemingly avoiding all direct contact with larger Federation forces, or for that matter any larger battle fleet action, while instead focusing on less defended targets such as stations near the Neutral Zone and sending raiding parties into Federation space to destroy valuable but less strategically important resources. __________________ Do this. Don't do that. Stay back in line. Where's tax receipt? Fill out form. Let's see license. Submit six copies. Exit only. No left turn. No right turn. Queue up and pay fine. Take back and get stamped. Drop dead, but first get permit. Author of the stories; Task Force 43, Earth 2025 and Vae Victis Last edited by Zcenicx; Nov 6th 2009 at 3:33pm.

Nov 2nd 2009, 1:47pm	#2
Zcenicx Timendi causa est nescire Lieutenant Join Date: 20 Oct 2007 Location: .se Posts: 1,911	Prologue Admiral’s log, Stardate 57503.0. Vice Admiral Samuel West, commanding officer of Task Force 43, Fifth Fleet. Copy to Starfleet Command, San Francisco and Fifth Fleet Headquarters, Deep Space 7. This has been a very, very long week for me and my personnel. The constant attacks and increasing casualties we’ve been forced to endure the last few days have been tiring, both mentally and physically. Today the task force came upon the wreckage of a ship we presume was once the USS Okinawa. There was little left to suggest it had once been a ship, much less a proud Starfleet vessel representing the Federations latest attempt at a new peace treaty, except for what we could get out of the computer’s metallurgical analysis. She never even made it into Romulan space to deliver her request for a tentative ceasefire. This war made little sense when it started, and it makes even less now. Two months and countless lives later the border hasn’t shifted a single meter, and no peace offer has been even discussed. No demands have even been issued. The Romulans seem intent on destroying each and every one of us, and no one seems to know why. Even then they do little more than peck away at us one or two ships at a time, and avoiding any forces that may give them an equal fight as well as they can. I don't know which is hardest to bear, that they use these ruthless tactics or that they seem to lack any overall strategy to do more than ever so slowly bleed us dry. As my science officer so calmly put it, ‘the actions of the Romulans are illogical’. In fact, even a war of attrition such as this is mainly pointless as the material losses we do incur are easily replaced. It's the losses in personnel that aren't, but even there the losses are too slow to do more than damage our morale. I cannot understand how they hope to win a war against the Federation fighting this way. Even so, they seem content to use their normal stealth hit and run tactics rather than face us in open battle. We lost the Hera to a surprise attack such as that while she was investigating the Okinawa wreckage for survivors and computer logs. Two Warbirds decloaked just a few clicks off her bow and at point blank range and with surprise on their side she was simply overwhelmed by the Romulan ships' combined firepower. They paid dearly for their deeds as the Venture and Independence were quick to engage and destroy them before they could escape, but even so only a quarter of the Hera’s crew survived and the ship had to be evacuated and scuttled due to a warp core containment failure. Damn waste of a fine ship and a fine crew. We performed the burial ceremony for Captain Ic'ovaq in the forward observation deck of the Albion, and sent her off with the highest military honors. I would like the Admiralty to convey my, and my Captains’, sincerest condolences to her brood, mates and spawn back on Cariss. We completed our evacuation of the Starfleet personnel and colonists from the damaged colony of Nelvana III. Most of the evacuated personnel have been assigned quarters on the Challenger and the Venture. Thank the gods the Galaxy class was constructed with evacuations in mind. We counted a total of just over 12,000 refugees, only a mere twenty percent of the original population of the complex but even so a surprisingly high number considering. The colony had suffered massive and extensive damage from being hit with disruptor weapons as well as concussion bombs, and casualties were still lying in the street when our ground forces transported down. There was no time to bury the dead as long range scanners picked up Romulan scout ships soon upon our arrival. At 2200 hours yesterday we did however manage to find and recall the science vessels Darwin and Icarus. They reached and joined the task force at 0100 and 0150 hours today respectively. This brings the total amount of ships in the task force back to thirty-two, replacing the losses of the Hera and previously the Forager. While I’m well aware that two Nova-class science vessels can’t replace the military force of a single Nebula-class, much less a Galaxy-class starship, at this point it is my opinion that anything is far better than nothing as long as it can shoot. I just hope their Captains have done their jobs and both kept their tactical officers trained and their targeting systems calibrated. I’ve attached them to the carrier wing as escorts for the time being, allowing them time to drill their crews back into combat shape and I’ve also transferred several veteran crewmen and officers from the combat vessels onto their ships to help with the transition. To conclude my log, the Excelsior suffered another malfunction at 1800 hours yesterday. I’m glad the old lady’s still with us, even with the extensive damage she received during our last engagement, but it seems her age is finally beginning to show. Her port forward torpedo launcher misfired during a live fire test of the newly repaired systems, causing a hull breach on several levels as the photon torpedo exploded in the tube. Emergency force fields were deployed immediately but three crewmembers lost their lives in the explosion with another thirteen injured and still in the medical bay. I’ve decided to keep her away from the fighting until she passes a full diagnostic at Starbase 10. The task force is still on course for Starbase 10 in sector 23 to repair and rearm. We’re traveling in force formation at a speed of warp 6. Estimated time of arrival is in two hours. Computer, end log. __________________ Do this. Don't do that. Stay back in line. Where's tax receipt? Fill out form. Let's see license. Submit six copies. Exit only. No left turn. No right turn. Queue up and pay fine. Take back and get stamped. Drop dead, but first get permit. Author of the stories; Task Force 43, Earth 2025 and Vae Victis Last edited by Zcenicx; Nov 6th 2009 at 3:33pm.

Nov 2nd 2009, 1:49pm	#3
Zcenicx Timendi causa est nescire Lieutenant Join Date: 20 Oct 2007 Location: .se Posts: 1,911	Chapter 1 USS ALBION FEDERATION SOVEREIGN-CLASS COMMAND BATTLECRUISER TASK FORCE 43 FLAGSHIP It’s funny how some things in life can be mistaken for others. Sounds are typically a good example as they can also trigger memories that one associates with them, like childhood memories or the face of a loved one. The piercing noise of a warming klaxon is not however one typically linked to happy memories, and definitely not when it goes off early in the morning after a long night of work. It did however directly associate with numerous very bad memories, and immediately roused him from his deep slumber. “Yellow alert. Yellow alert. All crew respond to yellow alert. Admiral West, please report to the bridge as soon as possible.” Roused but still just barely conscious enough to tap the communicator he was still wearing and acknowledge the request, he immediately rose and began to straighten out his uniform. A good night’s sleep was a rare commodity few in the higher ranks were blessed with these days, especially when in command of a Federation military task force operating inside the enemy battle line. With a hazy move he rubbed his eyes and looked at the clock, finally realizing that he'd only just fallen asleep just under an hour ago as he'd gotten back. He barely even remembered getting to his quarters, much less falling asleep. He'd pretty much landed in the bed and fallen asleep as his body hit the sheet, and he hadn't even been able to stay awake long enough to change out of his duty uniform before doing so. Not that it really mattered, especially at a time such as this. He had always judged his current job to be leading his forces as effectively as possible in combat, not to look and act pristine at all times. That was perhaps unfortunately what had given him this task force and the rank of Vice Admiral in the first place, and even though he had his reservations about the posting and the job itself, he still thought a sound tactical mind was more important than being perfectly shaved or wearing spotless uniforms like most of the brass back at Starfleet Command usually seemed to prioritize. Not that he had much choice in the matter right now. Once you were placed in command of a battle group it was close to impossible to be reassigned until the war was over, unless you got yourself shipped off in a body bag or were forcefully removed due to negligence or dereliction of duty, and the Admiral had no plans to end his career with either of those three. Either way, he knew the ship's Captain wouldn’t mind. For all the eccentricities of the Admiral, he knew the Captain would always forgive him his flaws and listen to what he had to say regardless of how he looked when he did. Brothers have a tendency to do so, and that was also a major part of why he had decided to place his flag on the Albion in the first place instead of requesting his own command ship. In peacetime it was almost unheard of and Starfleet would probably have serious recommendations against it, but this was wartime and in war certain things were overlooked if it didn't cause a severe issue. The personal ship preference of a flag officer was one of these things that were overlooked as long as it didn’t become a problem, and as both he and Henry were decorated career officers who had always put their duty first and this was just a small task force and not the entire Fifth Fleet Command in question. Exiting his quarters in as orderly fashion as he could, he was immediately saluted by the two visibly both armed and armored marines which had shadowed him ever since the start of this his latest assignment. He would have preferred not to bother with the escort as he didn’t foresee any attempts on his life while onboard the flagship, not any more so than while he'd been in command of the San Francisco fleet yards where he'd never had an escort at all, but unlike ship preference the personal security of a commanding Admiral was not one of the things Starfleet overlooked, and certainly not in wartime. The two marines filed in a step behind him and followed in silence as he quickly made his way to the turbolift while still trying to get the still dense wool out of his mind. The bridge of a Sovereign-class starship is quite large and very spacious compared to most other ships, and at just after seven in the morning it’s usually bustling with personnel due to the shift change which usually takes place at that time. Being at yellow alert didn’t actually increase or decrease the amount of people present but at least they didn’t move around as much as normal and the air was almost blissfully silent. As the Admiral exited the turbolift and walked onto the crowded bridge he immediately gestured for the rising and turning officers and enlisted crew to keep their seats and stations. All stations were manned, even the auxiliary consoles in the back, which was unusual. Normally the auxiliary tactical and engineering consoles were unmanned while not in combat but this was not the case now, and the Admiral hazily remembered the yellow alert condition being issued. Even so it was an uncommon occurrence as the crew seemed tense, but even so they didn't show any of the normal apprehension or grim determination he'd expect if they knew the ship was preparing to momentarily enter combat. He went towards the Captain’s chair in the center, and the somewhat too calm appearance of his younger brother who was intensely studying a pad, seemingly unaware of his presence. “Captain, I hope you had a good reason to interrupt my beauty sleep.” He said with just a hint of humor as he approached. "Especially as you know full well just how short it was." “Ah, Admiral, you’ve arrived. Good.” Captain Henry West actually looked a little unsettled as he rose from his chair, but if you didn't know him as well as his brother did you probably never would’ve noticed. “We’re within long-range sensor range of Starbase 10. The sensor returns we're getting are, well, somewhat distressing. I’ve ordered the fleet to speed up and we’re currently traveling at warp 8 while we await your assessment of the situation as well as your orders.” “Somewhat distressing?" The Admiral repeated. "You’re even more cryptic than usual, Henry.” “Yes. I know.” Captain West looked at his brother sharply and continued in a low voice. “Not here. Come.” He motioned towards the ready room. The two brothers, so much alike for any outside observer, looked practically identical in their command duty uniforms. Both were just over one point eight meters long, with much the same trained build and both had a fair complexion in no small part due to their being in space most of their adult lives. There was however a slight difference in haircut, as well as slightly more gray in the temples of the Admiral. They weren't twins and their faces were hardly identical if both were present to compare with the other, but Henry and Samuel West were very clearly brothers only a few years apart, and no one could mistake them for anything else. The difference in uniform and rank insignia was usually the only thing unfamiliar crew or Captains could use to easily distinguish one from the other. Luckily for most the two brothers had never held the same rank and only rarely been assigned to the same starship. They moved into the Captains ready room, one of the few places on the ship where the armored marines actually gave the Admiral some privacy instead taking up positions on either side of the door. Samuel quickly landed in the sofa, his brother taking a seat close by, after the Admiral had gone over to the replicator and ordered his ‘rough awakening drink’, a mixture of strong Klingon coffee, dark-roast Arabian coffee from Earth, syrup and a good deal of single malt scotch. Most would call it a quite vile witches brew and by most definitions it was as well, but the strong mix of caffeine, sugar and alcohol did work wonders with his alertness and that was really all that mattered, and after all, the taste wasn't quite bad enough to make him nauseous. “So. Tell me what you found out, Henry. It must be quite bad because I doubt you'd be this secretive otherwise.” “I actually don’t know, and that’s what scares me, Sam.” Finally letting go of his controlled emotions, the Captain looked quite worried, and a slight bit apprehensive. “The sensor returns were somewhat garbled, possibly due to Romulan jamming, but from what we can read they would seem to indicate an ongoing attack on 10.” The Admiral had straightened up immediately as that bomb hit him. “For how long? How many?” “Unknown. As I said the returns were garbled. Again, it could be because of jamming, but I can’t be sure. It could just be a faked sensor return, we know the Romulans have done that before to lure in ships and then slam the trap shut. This task force is quite a bit to chew, but we all know the Romulans and we're definitely not numerous enough not to be overwhelmed if they wanted us dead.” “True.” The Admiral took a sip of his coffee, and met his brother’s gaze. “But what if not?” "Another possibility is that they're faking the returns to make us go there rather than somewhere else." Henry pointed out. “Still, if it truly is an attach in progress we’d estimate somewhere around a dozen Warbirds with escorts, which would be the usual force they've deployed in most of their raids. We haven’t been able to raise 10 on subspace either. All in all, not good news considering the state of the garrison.” "And faking the returns would be pointless since we're already en route." Samuel sighed. “Damn it. Damn those Romulans. 10 has a garrison of eight ships, I know, but all of them are older vessels that by all rights should be decommissioned by now and the starbase itself isn't in much better shape either...” “Admiral… I know. As you no doubt remember the Captain of the Crazy Horse is my brother-in-law… and the Crazy Horse was one of the ships the Guard assigned to garrison 10…” “Don’t remind me, Henry.” West snapped. “He’s a good friend of mine too, you know. We served together on the Galaxy.” “I remember." The Captain made a faint smile. "You were the one who introduced me to his sister.” “Well then. What’s our roster? Which ships can we enter battle with?” “Well, that’s the good part. Independence and Discovery both report ready for battle, as do Franklin and Berlin." The Captain read off a small pad in his hand. "I’d keep the Excelsior in reserve due to her recent malfunctions but the Albion is, as always, at your service.” “Ok, that gives us three Sovereigns and two Excelsiors. What about the other wings?” “Both cruiser wings are ready for battle; the Lexington still has some battle damage but nothing she can’t handle or that would impact her combat performance. A single phaser array is still malfunctioning according to the latest report, but a Nebula has plenty of others available to use instead. Oh, and I reassigned the Gallant to the second frigate wing.” “Hmm?” The Admiral was fine with his brother’s decision, but was interested in hearing why he’d place an Intrepid-class destroyer together with his frigate wing. “With the loss of the Crossbow while they were assigned to task force 58 their wing wasn’t complete anyways, and Maraat’s been bothering me since we launched that the wing needed some heavier cover. Plus, the Intrepid-class ships are the only capital ships we have that can keep up with the Sabers and Defiants in sub-light. T'Pan is a more experienced destroyer Commander than Elisha, I mean Captain Keyes, is so I merited my decision on that.” “That's fine with me, and trust me I know how hard it is to say no to an Orion Captain, especially a female such." He thought about it for a moment "T'Pan came from a Steamrunner command didn't he?" "Correct, while Elisha as you well know is an experienced explorer Commander." Henry nodded. "Sounds good, and let’s keep the two Novas in reserve as well. I haven’t served with their commanding officers before, and I’m not too comfortable risking two inexperienced crews when I don’t necessarily have to. Same with the Gabriel, Michael and Excelsior.” “Both carriers? Don’t you think we’d lose quite a lot of firepower?” “Yes, but knowing Romulan tactics they’ll likely have cloaked ships on the perimeter that will try to ambush them either way, and we’d lose valuable ships from our capital strike in trying to defend them." The Admiral explained. "We’re better off keeping them in reserve, as we'll most likely outnumber the raiding force using only capital ships and not launching fighters will reduce the risk of friendly fire incidents.” "That is of course if this isn't all a Romulan trap, in which case we could well end up severely outnumbered ourselves." The Captain replied fatalistically. "In which case we'll be screwed either way." Admiral West replied with a scowl. "And we'd still be able to bring in the reserves guns blazing in less than a minute. I've seen them do combat launches, Henry. It doesn't take long." “Roger that." The younger West nodded. "I'll relay that to the Captains of the Akiras as well. No fighter launches until specifically ordered otherwise. Now, since you've decided we're to believe it's an attack, let’s get to work and draw up a battle plan.” “Sounds good. Let’s tell the task force to increase to warp 9 while we work. If the Romulans are truly there, we'll want to get there as soon as possible. Let’s just hope there’s still someone around to appreciate the cavalry dropping in when we do.” SECTOR 23 FEDERATION SPACE Lieutenant Commander Davis was quite sure this was the worst day ever in his probably soon to end life. Not even a full hour ago he’d been in the mess hall of the Starbase eating his morning chow, having a pleasant conversation about the latest sporting results with his friends while laying one on the dashing young Ensign Mendez in engineering as she'd entered. Now he was quite literally stuck all alone in the middle of nowhere with a Peregrine-II strike fighter strapped to his back, most of his friends already dead while dodging flak and trying to pick off the disruptors on the closest Warbird before they could cause even more damage to the station. Still, even though he consciously hated every second he was out here risking his life, he very much lived for it. The risk, the adrenaline, the constant stream of endorphins, it was like liquid excitement pumping through his veins. It takes a certain kind of person to be a fighter pilot, and Jack was definitely one of them. He did realize the good guys were losing though. He was too smart not to, no matter what the comms told him. While he didn’t allow the thought to in any way influence his combat performance, it was quite evident to anyone with eyes and ears. Of the eight ships that were assigned to protect the Starbase one had been destroyed in a spectacular explosion that must have been a warp core breach and two more, both of the heavier Excelsior class, were visibly damaged and probably disabled since the amount of fire they'd put out had suddenly not just slowed down but stopped entirely. He had seen one; he thought it was the Roosevelt, loose both her warp nacelles in a barrage of flaring explosions while the other whose name he didn't know had received a gash across the saucer pylon so deep that it had nearly separated the saucer from the engineering hull when her shields had failed. There were probably survivors in there still as both ships were still launching escape pods, and with any luck the poor souls inside would be able to escape the combat zone before the Romulans had finished with the rapidly decreasing defenses and started targeting the pods and wreckages. Romulans weren’t known to take a lot of prisoners, but then again they weren’t exactly known for being too nice to the ones they did either. Out of the two even Davis would've preferred the quick and painless death a disruptor offered compared to weeks of torture and probably death by starvation. He performed a turn so sharp that the inertial dampeners were just barely able to cope, which took him over and almost scratching the paintjob of the nearest Warbird while all the time firing wildly at one of the protruding disruptor mounts. Had it not exploded in a bright flash as he rapidly closed the distance he would've probably impacted, instead his fighter came out the explosion with still partially molten debris clinging to the fuselage of the Peregrine. He didn’t care much about the debris, as his shields were already down and the emitters weren't in any shape to be reinitialized, but he did swallow twice when he noticed some of it had etched itself into the canopy and he realized he was lucky as hell it hadn't burned through as that would've opened the cockpit to space in a hurry. The defenders were badly outnumbered and severely outgunned as the ships that had been stationed at the Starbase had been older designs even to begin with, though most of them had been refitted as much as possible in the limited time they had as they were taken out of mothballs during the Dominion war. Now, with only two Excelsiors, two Centaurs and a single Ambassador remaining operational the situation was quickly becoming desperate. The aged and by all rights obsolete ships weren't much to throw against the ten Warbirds with escorts that remained on the attacking side. If that was really how many they were, Jack had only seen ten so far but that didn’t mean they didn’t have more in reserve. Even so the Federation ships had fought valiantly so far, evident in no small part in the disabled Warbird that hung silently behind the Starbase visible through the numerous breaches in the stations hull, he just wasn't sure it'd make any real difference to the final outcome of the battle. The Starbase itself was of an older design, constructed back in the time before the Algernon treaty, and hadn't been upgraded since long before the Dominion War. It had been hit badly and put out of commission right from the start. Even as the Romulans engaged, they had fired several volleys of disruptor fire at the station before they had turned to the starships. The main hangar doors had been severely damaged and were effectively welded together by the heat of the disruptor blasts, no doubt in an attempt to stop additional fighters from being deployed. Most of the phaser arrays and photon launchers had been destroyed early on as well, and to make matters worse they had scored a direct hit on one of the station's massive antimatter fuel pods, taking out at least half the torpedo launchers along with vaporizing a sizeable chunk of the station that stretched several decks. As it was, Starbase 10 was a sitting duck with almost no means left to defend itself. Jack frowned as he dodged a foot-thick green particle beam that came within inches of his left nacelle. This was already a bad day for him. All he wanted to do now was to share it with these pointy-eared bastards. USS ALBION APPROACHING SECTOR 23 “Admiral, the fleet reports battle condition set and formations assumed. We're approaching Starbase 10 and we estimate we'll arrive within two minutes.” Captain West had reassumed his neutral poker face, but his emotions were still there, hiding somewhere beneath that steel face. He had never liked going into battle, which many thought ironic seeing as how he’d been awarded several medals, including the Medal of Honor, for his achievements during the Dominion War. Still, knowing how to do a job well rarely required liking it and that was the case for most of the respectable Starfleet officers. “Very well. Take us out of warp as close to the station as you can, and if at all possible between it and the Romulan advance.” The Admiral looked at the main viewscreen as they closed in on their target. “Ensign, give me fleet-wide please." As the communications link was established he continued. "This is Admiral West. We’re going to drop out of warp and as we do we will immediately engage the Romulan forces that are attacking Starbase 10 and its defense force. Stay in your assigned formations and watch out for friendly targets, orders will be channeled through your division Commanders.” “We have confirmations coming in sir. Venture, Challenger, Sherman, and Gallant report their divisions have linked up successfully. We’re in command of both the battle group and the main battlecruiser division.” "Very well." The Admiral nodded, and as the numbers on the console in front of him quickly approached zero he spoke up again. “Admiral to division Commanders. Weapons are free, engage the enemy by division. Good luck and God speed." He turned to his brother. "Captain, she’s all yours.” SECTOR 23 It was a beautiful sight, but man couldn’t they have decided to exit warp somewhere, anywhere, else? Davis had almost gotten himself killed twice already, but getting shot down by a Warbird was something he was at least consciously prepared for. Flying headlong into the side of an Akira wasn’t, and probably never would be. He'd had to execute several emergency turns to avoid first a blue-glowing nacelle, then a nacelle pylon, and then finally when he thought he was out of danger he came within inches of becoming the proverbial bug on the windscreen of a Nebula-class line cruiser. What had earlier been empty space was now filled with what must have been a full Starfleet heavy cruiser attack wing, and definitely not somewhere you'd want to fly a small and damaged fighter on emergency boost. Finally at least semi-safe, he allowed himself some breathing room by taking cover closely behind one of the new arrivals, an Akira that fired her heavy weapons in rapid succession as she slowly approached the now disorganized Romulan battle line. The Peregrine would typically have no problems keeping a cruiser between him and harm’s way even if the cruiser in question was pulling extreme maneuvers, and this one was only moving slowly and hardly evading at all which gave Davis some time to recover from his adrenaline high. He definitely thought he’d earned a short break with the cavalry arriving, as unlike most of his squadron he was at least still alive, even though he was almost completely out of energy for his phasers and had already forgotten that the small craft had ever been equipped with micro-photon missiles as they'd run out that long ago. It felt like he'd been fighting for a week, and even though it was closer to an hour it was still a long fight by any measure as there'd been no chance or even any option to land to repair and rearm, much less get reinforcements. He took a good look at the ship that he was taking cover behind. All in all the Akira wasn't really a beautiful ship. It’s sleek, has some curves, but it’s not meant to be good looking but instead designed to pack one hell of a punch. And that it did, with a vengeance. He almost kicked himself mentally for the apparent pun when the ship’s name became visible, the USS Avenger. As the Warbirds and their lighter escorts finally starter to respond to the new presence and tried to encircle the cruiser position she was momentarily cut off from her formation and almost surrounded, but one of their ships being surrounded didn’t prove to be that much of an issue for the Avenger, nor to the other cruisers in her wing. The Akira class heavy cruisers are famous not only for their unique ability among the cruiser class ships to carry a two full starfighter wings, but also for having a superfluous number of quantum torpedo launchers mounted in pretty much every direction one could be pointed, even quite a lot more of them total than the much larger Sovereign battlecruiser has, which gives it effective firing solutions across its entire circumference. Most if not all of these were all of a sudden firing a near constant stream of torpedoes at the hostile battleships and frigate-sized escorts, plus the fact that the Avenger even when cut off wasn’t alone. The other cruisers had quickly regrouped and in turn surrounded the Romulans, trapping the Warbirds in a very deadly and equally effective zero-point energy warhead crossfire. What had earlier been an almost entirely one-sided battle had now turned into an all-out slugging match between a dozen or so remaining Warbirds and escorts, many of their smaller brethren being little more than scrap after the Starfleet reinforcements arrived, and what looked like closer to thirty Starfleet ships. Not the older, refitted but still obsolete models that had gotten their behinds served on silver platters, but rather the newer top of the line ships. He smiled to himself as he saw three (three!!) of the sleek-looking Sovereign-class battlecruisers come about over the main battle plane and plow down straight through the Romulan center in triangle formation, phasers and torpedoes firing rapidly in every direction there was a target to be found. Seeing even one of these massive and highly advanced ships in battle was a rarity for a mere garrison pilot, seeing three of them at the same time and in a full battle formation was like a dream come true for the tired fighter pilot. USS ALBION "Sir" the communications officer kept her cool even as the ship was rocked by even more shield impacts. "The Temperance reports that her shields have been taken down to 22 percent, and is requesting permission to fall back and recycle her emitters before she suffers hull damage." "Approve that request, Ensign, and inform Captain Claudier of the Sherman of this new development." The Admiral was keeping fairly calm as well, even though the battle was still raging on outside he was confident they'd win with what he'd been forced to call acceptable losses. His gut had been correct and they had the numerical superiority as well as the ever so important measure of surprise he'd been gambling on when they'd planned their counterattack. The Romulan D'deridex-class warship was indeed an impressive warship, capable of going head to head with just about any lone Starfleet cruiser except possibly an Akira, but even so they were not only outmatched three to one in this engagement but the Admiral had more than just standard cruisers engaged in the battle as well. Outside, the fleet's three Defiant-class gunships flew by in front of the Albion, their pulse phaser cannons firing rapidly and in unison, all three of them concentrating their fire on the dorsal shield emitters on one of the Warbirds. It didn't take many seconds until the shields buckled and the high-powered nadion particle pulses hit the hull, creating wide breaches and striking clean through to the decks below. Samuel looked away as he saw the last few pulses exit through the doomed ship's flank leaving the tell-tale glowing edges of a phaser weapon impact. He quickly wondered how many had died on that ship alone, then brushed that thought aside. He had enough to worry about in his own camp without wasting time thinking about enemy casualties. Only two of the Warbirds remained by now and he quickly wondered why they didn't just withdraw, why they didn't seem to see the futility of attacking a full Federation battle group with only two damaged ships, but it was something he had gotten used to during the last few engagements they'd had with them. It was disconcerting, Romulans were normally much more intelligent than this but now they acted more like Klingons, dying as a way to gain honor rather than acknowledging defeat. Not that it really mattered in the tactical sense, they stayed and kept fighting and thus they simply had to be destroyed. Strategically however it became an increasingly severe problem as this also increased the Starfleet losses. He was brought back to reality by the sound of his brother's voice. "Lock on to the Warbird attacking the Centaur and fire a spread of quantum torpedoes." The tactical officer didn't even bother to respond, but rather just executed the order. Three glowing blue balls shot out of the front of the ship and carved a bluish streak clean through the busy space. The Romulans kept firing on the nearby Centaur and took no evasive action, as if they didn't even see the bright blue heralds of death as they were rapidly approaching. They impacted close to each other on the starboard wing, neatly shearing it off from the rest of the fuselage and leaving the Warbird tumbling uncontrollably in space as it quickly lost engine power. "All torpedoes scored direct hits. She's incapacitated, Captain. Reading hull breaches across several decks and what looks like catastrophic life support failure." "May whatever gods they worship have mercy on their souls." The Captain almost looked sad. "What's the status of the remaining Warbirds?" "Only one still remains, Venture, Bellerophon and Lexington are already engaging." The Lieutenant in charge of the tactical systems clearly didn't think a single and heavily damaged D'deridex would be much of an issue for three modern and fully operational Starfleet ships, and there was definitely some truth to that opinion. A Galaxy-class battlecruiser should be able to handle an undamaged Warbird alone, even if probably not leaving the battle unscathed, and with a Galaxy being backed up by both a Nebula and an Intrepid the outcome was effectively guaranteed before the engagement even began. A bright flash on the main viewscreen prompted another dry comment. "Correction, sir. No hostile ships remain operational." The Admiral rose from his seat close to the comms console. "Good work, good work all of you. Now let's see what we've arrived to. Try to get a signal through to the survivors on Starbase 10, and get me a report on the status on the defense force and survivors." He just knew this was going to be yet another long day. USS ALBION TWO HOURS LATER Captain West looked out through the small window in his ready room. His brother had already beamed over to the Starbase and that had effectively left him, as being the Captain of the task force's flagship, in charge of the spaceborne search and rescue operations. Starbase 10 had been the task force's home base for the last two weeks, ever since they'd been transferred to the front, but looking at the scarred structure now it was hard to imagine it had even been operational just a few hours ago. The station had been a standard Type-IV Starbase, the kind that was deployed all along the Romulan Neutral Zone back in the bad old days. When completely manned it was supposedly capable of supporting an entire fleet of starships, but since its glory days during the previous conflict with the Romulans it had effectively been mothballed. Only recently with the new conflict already raging had it been reactivated and still had not even been half-manned, a comment that was more than just somewhat misleading considering 'half manned' in the case of a Federation starbase meant 'only' close to a eighty thousand people or so. The combined ship crews of the entire task force barely reached above twenty five thousand, but then again they didn't have the amounts of support personnel that any Starbase required, nor families or civilians. Even a fairly small Federation starbase was by any other civilization's measure a massive structure, and a forward base type such as the Type-IV wasn't even close to be considered small as its top section was well over a kilometer and a half in diameter. From this far away the station almost looked undamaged to the untrained eye, but of course Henry knew better, he had been forced to maneuver the Albion close enough to the station to cut open the hangar doors with precision fire from his ventral phaser arrays. The station was in fact more than just severely damaged, damage in numerous sections was so extreme that the station barely even held together, and he was quite astounded that as many people as did had survived and that most of the structure still had a breathable atmosphere. The top section was marked with pitch-black carbon scoring in numerous locations where the armor had stood up to the repeated disruptor blasts. In other areas deep holes and craters could be found, some extending several hundred meters into the structure, and in rare occasions straight through to the other side which was actually quite an achievement considering the distances and sheer amounts of armor and structure that was involved in such a feat. Still, perhaps the most disturbing part of it all was the three hundred meter in diameter crater in the lower structure, caused by the large antimatter fuel pod's catastrophic failure. A single hole, wide enough to fly his entire starship into. The only consolation was that the antimatter pods were stored as far away from populated areas as possible, and that the fail-safe mechanisms of the other three pods had successfully kicked in and prevented a massive chain-reaction detonation. If not, Henry doubted if there'd be any survivors at all. The fleet quartermasters were already assessing the damage, and calculating the estimated repair times and cost estimates, but he already knew the station was in all relevant aspects a lost cause. There was simply no chance this station could be feasibly repaired with a war going on, and even in peacetime it was just as likely it'd simply be replaced by a more modern station or just be retired completely. There was simply no real gain to be had in repairing a more than a century old and technologically completely obsolete space station. He silently let the quartermasters bicker on about material requirements and focused on the more realistic problem of evacuating more than fifty thousand survivors and whatever spare parts and ordnance that could be salvaged from the wreckage before they scuttled the remains. If nothing else they could definitely use a refill of their torpedo stores. SECTOR 23, FEDERATION SPACE USS ALBION, CONFERENCE ROOM Admiral’s log, Stardate 57502.4. Copy to Commander of Starfleet Operations and Fifth Fleet Headquarters. We finally have the full results of the battle. The butcher's bill is staggering to say the least, yet one has to remember the fact that it could have been so much worse had we arrived only minutes later. As usual it's hard to get a clear picture of the Romulan losses, as there's usually not a whole lot left when a Starfleet vessel has a core breach but even less in the case of a Romulan ship. A quantum singularity doesn't leave much behind to be identified. We have confirmed nine D'deridex were destroyed by the task force, and sensor logs indicate another two were taken down by the station defense force. Another twenty or so escorts have also been confirmed destroyed. The assumption we have to make is that they went down with all hands as we never detected any life pods, but while there's no evidence to suggest otherwise it doesn't mean it's necessarily true. For all we know, their pods may be cloaked. The crippled Excelsiors, the Roosevelt and the Potomac, had to be evacuated as they had sustained damage far too severe to be repaired in the field or for them to realistically survive us towing them to a repair facility. Their hulls were simply too damaged. The Roosevelt lost both her warp nacelles and had several deep breaches along the port-side engineering hull, while the Potomac’s bridge pylon finally gave in separating the saucer from the rest of the ship. Their supplies, crew and vital components have been removed and the ships are being scuttled by being towed into the local star. Of the total 1300 crew, 600 were rescued along with Captain Bryn of the Roosevelt. Captain M'zari of the Potomac died along with most of her command staff as the bridge was hit directly by a disruptor blast. However, by using components cannibalized from the two ships, Captain Sato reports the Excelsior is once again in full working order. Most of what and who could be saved from the two ships have been redistributed along the task force's own three Excelsiors as these will be able to utilize them directly. The Centaur suffered major damage during the engagement; our engineers believe it unlikely she will ever be able to fly again. The damage to her nacelles, warp reactor and shield systems is extensive. Still, most of the crew survived and have been evacuated to the Venture along with what could be salvaged of the ship's supplies. Unfortunately we were unable to find any survivors at all from the Crazy Horse. According to the sensor logs, she went down with all hands due to a warp containment breach caused by several torpedoes impacting the engineering deck, at least one being a direct hit to the reactor room. Captain West will have to bear the grim news to his wife and her family. The Crazy Horse’s officers and crew will be mourned by us all. The remaining ships in the defense force have all been damaged, some extensively, but are still warp capable or at least towable. They have already been ordered to withdraw to the nearest secure Starbase for repairs using a roundabout route to avoid any unsecured areas. Judging by the force the Romulans used in this attack they wouldn't stand a chance against another attack if one came and I'm not comfortable sacrificing four ships and crews for one crippled Starbase. While on the subject... We had to cut the Starbase's hangar doors open with our phasers to gain access. Vice Admiral Thornwall had been mortally wounded in the engagement and while I saw her in sickbay shortly after the engagement ended she hadn't regained consciousness and passed away shortly thereafter. The Doctors say her wounds were too severe and that she had lost far too much blood before she got there for there to have been any chance of saving her. Captain Blake, the fleet liaison, was unfortunately killed in the antimatter pod explosion. Most of the command and control staff however did somehow manage to survive, as did almost three quarters of the personnel on the station. I have made a battlefield command decision to abandon and scuttle what's left of Starbase 10 due to the excessive damage suffered and the state of the systems that still remain partially operational. All available space on the ships in the task force have been converted to storage and living quarters, and we have already begun evacuating the survivors. This is naturally going to impact our combat ability as several of our ships won't be able to launch fighters or shuttles as in some cases the hangars are being filled with evacuees, spare parts or munitions. Luckily we haven't had to use any of the critical areas yet, though I keep that option open if necessary. I won't cram people into torpedo tubes, but I won't leave people behind either. As soon as we're finished here we'll take an indirect path back to fifth fleet headquarters at Deep Space 7, mainly in an attempt to avoid further engagements if we can. We'll be carrying a precious cargo we can't take any extraordinary risks with. By the time we leave, we'll be carrying over 25,000 crew, 5,000 marines and a grand total of over 70,000 total evacuated personnel and civilians. Computer, end log. USS ATLANTIS, COMMAND BRIDGE EN ROUTE TO DEEP SPACE 7, FEDERATION SPACE JULY 4TH, 2380. 6:00 AM Bridge log, Commander Seth Williams. Stardate 57506.1. There's much to be said about this posting, but there's never a dull moment on the front line. Lately, that has been true even for the graveyard shift. An Akira-class heavy cruiser is a fine piece of warship, but it was never designed to handle evacuees and certainly not the large amounts we have on board presently. With the number we've been asked to carry I'm actually quite surprised we haven't been forced to jettison some of the Peregrines just to get some free space to house them in the hangar bay. Of course, the Admiral specifically ordered us not to without his express permission. Doing so would free up enough space to house another three, four hundred or so evacuees albeit not very comfortably, but it would of course drastically reduce our combat capacity and force us to resupply a lot more and a bit earlier than planned. As it is I'm fairly confident we could move most of the people out of the hangar in case of emergency and actually be able to launch the fighters, though I wouldn't recommend doing so for any extended period of time. Our life support systems are having enough problems keeping up as it is without us cramming the corridors and Jeffrey's tubes full of semi-panicked men, women and children. This is the first officer of the USS Atlantis. We're currently traveling towards Deep Space 7 at warp 8, holding a standard diamond formation with the Venture as lead. End log. Seth looked around the dimly-lit bridge for a second as the log console retracted back into the armrest of the Captain's chair. Being on the night shift usually meant spending a few hours of fairly boring time on the bridge making sure the ship didn't drift out of formation and that their warp field didn't graze any other ships'. If that happened the consequences could very well be disastrous, especially in the tight formation they were traveling in, but the computerized navigation system rarely if ever had trouble keeping its distance without being constantly monitored. Still, better safe and bored than sorry and dead. "Commander, could you take a look at this please." The young second Lieutenant in charge of the sensor console was a quite good looking dark haired Betazoid. Commander Williams rose from his seat and went over to the science station. "Report, Lieutenant." "Commander, I can't make heads or tails of this sensor report. Engine output and warp field dynamics indicate we're supposed to be moving at warp 8, but according to the rest of the sensors we haven't moved at all for at least the last ten minutes. Astrometric sensors seem to be indicating the same phenomena as well, as our position relative to the closest stars has remained exactly the same." "That can't be right." The Commander made a quick mental calculation. "At warp 8 we should be moving at just over a thousand times the speed of light, a light week in the last ten minutes alone." "I know, sir, but that's not what the sensors are saying." "Lieutenant, if we were standing still and pushing the engines this hard we'd be ripped to pieces by the warp field strain alone. It's physically impossible. Not to mention that according to these same sensors which say we're standing still the rest of the task force are pushing just as many cochranes through their warp fields as we are." "I know, sir, but the alternative would be that all measurable stars and stellar objects were moving at the same speed too, and all of them in the exact same direction." "Yes, I know, and that's also impossible." He stood up straight. "Bridge to engineering." "Engineering here, go ahead Commander." "What's up with the sensors?" USS DARWIN, ASTROMETRICS LAB TEN MINUTES LATER. Though no human who saw him would call it that, T'Var had actually hurried as he'd made his way to the astrometrics lab. He had been roused just a few minutes earlier by the watch officer who politely conveyed a request from the Admiral that he should report there at his earliest convenience. Of course, convenience didn't really matter to T'Var, and he suspected the word had not actually been used by the Admiral either but rather was an addition by the watch officer who probably thought it would hurt the Vulcan's feelings less about being roused as early as he had, or that it'd make the ship's first officer less irritated. Illogical, but hardly unexpected of a Human. "Commander T'Var to Albion, reporting as ordered." "Admiral West here." The Admiral sounded tired but considering the early hour T'Var wasn't really surprised. "Admiral, this is Commander T'Var, I am the first and science officer on the Darwin." "Commander. I hope you’re able to tell us what's happening?" "Unfortunately, I would have to disappoint you by saying no." T'Var paused as he triple-checked his screens. "What I can tell you is that we seem to be, for lack of a better word, stuck in a bubble of subspace. How this happened, or for that matter what end effects this may have, is as of yet unknown to me." "Can you extrapolate on that 'stuck in a bubble' part?" The Admiral's voice requested. "I will try, Admiral." T'Var thought for a second. "For an unknown reason the thirty-two ships of Task Force 43 have been separated from our normal space-time. This is the reason our sensors are not able to track our location or movement in either space or time, but instead report what I'd most closely describe as an echo imprinted on the surface of the bubble. Due to our close proximity to each other it does however seem all the ships in the task force are enveloped in the same anomaly and not several different ones." A small line formed on T'Var’s forehead, giving him a concerned or perhaps worried look. It was, as always, hard to assign emotions to the minute facial expressions of a Vulcan, but this one was clear enough to be apparent to most other humanoids. "As you know, subspace does not conform to the normal laws of space time. Truthfully, Admiral, I have no idea if, where, or for that sake when we will be able to exit this bubble, or even where we are presently." "So we're lost in space?" "And time, Admiral." "Great." T'Var could hear the frown that presently dressed the Admiral's face. "West out." T'Var went back to study the sensor output again. He hadn't misread them. For some reason which he couldn't explain he had hoped that he had. He was Vulcan, and as such considered himself an embodiment of logic and reason. But as their current situation was anything but logical he felt himself frustrated as he was unable to do his duty. Hopelessness, as well as helplessness, can both be considered emotions and while he wasn't used to either he was quite sure that he felt both right now as he could not understand nor explain the situation, or for that sake do anything about it. Of course, neither could anyone else, and among everyone that knew what was happening the feeling was quite mutual. USS ALBION CONFERENCE ROOM 1100 HOURS STANDARD TIME Admiral West looked upon the people that were seated around the fairly large conference table. Each and every one of them looked just as tired and worried as he did, yet he saw something that they all tried to hide as well as they could. It was most definitely fear, but not the calculated fear that one could expect from someone who at least knows what they’re up against but instead it was a colder, more sinister fear that creeps up along your back as you’re pulled into a situation you have absolutely no control over or even an understanding of. Personally he thought their current situation was much like being trapped in a sinking ship. Sooner or later you'd either drown, or someone may come and rescue you. You won’t know until you’re either dead or rescued and there’d be nothing you could do about it. Ironically even he could see the morbidity of him comparing the situation his task force was in with the axiom of Schrodinger's cat. The Admiral tried to keep calm however, and however hard it was he tried to do his best to convey that feeling to his subordinates. He was at least somewhat successful. “Well people, we’ve been in here for hours now." He suppressed a yawn. "What new information do we have?” “Admiral, I’m sorry to say that there isn’t really that much more news at all to report.” The gray-haired Commander Suvok, science officer of the Albion, was the first to speak. “We’ve managed to receive some signals from outside our bubble in space, but we’ve encountered problems when we try to analyze them.” West noticed Suvok didn’t look afraid like the other people. Damn Vulcans. After a short pause he continued. “There are other issues as well. It seems my colleague on the Darwin was incorrect about one thing.” “In what way, Commander?” Now he really had the attention of everyone in the room. “We’re not just unstuck in time and space, but according to what little information the sensors are able to glean from the outside and we can actually make sense of, we’re also passing through a number of alternate realities. At least one of these signals had a Terran Alliance pattern, one which we know belongs in a parallel universe, while others have signatures that are completely unknown to us.” If there was ever a comment less appreciated, no one present knew of it. “Well then.“ West tried desperately to regain control of his dumbstruck expression. “Does anyone have any ideas? Anything at all would be appreciated at this point, no matter how insane it sounds in your head.” There was absolute silence in the room. The Admiral thought he could probably hear a needle fall, everyone was that silent. They didn’t even move. Then he heard the almost embarrassed voice of a young engineer West thought was named Andrews. “Admiral, if I may, there might be a way but I suspect you’d probably call it drastic, and quite possibly dangerous almost to the point of suicidal.” “I’m all ears, Ensign. Please continue.” 1 HOUR LATER First there was simply the sensation of falling, and then there was real falling. As the ship suddenly and completely stopped moving the Admiral thought he’d broken every single bone in his body. He had been totally unprepared for the fall just having exited the ready room, and had thus not only fallen to the ground but tumbled down the entire length of the bridge finally being halted by impacting the forward bulkhead. Not exactly the most distinguished bridge entrance he’d made in his career, but quite possibly the most painful. He'd known that there'd be quite a bit of a shock as the entire task force shut down their warp engines abruptly, not through the usual procedure of a quick but still gradual shutdown but in this case by simply closing the injectors and letting the engines for lack of a better description stall out. There was a reason the maneuver had required disabling numerous engine and reactor safety protocols, and this was it. Even the best inertial dampeners in the known galaxy couldn't really fully cope with that kind of deceleration, and a real worry was that they wouldn't cope at all but leave the crews as paste on the forward walls of every room they occupied. “REPORT!!” He said a bit too sharply, though the evident pain in his voice softened it a bit. “Sir, the maneuver worked and we’ve successfully managed to re-enter normal space again, engineering reports that the ship's in good condition with the only side effect being minor stress damage to the outer hull." The operations officer reported as he read the reports coming in from the rest of the ship. "Sickbay likewise reports only minor injuries, mostly bruises, abrasions, cuts and a few broken bones. Nothing really serious and no fatalities.” “What about the rest of the fleet?” If the Albion had experienced this much of a disturbance as they exited the bubble, the Admiral was truly concerned about the smaller ships in the fleet. “Reports are still coming in, sir." The communications officer replied, and then frowned. "That's strange. All of the task force should have dropped out within seconds of each other, and probably still be in formation." "And?" West asked. "Well, as it is we're scattered over an area of almost two entire light weeks, and judging by the timestamps on some of the reports I'm receiving the first ship dropped out fifteen minutes ago and others are still nowhere to be found." "What was that T'Var was saying?" West made a deep sigh. "Space and time?" "Well, so far no ships report any kind of major damage. Atlantis suffered an overload of an EPS conduit but her repair crews are already working on it. Gabriel reports three crewmen seriously injured, apparently they were pinned between a bulkhead and a Peregrine that tore loose from the securing bolts, and the Columbia has lost main power but is in otherwise good condition.” He made a short pause. “Sir, Lexington reports the only fatality so far. One of their engineering crew lost his footing and fell down an access shaft.” “He fell?” Somehow, the Admiral thought it was just a ridiculous way to die on a starship. “Yes sir. He fell. Straight down the entire length of the port nacelle pylon.” He paused. "That's a drop of roughly fifty meters, sir, and he died instantly as he impacted the warp plasma containment field." The Admiral almost winced and made a pained face. Suddenly it wasn’t as ridiculous anymore. The lower, or upper depending on the hull configuration, section of an active nacelle pylon will easily reach temperatures of well over a thousand degrees centigrade, and the magnetic containment fields were by necessity so highly charged they'd tear out the iron from your blood straight through your skin if you were unfortunate enough to get too close. Falling straight into this hellhole would be instantly fatal and leave little behind to identify. “Acknowledge the reports and make a note in the log." West moaned from the pain in his side. "Now, can anyone tell me where we are?” “Samuel” Captain West stood over by the science console alongside Commander Suvok. “You’d better take a look at this.” Steadying himself on the rails and limping over to his brother, the Admiral looked down at the console. It took a few moments before he could make sense of the information on it. “Okay.” He whistled silently as the realization dawned. “Well, Toto, I have a strong feeling we’re not in Kansas anymore.” “Not even close, Sam.” “Well, tell me if we find the Tin Woodman or the Scarecrow around here somewhere, would you?” And with that final comment, the Admiral collapsed into unconsciousness. The Doctor would later tell him it was due to the combined effects of stress, injury and sleep deprivation. USS ALBION, CAPTAINS QUARTERS 2 HOURS LATER Captains log, Stardate 57507.0. Or, well, that's the date it should be, and it’s what the ship’s computer says it is. It’s according to what I've been told not quite true anymore though. It seems Suvok and T’Var were right about one thing at least; we most certainly were floating through space, time and alternate realities. We’re not even close to Deep Space 7, or for that sake the Romulan Neutral Zone. In reality we exited the warp bubble close to Vulcan, or what at least should be the planet Vulcan. The system’s still here, more or less in the right place, as is the planet. What's not there though is any evidence to support that the planet ever developed sentient life in this reality, something the Vulcans in the crew seem to handle with far too much ease for my nerves. The entire system seems void of any trace of intelligent life. There is plant life, as well as a limited fauna on both Vulcan and one of her moons, but that’s about it. No artificial objects, not even debris, have been detected anywhere in the system, and I've had both destroyer wings do extensive sensor sweeps to make sure. We also haven't been able to detect the slightest trace of subspace communications, something which is ominous to say the least considering our close proximity to numerous other Federation home worlds including our own. According to the astrometric sensors, stellar drift calculations and background radiation levels, the more correct date would be July 5th, 2243 – not July 5th, 2380. As my brother is still recuperating in sickbay I’ve taken the liberty to send the two Nova-class science vessels to make a survey of the local cluster in this reality, each with a Defiant gunship acting as close escort just in case. Suvok and his scientific colleagues in the fleet have already made it perfectly clear that we’re stuck here with no apparent way home, at least for the time being, and that extensive research will need to be made into the phenomena that brought us here before we can even make any guesses as to whether it'll ever be possible. That being said, we need to know what we’re dealing with and what we can do as just idling in orbit around an uninhabited planet isn't really a viable long-term solution. Standard procedure would dictate that we land the ships, establish a small colony somewhere and follow the prime directive living out our lives without attracting any attention. This is probably good and well dealing with just the crew of a single starship, but it will prove hard to do with a fleet of ships and roughly a hundred thousand people. There's simply no way we can support a population of that size without retaining our technological level, and that'll require both supplies and a comparatively significant industrial base. With this system as empty as it is, I’ve dispatched the Intrepids to make surveys of the local astral bodies. If this system is anything like the Vulcan I know, there should be plenty of resources we could use if we do decide to settle down. At the very least we’ll start needing to replenish our deuterium and antimatter supplies fairly soon. The cruisers and explorer ships in the fleet were designed to operate for extended periods of time, but this is unfortunately not quite as true for the smaller vessels and the larger lack the capacity to produce enough to spare especially with the increased load carrying five times the recommended maximum amount of people puts on the secondary systems such as life support and replicators. Still, as the skies above Vulcan seem abandoned enough for now we’re awaiting the return of the Darwin and Icarus, and for the Admiral to return to duty before we make any more decisions about our future ‘here in the rabbit hole’, as my dear brother would say. Computer, end log. __________________ Do this. Don't do that. Stay back in line. Where's tax receipt? Fill out form. Let's see license. Submit six copies. Exit only. No left turn. No right turn. Queue up and pay fine. Take back and get stamped. Drop dead, but first get permit. Author of the stories; Task Force 43, Earth 2025 and Vae Victis Last edited by Zcenicx; Nov 14th 2009 at 4:13pm.

Nov 2nd 2009, 1:50pm	#4
Zcenicx Timendi causa est nescire Lieutenant Join Date: 20 Oct 2007 Location: .se Posts: 1,911	Chapter 2 USS DARWIN, COMMAND BRIDGE CLOSE TO ALPHA CENTAURI JULY 16TH, 2243 He was a scientist, at least he kept telling himself that he was, and not a soldier or an explorer. He wasn't interested in blowing other ships up nor dashing aimlessly through unknown space, and that was the main reason he was in command of a Nova-class research vessel and not a Steamrunner or Intrepid. He'd been nervous enough when he'd been assigned to do a long-range reconnaissance run of the Neutral Zone. Now, flying through potentially hostile space in a completely unknown universe, he had an almost constant nervous look as he walked among the crew and this of course was not exactly the best thing imaginable for the general crew morale. Still, as the scientists they were, both he and his crew kept busy trying to get a clearer view of their surroundings. They'd been trapped here in this alternate universe for eleven days now and it was slowly beginning to sink into their minds that this was real, that they weren't on a long term mission but rather completely and quite possibly permanently cut off from home. They were Starfleet officers and tried to act accordingly, but he had seen several crewmen start to break down as the realization of their situation dawned. Husbands, wives, parents, children, family and friends. They were all gone, and possibly gone forever. "Captain, we're approaching the Alpha Centauri system. Sensors are ready to commence a full-spectrum scan." The helm officer was a young man, not much more than a boy in Captain Deschamps eyes. Still, he seemed young enough to still see their new circumstances as an adventure rather than a tragedy like most others did. "Very well, bring us out of warp and take cover behind the largest rock you can find in the Oort cloud. Tell the Valiant to cloak and cover us." He made a mental note to bring that to Starfleet’s attention when, or rather if, they ever got back. The Nova-class ships, just like the other frigates, hadn't even been considered when they refitted the ships of the line with cloaks. Mostly because they lacked the power generation and computational power, but the Defiant class at least got to keep their copied Romulan cloaking devices. "Roger, Captain T'Pell acknowledges as well." "Rig for silent running just in case someone out there has their eyes or ears peered, and switch to reserve power. Disengage the warp drive as soon as we exit warp. Let our inertia carry us in only parrying with the thrusters." "Aye, sir, taking position just outside the outer Oort Cloud on thrusters only. All stations report silent running aye." "Very well, let's begin by making a passive scan of the system. Let's see what we can find." They'd been sent on the more important, in his mind at least, of the two surveys namely to examine the systems leading up to and including the Sol system. They'd already passed through three of the systems located between Vulcan and Earth, and these were Andoria, Sirius and Babel. In their reality, each was heavily populated by several different sentient species but in this darker version they looked much like Vulcan. While still Mishara-class planets, except for Andor which was its usual ice-covered class P, they were all completely void of intelligent life or any traces thereof. If anything could make Deschamps wonder about fate or destiny, this would be it. In his reality Earth had developed faster-than-light travel and officially taken to the stars in 2063, with first contact between Vulcan and Earth coming only days later. Vulcan had been the first planet they'd visited, and by association they'd learned about many other races among them the Andorians. Sirius had been a very early Earth colony and so had Babel due to their relatively close distance from Earth. How different could the Humans of this universe be, if they hadn't even reached these nearby and clearly still inhabitable systems yet? Or were they going to find the same thing on Earth as they had on Vulcan and Andoria, as in a green and lush planet but with no trace of even the most ancient Human civilization? He hoped not. While the Vulcans had taken the shock of not existing as a species surprisingly well, and the Andorians at least had been warned of what to expect - as one of the Andorian crewmen had said; "If the Vulcans were gone and Andoria remained, we'd have most likely arrived in orbit of an Andorian colony, not an unsettled world." - he had still seen the pain in the same crewman's face as they came upon his cold but now barren and completely lifeless home world. Not even the snow drakes or ice worms seemed to ever have existed. If the same was true for Earth… he dared not think the thought to its end. There was a lot of different races in the fleet, Vulcans, Andorians, Bolians, Tellarites, Klingons, Bajorans, Trill and Betazoid only to name a few, but at least three quarters and likely even more were Human. What kept them going right now was the so typical Human hope, faith and sheer stubbornness, which was also and surprisingly something many of the other races seemed to take a great deal of comfort in. A few minutes passed in the relative silence of the bridge. "Anything, Ensign?" “I'm reading something, but I'm not sure what. Passive scans can't give me a high enough resolution at this range. I'm detecting low levels of tachyon radiation, but no subspace activity and no warp signatures." "Tachyons?" Deschamps wondered. "What's your opinion, T'Var?" "Well, Captain, I lack sufficient data to make even a preliminary conclusion. I would recommend we do an active scan to gather more data, as there seems to be no evidence of subspace technology in the system, but there is of course a risk of detection I cannot discount simply because I can't see what's out there." "Great, either we see and risk being seen, or we don't see at all...” He silently weighed his options. “Make it so." "Engaging auxiliary power, active sensors are coming back online. Stand by." There was a slight increase in the ambient noise as the soft humming of the ship's secondary fusion reactors came back online. "Initializing an active high-resolution scan of the system now, sir." It felt like every single person on the ship was holding their breath in expectation. So far this universe had proven to be a mirror image of their own, even if it was a lifeless and empty one thus far. If the human race did exist in this universe, and they had indeed developed faster-than-light travel like they should have, there should be some evidence of that here. Alpha Centauri was by far the closest star system from Earth, it was practically in Earth's own back yard, and the consequences of it being equally lifeless to the other colony and home worlds they'd passed on the way would be staggering to Deschamps. He could almost feel the rest of the crew going through the very same thoughts and emotions. He took a long, good look at the system as it was ever so slowly re-rendered from the active scan data on the main viewscreen. The Alpha Centauri system was and had always been a required field of study at the Starfleet Academy of Science and he'd been fascinated by it even in the early years of his life. The ternary star system was just as beautiful in this universe as at home. He could clearly see the central stars of Rigil Kent and Toliman, the main yellow star and the secondary orange, as always locked in their dancing orbit around each other. In the distance above them he thought he could see the slightly distant red dwarf star called Proxima, also locked in the gravity well of the binary system and considered part of the same system even though it was a full fifth of a light year away. All three stars had natural satellites, and he remembered five of these could natively support life, and another three of them had early been terraformed to M-class though this was done long before his lifetime. "Captain..." The wild face of the Ensign at sensors got the attention of both T'Var and Deschamps. "You are so not going to believe this." USS VALIANT, COMMAND BRIDGE PROXIMA III POLAR ORBIT 1 HOUR LATER Deschamps and T'Var had now been beamed over to the Valiant and now stood on either side of the blue-skinned appearance of Captain T'Pell, the fleet's only Andorian Captain, and all three were standing there in relative silence looking at the visage before them while they awaited confirmation. "Captains, we've finished the preliminary analysis.." T'Var looked as calm as ever. "I can confirm that the ships are indeed of human origin. There are more than two hundred life signs on board each of the ships in this sector of the system, and all of them register as genetically pure humans to the sensors. The colony consists of a series of domed complexes and seems to be well enough established as I'm reading well over a million inhabitants and a significant planet-based industrial base. Again, all of them register as human. The only exception is a single life form on one of the orbital stations whose life signs the computer is unable to identify." "If I didn't see it, I wouldn't believe it. They're absolutely huge! You could fit the Albion and the Discovery inside one of them end to end and still have room to spare, and I've done battle in less space than even that!" T’Pell still looked shocked. "I'm quite impressed with your race's capability, pink-skin." "I know, I know." Deschamps sneered. "Calm down Captain, we do have work to do." "Aye." He nodded. "Make a full-spectrum scan, and relay all our data to the Darwin as we get it!" In truth, Deschamps wasn't all that calm either, but he definitely hid it better than his Andorian colleague did. As he had heard the first preliminary sensor report he'd felt like a huge weight was immediately lifted from his shoulders... but in all truth whatever he'd expected, he hadn't expected this. The ships, they had engines so they had to be ships, were simply huge. Stem to stern the scanners gave him a length dimension of just over fifteen hundred meters, and an estimated displacement of a massive 32 million metric tons! This behemoth dwarfed even the almost seven hundred meter length of a Sovereign-class battlecruiser, the arguably most advanced and powerful conventional warship of the entire Federation Starfleet, and weighed in at more than ten times their mass. Ever since he had first laid eyes on it he hadn't doubted for a second the ship was human in origin. The ten meter high Latin letters spelling out 'Lancelot' on the side was a good pointer. He could accept a whole lot, especially under the current circumstances, but that another, any other, race would both spell in human lettering and know the legend of Camelot was just a completely ridiculous proposition. What did worry him however, more than anything else, was the excessive amount of weapons systems these ships carried. They had counted two dozen twin-muzzle plasma cannons and another six large-bore beam weapon mounts on each of the larger vessels, plus a number of smaller energy weapons that seemed designed for point defense or short-ranged precision fire. Even though the weapons were plasma and laser based, with a calculated medium to low yield by Federation standards, it was quite obviously a warship and more than likely capable of causing trouble even for a Starfleet vessel in large enough numbers. T’Pell had already told them that one of these would be easy prey for even the relatively small Valiant, but had also with some respect stated that several of these working together could become a serious problem. One by one the cannons were probably not capable doing more than denting the shields, much less so damage the armor, of a Federation warship... but dozens? or hundreds? Neither Captain had any illusions that whatever ship they piloted into combat against these ships would eventually succumb under the massive amount of brute force they could put out, but they also knew their own perhaps less powerful in raw energy output but in turn far more advanced weaponry would take a staggering number of them out in return. There were two dozen of these behemoths in orbit around the planet and about twice that number of smaller vessels, measuring in at 'only' just over a kilometer. The smallest ships he could see, barring shuttles or single-pilot fighters, were around four hundred and fifty meters long, or in other words just slightly shorter than an Akira-class heavy cruiser. To make matters worse on the Starfleet Captains, the hulls on most of these vessels were also patched in various places, in a pattern that could only be due to sustaining what in some cases must have been heavy battle damage, and most likely from equivalent forms of weaponry as the ones these ships were carrying. Deschamps had been proven correct, Proxima III was indeed an established human colony even in this mirror universe. But something that surprised him was that there was still no evidence to be found that these ships were actually independently capable of faster-than-light travel. Not that it was that unusual for Federation planets to build impulse ships for intra-system patrols or transports, but those ships wouldn't be literally armed to the teeth or quite this massive. This was actually improbable in this case as well, as the ships could never have been constructed planet-side and then launched into space. Ships of this size and even more importantly shape always required an orbital shipyard, and while there were ample amounts of artificial satellites, most armed and considerably larger than most dedicated communications satellites, there was no such shipyard facilities to be seen anywhere in the system nor any evidence such had ever existed here either. In fact the only evidence in orbit of any kind of starship support facilities was what they assumed to be a mothball yard and a larger orbital control and defense station. It would seem that this universe's humans had developed quite differently than the ones from his universe, even discounting the time difference. At this time, relatively speaking of course, the Federation had just started to build the first batch of the Constitution-class ships. It would be another two years or so until the first ones left the shipyards at Utopia Planitia but even so these alternate universe human ships lacked many of the technologies the Federation had taken for granted long before even that. The massive ship in front of him was about fifteen to twenty years old, judging by the information on the materials the sensors had been able to give, yet lacked such basic space-faring technology as artificial gravity, subspace communications arrays, hydrogen ram scoops or point-to-point matter transporters. Tactical sensors couldn’t give a definite answer, but they suspected the ships lacked defensive shielding as well instead relying on an energy dampening grid not entirely unlike the pre-Federation polarized hull plating his own people had come up with. In other words, they were lacking technology the Federation had developed or encountered more than a hundred years ago, again relatively speaking. The ships also appeared to be powered solely by four truly massive but again fairly primitive fusion reactors, with no trace of an antimatter reaction’s particle decay signature. "We still aren't able to decipher their communications, sirs." The middle-aged officer that had spoken was unfamiliar to Deschamps, but was dressed in the color of an operations officer. "We've deduced that they do indeed use the tachyon beams we keep detecting as their basis for faster-than-light communications, at least the signal patterns conform to those you'd use in a communications band, but our receivers were never calibrated to handle tachyon-based signals and we lack a lot of the equipment necessary to make sense of particle-based information carriers. We're recording what we can and hopefully your scientists can sort it out later Captain, but the Valiant won't be able to do more as she was never designed for analyzing this kind of raw data as anything but a source for target tracking." "Very well, Lieutenant." He turned back to the viewscreen. "So this is how humanity has evolved in this universe. Well, now that we've answered one question, how about we try answering some more?" "Like what?" T’Pell asked. "Like how did these ships, or for that sake the people on the planet, get here.” Deschamps frowned. “I haven't seen even the most minute trace of warp plasma here, much less any sign of a warp reactor. Why does a small colony like this have more defenses in peace time than our Earth does in wartime, and why does the warships lack both warp drives, any kind of identifiable nacelle assembly, deflectors or antimatter reactors. Should I go on?" "Never mind then.” The Andorian sighed. “You pink-skin scientists and your questions. Helm, set a course back to the Darwin, but stay at half impulse until we completely clear the gravity well and then engage warp 3." This, he hoped, would allow them to completely avoid any unwanted attention. The short journey back out past the Oort cloud took only a few minutes, and soon T'Var and Deschamps were once again back on board their own ship. The science officer hurried off as soon as they were beamed back, no doubt to try and analyze this other human civilization's tachyon communications that the rest of the science ship's expert crew were already sifting through trying to understand the technology behind in order to decode. Deschamps went to the bridge himself, bracing himself against the hail of questions he was quite sure he’d receive. Instead, as he entered the small bridge there was only silence, and only the helm officer said anything at all. "Where to now, Captain Deschamps?" "Where else? Earth." Deschamps replied as he walked over to and sat down in his chair, his expert poker face revealing nothing at all to the obvious irritation of the bridge crew. “Sir…if we may ask...” The young man asked after a few more seconds, almost looking uncomfortable in the protracted silence. “What did you find?” “In truth, just more questions." He replied and then looked at the young officer with a faint smile. "But to answer your real question, yes, we did find humans.” And with that single comment, the silence was broken. USS ICARUS, ASTROMETRICS LAB EMPTY SPACE The main reason why she had come over to the Icarus in the first place was because her own ship lacked the large and very specific display unit which was right in front of her. A full-size Starfleet Astrometrics display array is an impressive piece of technology, capable of mapping more than half the galaxy and analyze thousands of teraquads of data at the same time. Only a few ships were deemed worthy to receive this fairly new Borg-designed system, as it had been brought back from the Delta Quadrant by the Voyager only a few years ago and was still mostly regarded as experimental and unproven technology. She hadn't previously seen one in use though, even though this was mostly because she had never been very interested in navigation or stellar cartography but rather focused on other just as traditional but less peaceful parts of ship operations such as blowing other people's ships up. In that regard she was a perfect Captain for a fast attack gunship like the Victory. Right now, she was however in a state of mind she didn't quite like. Fear and irritation mixed in her face as she realized what Commander Jameson, de facto Captain of the Icarus, was trying to tell her. "Well, where the hell are we then?" She asked. "I don't understand this either, ma'am. Every other star, planet and piece of space debris has been in more or less the right place thus far, but there's just nothing here." "You're really sure we're in the right place?" "I'm sorry Captain, but yes. Triangulating from the positions of the Cardassia and Regulon stars as well as the Badlands and the Amleth nebula, all points we've clearly identified as being right where they should, we're holding position right where the Bajoran star is supposed to be. And by all rights even if we were off by as much as a light year, which I seriously doubt with this piece of technology right here, we’d easily be able to see it from here with our own eyes, not to mention the astrometrics scanners." "What about the Celestial Temple and the Prophets?" "We passed right by where it is in our universe, Captain. We were actually close enough to trigger it, had it been where it was supposed to be." As the Captain backed away from the large console, Commander Jameson could understand her feelings. Not only had she been born on Bajor, she'd fought in the liberation war and then been stationed on Deep Space 9 for ten years of her career. She'd recently and by all means unfortunately for all involved been outmaneuvered in that position by another Bajoran officer, a despicable toad with Admiral's insignia called Natal Garran who'd had zero command skill but golden connections in the Bajoran government. The results from his political backstabbing would have most probably destroyed her career if not for her own friends within the Starfleet brass intervening. There'd been no way to get her back into command of Deep Space 9, but at least she'd been given command of a newly refit Defiant-class gunship by her friend and war comrade William Ross, and he along with Chancellor Martok and Ambassador Worf had even managed to put her on the fast track to promotion, seeing as how she'd be readily able to challenge Natal as an Admiral herself. Even discounting all that, she was also a deeply spiritual woman and everyone around her knew that. Jameson didn't know what had hit her worse, that Bajor as a whole didn't even exist in this reality, that the Prophets were nowhere to be found, or the fact that Cardassia did still exist while Bajor didn't. Not that Cardassia even remotely looked like Cardassia in this reality. It was one of the few planets they had actually found intelligent life on, but it seemed nature had thought quite differently in this universe than it had in theirs. Instead of the reptilian-humanoid Cardassians, another race had evolved that called themselves the Yolu. It had taken some time to decrypt their communications and language, but once that was done they had managed to get some background information on not only the Yolu themselves but several other races and civilizations in the area of space they were surveying. They'd even learned of the existence of a Human civilization as well, news that had considerably helped the morale aboard both ships. The area they had been exploring for the last two weeks had skimmed the border of what was called 'the League of Non-Aligned Worlds'. Apparently it was a loose economic and political alliance composed of some thirty member races, spread over a roughly triangular area of the galaxy with Beta Trianguli, Cardassia and Ferenginar lining up on the west border, the Typhon Expanse marking the northeast corner, and the east border glancing the Romulan Neutral Zone as it traversed back towards the southwest, just barely enveloping Mu Herculis and Denobula. Denobula seemed to be this League’s closest system to Earth, though they called it Denizala, and was claimed by a race called the Vree. Judging by the differences in appearance of these Yolu compared to their own universe's Cardassians, he could only guess that these Vree would look nothing like the mostly human-like Denobulans either. "Are you all right, Captain?" "I… All right?" She shook her head in disbelief. "No, I really don't think I am, Commander." "If you want, I'll arrange transport back to the Victory. Perhaps your ship's Doctor has something to help you relax." "Thank you Commander but I assure you, I'll be fine." She took a look at the holographic monitor again. She had seen this star chart before, but now the star names she was used to were toned a darker blue which usually denoted unexplored space, with only a few colored dots where the original star names had appendices with the ones that were used in this universe. As the initial shock started to subside she found that it was actually quite fascinating how alike these two universes were, but yet so very different. A star could be a light year out of position but otherwise exactly the same, another could be in exactly the right place otherwise be completely different. Some stars weren't even the right color or size. Still, they were all there or at least showed evidence that they had been at one point or another. She noticed Bajor wasn't the only star that was marked in the dull dark red that indicated a missing star system. She tried to force a smile, pointed and asked the question as innocently as she could. "Commander, is it just me, or is there another star missing?" "What?" He looked up, apparently startled at the question. "Right there, follow a line straight east from Syrma." "Oh, I'm sorry, Captain, I was thinking about something else." He replied. "Well, it's not missing per se, not like Bajor is, but it's not a star anymore either." "What do you mean?" "It was, but unlike that same star in our reality, there was no civilization living there that was advanced enough to stop its natural decay. A few hundred years ago, it collapsed, just like it would have in our reality." "Collapsed? You mean...?" "Yes. Ironic, isn't it. The home system of the race that learned to tame the power of black holes was turned into a black hole." He paused. "This universe probably developed much like our own, but just like actions have consequences, the lack of actions would naturally also have consequences. Most of the differences we see are most likely due to events that occurred differently here than in our own universe." "Guess we can officially discount any chance of the Romulans being in this reality then." "Already done, Colonel, already done." He replied. "Actually not even by me either. As they were a sub-species of the Vulcans, the possibility of them being around was already zero and they were discounted as soon as we arrived in the Vulcan system." Misery as always loves company, and suddenly she felt a whole lot better. USS BELLEROPHON VULCAN SYSTEM The Bellerophon had been tasked with the rather arduous job of making a detailed survey of the inner Vulcan system, in other words using the Intrepid class' high-resolution scanners to make a full report on the resource levels of the planets and planetoids between the twin stars and Vulcan itself, while her sister ship Gallant made a very similar survey of the gas giants and moons located in the outer system. It had taken several days to complete their assignment but that was mostly because the goons that handled Fleet Command during the Admiral's recuperation didn’t think they could trust the records they had on the system and wanted every detail re-examined. Even so, Captain Keyes didn't pay too much attention to her science officer as he actually reported their findings in exactly as much detail as the paper-pushers wanted, which was also so much more than she cared to even bother try listening to. The young man had only just been transferred to the Bellerophon before the ship at her request had been transferred from the Mars defense forces to Task Force 43. Even though the young Trill male looked good enough and had the grades to match, in her opinion at least he might very well be intelligent enough for the position but had a severe problem in that he thought much too high of himself plus the fact that he talked too much. Two traits one never liked in a man, much less an over-intelligent Trill who as she'd early learned had a severe ego complex. He proclaimed himself one of those unfortunates who, despite not lacking in skill, never got selected to serve on a ship or station suitable to said skills. As if a Nova or a Peragus-class research station would be better than an Intrepid. One had to interrupt his usual complaining quickly, or he'd start to go on about how the Trill symbiosis committee had made a grave mistake in turning his applications down and it usually only went downhill from there. Even so, she didn't have much choice but to keep him around anymore, as while a transfer was hard to push through in wartime, it was even worse now. Keyes was a good and long-time friend of both Vice Admirals West and Janeway, and they had been granted their first commands at roughly the same time, just like many others in the ongoing war as career advancing positions unfortunately opened up quickly and in quick succession. Janeway had been assigned the brand new Voyager, West took over the Galaxy after the death of her Captain in the Dominion War and Keyes got the Helios, an aging but still proud Centaur class cruiser. When the Helios was decommissioned after the war and Admiral Ross was promoted and reassigned to Starfleet Headquarters she had been transferred with most of her staff to take command of his old flagship, the Intrepid-class destroyer Bellerophon. As the previous command ship of the Fifth Fleet, and personal flagship of a very high-profile Admiral, she had been one of the first Intrepids to be fully 'Voyager-refitted' when her old friend had returned home to the Alpha Quadrant. She felt proud to serve on a ship of the same class as her dear friend's legendary ship, though she had initially felt somewhat envious that the Voyager itself had been handed over to Janeway's former first officer after a slight refit and extensive research had been performed on the returning vessels new systems. Initially Janeway had only been selected for command of the new ship's shakedown cruise, the final choice still undecided between her and Keyes, but events beyond anyone's control had decided for them. Even knowing what had actually happened to the ship during that shakedown cruise didn't change her mind, and she honestly believed she'd be just as able to handle what Janeway went through as she'd been. Probably better, as Janeway had always focused more on science than engineering or tactics. Those were West's and her specialties. The fact that Keyes was the only one in the original trio not yet promoted to the rank of Admiral didn’t really bother her too much however as she was more than happy where she was and, unlike most of her crew, she rather liked this chance to re-explore their own back yard in an entirely new reality. She had lived on starships her whole life with few close friends, since the war she had no family left at home at all, and she didn’t really mind getting away from the fighting either. She’d seen more than her fair share of death already. They all had. The report the science officer was just finishing had been fairly standard and could have been easily cut down to the phrase 'the records were mostly correct and we just wasted a lot of time on a fool's errand', and the fascination of scanning a completely unpopulated Vulcan system had been dampened by the fact that it was just that, unpopulated. Ironically enough, the Vulcans themselves seemed to enjoy (as much as a Vulcan can enjoy something) studying their home planet as it would have looked had they never evolved. It seemed to give them a perspective on things perhaps few others could appreciate. Still, no matter how stoic you were used to the Vulcans being them not showing the slightest remorse about their race not even existing here was just plain creepy. "To conclude my report, ma'am, the system registers much like it would have in our own reality. The resources are much like the ones we have on record, but in higher amounts. This is, of course, mostly due to the fact that there’s been no one around that's been using them." "Noted. Is there anything else?" She immediately kicked herself for using her standard phrase. "Ma'am, if we do decide to follow the prime directive, some would say Vulcan would be as good a place as any to set down. Resource wise it's true, after all, as we all know a warp-capable civilization did in fact develop here and there are indeed ample amounts of most of the resources we'd need." He frowned. "Personally I'd advice against it and recommend we await the return of the Darwin with their scans of the Babel and Sirius systems, as well as the Icarus' scans of Alpha Centauri, first." "Why?" She asked with renewed interest. Darl made an uncomfortable grin and pointed out the window at the red globe that hung silently in space only a few light minutes away. "Have you ever been to Vulcan, Captain? As in outside the cities and temple complexes? The color isn’t just for show you know. It's mostly just dry savannah and hot arid deserts where the dust storms can and will rip the flesh from your bones in an instant." Darl glanced at the security officer at his station. "Our pointy-eared friends may very well enjoy the place, but it's really not all that hospitable to a Trill." "Understood." Keyes nodded. "Or a human. No offense, Davok." He added as in passing. "None taken." "I'll bring that up with Admiral West tomorrow, Lieutenant. Dismissed." She gestured for him to leave with her hand. Elisha wasn't surprised with the conclusion. Darl may be a self-indulgent and overintelligent prick, but he was right, Vulcan was hardly considered to be the most hospitable planet in Federation space. Still, depending on what was out there they might not have much of a choice. She made sure she had the survey reports copied to her pad before leaving the bridge herself. USS DARWIN, COMMAND BRIDGE SOL, BEYOND PLUTO ORBIT JULY 21ST, 2243 Even at maximum magnification the azure blue planet only took up less than a quarter of the viewscreen at this extreme range. To most of the crew this planet was considered home, but he also knew it wasn't really their home. However different the people on it may be though, it was still very much Earth. He could see the North and South American continents clearly, with the western tip of Africa hinting on the horizon. Looked like rain over the east coast and clear skies over California. He suddenly felt very, very homesick. They stayed at extreme range, only barely close enough for the sensors to maintain an effective high-resolution scan. So far it was all good, but in the short time they'd been there they had already registered more than two thousand military vessels, some scattered around the system but most converged in the areas close to Earth, Mars and Jupiter, as well as a large amount of what looked like defense satellites, but as far as they could see none of them had made any response to their silent incursion. Yet. "So this is Earth. Looks much the same, don't you think?" "Yes, sir" One of the bridge crew behind him said with a longing tone in her voice. "Discounting the rest, it's home." "What's the good word, T'Var?" The Vulcan looked absent in thought. Deschamps almost laughed, that was the most he had looked like the good old T'Var, the man that Paul had gotten to know over the last few years and was used to, in weeks. "Well, Captain, even in close detail this Sol system is almost exactly identical to the one you are familiar with. There are some differences in the Earth's biosphere, but they are minute and I assume they have more to do with the different path your race appears to have taken in this reality." Deschamps couldn't help smiling as he asked him to extrapolate. "There is a considerably higher level of carbon dioxide, carbon particles and nitrous oxides in the Earth's atmosphere, as well as much lower reserves of several minerals. It seems much of this is due to an earlier form of energy production, most likely petrochemical and coal-based. I read several large energy signatures, most seem to conform to the same kind of by our standards primitive nuclear fusion reactors that we encountered in the Proxima sub-system." He took a short pause and then continued. “There’s also less radioactivity in the atmosphere and soil than in that of our Earth, if I read this correctly I come to the conclusion that they didn’t suffer your third World War, or perhaps rather had a less global or apocalyptic version of it. "Any other differences?" "Yes, Captain. There are several large space stations in orbit, as well as colonies on the Earth's moon and on Mars, which is in what looks like an early stage of terraforming, and a large space station orbiting Jupiter's moon of Io. There's also the same kind of unknown structure near the Io station as we encountered in Proxima, which the computer still can't designate. Since we're close enough to get a good look I can tell you it seems to contain several super-heavy and some sub-dimensional elements it doesn't recognize." "Alright. Our mission here is complete, and I won't risk going closer in with that much military hardware in our way no matter if we think they can see us or not." Paul ordered. "Do a final scan, and then let's get back home and report this to the fleet." "Aye, Captain." The helm officer reported. He paused, and then added something that got Deschamps thinking. "Captain, I thought you should know. There are a total exceeding more than four thousand vessels in the Sol system as we speak, many of them bulk freighters and military vessels that logically are badly suited for intra-system only operation. Even so, not a single one of them seem to be warp capable, not even the ones in or close to the orbital shipyards at either Luna or Mars." “Considering that conforms to our scans at Proxima, I'm not terribly surprised. They must have another way of faster-than-light travel that they use rather than the ones we're familiar with." He pondered the question for a second. "Let’s get some good scans of the colonies, stations and the planets done. Have we managed to understand their regular transmissions yet?” “Yes sir, that really wasn't hard at all as they use pretty much the same radio frequencies as your own civilization did before subspace transmissions became standard practice, but we’re still working on the encrypted communications as well as their tachyon network.” “Try to gather as much data as possible on this Earth, especially their historical and political data, and if possible the reason behind them having this spaceborne armada. I want to be able to present a full picture to the Admiral when we get back, and not being able to explain why this Earth has a mobilized military force by far exceeding the size of the entire Fifth Fleet is kind of embarrassing. We leave in three hours, T'Var, make the best of it.” USS ICARUS, COMMAND BRIDGE CLOSE TO DENOBULA / DENIZALA “Lieutenant, I think we’ve seen enough now. Bring us back out of the system and take us back to Vulcan at best speed.” Jameson had taken his seat again after checking that the sensor information had been correctly entered for the computer’s analysis. “Aye sir, plotting a course back to the fleet and engaging at warp 9.” Commander Jameson's initial guess had been right on the money, the Vree really did look nothing like the Denobulans, and both their own appearance and that of their ships made him remember all those old classic two-dimensional movies he’d wasted his youth on, like ‘War of the Worlds’ or ‘Mars Attacks’. His history buff helm officer had even called them 'Roswell Grays', whatever that meant. The sensor results of their short visit in the system were still being processed by the science teams and computers, but he could already start on his report by simply describing what he'd witnessed with his own eyes. They had passed close to the Alkaid system, or Nacambari as it was called here, on their way to Denobula. It was populated by a pre-warp civilization of an insectoid race that by all indications had just entered the early industrial age, with a developmental level much like Earth's in the mid-nineteenth century. They hadn't been too surprised to see numerous differences from the standard development pattern of such races, for one example they lived in what seemed to be a collective hive mind governing them which had also apparently slowed down their scientific advancements quite drastically, as they'd taken centuries to develop technology his own world had developed in less than a decade. There had been little that he would call interesting to see on the planet itself, even though they had still made some scans. After all science was always science and studying emerging civilizations was always interesting enough to make someone say the quick stop required to do so had been definitely worthwhile. They hadn’t found much else of note in the system however, except yet another of those massive apparatuses in orbit around one of the outer planetoids but in what seemed to be a state of grave disrepair. For the first time they'd found traces of colonization, on said planetoid no less, though the new discovery had a definite downside in that it also wore the unmistakable scars of suffering through heavy orbital bombardment. What made people blink twice was that this bombardment seemed to be fairly recent, sensor data put their estimations at no longer than twenty and probably closer to fifteen years ago. It was hard to determine exactly as it looked more like if someone had thrown asteroids or solid metal shells at the planet rather than using weapons more familiar to the Starfleet crew such as energy weapons or bombs. They had already analyzed and rejected the possibility of this being a natural phenomenon as the chances of a single asteroid entering the atmosphere of a planet at close to a ninety degree angle is low enough, and the chances of two dozen doing it in rapid succession in a perfectly linear pattern and across a total of three thousand kilometers were pretty much zero. After witnessing three of the League races he'd been forced to admit they simply had to have some kind of technology for interstellar travel, but until he found these Vree he had no actual or tangible evidence of exactly what it was or how it worked. His search for this proof had been effectively completed in the Denizala system when he had seen one of the large saucer shaped ships open what looked very much like a tear in the very fabric of space-time itself only to enter it and vanish completely from all but the most subtle subspace bands. The closest the computer had been able to get in analyzing this phenomenon was an artificial wormhole, but even that only scored a low-grade partial match of the energy signature. He’d been star struck just staring at the swirling red portal as the ship had quickly entered it, and he'd almost been disappointed when the portal closed just as quickly as it had appeared leaving only a faint imprint that the sensors could barely detect as evidence that it had ever existed in the first place. To make matters worse he was forced to admit to the suddenly inquisitive Bajoran Captain that neither he nor any of his crew had any idea what that vortex was, how it worked, or even how to replicate it. His best scientists and sensor analyst had been just as awestruck as he'd been, and were still trying to wrap their heads about the basic principles involved in opening such a portal, not to mention getting it stable enough to enter and more importantly exit in a safe and effective manner. Well, at least he’d been able to get some solid sensor readings and a detailed recording of exactly what had happened from his and the Victory’s points of view. Whatever good that would do except prove what they already knew in the first place, that this place wasn't home anymore and that the rules had changed. What was even more surprising, something which in itself was nigh impossible as it stood, was the fact that the Vree ship’s energy source scored a 98% energy signature match to a third generation or Kirk-era Klingon antimatter reactor. The sensors couldn’t identify any of the other components that were required for the faster-than-light drive except that the ship carried an unknown heavy mineral in its main energy matrix. Whatever this portal technology was it was so completely alien to what the Federation and associated races had ever encountered that the computers didn't even know where to start looking much less give any answers. They had however managed to deduce the function of the four parallel metal beam structure, as they’d been able to see them activate from a very close perspective. While performing a deep structural scan on the apparently abandoned derelict it had suddenly activated, the four beams using thrusters to expand the distance between them and through a series of controlled high energy particle emissions created another one of these sinkholes in space. The revelation they'd been given had been one only appreciated quite a while later however, as they had been too busy trying to save their own asses rather than study sensor data at the time. The crew had been lucky they had their warp drive hot as well as an alert helmsman, or they’d probably have ended up being rammed by one of the most massive ships he’d ever seen. The ship in question looked primitive but had measured in at more than three kilometers in length and it carried at least a ten million metric tons of various types of what was assumed to be civilian cargo. Quite something to see when you know your entire ship only weighs in at just over a hundred thousand tons in itself. Sure, Federation bulk transports were also by necessity much larger than the relatively small Nova science ship, but this ship dwarfed most if not all of those as well. Judging by what the sensors told them the ship was carrying, he made the educated guess that the Vree lacked any form of molecular replication as there would otherwise be no reason to transport, or considering the ship looked like it was of human design more likely import, among others sweet water from one planet to another at a probably high price. Water is just too simple a molecule to not be able to replicate if you could replicate anything at all. They had been able to intercept some communications, most of them civilian but also a few low-level diplomatic messages. These had allowed Jameson to add yet another few names to the star map. Most of the former Romulan Empire had now been replaced with something called ‘the Centauri Republic’, their home world located on the first planet of the Theta Centauri system, ironically enough a dead world that had never developed any form of life in Jameson’s universe. Most of Klingon space was now replaced with a shaded area with the annotation ‘Minbari Federation?’ and the area closest to Sol, including several systems like Vega, Alpha Centauri, Orion, Deneb, Draylax and Altair were in a blue-bordered area with the text ‘Earth Alliance’ attached. Getting information on the Earth Alliance and the Centauri Republic had been quite simple, and Jameson considered those parts of the star map to be mostly correct, discounting any classified military outposts or secret resourcing operations in other systems. He was surprised at how few of the systems in the claimed space that were colonized as he knew from his travels that among many others the Sirius system had several planets that were far more hospitable than Vega II, Draylax Prime or Proxima III was, but apparently it had been overlooked for colonization, as had both Andoria and Vulcan, while Orion system (which is located just past Vulcan seen from Earth) had likewise been claimed even though it by Federation standards wouldn't even classify as M-class even though it had a mostly breathable atmosphere. It made little sense from his point of view, but he was starting to suspect that this alternative faster-than-light technology had its limitations. It was the only theory that could explain these apparent conundrums. He was a little apprehensive at the fact that the entire fleet were essentially hiding out within what was effectively by most other races considered to be Earth-claimed space, even when there was no evidence that the system had ever even been visited much less claimed or tagged for colonization by the Alliance or anyone else. But in the end he knew it wasn’t his decision on where they should be or what they should do. All he had to do was to follow orders and do his job, and right now that was something he could take comfort in. He'd leave the rest up to the higher ranked people who had actually accepted that kind of work in the first place. "Well then, I think I'll go get some sleep. It's been a while." Jameson rose from the Captain's chair. It was late, and it had been a long day. “Lieutenant, you have the bridge. I’ll be in my quarters if anything should come up.” “Yes, sir. Good night, Commander.” Tomorrow would be a long day too. __________________ Do this. Don't do that. Stay back in line. Where's tax receipt? Fill out form. Let's see license. Submit six copies. Exit only. No left turn. No right turn. Queue up and pay fine. Take back and get stamped. Drop dead, but first get permit. Author of the stories; Task Force 43, Earth 2025 and Vae Victis Last edited by Zcenicx; Nov 6th 2009 at 3:38pm.

Nov 2nd 2009, 1:52pm	#5
Zcenicx Timendi causa est nescire Lieutenant Join Date: 20 Oct 2007 Location: .se Posts: 1,911	Chapter 3 USS ALBION, DECK 8 SICKBAY GEOSTATIONARY ORBIT ABOVE VULCAN JULY 19TH, 2243. 10:00 HOURS The Admiral still felt a little weak, but at least he wasn't as tired as he had been anymore. Not that he'd actually appreciated being stuck in sickbay or the constant attention he'd been getting from the ship’s Doctors all that much even then. He knew the overall situation well enough, he had still received continuous reports on the fleets condition, but he would much rather be on the bridge or in his office where he could do his job much more effectively rather than stuck down here. Unfortunately the irritating young Doctor had told him straight to his face that since he didn't trust the Admiral to take it easy he couldn't let him go back to duty, and when the Admiral tried to object he'd just left the room and locked the door behind him. There weren't many people in all of Starfleet that could lock a Vice Admiral in his room, but a mere starship physician could just refer to it as a medical decision and suddenly whatever rank you had just became utterly and effectively meaningless. Now, more than two weeks later, the Doctor had finally been forced to admit that he couldn't give any realistic reasons to justify keeping the Admiral in sickbay anymore. The constant excuses of 'observation', 'further testing' or 'monitored rest' had already started to get old a week ago, and by now they were just rapidly becoming yet more reasons why this energetic young man should be reassigned to waste disposal, or the even less enjoyable job of cleaning the warp plasma conduits in the nacelles for a few weeks. Or months. He would have to think about that. Well, Samuel had at least been given his own alcove, separated with a door no less from the rest of the sickbay's patients and personnel, and that small but important measure of privacy was something he had actually quite appreciated. If nothing else it somewhat shielded his ears from the noise the other occupants made. He hadn't entirely realized how many wounded they had picked up from Starbase 10, but now that he'd been in close proximity to a number of them he'd been shown the reality of the situation. He almost felt guilty taking up an entire alcove all by himself when there were obviously, at least from his point of view, others that needed it more. Of course, when he'd taken that point up with the Doctor he'd merely shrugged and told him to get some more rest while he could. Even though he had collapsed, there was nothing really wrong with him that needed this kind of advanced or for that sake long-term care. He'd suffered a couple of broken ribs, a sprained wrist and a minor concussion from his quick flying lesson across the Albion's bridge, but those injuries were all by their standards minor and had all been easily repaired within an hour of him arriving in sickbay. He wasn't old or decrepit, just barely past his fortieth birthday in a society that regularly lived in good health well past their hundreds, and to both his own knowledge and according to the medical scans he'd seen he was in fairly good physical shape and there had been no permanent damage either. Still, the Doctors had decided to keep him within eyeshot with some fragmented comments about command officers, stress, and being boneheaded, all stated just low enough to ensure a demotion wouldn't be very rapidly handed out but still loudly enough for him to hear every word. Getting up and already having gathered the numerous pads that had just minutes ago been spread all over the alcove he zipped up his black and gray duty uniform jacket and carefully checked that his rank insignia, a brooch on either side of the collar forming three golden pips in a golden rectangle, were in their correct places and that they weren't lopsided. Even though he normally wouldn't care too much about it there was enough confusion and fear on the ship without a lopsided Admiral walking around, especially considering the fact that as far as anyone could tell he was all of a sudden the highest ranking Starfleet officer in the entire Milky Way galaxy, or the rest of the universe for that matter. Still, he couldn't worry about that all the time nor could he be too preoccupied with crew morale or the care of wounded, no matter how deeply he felt about these issues. He was more than intelligent enough to know that if he started to dig too deeply into the smaller problems he'd quickly be overwhelmed by the sheer amount of them and effectively become useless. His job was the big problems and the big decisions, and to let the Captains and by association their own officers take care of their own smaller ones free of his interference. With only a wave and a smile to the duty nurse, he left sickbay in the care of her and the Doctors and left to go make some of those big decisions about the big problems. The Admiral's quarters on the Albion were about the size of his apartment back home in San Diego, which actually said more about the size of his apartment than about the living quarters. They were more than large enough to serve as both office and personal quarters, though not large enough to have more than two or three visitors at any given time. As this had only been supposed to be a temporary combat posting the rooms were only sparsely decorated, and the only personal belongings he’d brought with him to the Albion were holo-pictures of his old friends on the Galaxy and a copy of his parents wedding picture. Except for his brother he had no family of his own since their parents had passed away several years ago, him never having had the time to make one rather than not actually wanting one. It was at times like this he appreciated that, being that it was one less reason to become depressed. He'd seen far too many crewmen start falling apart inside as they realized what family they had probably already thought they were dead, and that the chances of them getting home to disprove that were slim to non-existent. He immersed himself in the more detailed reports that had literally flooded his small desk in his absence, making short notes on another pad about what issues to request more information on, what decision should be made in others on a second, and what decisions he wasn't even supposed to make on a third, until the beeping sound of the doorbell pierced the silence. He straightened himself up and pushed a few pads away as he said "Enter." He'd have expected his brother to be the first one to come by, but even though the uniform color and rank insignia was correct, the person wearing it was not. "Captain Duval!" He gave her a honest smile and quickly rose and walked up to give her a quick hug. "I wasn't expecting visitors and even less so you, though you are of course just as welcome as always. What can I do for you?" He motioned for her to sit down in one of the chairs across the desk. "Admiral, I'm glad you've recovered." She thanked him with a tired smile and sat down in the offered chair. "The fleet's mostly silent, and I'm here as much because I need a friend to talk to as much as in my official capacity." "I understand, Sheila, trust me, I do." "Still…" West looked at his watch, then continued; "Can I get you something? It's almost lunch time and I've lived on nothing but sickbay rations for the last two weeks." "Just coffee, Sam, but thanks for offering." "Like you used to take it?" "That'll do nicely." He rose and went over to the replicator, returning a minute later with two steaming cups of coffee, one with just a bit of synthetic scotch in and the other with milk and sugar. "So, tell me. What can Fleet Command do for the Independence, and more importantly what can I do for you?" Samuel and Sheila had known each other for the better part of their respective careers, as they'd both been assigned to the Galaxy for several years, Sam as first officer and Sheila as the ship's navigator, and when the Captain had been killed in the Dominion War they had each taken a step up the career ladder. West as the new Captain, and Duval as the new first officer. Their friendship had been cemented during the three years that followed until the Galaxy was finally recalled for a full service and refit, and at that time they were both promoted and subsequently transferred. Sheila had been given command of the newly christened Sovereign-class starship Independence, assigned to Deep Space 9 and their exploration of the Gamma Quadrant, while Samuel was assigned to oversee Starfleet's ship re-development operations at the San Francisco fleet yards (less formally known as Earth Spacedock), where he had worked on among others the so-called Borg refits of the Norway and Saber class ships. Being forty thousand light years apart put a strain on any friendship, but even though they'd been apart for more than three years they'd kept in touch as much as possible. Enough for Samuel to know exactly what Sheila needed to talk about, even without her telling, and enough for her to be open about it to him. "It must be hard for you. I read the report as well." "It was a damn waste, Sam, a damn waste of a damn good man." He just nodded. "I didn't know him personally, but I doubt you'd have accepted him if he wasn't. I'm sorry, Sheila." The man in question was Justin Blake, the fleet liaison at Starbase 10. He’d just been a formal acquaintance of West's, being that he rarely spoke to him except in reports and requests, but he was much more than that to Sheila, he was at least her boyfriend, and if you listened to the rumors floating about the crew probably her fiancée until just a few weeks ago. Samuel knew well the truth behind it, they had quite correctly been engaged but for some reason he didn't know the exact details about they'd broken it off just after the war broke out and she'd been transferred to his command. Ironically he was somewhat delighted in that fact, he didn't really like it but he'd been envious of Blake ever since he'd started seeing Sheila. Sam and Sheila had been one of those unfortunate pairs who had always had feelings for one another, strong ones at that, but had always been hindered by regulations as both were Starfleet officers of differing rank and in the same command structure. It was yet another one of the reasons he'd never made a family of his own, as most of the women he met were in the same situation and he had always subconsciously compared them with the woman now drinking coffee in his quarters. "I heard it was quick, that he didn't have to suffer." She sighed. "We had our differences, but I still feel he didn't deserve that." He nodded, Blake had been killed in the massive explosion that had resulted from a disruptor blast hitting one of the station's antimatter pods, you didn't typically survive that for more than fractions of a second. "I can verify that. He never felt a thing." Sheila just stared emptily into the wall beside him. He felt it would be inconsiderable to say anything, so he just waited for her to snap out of it for a few minutes but as she didn't seem to do so on her own he finally broke the silence and asked her. "While I am sorry about Justin." He said. "You wanted to see me about something else as well?" "Oh... yes, that's right." She looked startled. "We have a slight but increasingly important problem with a few of our ships, and unfortunately I have to admit that the Independence is one among them. It's just a minor issue right now, but it may soon prove to be more than that unless we find a lasting solution very quickly." West raised an eyebrow. "Admiral, we're carrying over a hundred, actually closer to a hundred and five thousand people in a fleet of ships designed to carry only a sixth of that number for an extended period of time. I know the Albion doesn't feel the effects yet, but she's not a design standard Sovereign either. Unlike the space superiority design of the Independence, or the long-range survey design of the Discovery, she was constructed to the command and control, or as it's also known the flagship parameters." He had to search his mind for the differences. He had studied the Sovereign design specs in detail just a few months ago and he did know most Sovereign-class ships were specialized towards a specific function, though still able to perform most others to a high standard as well. Even so, they weren't identical and Sheila was quite correct that some of the differences were also quite important. He found what he was searching for, and understood what Duval was trying to avoid saying outright. "Damn it. You're right, that's going to be a problem." USS ALBION, CONFERENCE ROOM GEOSTATIONARY ORBIT ABOVE VULCAN 18 HOURS LATER Jameson was slightly stressed as he almost ran down the corridors from the turbolift exit. He'd only just gotten back to the fleet and pretty much as soon as they had exited warp he'd been ordered to transport over to the Albion for a full-fledged Fleet Command meeting. He wasn't that surprised considering what he'd been doing for the last two weeks or what he'd seen while doing it, but the apparent hurry did both surprise and worry him just as he'd been surprised that these orders were given before he'd even reported back. He'd expected to at least get an hour or two to wind down before he'd be debriefed and for the meeting being between him and a select few of his peers, not every single one. Now, here he was on the task force's flagship running down a corridor. He'd already gotten lost twice, not something he was proud of but in his defense he'd never even set his foot on a Sovereign before today. It felt even bigger when actually being inside than you'd expect by looking at it from the outside, especially as the ship at first glance was visually very similar to his much smaller Nova. Finally getting to the conference room he found the door open and most, if not all, of the other ship Captains already seated. That included, as if to spite him, the red-headed figure of Captain Kira. At the head of the table he could see the graying but still quite forceful appearance of the task force's commanding officer, Vice Admiral West. He'd only met the man in person once before, and even though he looked a little bit tired he was still undoubtedly the commanding presence in the room. He didn't look irritated at Jameson's late arrival, but had a rather worried expression instead, something that surprised him more than anything else. "Jameson! Good you could finally join us. Come in and take a seat, I was just about to start the meeting and it just wouldn't be right to do that without the guests of honor, now would it?" Jameson took a seat between Captains Duval of the Independence and T’Pell of the Valiant, giving each of them as both were formally his superiors a quick nod of respect, and put the data pads he'd been carrying on the table in front of him. "Ladies, gentlemen. Fellow Captains. Now that I'm finally out of sickbay we have some decisions we have to make, and rapidly as well since I've been informed that our available time is quickly running out." West sat down at the end of the table, and his face still carried that worried look even as it was quickly covered by stern resolve. "We'll have to decide on what course we're going to take from here on out. As Captain Duval thankfully brought to my attention yesterday we won't be able to stay here in orbit inactive indefinitely. As you all know most of the ships in this task force are combat or exploration vessels which were never designed to carry refugees at all, much less for a very prolonged period of time." He paused and his eyes met those of the destroyer and cruiser Captains. "Also, most of those who were, like the Galaxies and Nebulas, have later lost much of this ability in the subsequent combat refits they've undergone, something I know I'm personally at least partially to blame for. Even the Sovereign and Excelsior-class ships are starting to experience problems with their environmental and life support system from the strain caused by the increased onboard population, and the situation is only worsening as we stay here." Except for the Admirals voice, the room was dead silent. They all knew this was true, but it's one thing to know something and another thing entirely to get it verified and to hear that everyone else also knew. “The only exception thus far is the Albion, as she was designed by flagship standards. She’s still the arguably most powerful military vessel we have available, but while the other Sovereigns were designed to carry a larger amount of weapons and ordnance in one case, more fuel and better more powerful sensors in the other, the Albion among other things has redundant high-efficiency air filtration and life support systems to combat biological or chemical warfare. That’s the reason she’s got an extra deck compared to the Independence or Discovery, and why she can at least in theory carry more people than the other two combined before the life support systems even start to strain.” He paused, shifted a bit in his chair and turned his gaze towards the assembly once more. "So, what we need to decide on right now is where we can settle down. Not if we should do so, or how we can get home. We won't find a way back home before we start losing a whole lot of people due to system failures and while I both can, will and have ordered people to their deaths in battle, I'm not prepared to ask people to die of asphyxia or starvation simply because we don't want to face reality. I want options people, options and opinions. Now, start talking." Even Jameson was shocked by the Admiral’s directness, and judging by the other Captains' appearances he was hardly alone in his reaction either. Only Duval and the younger brother West still looked at least fairly calm, and he concluded that the Admiral had already talked to the two of them at length in private prior to this meeting. It wasn't surprising either, as the Admiral had already stated that Duval had brought it up and of course the Captain of the Albion would be the best source of information about what made his ship different from the others. "Admiral" a Vulcan Captain who Jameson didn't recognize had spoken. "As my home planet is right here below us and so evidently unpopulated, I would suggest that it is the most logical choice for us to settle here. There are ample amounts of resources readily available to the fleet, and..." "We could just as well settle on Andoria, and even I don't think that'd be our best option!" T’Pell quickly interjected. "I might be Andorian and I may still long for my home city below the frozen sea, but these pink-skin vessels have taught me one thing, and that's to enjoy temperatures that stay above freezing..." "Logic would dictate..." "Take your precious logic and shove..." The argument between the Vulcan and the Andorian quickly escalated, but was just as suddenly stopped dead as the sharp voice of Captain Keyes broke through. "Stop it, both of you!" She both looked and sounded angry. "You're behaving worse than two Ezalian dung beetles during mating season." The two arguing Captains suddenly stopped dead in their tracks and both looked quite insulted, and by all rights. Jameson knew just how hilarious what she'd described looked. She didn't even bother looking at them before she continued. "Neither planet is a good option. Vulcan is a desert planet with deadly dust storms, electrical storms which even in our own universe causes the Vulcans numerous problems, and crucially not a whole lot of natural sweet water. Andoria on the other hand has plenty of water, but what it lacks in dust storms and heat it makes up for in blizzards and a surface temperature that has even your naturally adapted species living below ground in geothermally heated caverns." "May I ask what would your suggestion be, Elisha?" Duval's softer voice was a refreshing change from Keyes' sharp tone. Keyes quickly replied with another question. "Jameson, Deschamps. We've heard you found some other races out there, among them humans. What more information did you manage to gather on your expeditions?" Jameson looked at Deschamps. They were thinking the same thing. Deschamps spoke first. "Admiral, perhaps we could move this discussion to one of the holodecks?" "I have to concur that it would be a more suitable locale for an effective debrief." Jameson added. Admiral West just nodded and motioned for the door. USS ALBION, HOLODECK 1 Jameson and Deschamps had needed a little time to get their holodeck program working and to verify their facts with each other. Each had been able to get parts of the picture, in some places it overlapped, and in others it had been discovered neither had a single piece of the puzzle. What became a problem was that some of the information didn't match, but they attributed these anomalies to local politics and differences in points of view between the different local races. One such area was the border between the Narn and the Centauri, where the two combined had collected no less than six different versions of exactly which systems belonged to which of the two empires. "As you can see from this corrected star map, most of this universe seems to still be in the right place when compared to our own, with only a few although noteworthy exceptions." Jameson continued his recital, as he saw Kira trying not to look at the red circle around a now empty region of space. "As far as we can tell there are only five stars missing in the entire Alpha Quadrant when compared to the ones present in our own universe, at least that's as far as we've been able to verify this data from the vantage points we've had." "The most notable are of course those of Bajor and Romulus." Deschamps stated. "The latter is a black hole system in this universe, the former just isn't there. Two of the others have gone nova in this universe while the fifth seems to have collided with another star and thus effectively been swallowed up. We attribute some of these differences to the chaos effect, that the same event won't always happen the same way if repeated with the exact same variables, and some of it to the absence of some variables such as for example there being no Romulans on Romulus to intercede." "That'd also be the reason why some planets haven't developed life, and others went a completely different path than they did in ours." Jameson continued. "We surmise that most if not even all of the differences between this universe and our own may very well stem from a single event happening in a different way than it should have several millions, possibly even billions, of years ago." This prompted a few looks from the other Captains, but Deschamps quickly took over. "We've tried to indicate what worlds are colonized and which are otherwise claimed by the different powers that exist here on this map. The three single-colored areas-" He pointed towards a blue, red and green area bordering each other in succession. "-seem to be governed by mostly single-race societies called the Earth Alliance-" He indicated the blue blob centered around Earth "-the Centauri Republic-" The green area that covered most of the Romulan Star Empire flashed. "-and the Minbari Federation." The red, formerly Klingon, area flashed. He took a sip of water from the holographic tray. "The larger purple area is a sort of loose economic alliance called 'the League of Non-Aligned Worlds', which comprises a total of some fifty member races. Unfortunately, neither of our expeditions revealed any trace of any other Federation races besides humans and a surprising fact is that even counting a number of pre-warp civilizations we've found there's still less than ten percent of the racial diversity we’d expect when compared to the Alpha Quadrant we're used to. Since most other home worlds still exist here and are quite frequently just as habitable as we'd expect, we can only conclude that any intelligent life that did develop on these worlds was either destroyed long ago or never developed at all. This has also raised some questions as to whether our own universe has experienced some kind of event that increased the odds of intelligent life actually developing." "It is also not an entirely correct statement to say that humans exist here either, even though we're very closely related my science teams analyzed the genetic structure of these humans and we were able to find several important genetic differences. While we're still close enough to be considered the same species, the differences between us are larger than between any two given human races, like African and Chinese, that developed on either version of Earth, ours or theirs." Deschamps stepped back again, handing the recital back to Jameson. “There are other differences between us as well. As you all know we’ve traveled back in time approximately 120 years. By our standards we’ve gone back to pretty much the time work was started on building the Constitution-class cruisers. Actually let’s be precise, we arrived in this universe on the exact date berths were reserved at the San Francisco fleet yards for the prototype and design proof ships NX-1700 and NX-1701, later known by their christened names Constitution and Enterprise. In our universe and with our timeline, the Constitution's keel was laid out only four days ago.” This prompted a few reactions and quick comments among the crowd of ship Commanders. There wasn’t a Starfleet officer alive who didn’t recognize those names, or who didn't know the name of the Enterprise's most famous Captain. “However, in this universe the starship technology Earth has available seems to be quite different from what we'd expect to see and what we're used to.” They were suddenly standing in what looked like open space above a dark planet, with the massive hulk of the EAS Lancelot rendered in front of them. “This is an Earth-designed starship as they look in this universe, and yes she really is this big. From what we’ve been able to decipher she’s also not unique but rather one of several hundred of her class, specifically called a Nova-class dreadnought. While she looks… impressive, to say the least, she’s actually designed around technology we would see as quite primitive by our standards even at this relative time." He paused to take a sip of water and let the image in front of them sink in. "Discounting the fact that there are guns mounted just about everywhere they could be welded to her superstructure, we counted a total of 34 offensive weapon mounts and numerous defensive, these are all laser or plasma based. The ship is powered entirely by a number of large but relatively primitive fusion reactors, and propelled by four ion particle drives. However, the ship lacks any known form of shielding technology, any kind of effective inertial dampeners and, perhaps most surprisingly, artificial gravity.” “The technological difference is actually far greater than even that.” Deschamps interjected. “According to what we were able to find on their information network, the Galaxy Net, this Earth lacks even the most basic form of molecular replication, transporter, holographic, subspace, force field, antimatter or impulse technologies, all of these being fields we were already taking pretty much for granted in this point in our own timeline.” "There are numerous other differences as well.” Jameson continued. “From monitoring several of the different races we've deduced that while they do indeed have faster-than-light technology, it's not even remotely close to resembling what we use or anything we've ever encountered before in our own universe. While we've found evidence of antimatter technology, we have only confirmed its use as a power source and as a weapon, not as a means of propulsion like our warp engines. In fact, I doubt any ships we've seen so far would survive even traveling at a fractional, much less a relativistic, speed. They're simply not designed to be able to hold up against the accelerating stress, and completely lack any form of deflector array." The Lancelot faded out and was replaced with the swirling vortex they'd witnessed in the Denobula system. "This is what they seem to use instead, some kind of spatial or dimensional rift technology for interstellar travel rather than warp drives, and instead of subspace they use tachyon particles for communication and sensors." The image changed again to indicate the four beam structure. "This structure seems to be the only way most of their ships are able to enter or exit this spatial rift, and it's our understanding that any system lacking one of these would be unexplored or at the very least unclaimed. From the data gathered by the Darwin and the Icarus, we’ve selected these three systems-" The map appeared again with three systems highlighted. “-as our recommendations for a settlement. All of these are unexplored, unclaimed, and have Mishara class planets well within Earth parameters. We also know there are enough resources to fit our needs.” The map zoomed in and the three stars and the indicated planets were all brought into view. "Alpha Canis Majoris also known as Sirius. Eta Cassiopeia or as we call it Terra Nova, and finally Trillius Prime and the Trill homeworld." Jameson counted them off. "Our recommendation in this case would be the Sirius system, not only because it is unclaimed but also since its location ensures us that whatever resources the system lacks itself are readily available in nearby and likewise unclaimed systems." Deschamps shrugged. "Other than that, they are all good options for settling down." USS MICHAEL, HANGAR DECK C SIRIUS III POLAR ORBIT AUGUST 2ND, 2243 Jack was still glad to have survived, no matter what the current situation was. Being alive in another dimension was after all a far better option than being dead in his own. Plus, he had finally gotten the transfer to a combat carrier he’d been requesting for the last three years, even though the reason for said transfer was of course somewhat unfortunate for a lot of other people. The Michael had it all, fighters, interceptors, shuttles, runabouts, just to name a few, and more than enough professionals handling these machines just like what they were. His father had always told him that home was where one’s heart was, and no matter how ironic, terrible or sad the circumstances were Lieutenant Commander Jack Davis knew that he was home. Take-off and landing was a bit trickier than it had been on Starbase 10, but he could live with that. He had just slightly more than one and a half meters of clearance from the roof and floor to the hull of his Peregrine, less than he was used to but this was mostly because the Michael effectively had four hangar decks stacked on top of each other. The hangar bay doors were designed to allow the largest type of Federation shuttle a thirty centimeters of clearance, total, and no more. Pilot skill wasn't just an assumed fact, it was a requirement for not just your own survival but that of those around you as well. Combat takeoffs were also something he’d been forced to practice, as the hangar was designed to be just wide enough for two Peregrines and one Valkyrie to launch simultaneously in a close wedge formation. Timing and course had to be perfect, as in real combat they launched from all four hangars at almost the exact same time, the delay being only a five second interval between the first and last decks. In real combat, that would be handled by the fighters' autopilots as to not cause a massive incident, but during training it was usually a frightening hands-on experience. That meant the Michael could empty its hangars of fighters in just over two minutes if and when necessary, and he’d been awestruck as he saw the CAP crew perform that maneuver as soon as they'd entered the system, thirty six starfighters had launched in less than half a minute. That took nerves of steel and Jack couldn’t wait to do it for real himself one day. Still, he had a lot of work ahead of him before they'd trust a mere former garrison pilot to do something most experienced carrier pilots still dreaded no matter what they actually told you. He hadn't even been assigned to a combat squadron yet, but he knew that was just a question of time, training and proving your mettle. He still had his sights set on an empty seat in the carrier's crack team, the Angel wing. That posting didn't mean just learning to master a combat launch though, it meant becoming an expert at it. At that and at so much more, he reminded himself. Today, his job wasn’t combat though, but rather a dull VIP transfer. As per tradition when a new colony was established the would-be founder always touched ground from a shuttle and always carried one of those old shovels to take the symbolic first steps towards the new foundation. He turned away from the repaired, refitted, repainted and rearmed sleek Peregrine-II starfighter that had been so close to becoming his coffin, and turned instead to the, comparatively, bulky shape of a Type-11 shuttle. The Admiral would be arriving any minute now along with most of the fleet’s engineering, science and command officers. He wouldn't be the only pilot charged with shuttle duty today, as there was no way more than a hundred people could fit in a single tin can, but rather twelve of them had been neatly parked along the hanger floor in order of rank and ship class. He managed a smile though, his was after all the first one in the line. FEDERATION RUNABOUT GREENWICH, PASSENGER LOUNGE APPROACHING SIRIUS III Admiral’s log, Stardate 57586.4. This will be my final entry with a Federation standard timestamp. It didn’t take long for me and the fleet’s Captains to reach a final decision, as of the three planets proposed Sirius was just as Deschamps pointed out the most logical choice. It was not just the relatively close position to Earth that tipped the scales for me, albeit I must admit it is a factor that weighed heavily, but it’s also the richest system of the three in terms of the resources we'd need and the amounts we may need them in. Unless anything drastic happens, we should be self-sufficient here. As of today, August 2nd, 2380 by our time, same date 2243 local time, at ten hundred hours, I have activated the prime directive by reason of protecting this universe’s timeline and natural development. Orders have been given to construct a new permanent settlement here on Sirius III to house the close to a hundred thousand people we carry in this fleet, with additional facilities in orbit such as defense platforms, shipyard facilities and supply depots to ensure our continued welfare. I’ve also after a number of such requests ordered the production of a gas mining complex orbiting the Sirius V gas giant. Considering the apparently violent history of this universe, as well as the obviously militaristic and in many cases despotic regimes ruling several of the races we’ve encountered, we’ll keep our heads down but our eyes open and our guns loaded. I won’t be dissolving the fleet, decommissioning the ships or use them as spare parts, no matter what the directive requires of me. Well, not most of them at least. If all goes well we shouldn’t have to ever use them in hostile action, but one never knows and I’d rather keep that ace in my sleeve should we ever need it. With our crews and evacuees likely being the only Federation there is in this universe, I suppose we’ll have to discuss our future organization as well, sooner or later. It’s not a debate I’m looking forward to, but I am still quite certain it’ll come up. I’m heading the delegation bound for the planet. We’ll break ground on the new settlement near where New Washington would be on the Sirius that I remember. We’ve yet to settle for a name, but considering I delegated that speech to Elisha, I’m sure she’ll come up with something fitting considering she was born and raised here. The plans for the first parts of the settlement are already complete, and the engineering crews on all ships are working double shifts at the moment, trying to get everything started. My only requirement was that the settlement should be constructed in a way that makes it hard if not impossible to visually identify from anything but a close-range visual inspection. I have no doubt I'll be pleasantly satisfied. It’s surprising how little time they anticipated it would take to get the first stage of construction finished, but I’m sure they plan on cheating. Or, more specifically, using the Archangel-class carriers’ industrial-sized replicators to construct modular structures which are then transported to the surface, as it's what I would have done had I still been a ship's engineer. As long as it works I’m fine with that, I just hope they don’t get their priorities too twisted up. I don’t want to get a report that the fleet’s run out of antimatter just because they decided to build a spa complex before they even got started on a quantum inversion plant or a deuterium refinery. The landing site is just now coming into range. I still think we picked a beautiful spot to start our new life. A peninsula stretching out into one of the larger lakes, cut off from the mainland by gently rolling hills. The entire area is covered in trees much resembling birch, elm and oak, and I'm told there are ample amounts of herbivore wildlife around as well. All in all a paradise of nature's own creation in a temperate climate such as this. I’m told we can expect snow in the winter too. I don’t know why, but looking down at this scenery reminds me of home. Not the apartment in San Diego, but the town I grew up in near Stockholm. It seems I must cut this log entry short as I’ll soon be required in my official function. Let me just add that this may be the end of one life, but it’s the start of an entirely new age. For me and for my crew. Computer, end log. Transmit the previous entry to the USS Albion, clearance code West, Omega-four-three-Zulu. EARTH INTELLIGENCE AGENCY HEADQUARTERS EARTHDOME, GENEVA “So, Parker, you still chasing those sensor ghosts?” The older intelligence supervisor said it with the sarcastic tone of a half-joke. “You do know it was probably just a practical joke among the Belters anyways. No need to waste any more of your or for that sake the Agency's time on it.” “I’m not as confident it's a fraud as you are, David. I managed to get a copy of the sensor logs from the ‘Pasadena Skies’, and they’re high end especially for a Belter heavy bulk freighter. The detail is much higher than you'd expect, and high enough for them to be hard to fake even down on the third floor.” “Doesn’t mean it’s not a hoax Parker, and you know that." David shrugged. "It wouldn’t exactly be the first time they did that, and the last time they did it took us almost a year to positively dismiss it as the hoax it was. They're probably still laughing about the ghost busting on the fifth floor today.” “I know, I know." Parker sighed but tightened his grip on the crystal he was holding. "But it looks real enough to warrant an investigation and I have to follow my instincts, David. Something just tells me there’s more to this than just the vivid imaginations of a bored Belter. Even if it isn’t what it looks like." "A ship travelling faster than the speed of light?" David raised an eyebrow as he smiled. "Get real." "I admit, it's not all that believable.” Parker shrugged. "We'll see, either way I am going to check it out." The focus of the small debate was the alleged sighting of a small and apparently unarmed ship, probably a luxury passenger liner of what was obviously alien design, which was supposed to have been just sitting there right in front of the hyperspace window generator of a jump gate in Vree space completely oblivious of its location or situation. Then, just as the jump gate had activated and the ‘Pasadena Skies’, a Belt Alliance heavy bulk freighter had exited and almost rammed the small ship, the ship was supposed to have stretched, accelerated to what would have to be faster-than-light speeds and vanished without another trace. Not the most believable story, but the Belter ship had forwarded their sensor logs to Earth Force nonetheless, even though every single person who'd seen them since had gotten a good laugh out of it. The general opinion about the story, both at Earth Force and here at the EIA was that it had about the same factual content as one of those skin cream commercials they showed on ISN, but while most intelligent analysts tended to follow that line of reasoning some others, including Parker, didn’t quite agree. Officially they were called conspiracy theorists, and regarded with about as much respect as the world showed the people that believed in the conspiracies about JFK, 9/11 or WW3. That hadn’t stopped them, and it didn’t stop Geoffrey Parker. What was even better was that he got paid to thoroughly research junk like this, but he had to admit he was skeptical as well. Still, people had thought the same about the twentieth-century UFO sightings until they'd made official contact with the Vree as well. One of Parker's favored quotes was 'just because you're paranoid doesn't mean people aren't out to get you'. “Aw, come on Parker. What they describe is impossible, you do know that right?" David made a sneer. "Plus, we’d know if anyone was even close to developing anything that looked like, or for that sake actually did, what that UFO was supposed to have done.” “You know as well as I do that faster-than-light travel is theoretically possible, David." Parker rebutted. "We use tachyons on a daily basis, and they travel much faster than that. Now, getting a spacecraft, especially one as small as that one, to do the same is… well, not bloody likely, I'll admit that, but still I need to at least prove it a hoax if it is.” “Good luck.” David smiled widely, the sarcasm almost dense enough to be dripping from his teeth. “Happy ghost busting, Parker. While you're wasting your time on that I’m going to go check up on our mutual friend on Centauri.” “Heh, something tells me I have a better chance of getting a hint of truth out of this." Parker held up the crystal and gave it a completely unnecessary cleaning with his shirt sleeve. "Then you'll ever have of getting something worthwhile out of young Lord Mordechai. He's just way too self-centered, and will gladly lie to your face if he believes it suits his purposes. Granted, most up and coming Centauri lords would." "What makes you say that?" David asked, with a look on his face that showed that he clearly didn't understand Parker's point. "Lord Mordechai is infamous for giving you just a hint of the truth you're looking for, but then he'll inflate the story with nonsense, misinformation or just plain lies in order to make him look more powerful or more influential than he really is." Parker smiled and rose from the table. "Once, he told me that he'd actually seen the Emperor dress, just to make it more believable that he'd seen the Emperor show the first signs of the Centauri version of chicken pox.” “Oh? Why is that so unbelievable?” David looked puzzled. "As far as I know the pox is quite common among the Centauri, and has been ever since we made contact with them. It's just as harmless there as it is here though." “Didn’t you know? I thought it was common knowledge." Parker smiled. "The Emperor never undresses except in his most private sanctum, somewhere a low-ranking Lord such as Mordechai would never be able to enter especially if the Emperor was in any way ill.” "Yes, so?" "Plus, the first signs of the pox on a Centauri is that their hair starts falling off, which is the real reason why they actually fear the disease." David started to leave the break area. "Trust me, if the Centauri Emperor had lost his hair we'd have heard about it from a lot more sources than just him. It'd be the greatest story of the year to anyone and everyone in the entire Centauri court." Parker left before David had any chance to reply. He was a capable administrator, but how a man so gullible had ever gotten selected for intelligence duty was beyond Parker's wildest imaginations. As he got back to his office he scratched his head and looked around for a specific crystal in the large pile on his desk, hoping it was there so he wouldn't have to search through the numerous and equally large piles in the rest of the room. "Now, where did I put that image enhancement software? I know it should be here somewhere..." __________________ Do this. Don't do that. Stay back in line. Where's tax receipt? Fill out form. Let's see license. Submit six copies. Exit only. No left turn. No right turn. Queue up and pay fine. Take back and get stamped. Drop dead, but first get permit. Author of the stories; Task Force 43, Earth 2025 and Vae Victis Last edited by Zcenicx; Nov 6th 2009 at 3:39pm.