Star Trek: Death of the Federation

[frigidmagi]

"Sir transmission from the U.S.S. Humboldt, contacts detected. Ten billion kilometers. Bearing two point six zero mark." The Comm officer reported.

"Comm, tight band transmission to all fleet ships, This is Captain Anderson, contacts detected 10 billion kicks, bearing two point six zero mark. All ships come around assume defensive posture, do not fire unless we are attacked or until given orders, break." Captain Anderson ordered.

"Ship to yellow alert. Comm open transmission as soon as fleet transmit away. Unidentified vessals, this is the Starfleet ship USS Immortal with allied ships. Please reply." Captain Anderson continued.

[White Haven]

"Sir, we're picking up an audio transmission, unencrypted. Bearing matches with formation Bravo."

The simple words from a comm rating cut through the quiet, restrained tension of Scylla's bridge, drawing a flicker of idle eyes from more or less everyone other than the busy EW specialist. After a brief pause, the figure in the captain's chair simply nods and waves a finger vaguely, "Put it on speaker."

An unfamiliar voice comes over the bridge's speaker system, interspersed with the whining harmonics typical of transmissions in the Badlands, "Unidentified vessals, this is the Starfleet ship USS Immortal with allied ships. Please reply."

Leyton doesn't speak up at first, simply looking over towards his science officer and resolutely ignoring the cowboy hat. Finally, its owner turns around to look back across the bridge and speaks up in a deep, affected Texan drawl, "Either they've got a damned fine translator on their end, or that's a human. Our own translators didn't kick in, and I can't pick out any indications of nonhuman vocal influences. The audio encoding is standard Starfleet as well, but that's easy enough to fake." As usual, the 'texan's' speech grows decidedly less accented the more technical he gets, although occasionally he'll realize that he's losing his accent and it'll strike back with a vengeance.

"Understood," Leyton replies with a slight frown, "That could just as easily be intended for the other formation, though. Maintain silence and ballistic approach trajectory for the moment. Hmm...." He falls into a brooding silence for a few moments, then starts to grin as he turns to the Andorian woman next to him, "Lesschey, coordinate with Rennthek and Tex. I want two functional reactors at minimal power settings matching our trajectory. Again, no transporters or tractors. I want them putting out fainter signature than we are, just enough that if anyone HAS managed to pick us up, they'll see traces of other 'stealthed ships.' Get a comm relay probed launched too, if we want to talk, I want to be able to tightbeam to it so we don't give up our true position."

With a brief snort and a grin, he adds, "For that matter, it'll look like another ship in stealth when they get a signal from a different bearing. Let's keep both of these groups of yahoos wondering."

[Comrade Tortoise]

Bridge, U.S.S. Humbolt

". Helm, come about as per the Commodore's orders."

About half a second later the Humboldt began accelerating along a different vector, placing itself in a position to close gaps in the formation between larger ships, in this case the U.S.S. Immortal and the U.S.S. Vigilance

"Mr. Turell, That transmission revealed our position to anyone who cared to listen. It wont hurt to send Class Eight Warp probes, configured with best possible shielding and traveling at warp five sent to both sets of contacts. It should arrive on target within five minutes. I want two probes sent at each set of unknown ships in case one does not make it"

"Relaying orders...Probes will be configured and sent out probe launch bays within one minute sir."

"Thank you Mr. Turell. Comms, if you will relay our intent to the Immortal and Riskadh, if they wish to stop us they have one minute to do so."

Code: Select all

Medium: Tight Beam Encoded Burst Transmission
To: U.S.S. Immortal, I.K.S Riskadh

Class Eight Probes Being Configured.  

Time to Launch: One minute

Targets: Two to Single Contact (Single Target Alpha), Two to Multi-Contact Cluster(Target Cluster Beta)

Justification: Our position is already known, more information required.

Signal us to order abort.

[Hotfoot]

Alpha Quadrant
Nivoch System
Empyrean Captain’s Ready Room

The selection process had not been simple. Anderson had wanted mostly women and children to be saved, a noble effort, and a logical goal. Women would be needed to repopulate the galaxy, and children were smaller packages that one could take more of. DuBois, however, remembered the days when having children on board Federation starships had been more common, before the Dominion War. It had been a comfort to some, and on a science vessel it had even made a degree of sense, but on a ship of the line? The Federation shied from calling anything a warship, but the truth did not care for political doublespeak. It was no mistake that when the Defiant had been designed it had been designed for one purpose, and that was war. There was no space for families on board such a ship, and with good reason.

Still, DuBois had complied, for the most part. He had included a small space for able-bodied men under the age of 50, mostly out of need. While the crew saved from the destruction of the Heritage would do wonders to bolster the ship’s numbers during emergencies, DuBois needed to consider the survival of the ship, not just the number of children brought to Bajor.

While other ships were putting refugees in cargo holds, hallways, holodecks, and even gambling on transporter buffers, the Empyrean was, as a ship, largely empty. Personal quarters were converted for general use for the Refugees, as well as what space could be converted in cargo holds, the shuttle bay, and so on. Crew were ordered to secure their personal belongings however they saw fit, but that all holographic personnel were to allow their quarters to be used by the temporary guests. Even the remaining living crew would, for the time being, hotbunk as needed to conserve on space. The amount of space made available was impressive for the modestly sized cruiser, but this was not surprising to the crew. DuBois had a history of making do with bad situations and limited resources as they all knew all too well.

In the meantime, the crew of the Heritage were briefed on the situation on board the Empyrean, a task he left to Dirrina Kam’s better judgement, he would check in on them later. Most likely, they would be divided between engineering and security as none of them were officers or science specialists.

In his ready room, DuBois considered more figures and charts, his eyes narrowing as he organized it all in his head. He had done what he could to get the Borg away from the planet, and yet the Borg were coming. Possibilities ran through his head, but he pushed them back, looking harder at the information. From behind him, he heard the holoprojector turn on.

“You could be eating your lunch,â€

[Charon]

The Barbarossa
Bridge

"Captain?" the navigator glanced back.

"I heard him. We're the Vanguard." Hizir spoke with his usual air of certainty.

"Aye, sir." The Orion male moved the lumbering ship slightly, as the Barbarossa had already been running in the front of the pack. Now she took a formidable position protecting the fleet's front while ensuring she could put out the most damage possible.

[General Havoc]

No immediate response followed Captain Anderson's transmission, neither from the ship off by itself, nor the large fleet of ships clustered together. No transmissions were sent in reply, no identifiers, nothing but silence. For several minutes, this state of affairs persisted, as the ships of the makeshift allied fleet charged weapons and readied engines, should the newcomers be hostile, or worse yet, Borg.

After some three minutes of silence however, the mystery fleet began to move.

They moved slowly, a large, concave wave front of the biggest ships up front, while the smaller ones gathered together in a formationless heap, huddling between the two swept back "prongs" of the larger vessels. The ships had shields raised, though this was nothing surprising, as a ship without shields in the Badlands would quickly meet a sticky end. Their weapons were charged as well, though again, this was likely no surprise. The allied ships also had weapons at the ready. It was a necessary precaution in unsettled times.

The ships approached at low warp, low enough that it would take minutes for them to arrive, though they made no attempt to hide themselves or their true numbers. Cloaking was impossible in the Badlands, and most forms of misdirection laughable here. Besides, what was one ship more or less in a fleet of 60?

When they reached the outer limits of weapons range, the ships slowed to impulse, and approached at normal speed, and only then did the Badlands storms clear sufficiently to permit visual and sensor inspection of just what they were dealing with. Viewscreens showed the ships emerging from clouds of plasma, fading slowly into view.

The ships up front were warships, and a more eclectic collection had never been seen, not even among the mixed-allied fleet before them. Four Ferengi Marauder-class Destroyers, two Orion Brigand-class Cruisers, three Romulan Raptor-class light cruisers, two venerable K't'inga-class Battlecruisers, three Breen frigates, a Nebula, an Olympic, two Sabres, each ship materializing one after the next with no rhyme or reason. Three Maquis heavy raiders floated next to two Cardassian Keldon-class destroyers, one unpainted, one in the livery of, of all things, the Obsidian Order.

Behind the screen of warships were a cluster of civilian ships, and if the warships were eclectic, the civilian vessels were an absolute riot. Kobyrean bulk freighters, Breen gas miners, Cardassian heavy transports, a London-class colony ship, Ferengi tradeships, Tholian long-haulers, everything and anything imaginable. They clustered together between the wings of warships, all around a central ship the size of most of the Allied fleet put together, a massive, boxy vessel that limped along on enormous fusion impulse drives, festooned with extraneous dericks, crane arms, and unfurlable sections. Almost none in the fleet had ever even seen such a ship, but it could be nothing but what it was, an Artificitor-class fleet tender, one of the handful of such ships that the Romulan Star Empire had fielded during the last days before the Borg war, a massive mobile shipyard designed to repair and maintain vessels too far from friendly starbases.

Every ship in the ersatz fleet before them was scarred, some by battle, some simply by time. The cargo vessels all looked in various states of bad disrepair, though the warships did not. Curled though the paint might be, all of the vessels looked primed for battle, likely due to the fact that any ship not so-primed had long ago been annihilated by the Borg or someone else.

Only after every ship in the ersatz fleet had come to a stop, did a transmission open up, transmitted directly from the massive tender in the center of the motley fleet. Transmitted in the clear, for all ships to pick up as they wished, it revealed the image of a male El-Aurian, who stood in a control room that seemed better suited for a starbase than a ship.

"This is Shodar Tyran," said the El-Aurian, standing before his viewscreen with arms folded and an expression neither welcoming nor hostile, "of the Fleet Command ship Avenger. Well met and welcome, Captain Anderson of the Immortal, for what purpose have you come to the Badlands?"

[Charon]

The Barbarossa

Every Orion on the bridge suddenly got very quiet. Hizir got to his feet, and suddenly there was a moment of hesitation in his mannerisms. Danava was behind him, standing as well, there was no hesitation, only annoyance and anger

"Son of a bitch..." Hizir whispered.

Danava looked at her captain and he looked at her, and the moment of hesitation had passed.

Hizir sat back down. "Get Khoal and Ereiss up here. I'm going to need him to take the bridge and her to take navigation." He looked to the other Orion's in the room. "Find your replacements, get off the bridge. I'll let you know when you can come back."

Danava leaned down and placed her head beside Hizir's ear. "It is fine. He can do no harm to us. We are in a mighty fleet."

Hizir glanced back at her, whispering. "I should've seen this coming. I figured there would be refugee fleets hiding in here. I should have known who would be leading those fleets."

The captain looked over at the communication officer, a Romulan. "Open a channel with..." He paused for a moment considering his options. "The Riskadh. Klingon encryption. For what use that will have." Many of the encryptions they had were old, most of them pre-war. Broken long ago. But with any vague luck Tyran wouldn't have it.

As soon as the channel was open, Hizir spoke. Quickly. "Commander, this is the Captain of the Barbarossa," please let him figure out why I am not using my name. "Tyran is a member of the Orion Syndicate. One of the big bosses. Do not trust him Commander, less so than you trust me."

[Comrade Tortoise]

A few minutes earlier
Bridge, U.S.S. Humboldt



"Sensor Probes launched sir. Five minutes to intercept, four minutes until we begin receiving usable telemetry from the probes, assuming targets maintain current position"

The probes sped through space at one hundred and twenty five times the speed of light, housed in a modified torpedo casing, they were equipped with enough shielding that the badlands would rip them apart, and were equipped with a warp field sustainer capable of twelve hour stints at warp nine. Its little onboard computer constantly updating distance to target, vector, and acceleration, and its sensor package was already as adjusted to the badlands as it could be.

Then the ships started to move a minute as it was launched.

"Captain, Contact Group Beta has changed heading. They are moving toward us sir"

"Time to intercept?" T'Lorn asked

"Five minutes, adjusting probe time on target. One and one half minutes until the probe can send telemetry"

The little probe's ticker was counting down twice as fast as it was before. Soon it could send data... soon.

"Captain, we are receiving telemetry"

"Transmit all data to all other fleet ships"

"It is a motley group to say the least sir, putting projection on three dimensional tactical display"

It came up, and T'Lorn raised one of his eyebrows.

"Four Ferengi Marauders, two Orion Cruisers, three Romulan Raptors, two K't'inga Battlecruisers, three Breen frigates, a Nebula, an Olympic, two Sabres, three Maquis heavy raiders two Cardassian destroyers. Look, they are screening some very battered civilian ships and... an Artificitor-class fleet tender. I have never seen one, but it seems--if they are not hostile--that our little motley fleet may have the first stretch of good luck in some time. Time to intercept?"

"Two and a half minutes."

"Have you sent the data to the fleet?"

"Yes sir, it has been transmitted"

Code: Select all

Telemetry on large sensor contacts sent prior to their arrival

Bridge
U.S.S. Humboldt

"Transmission coming in from Fleet Tender."

"On screen, do not transmit back from our ship though"

He watched the transmission. Then noted the disrepair of the civilian fleet compared to the warships. Could they be cannibalizing them for parts? Even with a fleet tender they would still need parts... It would not do to scan them deeply, but the standard scans might work...

"Mr. Turell, can I get scans of that fleet. Nothing overly probing, but the usual scans made when contact is made with unknown ships. I want information, but not to be looked upon with suspicion. Look for energy readings on military ships that seem... incongruous with their class that may match civilian ships."

[Comrade Tortoise]

A few moments later...
Bridge
U.S.S. Humboldt

As captain Anderson marshaled his diplomatic skill to respond to Shodar Tyran, Mr. Turell spoke up, yet again.

"We are now receiving telemetry from the second set of probes. Federation ship, Excelsior class. The transponder has been deactivated."

"Visual sensors?"

"NCC-2417. The U.S.S. Scylla. Database shows it... decommissioned."

"Yes, I remember the ship. A great many of her class were pulled out of mothball, retrofitted for the war, and then promptly mothballed again when the war ended. They are flying deathtraps now, given recent technology. I want you to do several things in concert with Ms Sevrin.

First, set up a relay between the two probes. Move the leading probe closer to the Scylla, the lagging probe in a direction perpendicular to the refugee fleet. I do not want them to be able to intercept our transmissions, and if they do, I only want it to look like we are coordinating sensor probes. We are a science ship, let us meet their expectations.

Once that is done, coded friend or foe acknowledgment. They may not have updated codes in their computer, use one from the Dominion war that we do not think was broken, include our ship information, and those of the Immortal. I also want a deep scan of the Scylla, but sacrifice resolution for stealth as needed, all transmissions done in narrow beam burst transmissions, and tell the probe to send back data on the plasma storms unencrypted on the same carrier wave. That way if the communication is intercepted, they will see that data, and hopefully not pry in further.

Send Telemetry back using encryption code VLStokEnig 183 Also, include the following text message in the transmission..."

The fact of the matter was, his was the only ship sharing its data. He did not know if any of the other ships had identified the Scylla as being a federation ship. The other fleet certainly had not even seen it--or at least probably had not. It may be a good idea to keep that information to himself. If nothing else, it may give a tactical advantage if this other fleet went hostile. It would also be rather risky to share information at these ranges. The other fleet may be able to intercept something sent to the other ships in his taskforce. He could not risk it.

"Probe locations configured sir" said Turell

"Engage Protocol"

...

The lead probe received instructions from the mother ship. It first acted as a relay for the transmission sent by the Humboldt

Code: Select all

From: U.S.S. Humboldt, Nova Class, NCC-74121, Captain T'Lorn Vlad'Stok

Taskforce Command Vessel: U.S.S. Immortal, Sovereign Class, NCC-<I dont know this out of character>, Captain Gabriel Anderson

To:Presumed U.S.S. Scylla, NCC-2417

Coded Sign, Counter-Sign Indicator

Coded P.S. Shortly following this transmission will be a deep scan of your vessel. Our apologies for the rudeness, however given the circumstances it is necessary to confirm your tactical abilities, and have independent confirmation of your identity in the event that the codes we are using have been broken.  It is only logical to assume that you would do the same under equivalent circumstances... Please acknowledge using your most up to date federation encryption code. We will follow with more secure encryption protocols.

About twenty seconds later, long enough to have decoded the transmission and read the apology--but not long enough to devise a counter-measure, the lead probe unleashed the power of its sensor package--but confined the scanning beam to a small area, just large enough to pass over and through the U.S.S. Scylla and bounce back to the probe. The scan was powerful, but but weak enough that any scatter present would not be distinguished from background static by other known ships in the area. The probe processed the data, and sent it back in a narrow beam burst transmission to the Humboldt via the lagging probe, after its computer calculated that no other ships were directly in the path of the beam--and using one of Captain Vlad'Stok's personal encryptions, not shared with the rest of the fleet, and also sent unencrypted plasma storm data on the same carrier wave. Any vessel monitoring the transmissions would see nothing more suspicious than the Humboldt receiving telemetry from sensor probes--and because of the relay, they would be unable to track it back to its source.

...

"Receiving updated data, decoding. Sir, this ship has been modified as much as our own. The probe is detecting multiple redundant matter/antimatter and fusion reactor cores. We lack the resolution to determine how many, tractor emplacements, phaser banks and arrays in non-standard configurations--I dont know what models. They even have multiple redundant shield grids, again I am not sure how many. T'Ran, do you think their power grid can supply them all at once?"

The chief engineer looked at the display and shook her head

"No. We dont have readings that detailed, but unless they re-wired the entire ship, the EPS conduits of that class cannot handle the throughput. Their power conduits would explode, but they can probably bring them up in sequence. They could probably rig their computer to do it automatically, shutting down one emitter as it went down and bringing another up at full strength with no interruption in shielding to that section. It is.." she paused and cocked her head to the side a bit. "impressive."

T'Lorn raised an eyebrow

"Fascinating. Lifesigns?

"Six hundred and thirty two lifeforms, mostly Andorian, some humans. The rest are to few to make out."

"Very well" T'Lorn replied. Let us see how she responds



OOC Note: Sorry for the double post, but this was too tempting to pass up.

[frigidmagi]

"This is Shodar Tyran," said the El-Aurian, standing before his viewscreen with arms folded and an expression neither welcoming nor hostile, "of the Fleet Command ship Avenger. Well met and welcome, Captain Anderson of the Immortal, for what purpose have you come to the Badlands?"

Captain Anderson stood, ensuring he was clearly and wholly visible and ordered comm to begin transmitting in the clear. Since the invasion of the Federation, such meetings in the void had become increasingly chancy. The crew knew the drill. That said the Captain wasn't about to alienate such a large gathering of ships.

"Well Met Shodar Tyran. My fleet is proceeding according to orders from Starfleet Command on Bajor. We are in fact heading back to Bajor. Would you care to join us?" Captain Anderson said. The Immortal remained on yellow alert and ready.

[rhoenix]

U.S.S. Gilgamesh
"Badlands"-designated space

The strange space-time distortion of transwarp had faded, leaving the makeshift fleet very suddenly within the wash of heavy plasma storms. The now-fully functional shields of the Gilgamesh were now performing their duty admirably, resisting and adapting to the plasma storms around them, the violent lashes of energy shaking the small ship growing steadily more and more faint as time passed.

All around the tiny destroyer, the coils of boiling plasma unfurled into waves and currents as the ship's sensors began to resolve the area for real-time telemetry. However, the sensors aboard the Gilgamesh, though considered impressive when compared against others of its class, were nowhere close to as powerful as some of the other ships of the fleet. Even so, they resolved to perform their duty.


U.S.S. Gilgamesh
"Badlands"-designated space
Bridge

Having spent the majority of the time in transit studying, Captain Solheim was now looking at the data streaming into the bridge in a new light.

In several ways, he'd seen that capital ship space combat and operations were rather similar to many things he did have extensive personal experience with. The trick, as always, was to find out what he didn't know, and fix that.

Silently, he once again blessed the day, now so seemingly long ago, when he'd made the decision to take the ship into Romulan space. This led him to try to rescue survivors and equipment from the derelict Vampaja - a once-mighty and feared d'Deridex with a long history, and legends told of its capabilities. The ominously massive Romulan craft was responsible for ending four brushfire conflicts and two rebellions singlehandedly, not to mention decisively starting three wars - among many more notable marks on its record. Tales of the ship spread amongst new crewmen as ghost stories, haunting the hallways of those wet behind the ears of the massive dark green d'Deridex that could reduce your ship to atoms before you even knew it was there.

It too had been reduced to a smoldering hulk in the wake of the Borg, uncaring about such things as reputation, or legends.

From the wreck of that broken ship, the Gilgamesh gained a proper cloaking device, a small cache of plasma torpedoes, and several highly capable crewmen.

Solheim himself was faced with his old rival and sometime counterpart in the Tal'Shiar, Mechle Adranis, in the dress of the head of security of the Vampaja, though using his own name for once. The first few weeks had been somewhat awkward, Solheim recalled, though to both men's surprise, they had ended up as close friends - perhaps because they were more alike than either would feel comfortable admitting.

He had also been gifted with the former skipper of the Vampaja, one Riov Samara Inzeti - a woman whose keen mind had complemented his own in ways he couldn't have begun to fathom when he had first seen her. His first impression of her was one he'd never forget - the former Riov Inzeti limping aboard the much smaller Gilgamesh with a broken leg and fractured wrist, yet still walking with head held high, like both were a minor inconvenience at worst.

More recently, she had been invaluable in helping him to learn the intricacies of what it truly meant to run a starship, especially in the past few hours. Though she tended to exact recompense for her lessons, those prices were typically quite reasonable, Captain Solheim thought with a small smile.

Now however, they were away from the frying pan of Nivoch IV, and into the fire of the Badlands, and from the telemetry being fed to their small destroyer from the larger craft in their makeshift fleet, they weren't the only group here.

The bridge crew of the Gilgamesh were all silently present on the bridge, watching this scene unfold, amidst the fires of the Badlands, the ship herself keeping close to the larger ships thanks to Swift's skill.

(EDIT: clarity)

[General Havoc]

A broad grin crossed Tyran's face as Anderson explained who he was and where he was bound. Several members of the bridge crew behind him laughed, apparently finding something in Anderson's explanation funny.

"Come with you to Bajor?" asked Tyran. "All to fight a battle with the Borg? No, I thank you for the offer, Captain, but I'm afraid suicide just isn't my style. If anything it should be you joining us, but then, I do know better than to try and talk a Starfleet officer out of his sense of duty."

The grin remained, and the El-Aurian's voice was light and amused, as though he were amused by this conversation.

"Rumor has it, Captain, that someone splashed a Borg cube yesterday not far from here. Blew it to bits along with all its escort. Not sure if I believe it or not, but by all appearances, the Borg do. Their local patrols have gone completely haywire, and seem to be converging on an area of space uncomfortably close to us."

He grinned once more. "It would take a powerful fleet to bring a Cube down," he said. "I didn't think there was anyone in the sector with the necessaries. Given the ships on display here, you'll understand if the question presents itself. Am I speaking to the perpetrators of this little escapade?"

[Comrade Tortoise]

Bridge
U.S.S. Humboldt
T'Lorn's Mind

As Captain Anderson spoke politely and with sincerity to this Shodar Tyran, and was met with mockery in return something happened in T'Lorn's mind.

The primitive areas of his inner brain responsible for all of the turbulent base emotions--his Id, normally wimpering in a deep recess of his psyche--boiled over into a white hot rage. Cowards. Dishonorable Cowards! It was one thing to refuse to fight, to abandon their loved ones, their people, their very worlds to be assimilated by the Borg and then remain silent in their shame. It was another to mock those who did what was right, to address their betters with the self-assured smugness of those who cared not for those who they left behind. I will show them. I will unleash the full power of the ion cannons! Dance among them, laying their shield grids to waste and send their crews silently screaming into the Abyss!

The blind irrational rage boiled to the surface from the Limbic System, willing his lips to give the order to open fire... and the command, the very rage itself slammed into a cage inside his mind.

His mighty, orderly Ego, residing inside his Mesocerebral cortex captured the rabid Id inside a dodecahedral cage, imposing order upon it, while the Super-ego in his frontal lobe shocked the wild and untamed beast into submission with a metaphorical cattle-prod.

...

On the bridge, T'Lorn stood motionless as he watched the conversation unfold, waiting to get the results of his scans of the other fleet, and the response from the U.S.S. Scylla.

Dr. Genetris came on the bridge, and being a full Betazoid, immediately felt the seething emotional battle going on inside his Captain.

He sent a telepathic message.

Do you need help stabilizing your emotions Captain?

No. Thank you. The captain replied inside the other's mind. I have everything under control

[Cynical Cat]

Marines gave the fist to heart Navy salute as Kadon entered the bridge. "Status?" he asked.;

Kallor rose from the command chair. "Multiple contacts, sixty odd vessels."

"Arikel, take over sensors," said Kadon as he headed toward his chair. He wanted his best eyes on this. The Badlands was known territory to the Klingon Empire, they had exchanged enough shots in here during the Dominion War. It was a good place for an ambush even without a cloaking device.

"There secure transmissions for your eyes," said Kallor.

"Assume control of tactical," said Kadon as he sat down in the chair. Data flowed over his repeater screens. The first one was sensor data relayed with typical Vulcan thoroughness and speed. The data from the Barbarossa was more important.

He reencrypted it to a more secure command cypher. How far to trust the pirate was dangerous question, but like everyone else he wanted to keep his skin intact. "Transmit to the Immortal," he ordered.

"Raise shields to half standard combat power, but keep the guns cold."

[White Haven]

"New contact, single target, closing at warp. Low signature, late detection--classify as probable probe."

With that succinct report, the ageing lieutenant commander in the Scylla's central station bit off a curse and lowered his attention to the array of consoles spread to either side of his chair. Fingers flying, he stops one keypress short of approving a firing solution on the inbound probe. With a sigh, he clears it away and looks up with a crooked smile and speaks, "Well, looks like we've been made, but there's no sense trumpeting that fact to both contacts. Let's let this play out a bit further, see where things go from here."

As seconds ticked away, flowing to join minutes, the probe approached closer and closer, finally falling sublight in a muted flash of multispectral radiation. At first, the science officer's voice was clipped and clear, almost totally devoid of accent, "Confirmed probe contact, standard Starfleet Class 8. No active s--check, we are receiving a tight-beam message using some..." At this point, the drawl began to reassert itself, "Seriously dated codes. Text only."

"On screen, overlay visual."

Code: Select all

From: U.S.S. Humboldt, Nova Class, NCC-74121, Captain T'Lorn Vlad'Stok 

Taskforce Command Vessel: U.S.S. Immortal, Sovereign Class, NCC-<I dont know this out of character>, Captain Gabriel Anderson 

To:Presumed U.S.S. Scylla, NCC-2417 

Coded Sign, Counter-Sign Indicator 

Coded P.S. Shortly following this transmission will be a deep scan of your vessel. Our apologies for the rudeness, however given the circumstances it is necessary to confirm your tactical abilities, and have independent confirmation of your identity in the event that the codes we are using have been broken.  It is only logical to assume that you would do the same under equivalent circumstances... Please acknowledge using your most up to date federation encryption code. We will follow with more secure encryption protocols. 

"Subspace jamming on your command, sir," the 'Texan' speaks up, one hand hovering over his controls.

"Negative, their transmission was discrete enough, with any luck their scan will be as well. Going active would just reveal us to formation alpha."

"Understood. Active emissions from the probe, again tightbeam." The cowboy hat nodded approvingly, a grudging tone of respect entering the voice emerging from the head beneath it, "Whoever's on the other end of that has some talent. They're angling the scatter away from Alpha; we should be in the clear."

At the end of the scan, Leyton's lips purse for a few moments before spreading into a grin that lifts years from his face, "Reply with standard Starfleet encryption, let's not play games there. The message...well..."

Code: Select all

From: U.S.S. Scylla, NCC-2417

To: USS Humboldt, NCC-74121

You sure know how to show an old girl a good time. Was it good for you too?

I do hope you'll buy me a drink first next time.

The rising tension on the bridge of the Scylla shattered like glass under a wave of chuckles and outright laughter as Leyton finished dictating the text message. In the middle of it all, Scylla's commander sat with his own smile as the ship drifted closer to the mass of ships. Professional? Perhaps not. But laughter, relief was what his crew needed at that particular moment, and to the iron-haired figure, that was all that really mattered.

[Comrade Tortoise]

Bridge
U.S.S. Humboldt

Lt. Sevrin looked up from her display.

"Transmission from the Scylla, standard federation encryption" she said

T'Lorn's subconscious processes brutally suppressed a smile, and his Id was at this point crying in the corner again. His cerebral and mesocerebral cortex were triumphant.

"Then their codes are up to date. Their response?"

Sevrin looked at the sign-countersign portion of the transmission, verifying the responses.

"It is genuine. They are in fact the U.S.S. Scylla, and command is legal. We are also getting a coded message, text only."

"Send it to my display, and look up the command override codes for the Scylla. They may have changed them, but I need the original, as per last authorized retrofit. If you would send those to my display as well?"

She did. As the text flashed on screen T'Lorn's subconscious once again had to torture the Id. Still, a bit of those errant emotions did leach through. In the form of humor. He typed in responses he would send.

"Thank you Ms. Sevrin. Send three responses back, tight beam burst, relayed through the probes. Random time intervals between five and thirty seconds between transmissions. Standard Federation encryption protocols for the first and second. Use my personal code VlaVulcanGamma, standard parameters for the third. The only information in the second should be the encryption key. For the third send the encryption protocol, fleet data, and tactical data."

It took her few minutes to compile the information and set up the Macro for transmission. But it was done.

Code: Select all

From: U.S.S. Humboldt, NCC-74121 

To: U.S.S. Scylla, NCC-2417 

Unfortunately, the next time will be seven standard years from today, and my emotional control will probably so impaired that I will not have the presence of mind to make the purchase.  Though perhaps when we meet face to face, the drink can be purchased in advance.  Afterall--to use a common human expression--it is the thought that counts.  

The second transmission

Code: Select all

< Attached>Partial encryption key, missing piece is: Ships name, Registry number, Original command override code with last digit missing. Not valid if not entered within one minute of receipt of following coded transmission.  Requires command authorization from U.S.S. Scylla to access.</attached>

Third transmission, Personal Encryption Code VlaVulcanGamma

Code: Select all

<Attached>Encryption protocol for this link</attached>

<Attached> Registry Information for Allied Task Force Designated Alpha</Attached>

<Attached> Data for Refugee Fleet Group Designated Beta</Attached>

The situation here is somewhat tenuous.  While they appear friendly, I suspect, though cannot yet prove, that the military vessels within Beta have cannibalized civilian ships under their protection for parts.  We are currently using passive sensors to collect the data necessary to test the hypothesis.  However, because we are using passive sensors to do it, and must match all possible combinations of energy readings, it is taking some time. 

Captain Anderson's diplomatic overtures have been met with what I will classify as very polite and thinly disguised scorn and patronization.  I suspect that Beta may become overtly or covertly hostile.

"Mrs. Sevrin. I need you to send a message to the U.S.S. Immortal. Highest encryption we have. Tight beam burst. Text only. I am going to risk giving them some information."

Code: Select all

To: Captain Anderson (His command authorization required to access)
From: T'Lorn

Contact Alpha:Excelsior Class, U.S.S. Scylla
Designation: Friendly.
Action Taken:Made secure and difficult to trace, intercept, and decode contact with Scylla, confirmed identity, appraised of situation. Will maintain contact, and relay any messages as needed.  Use highest encryption protocol to respond.  To use a human expression, I do not trust this refugee fleet, particularly its apparent commander, as far as they can be thrown inside Jupiter's gravity well.

He tapped his combadge

"Vlad'Stok to sickbay. Hal?"

The constantly active EMH, active since the Quadratic War began and the chief surgeon--as opposed to Chief Medical Officer responded back.

"Please state the nature of the medical emergency!" he said in the chipper, high strung and somewhat effeminate voice typical of the Mark 2 EMH that the ship was installed with

"You do not need to say that every time I contact you."

"I know Captain, but it is part of the program. What can I do for you?"

"Prepare sickbay to receive casualties."

"Expecting to get into a fight, Captain?" T'Lorn could almost see that grandmotherly scolding expression on the hologram's face.

"I am uncertain, but given the circumstance, I do not want to be insufficiently prepared for the contingency."

"Understood Captain. "

"Thank you Hal."

The communication signal was cut off.

T'Lorn then typed something into his console, sending a text communication to every duty station aboard the ship.

Code: Select all

Captain to all Duty Stations.  We will not be going to Alert Condition Red, However, all duty stations are to prepare for combat.  We shall be to general quarters.

"Tactical, how is the charge on the shield and special weapons capacitors?"

"Fully charged sir. Shields are up, capacitors are full, but shield recharge is not at full power allocation."

"Thank you." he responded back.

T'Lorn looked at his tactical display. If this were to become a fight, it would be distinctly unpleasant. He wanted as much warning as possible if something were to happen.

"Dr Genetris, Sabin. I dislike asking you to strain your abilities, but I would like some advanced warning of attack if you can give it to me. If you need my support..." he asked, putting a hand on his old friend's shoulder, ready to help him if necessary.

The chief medical officer nodded. "If it saves the ship from being vaporized I am all for it."

He closed his eyes and appeared to go into a meditative trance, blocking out distractions and focusing on the the thoughts, emotions, and urges boiling outside the ship and broadcast into space. It took a lot of energy to filter out all of the extraneous noise when casting such a wide net--he would have a hell of a headache when done. The captain's offer of ready assistance reassured him. Telepathy was a funny thing. Even the best trained and experienced Betazoids, or anyone, could be overwhelmed by the sheer chaos of dealing with so many minds at once.

Vulcan telepathy was a different animal. They lacked the long range skills. Most required physical contact to do much more than send and receive simple messages. What they had was an incredible discipline, and if they had physical contact, they could do many of the things that more long ranged telepaths could. But the important part was the control, control that they could use to stabilize and assist others. He did not need it right now, but Sabin knew that T'Lorn would know instantly if he did.

[White Haven]

"Seven years...stilted language...did..." Leyton blinked several times before continuing, "Did a Vulcan just joke with me?"

"Naah, can't be. Anyway, Tex, get the encryption updated, this 'Vlad'stock' character seems to be quick on his toes. While you're at it, work with Navigation to plot us a sneaky course in, as quiet and as quick as you can. I want it handy if need be."

[frigidmagi]

"Come with you to Bajor?" asked Tyran. "All to fight a battle with the Borg? No, I thank you for the offer, Captain, but I'm afraid suicide just isn't my style. If anything it should be you joining us, but then, I do know better than to try and talk a Starfleet officer out of his sense of duty."

The grin remained, and the El-Aurian's voice was light and amused, as though he were amused by this conversation.

"Rumor has it, Captain, that someone splashed a Borg cube yesterday not far from here. Blew it to bits along with all its escort. Not sure if I believe it or not, but by all appearances, the Borg do. Their local patrols have gone completely haywire, and seem to be converging on an area of space uncomfortably close to us."

He grinned once more. "It would take a powerful fleet to bring a Cube down," he said. "I didn't think there was anyone in the sector with the necessaries. Given the ships on display here, you'll understand if the question presents itself. Am I speaking to the perpetrators of this little escapade?"

Fishing for information are we? Well, you have something I want to know to.

"We did engage the Borg in a nearby system and once we've delivered our report to Bajor we will do so again Shodar Tyran. That said, while I will certainly not force you to accompany us, I will ask you to consider that the only way to be free of the Borg is to either fight and kill them or flee the galaxy. As you likely already know. That said, I notice you have Federation and allied ships in your fleet. I imagine my Romulan and Klingon Captains would like to speak to their fellows and I would speak to any Starfleet officers in your fleet, for debriefing if nothing else." Captain Anderson said, his face utterly still.

Just what are you doing with those Starfleet ships Shodar?

[Cynical Cat]

"Increase power to shields," said Kadon. "Charge reserve disruptor banks to full power. Leaves the mains cold." Given the sensor hash of the Badlands it was quite possible that the specifics of the Riskadh's actions would remain unknown.

"No power to launching systems but load one forward tube with a tricobalt, standard loads for all others."

"Kallor, do not engage targeting scans at the moment, but when you fire I want the tricobalt to land in that one's lap."

"This one will do his best to comply," said the Dahar Master.

[General Havoc]

Someone offscreen seemed to catch Shodar Tyran's eye, and he glanced away from the viewscreen for a moment. Whatever was signaled to him was either done visually, or too quietly for the microphones to pick up. When finally the El-Aurian turned back to the viewscreen, he seemed to be laughing to himself about something, shaking his head as though in bemusement with the antics of another.

"And I suppose, Captain, that you are much to polite to mention that if we do not agree to discuss the provenance of our various ships, then that Vor'cha of yours will blow us all to smithereenes with the Tricobalt torpedoes he has sitting in his armory?"

He didn't sound particularly put out of sorts, laughing to himself as though this were all some sort of game. "Still," he said, shaking his head, "I can see several Romulan warships in your company, Captain, and while I thank you for the polite evasion, I'm quite sure that what they actually want to know is how one of their prized ship tenders wound up in such disreputable hands? I assume that you have similar questions concerning where I got my escorts?" He laughed again. "I suppose I can't fault you for asking, now can I?"

His smile did not disappear, as he sat back down and seemed to consider the situation for a moment.

"Why don't we do this in a more convivial location, Captain?" asked Tyran. "Allow me to invite you, your captains, and your most senior officers and personnel aboard the Avenger. We've enough room aboard to be most gracious hosts, I assure you. Your allies are welcome as well, of course, and once we're all in one place, I'd be happy to discuss how we came by these ships." He glanced down at the screen at the side of his chair, then back up. "In addition, Captain, we might well be able to come to some mutually beneficial agreements concerning your little fleet and mine."

He shrugged, theatrically, a broad smile still writ on his face. "Unless, of course, you'd prefer to eradicate us all with those incredibly powerful weapons that my scanners say are mounted all over your warships."

[Charon]

Khoal and Ereiss both arrived on the bridge at the same time and Hizir glanced back. "Excellent. Khoal, you have the bridge."

Khoal blinked once, slightly confused. "Sir?"

"If anyone asks, this is the IRW Gannius. You are her captain. We are dealing with the Syndicate. If they know Danava and I are here it will... complicate... matters."

Khoal looked carefully at his captain for several seconds before nodding. "Of course, Captain. I assume the IFF has been switched?"

Hizir nodded as he stepped away from the Captain's chair. Khoal sat down, with his enjoyment of sitting there not disguised at all. Danava growled softly but before she could say anything, Hizir grabbed her arm and moved towards the turbolift.

"Don't scratch the paint while I'm gone, Commander."

Khoal smiled briefly before looking over to his Romulan communications officer. "Send a communique to Commodore Anderson, tight beam, highly encrypted, informing them of the situation."

"Sir, the Klingon's are powering up their weapons."

Khoal narrowed his eyes some. "Let them. We will not be following their lead."

[frigidmagi]

"Why don't we do this in a more convivial location, Captain?" asked Tyran. "Allow me to invite you, your captains, and your most senior officers and personnel aboard the Avenger. We've enough room aboard to be most gracious hosts, I assure you. Your allies are welcome as well, of course, and once we're all in one place, I'd be happy to discuss how we came by these ships." He glanced down at the screen at the side of his chair, then back up. "In addition, Captain, we might well be able to come to some mutually beneficial agreements concerning your little fleet and mine."

He shrugged, theatrically, a broad smile still writ on his face. "Unless, of course, you'd prefer to eradicate us all with those incredibly powerful weapons that my scanners say are mounted all over your warships."

Uh Huh...

"I'm sure that my Captains would prefer to save their ammo for the Borg, Shodar Tyran. A face to face meeting would be agreeable however, since my fleet is heading towards resupply, perhaps one of my ships would be better. The USS Vigilance is a Galaxy Class Starship and more then capable of hosting us all or perhaps one of the Romulan ships?" Captain Anderson said in a innocent tone of voice. He was a Starfleet Captain after all, he was everyone's friend right?

[Marcao]

Alpha Quadrant
Badlands, IRW S'harien
Bridge

Galan Cretak frowned as the encrypted data links between the S'harien and the rest of the task force began to share the enormous amount of raw data being presented to him. The Badlands were under the most ideal circumstances awash with activity but the presence of sixty odd ships as they began to approach complicated the situation. That data which he had direct access to was immense, even as the computer filtered the overwhelming majority of the data which was able to be picked up by the sensors of the S'harien. Any further thoughts were dispelled when Captain Anderson took the initiative. He blinked, hesitating for a moment and for a moment admiring the boldness of the human captain of the Immortal.

He has a ship full of children and he still acts so boldly. Humans...

"Move the S'harien to position with the rest of the task force." He stated as the orders from the Immortal manifested in the holographic display before him. Less than two breaths after his command was uttered the S'harien shifted moving into position alongside the other larger vessels of the task force. As it did so, it seemed to glide in the midst of the Badlands the raging energies therein held at bay by a surprisingly strong energy field. The power signature of the S'harien was unusual, somewhat obfuscated by the swirls and eddies of plasma around the Warbird but to the close observer, the S'harien would clearly stand out as unmodified. In doing so, it sent a signal that the unity of the task force was not in question.

The minutes began to pass and Galan Cretak found himself staring at his holographic display watching closely the sixty or so contacts which were being tracked by the sensors of the S'harien in conjunction with the sensors of the rest of the task force. After nearly three minutes, the unknown congregation of forces began to move. Their formation indicated an understanding of tactics and hinted at the presence of competent leadership. As the fleet approached the task force, his eyes tracked their movements in the sensor screen. He found himself sighing softly. After ninety seconds had passed, the sensors were able to tease out more information. The presence of raised shields and weapons at the ready was not surprising. Even now, the S'harien itself nearly hummed as every conduit harnessed energies and channeled them into key locations. The power core of the S'harien was at full power, improving the shields and weapon systems of the Warbird by twenty percent normal.

The ships approached at low warp, a leisurely pace that indicated that they were in no hurry to reach their target. It was a sound decision. Every moment that they spent on approach granted them an opportunity to study their potential adversary. Unfortunately for them, it allowed the S'harien and the rest of the task force the same opportunity. In the end, they fell out of warp and approached at speed. Eventually, the badlands allowed them a glance at their visitors as if parting the veil between two old adversaries. It took mere milliseconds for the sensors of the Warbird to detect, identify and categorize the ships which the Badlands presented to it. The Ferengi destroyers, the Orion cruisers, the Breen frigates, Nebula, Olympic and Sabres were presented and shortly thereafter overlooked. The Raptor class light cruisers, K'tinga battle-cruisers and the two Keldons were worthy of closer attention.

"Raptors. An Artificitor?" He found himself muttering. There had only been eight of those ships built! He had been part of the planning sessions that had led to the design of the massive fleet tender. He was not directly involved in their construction, but there had been a plaque deep within the Imperial War College with his name alongside the thirty seven others that had made up the original team that had dreamed up what would become the Artificitor-class.

"Confirmed Riov. Three Raptor-class light cruisers. And one Artificitor-class fleet tender." The sensor officer spoke softly.

"Scan them. I want to know those ships." Riov Galan Cretak responded.

The S'harien powered its sensor system and reached out with non-targetting sensors. A detailed and meticulous scanning beam caressing the three Raptor-class warships. When the scans were finished, the unique characteristics inherent to every Warbird were compared to an existing database within the S'harien. The process was not immediate, but in less than a minute the data was presented to Galan Cretak as he sat upon his command throne.

"IRW Kaleh, IRW Rhian, Sienae, IRW Saeihr." He whispered. He had not served aboard any of the vessels in question but the names were so familiar. His eyes focused on the dossier of the ships as it expanded, the names of the last known commanders met with a frown.

The IRW Saeihr was the second of its class.

"Communications, attempt to establish tight beam communications with the Kaleh, Rhian and Sienea. Use Dominion war ciphers and use the names of the Romulan commanders." Riov Galan Cretak commanded. The Saeihr was the flagship of the fleet, and he had little doubt that he would hear from its commander.

He watched as the bridge burst into activity and he frowned. The Dominion war ciphers were designed for a situation such as this. During the Dominion war, in more than one situation a Romulan ship had fallen to enemy hands. In one incident, the Raptor class ship had functioned as a mole and been given free reign in Romulan space for over a week before its situation had been understood. In others, Romulan personnel had lost their lives because changelings had infiltrated the vessel and mimicked Romulan commanders. The ciphers had been designed to attempt to contend with these possibilities. Each commanding officer and communication officer held a key to the cipher. The communication officer had been chosen due to the likelyhood of their survival. The Riov and Erei'riov of a vessel would likely be killed if captured, but the communication officer was generally not likely to lose his or her life.
The concept of the cipher was simple. The language chosen to respond to a cipher challenge allowed for coded messages to be exchanged. A simple greeting could carry within it a different meaning allowing for an undertone of distress to be layered into a seemingly innocuous response. After the Dominion War, the Tal'Shiar had indicated a desire to expand on the cipher program tying hidden protocols into a Warbird's database. These protocols were intended to be extremely limited, granting the querying ships access to data from internal sensors and limited access to computer logs. It had been hoped that through this system, the Romulan Star Navy would never be caught unawares in these kinds of situation. Unfortunately, the Tal'Shiar had met with political resistance to the planned expansion. There were concerns that these "limited" protocols and installed backdoors would allow the Tal'Shiar to expand them on their leasure. There were also concerns that the Federation's scientists would crack the ciphers and twist them to their own ends. In the end, the idea died on the vine.

I would have liked to have access to those protocols now.

"The Saeihr is sending a transmission." His communication officer said.

"Show me." Galan Cretak responded. A moment later, the main view screen was dominated by the image of an El-Aurian. His eyes focused on the features of Shodar Tyran memorizing every feature. He said nothing, allowing Captain Anderson the ability to command without his interference. He leaned back against his chair and settled on observing and listening to the exchange between Anderson and Tyran. As he did so, he manipulated data creating a tactical display and populating it with a preliminary target list. The Raptors were not on the list, at least not yet. He would prefer not to be involved in the destruction on the property of the Romulan Star Empire but if it could not be avoided he would do his duty.

To any sensors that dared to try and tease out its secrets, the S'harien stood transfixed in space. Its shields fully powered and weapons charged. It seemed to float in the middle of the Badlands plasma storms coiled and ready to strike, akin to the venomous snakes so feared by dozens of human cultures. Within its armored heart, Galan allowed himself a small smile as a side screen turned completely green. His ship was ready. His head turned, his eyes staring accusingly at the ship at the heart of the fleet opposite his task force.

The Saeihr. Designed to allow the forces of the Empire to penetrate deeply into the heart of enemy territory. You and your sisters had been designed to allow the Empire to reach the home-world of the Founders or perhaps even Earth. I never expected to see any of you again...

[Comrade Tortoise]

Bridge
U.S.S Humboldt

Sabin opened his mind, and was immediately hit with the onslaught of thousands of terrified minds, screaming into the void of space. He attempted to throw his walls back into place--shield his mind from having to actually feel their terror. He would have failed totally had T'Lorn not been there to throw up a wall to give him the necessary time.

Even so, on the bridge the ship's chief medical officer clutched his head and would have fallen to his knees had T'lorn not caught him.

"Fear, terror, overwhelming horror..." and then he fell unconscious.

"Transporter Room, Transport Dr. Sabin directly to Sickbay." he said into his badge.

...

Astrometrics
U.S.S Humboldt

Alan Foresythe during this was down in Astrometrics trying to figure out why the sensor analysis was taking so long to perform.

"What is going on Ensign?"

"Passive sensors wont work, not in the badlands. We may be able to match energy emissions without all the scatter, but the signal to noise ratio is just too low." said the female Vulcan at station one.

"Alright, well, what about those Federation ships? Do we know anything about them?"

"We can with an unobtrusive contact scan"

"Do it"

The data came up on screen.

Code: Select all

Nebula:
USS Saladin--fought in and survived battle of Earth, disappeared.

Olympic:
USS Hippocrites--under construction at Antari Shipyards at war start, shiphyard abandoned during borg attack

Sabre :

USS Gegaran, USS Vesuvias--Same task group, maneuvers prior to Andoria, long range spoiling attack, disappeared.

London:
USS Saigon--Disappeared before borg war while on route to newly discovered system.

"Hmmm" he said as he looked "All disappeared without a trace, most after Borg attacks... except the Saigon." If they were all military ships, that may be understandable. With starfleet command structure gone, they may have found themselves in a similar situation to us. They may have come together and appointed a leader, started protecting civilian ships. But that did not explain the U.S.S. Saigon, which disappeared mysteriously en route to an uncharted but habitable system. How many of the other ships had diseappeared under similar circumstances? Without access to every nations databanks it was impossible to tell.

Alan had spent a long, long time with Vulcans. He picked up a keen understanding of logic, over and above his Starfleet training during the last few decades. He had been with T'Lorn for almost as long as he could remember. The Saigon was the data point that threw the most parsimonious explanation into stark question. Then there were the Romulan ships. Including an Artificitor. There were less than a dozen of those? He could understand it if it was controlled by a Romulan, but the chances of two Romulan ships controlled by non-romulans coming upon eachother in the blackness of space? One was enough. Two should not happen.

He tapped on his comm badge.

"Captain, there is something you want to see"

...

Bridge
U.S.S. Humboldt

"Alan, I have come to the same conclusion."

He said this as Sabin dematerializing where T'Lorn had set him down.

"Ms. Sevrin, transmit data to the Immortal, Riskadh, and the S'harien. Encrypted, captain's authorization code necessary to access. Message in text form only"

"Yes sir" she said back, and relayed the data to the other ships.

Code: Select all

From: U.S.S. Humbolt
To: U.S.S. Immortal, I.K.S. Riskadh, I.R.W. S'harien
Security Protocols: Tight Beam Burst Transmission, Encrypted, Captain's Authorization to Access

<Attached> Registry and Disappearance Information on Federation Ships</attached>

Explanation:Most parsimonious explanation for fleet composition counter-indicated by presence of U.S.S. Saigon.  U.S.S. Saigon disappeared prior to Borg invasion, and does not fit the pattern of other Starfleet vessels.

Most Parsimonious Explanation If outlier removed:Ships fleeing from Borg, joined forces for mutual protection and defense of civilians.  Spontaneous generation of command structure likely under these conditions.

Recommendation: None at this time.  Data Deficient.

Request: Data Sharing regarding disposition of Romulan and Klingon ships in Fleet Beta.  

To Gather More Information: Conduct more detailed scans of life-forms aboard ships to confirm species-specific makeup of ship crews and civilian populations.  

Justification: If ships in Beta are primarily populated by original or statistically likely species composition, it may indicate willing association of ships within fleet Beta.  If species composition differs from original or statistically likely, it may indicate piracy, depending on the magnitude of the difference and the locations in which these differences occur.

Risk of Information Gathering: They might consider it rude, or a violation of security, which may affect negotiating position or lead to hostile escalation.

Clarification:I am not advocating the course of action laid forth in order to test working hypotheses.  Merely laying out a method by which we could determine the nature of Fleet Beta.  This information will increase the ability of command to make decisions regarding the disposition of our forces with respect to theirs, and the actions that may be necessary to deal with fleet Beta.  However, this action carries substantial risk, and it is not my place to analyze that risk and reach a recommendation, or to frame the matter in the form of a request.

[LadyTevar]

TransWarp
USS Spector
Captain's Quarters

Brevet-Captain Eoife Kirk had taken over the captain's quarters several months ago, at the suggestion of Captain Ellison. He'd been in a lucid phase, and had even told her to put his personal effects in storage 'until he got out of sickbay'.

Now Kirk was going over that list of personal effects, wondering what to do with them. Other reports sat on the work table, reports on the refugees they'd taken on. The two impostors she'd found so far were not in the brig, as that would give them a nice cell to themselves, but on 'work detail' scrubbing the deck. Security had found a couple of colonists to help keep an eye on the work detail, former security themselves it seemed. Her own Security would check in to make sure no 'accidents' happened to the impostors either.

The doorbell chimed, and she absently gave permission. As she figured, it was Dr. Jones, who'd have walked in even if she hadn't opened it for him. He had proudly misused the Medical Override to get inside before, so Eoife had no delusions that Ian would do it again if he felt she needed him. "So what's up, Doc?"

Ian made a face, as always before slipping into the chair across from her and placing another data slate on the pile. "Psych profile on the crew after the incident," the CMO said, eyeing the stack to make sure it wouldn't topple. "The crew is upbeat, still running off the victory high. Most are ready to pull up to Bajor and kick more Borg ass. Hearing about your Brevet helped immensely as well."

Eoife snorted. "It just means the Captain Kirk jokes fit better," she said dismissively, even as she tugged absently at her collar where the new rank-pins shone.

"There's that," Ian said with a smirk. He'd come up with a few of the jokes himself. "Our guests have all found out theyr'e on Captain Kirk's Ship, and are in awe."

Eoife's shoulders slumped as she shook her head. "I'm sure all of them have started trying to figure out which woman had the baby, too," she said bitterly. "You know, a simply Memory Alpha search says it all: George Samuel Kirk, 3 children. Only Peter was on that damned planet. No one ever asks where Sam Jr. was at the time. Peter goes on to be a Diplomat, while you never hear anything about Sam Jr., because he was at home happily raising a family." The rant came to a halt as Ian's smirk grew wider.

"Don't the Klingons have an inheritance rule where the Family Name can go to a niece or nephew?" Ian teased. "I'm sure they'd agree you're showing the family traits for actiona nd heroism." Ignoring Eoife's glare he continued. "They would probably enjoy your idea of punishment as well. I'll be treating those two for dishpan hands and blisters before they get the deck finished."

Eoife's snarky reply was interrupted by a call from the Bridge, announcing that the TransWarp trip was complete. "Acknowledged, on my way," Kirk said, rising to her feet and tugging down the uniform jacket. Doc Jones also rose, and reached to brush imaginary lint off her shoulder. They shared a smile, and he bowed her out of the room before they separated, her to the Battle Bridge, him to Medical.

++++++++++++++

The Badlands
USS Spector, Battle Bridge

As the nebula boiled and roiled in front of them, Captain Kirk frowned. The Spector had good shields, but she did not have the sensor package the other ships had, and she knew it. She opened the ship's comm, and paused for a second as she remembered the refugees would also hear the announcement. She quickly modified what she was going to say. "This is Captain Kirk. We are about to enter The Badlands to throw the Borg off our trail. As the Nebula is dangerous, we will be going to Yellow Alert. All crew to their Yellow Alert stations, all pilots to flight deck. Nivoch four colonists, please stay in your cabins for your safety during this time. Kirk Out."

Kirk looked around the Bridge as the ship's lights went to Yellow Alert status. "Shields at full, stay at position relative to the Sharien and the Immortal. Impulse drive, engage."


++++
Inside The Badlands
USS Spector
There was only one thing to say about the sensors. "It's like driving through Borsch!"

The bridge broke out into laughter over the sensor-tech's compliant. "Do the best you can, Peterson. Beet soup is better than nothing," Eoife replied. "Serin, are we...?"

"Sill in formation, Captain. Although we are receiving a tight-beam from the Immortal."

This is Captain Anderson, contacts detected 10 billion kicks, bearing two point six zero mark. All ships come around assume defensive posture, do not fire unless we are attacked or until given orders, break."

"Acknowledge the message. Drop back to defensive position behind the Immortal. Pilots to their fighters, photon crews ready. Do NOT announce it all-comms. We don't want the refugees scared." Kirk ordered, straining to peer through the sensor static to see what was found.

"Captain, do you want the fighters launched for cover?"

Kirk considered it for a long moment, then shook her head. "Their sensors are worse than ours. We don't want them out there blind, they might never find their way back."

+++

As the i]Barbarossa moved forward to take the van, the Spector dropped back and slightly above, a position where her banks of torpedoes would be able to support fleet actions to the fullest. As they approached the larger collection of ships, until the Romulan fleet tender and its escorts were revealed.

From her chair, Kirk watched the interplay between Anderson and the El-Aurian, Shodar Tyran. She was sure that Anderson was getting information from the Humbolt and the Empyrean, both ships having better sensor packages.

"The Riskadh is charging secondary disruptors," Serin announced.

"All tubes, normal load," Kirk ordered. "Standby, no targeting scans. Plan for blanket coverage." She continued watching Shodar Tyran, shaking her head a little as he casually mentioned the tri-corbite. "He's playing a cold game here. What makes him so confident, I wonder." She grinned at Anderson's counter offer of a meet on the Vigilance, leaning forward in her chair, chin in hand. "No, he won't accept that, not at all. This one will want as much advantage as he can give over Anderson."