Star Trek: Death of the Federation

[General Havoc]

USS Argonaut

"Sir," said the Comm officer, "we're receiving a broadband subspace transmission, Federation recognition code and encryption."

Lt. Luther raised his eyebrow. "Video or voice?"

"Voice only, sir."

"Let's hear it."

The transmission was softly garbled, due to distance or jamming, it couldn't be determined. The voice of the speaking officer was tense and brittle, but clear and spoken with rapid fire prose.

"This is the USS Belisarius to all Federation vessels. We have been tracking a large formation of Borg ships in the Tzenketh sector moving on bearing 281 mark 354. About three minutes ago, the formation we've been tracking suddenly changed heading to 194 mark 133 and entered a transwarp conduit moving at maximum transwarp. The Borg course puts them on heading directly for the Nivoch colony system. To all Federation ships between us and Nivoch, evacuate immediately, repeat, evacuate immediately. The Borg force comprises nine Cubes, and at least two dozen auxiliary ships. This transmission should reach you long before they arrive, but they are coming, and from the looks of it, they are very angry. Belisarius out."

Several muttered explanations of astonishment filled the bridge, but Lt. Luther cut them off before they could become more. "How far away is the Tzenketh sector?"

"We're on the other side of the sector, sir. Even at top speed it would take them a while to - "

"How long, Ensign?"

The young officer bent over his console briefly. "Sixteen hours at the earliest, sir, assuming the information is accurate."

"Goddamnit," said the Lieutenant. "Call Commander Ereshal, tell her what you just told me. And signal the Immortal that we're open to their suggestions as to when to get the hell out of here."

"Sir, we've also got those vulcans asking if we would like - "

"Tell them to get the hell over here and get started before we have to bug out. And please tell Commander Ereshal to get back to the ship right now."

"Sir, we have sixteen hours before the - "

"As far as I'm concerned, Ensign, we have sixteen seconds before we're operating on borrowed time. The Captain's in the medical bay for at least the next eight hours, the engines are offline for the same time, and I want the XO of this ship back on board right this second. So please tell Commander Ereshal that if she is not back aboard Argonaut in the next ten seconds, I'm going to send in the goddamn marines to extract her."

"Yes sir."

[Comrade Tortoise]

"Excellent Serin. Is there anything you need from the debris field? Sensor scans do not register any significant damage to your ship, but there may be something that we are as of yet unaware. Given the likelyhood that the colonists we do not take with us will survive after we leave, I am not sure that it is prudent to manufacture shelters. However there is something to be said for what humans would call 'basic decency'. However, I believe there is enough raw material to be replicated into basic structures. Additionally, given the rate at which your ship fires torpedoes, we will transport over a sufficient number to replenish your stocks, as your rate of manufacture may not be enough to keep up with demand should we face the Borg soon. "


...

Onboard the USS Humboldt

Commander Foresythe was on the bridge coordinating salvage and relief efforts.

Lt. Sevrin looked up from her console.

"Commander, we are receiving a transmission, Federation encryption."

"Decode, then put it through"

Code: Select all

"This is the USS Belisarius to all Federation vessels. We have been tracking a large formation of Borg ships in the Tzenketh sector moving on bearing 281 mark 354. About three minutes ago, the formation we've been tracking suddenly changed heading to 194 mark 133 and entered a transwarp conduit moving at maximum transwarp. The Borg course puts them on heading directly for the Nivoch colony system. To all Federation ships between us and Nivoch, evacuate immediately, repeat, evacuate immediately. The Borg force comprises nine Cubes, and at least two dozen auxiliary ships. This transmission should reach you long before they arrive, but they are coming, and from the looks of it, they are very angry. Belisarius out." 

"Lt. Commander Turell, how long until intercept?" the ship's only human asked the ship's science officer. Said officer tapped a few buttons on his console.

"Approximately sixteen hours, sir"

"Damn... Redouble efforts. Get those power relays from the debris field transported directly to the Gilgamesh. Signal them first, one minute of lead time from signal to transport."

"Complying" Turell replied.

"Commander, we are getting a signal from the Argonaut, permission to send over engineering and medical teams." said Lt. Sevrin

"Foresythe to Medical and Engineering. Transport teams to the USS Argonaut in one minute and ten seconds."

"Yes Captain, Genetris out."

"Main Engineering reports that we are complying with your order"

"Ms Sevrin, please signal the Argonaut, one minute between signal and transport. Let them know our engineering teams will beam directly to location, unless they signal otherwise."

[frigidmagi]

Captain Anderson had just returned to the Immortal and was preparing to leave for his meeting with the Magistrate when he was commed with the message.

"Relay the message to the non-federation ships and the Empryean, make sure everyone gets this. Stress that our top proprietary is getting everyone capable of surviving a FTL trip to Bajor. We need to move as soon as possible. Tell Commander Higgins I'll want to meet with her once I return" The Captain ordered. He would have to hope none of the other Captains panicked. When it rained, it poured.

[Marcao]

Alpha Quadrant
Nivoch System, USS Empyrean
Diplomatic Chamber

His eyes shifted around the gathered personalities around him which represented not only a significant fighting force but the people who he would have to learn to trust and navigate around in the days to come. The truth was of course that trust was something that did not come easily this days. Nonetheless, without that precious resource they would never be able to manage their true potential. He had already begun to place individuals in various placements within his mind. The men and women that he could begin to reach out to and those that he would take a cautious stand in. He was in no particular hurry to do so however. There would come a time for such matters. The trick of course was staying alive long enough to allow for such moments to transpire.

His words about the capability of the S'harien seemed to have their desired effect. No one tried to cajole or request more information out of him which was good. He was not prepared to do so at this point and frankly, he doubted that anyone in the meeting would be so rude as to try and demand more information out of him. Out of the corner of his eyes, he caught sight of Captain Dubois as he arched a brow for a moment. He was the captain of a science ship, he had no doubt that Dubious was intrigued. Federation captains had always seemed to have a penchant for trying to solve puzzles. He could only imagine that the captain of a Luna class would be cut from that same cloth.

When Captain Dubois began to speak about his own secrets and those of his ship he listened closely. The capability to monitor Borg communications was an extremely useful ability. He himself could think of over a dozen ways to benefit from the capability and he expected that Dubois knew each one and could probably dream up of a few more. His attention flickered towards the holographic display for a few moments as he considered the information presented therein. "Your thoughts on the matter are valuable. The badlands approach is enticing, especially if your information regarding the Borg response is accurate." He had no reason to believe it was not and as such his words were not meant to offend. If the Borg were coming after them, then it was likely that the scouts of the Borg fleet nearest to Bajor would seek to spread out a net between Nivoch and Bajor. If that was the case, then a direct approach even through transwarp was ill advised.

His head turned and he glanced towards the Vulcan captain as he himself spoke. He felt kinship with the Vulcans although that kinship had only truly blossomed after the fall of the Star Empire. If he had to serve besides any race of the Federation, the Vulcan people were at the top of his list. The Vulcans had always been the misguided cousins of his people, bending a knee to the humans in return for security. Vulcans had sacrificed too much of themselves when they turned away from their emotions and then had sacrificed too much of their pride when they bent knee to the humans when they joined the Federation. Nonetheless, that had been the past. In the present, he would save as many Vulcans as he could. At this side, Idrakht stood mute and resolute although his own eyes seemed to be taking in the unseen dynamics of the room as if seeking hidden truths or threats.

It was only then that his eyes returned to the Orion delegation. The human captain smiled and immediately he felt conflicting emotions. It was akin to a human snake smiling at a mouse. The smile hinted at little, seemingly seeking to reflect whatever the observer wished to see. Hzir would be a dangerous man to engage in any game. The Orion people were not known for their inability to gamble. Hzir seemed a man used to power, a man that was used to getting his way and understood how far to push a situation in order to derive maximum advantage. Nonetheless, the words that left his lips were polite and that in turn required politeness in turn. He nodded his head in response to his comments, treating the human captain like an equal. In the current situation it was an appropriate action.

"Thank you. It is a capability that should get us to Bajor relatively intact if utilized properly." He admitted. When the human captain turned enough to look at Dubois, his eyes remained on the commander of the Barbarossa. When he revealed the number of colonists he was prepared to take he was not surprised. He had served aboard the IRW Terix for many years. The sheer size of a D'Deridex class was something that he was intimately aware of. The number allowed him to consider certain possibilities regarding the current crew size of the Warbird. It was information that could prove to be valuable in the days to come. Assuming of course, that the number Hzir had offered was accurate.

Captain Anderson spoke and he smiled briefly. A meeting between three Federation officers? He wondered what they could talk about. The tone and pitch of the words the human captain had employed made it clear that the meeting was at an end. As such, he hesitated for a few seconds before he glanced towards Idrakht and nodded. He had to wait for Captain Anderson and Commander Kirk to be available before they would be taken to the planet below. As such, he was not going anywhere for the moment. It was with that thought in mind that Hzir spoke, his eyes blinking as he looked in the direction of the human. He did not hesitate in offering a response.

"I would enjoy that meeting Captain Hzir." He said smoothly before he continued. "I am certain that we both wish to come to an accord regarding our future collaborations." He admitted. They were in command of the two only Romulan warships in the task force. Hzir could certainly handle his vessel, the manner in which he had fought the Borg had made that clear. The questions was of course, if the manner in which he had acquired the vessel was going to be a long term issue for them both. There was no Empire left, but he was still compelled to serve his people in whatever ways he could. In the short term, he would work alongside Hzir because his ship was too mighty to ignore. The answers that he would offer him would determine if their relationship would be one of short term convenience or had the possibility of becoming more long term.

When Serin approached the Vulcan, Romulan and Klingons his eyes left those of Captain Hzir and focused on the Federation officer. He arched a brow when he revealed the capability of the Spector to manufacture a significant amount of goods. It was logical, the Akira class had always leaned more heavily on its ordnance. If that was the case, then improving its capability to generate supplies was the next logical step. Nonetheless, it was a capability that he had not foreseen. What other surprises laid in store for him?

"My immediate needs are plasma torpedos" He doubted the Spector would be able to assist in that manner. The Federation had never truly appreciated the efficiency of the ordnance and had stubbornly continued to produce its own photon/quantum ordnance. "The S'harien did not suffer a significant amount of damage in the struggle. Aside from our desire to receive some EPS power conduit from the Borg debris, I am uncertain as to how you will be able to help us Executive Officer Serin. Nonetheless, the gesture is appreciated."

[Comrade Tortoise]

T'Lorn looked over at the Romulan captain as he spoke to Sevrin, then checked his own datapad, which gave him constant updates from his ship. He saw the message

"We have transferred the EPS conduits that the Gilgamesh needs, I will signal my ship to get you the EPS conduits you need. I find it difficult to believe that a transwarp drive does not occasionally burn through power relays. There are also a number of plasma torpedoes. Once I get a full status report from the ships that use them, they can be apportioned appropriately."

He looked at the Romulan captain again, meeting his eyes. They were the same species, separated since the human year 470 AD. Since that time, they had somehow managed to take a different route to get their emotions under control, and had not destroyed themselves. Some of the more orthodox vulcans in a past age prior to the re-discovery of Surak's original writings would have decried this realization as blasphemous--which was an irony T'Lorn appreciated, caring enough to call that blasphemy was an emotion that can and had lead to unacceptable consequences. Much of the cultural baggage carried by his people had nearly lead to the doom of his own ship during the intervening years.

The absolute and utter repression of sexual urges for example. It built up for seven year intervals and then exploded into the phenomenon known as Pon Far. Combine this with an unhealthy dose of shame and secrecy and you end up with an ensign challenging you with a Lirpa for the affection of the communications officer. This is why that level of repression was no longer permitted on his ship.

Of course, the Romulans seemed to have struck a different balance. Paranoia, xenophobia, brutality. These were common, and they had caused no small problem for Romulans in the past. Of course, none of that mattered now. Perhaps unification would help to preserve both cultures? Strike a balance between the two? The simple fact was, Romulans and Vulcans were the same. The DNA was the same, they went through everything up to the late industrial era as the same society.

"Captain Cretak, if you will permit me, I have a proposal."

[Charon]

Hizir's smile did not fade as the Romulan gave his response. "Fantastic. I look forward to our meeting."

With that, Hizir and the two he had with him got to their feet, paying quick respects to the remaining captains, Hizir left the room and collected his two guards before being teleported back to the Barbarossa

As soon as they were off the platform Danava was practically on top of him. "You cede salvage rights to the fucking Klingons? They have as many problems accepting other people's ideas and opinions as the fucking Romulans. Maybe more!" Khoal's reaction was merely to glance at Danava. It was a rant he was long used to, and one he swore he would avenge one day. "They all hate us. You can tell. The Klingon's shut us down every damn chance they could. Nobody was sitting near us. Hell even the damn Vulcans were getting in on the action." Danava spat on the floor in disgust. The numerous Orions, Romulans, humans, and many other races that called the ship home were beginning to stare. "We should leave them to rot at Bajor. And that's another thing. 5,000 extra mouths to feed? What the fu-"

She didn't get any further as Hizir rounded on her, his right hand clinching around her throat as his left grabbed her wrist as she went for her knife. With a grunt of effort he slammed her against a wall. "You forget yourself, Danava. I am the captain of this ship and what I say goes." The fire was back in Hizir's eyes, a fire that burned just as brightly as Danava's own, but he controlled his passions. "They don't trust us because I brought you along. The Klingon was no fool, he thought he was bargaining with Orion pirates, not allies. The rest took their cues from him. Captain Anderson is a good commander, but always watch Kadon. He knows how to lead from the front."

Danava made another move for her weapon and Hizir slammed her against the wall again, his grip on her throat tightening slightly, distracting her from want of a weapon with want of air. "We are going to Bajor, because if we lose there we are as good as dead anyway. And we are bringing 5,000 refugees because this planet was Maquis, and even in death the Maquis will look out for one another." Seeing Danava's face beginning to turn purple, Hizir released his grip on her throat and took a step back. The Orion woman collapsed to the floor, breathing hard.

"If nothing else, they will grant us good faith with the rest of the fleet. Most of the ships could barely take 100 extra souls aboard, that we'll take more refugees than the rest of the fleet combined will mean a great deal. Besides, if we lose at Bajor we will have no need of those extra supplies anyway."

Hizir turned and continued to walk down the hallway, Khoal following quietly after him as Danava lie on the floor, still catching her breath. The Romulan glanced back at her with a smirk, then turned to his captain, but any words that had been on his tongue died with the glare Hizir gave him.

On the bridge, Hizir took his seat again. Every one was silent and sullen, looking worried. "Report."

One of the Andorians on the ship was on duty now and turned to look at the captain. "The Brothers are beginning to grow weary of waiting. And we just received word that another ship has detected a Borg fleet coming this way."

Hizir nodded, "Double time any repairs that still need to get done. Move the ship up and wait with the fleet. One of the Captains can open a transwarp conduit that we can hitch a ride on. Taking a route to the Badlands. So prepare for that as well. And prepare for extra bodies, we're taking on as many refugees as we can hold, and hopefully some more able-bodied men."

Many of the men and women on the bridge immediately got to work again, taking care of all the details that needed to be taken care of for the journey. Khoal spoke up though. "And the Brothers?"

Hizir smiled. "Tell them to get to work. But inform them that if the Klingon's come calling, they have to at least pay attention to what they're saying. I'll be in my quarters preparing to meet with Commander Cretak. Khoal, Ereiss, you'll be with me." Ereiss turned around in her chair, her eyebrows twitching in what might have been either to furrow them in anger or raise one in question. Both Romulans acknowledged him though, and quickly left the bridge.

Hizir sat comfortably in his chair for a few more minutes, watching as the crew of his ship worked. Then he got to his feet and walked to his own quarters. Already, word of Hizir's action against Danava was spreading through the ship, further quelling any thoughts of rebellion.

[Cynical Cat]

Assumptions can be misleading. Who would believe that there is no word in klingonaase for "weapon"? A weapon is a tool for killing and klingonaase has words for tools, Klingons do not need them to kill. For a Klingon to be unarmed he would have to be toothless and crippled. There is no word in klingonaase for "weapon" because almost everything can be used as one.

No better example of this exists than the Combat Engineers attached to the Riskadh's Marine Detachment. They could, and many of them had, kill with blades, fists, teeth, and disruptors but they had other ways of inflicting damage. They had other tools.

Sergeant Malthess drifted through the wreckage of the Borg Cube. He wore an armoured space suit that was essential for this duty. Disruptors and phasers were low radiation risks, but the high energy gamma rays that gave photon torpedoes their name wrecked havoc on dense materials. They smashed chunks out of atomic nuclei, riddling formerly stable materials with radiation spewing isotopes. And that's before considering the tricobalts or the Immortal's nukes.

That made hard suits mandatory and provided the Combat Engineers like Malthess with good cover for their devices. The rads and the isotopes provided good sensor cover for devices like the one Malthess was inserting into the beryllium alloy casing that had once held a Borg power cell. The casing still contained lithium and hydrogen, but the radioactive casing and the lining Malthess had inserted would make sure it read as a salvageable power cell with minimum damage and not a nuclear mine.

It was one of a large number of vicious tricks the Klingons had in their arsenal. They weren't the only ones. The Vulcans were overly subtle and complicated, but highly skilled. The other Feddies were Starfleet Engineers and that said enough. The Romulans were experienced and well trained members of a military known for its technical skills and taste for sneak attacks. The pirates lacked useful pieces of gear like stealthed nuclear mines, but were very good at improvising existing materials into highly lethal traps.

The Borg salvagers were going to have a very bad day.

[Marcao]

Alpha Quadrant
Nivoch System, USS Empyrean
Diplomatic Chamber

His attention shifted away from the Vulcan and focused on Hzir as he responded. The human's smile did not fade from his lips as he spoke and he nodded his head in turn as he and his companions stood and left the room moments later. He had a feeling that his meeting with Captain Hzir would be an interesting one. The trick was asking the right questions as well as offering the right responses. The location of the meeting was going to be a problem for Idrakht, but it was a problem that he was already thinking about addressing. What would bother Idrakht more so was another thought that he had in mind.

With Hzir and his delegation away his attention naturally returned to the Vulcan. He waited until the Vulcan had finished fully before he spoke. "I am afraid that the S'harien is unable to properly utilize Borg heavy plasma torpedoes at this time. The ordnance is too large to be compatible with our launchers. I am certain that we would prefer to make that ordnance available to those that could make proper use of it, perhaps several of these devices could be properly utilized in the hands of some engineers in order to trap the Borg wreckage in the system. We will wait on information regarding the relays, our needs as not as urgent as some other ships in the task force at this time."

It was then that he addressed the request. His curiosity was quite piqued. "By all means, I am more than willing to indulge your proposal. We are after all, amongst friends here." He said dryly. What thoughts did the Vulcan have in mind? As he spoke, he glanced towards Idrakht at his side. He hoped that Captain Anderson decided to contact him about the meeting in the planet below quickly. The Borg were not known for their willingness to negotiate. He had already been informed of the incoming task force, and nine Borg cubes were nine more they needed.

[frigidmagi]

"Time to go... Comm, contact Captains Kirk and Cretak, inform them I am heading to the meeting site and make sure they have the proper coordinates...." Captain Anderson considered. He was bringing bad news. It would unlikely they could lift more then... 2%? 1%? 5? Of the colony and there were 16 cubes incoming. His make shift task force would last as long as meat thrown to a pack of Targs against such a force. He would give the colony leaders the benefit of the doubt but...

"Have a drop platoon of Gorn standing by just in case." He ordered before turning to go. The Empyrean's transporter was still locked onto him and ready to go. He disappeared in a flash of light.

[Comrade Tortoise]

"Forgive me for being overly forward, but there are limited numbers of both of our respective peoples. As far as I am aware, the seventy eight Vulcans on my ship are the largest population of self-governing Vulcans left in the galaxy, I would not be surprised if your ship were in a similar situation. I am not sure how many Romulans managed to escape, as my ship was deep in unexplored space when the initial invasion began."

He left that thought sink in for a moment before continuing.

"That having been said, our two cultures have been separated--thanks to a mutual ideological misgiving--for nearly two thousand years. I do not think that this scizm is prudent any longer. Should we survive this ordeal and drive the Borg out of our space, or are forced to go on the run, we risk being scattered, enslaved, unable to defend ourselves or maintain cultural coherency. All both of our peoples have worked for since the time of Surak, will be lost. To say nothing of the dangers of inbreeding depression. These premises laid out, my proposal is thus: That we become a unified political entity when this is over. I am loyal to the Federation, but the Federation as I knew it is dead. It will have to be reformed. Unified, we can make sure that should we decide to join this newly formed body, the terms are favorable. If the federation never meaningfully reforms, unified we can reduce our chances of being scattered or enslaved. Our cultures need not homogenize, though I think cultural exchange would be highly valuable. This proposal remains open indefinitely--or at least as long as we are both alive. If you reject the proposal, it goes without saying that there will be no 'hard feelings'. I must admit, I have my own misgivings, and I cannot believe that you have none of your own. Logically however, the proposal makes sense and is worth pursuing."

[Marcao]

Alpha Quadrant
Nivoch System, USS Empyrean
Diplomatic Chamber

His eyes settled on the Vulcan as he spoke, his attention firmly focused on the starfleet officer. He watched and waited as the officer spoke taking each potential revelation in stride. Ultimately, he considered the words that the Vulcan had offered before his lips parted. As he prepared to speak, a data pad at his side beeped. He blinked, paused and glanced in the direction of the device before his left hand reached out for it.

"Please excuse me for a moment." He said, his eyes glancing at the data the device offered him before it was placed aside once more.

"Your words carry with them a certain amount of truth." He admitted. Before the Borg reunification had been a distant dream at best. The Romulan Star Empire would never have accepted parity with the Vulcan people. The Borg had changed everything. "I cannot in good conscience commit to anything at this time. I am the commander of a single Romulan Warbird, I do not have the authority to do any more than acknowledge that the integration of both our people is more likely now than at any point in our mutual history. I suggest this. We will table this dicussion until we reach Bajor. Once there, we will be able to more readily ascertain the situation. However, at this time I see no reason to deny your proposal outright. It has a certain symmetry that cannot be overlooked." He would have to be a fool to turn aside a potential ally without need. The Vulcan was overly ambitious at this time, but action was better than none at all. He had hopes that once this Vulcan was properly harnessed, he could prove of use to both their people in the days to come.

He paused for a moment allowing his words to sink in before he continued. "I am willing to work alongside you towards a common goal. I do not however predict that a new federation will be the dominant power in the galaxy in the days to come." Intellectually, he could see the appeal of a unified body to re-establish order in a post-Borg galaxy. The troubles arose with the idea that all survivors would be covered under this umbrella. If his people fought and died they would do so for the establishment of a new Romulan nation. It may not need be an Empire necessarily, but it would be a Romulan nation. This was his dream. It was not something that he would reveal at this time. "Ultimately, we are getting ahead of ourselves. The Borg threat to Bajor comes first." Everything else was secondary to that terrible force that was descending on the last bastion of galactic civilization.

"If you will excuse me, I have an appointment to maintain." He nodded his head towards the Vulcan doing so in a manner that indicated respect rather than the expected disdain that was so common for his people to share amongst their fallen kin. His right hand moved, a button brushed before he spoke in the language of his people.

"S'harien, two to beam to the coordinates provided by the Immortal." A handful of seconds later and an emerald field descended upon the commander of the S'harien and his Reman escort. A heartbeat later, nothing remained.

Alpha Quadrant
Nivoch System, Nivoch IV

Riov Cretak and his escort Idrakht manifested on the targeted coordinates in the midst of an emerald star field. When the star field ceased, all that remained where arguably the two most powerful men within the command structure of the S'harien. Riov Cretak took a deep breath and held it for a moment aware that his presence was symbolic at best. Nonetheless, he was here to represent his people and to witness the events that were to transpire. They had fought and won a great victory in this system, even if it had been a momentary one. Now, he would have a front row seat to a situation where thousands of men and women from over a dozen races would compete for a chance to leave Nivoch IV and survive.

[General Havoc]

The assembled officers appeared in a moderate-sized office, located at the top of the tallest building in the colony, a six-story molded polycrete tower that looked over what had once been a quaint-looking colony on a quiet, backwater world. The shantytown sprawl that enveloped the colony now covered much of what had once been a tranquil river valley, but the tower was at least tall enough to escape the haze below.

The Bolian standing behind the desk looked more worn in person than he had on the viewscreens, standing at his window and watching the colony as masses of people swarmed deliriously through the broad streets cheering to one another, waving makeshift flags both of the Federation and other long-vanished empires. Two Klingons, newly arrived on the colony and thus not known to anyone, had been mistakenly identified by someone in the crowd as part of the crew of the warships that had just saved Nivoch, and were now being carried around the colony on the shoulders of ten thousand celebrating colonists and refugees. Best that the Magistrate could tell, neither one was attempting to disabuse the colonists of the notion.

As the officers appeared behind him, the Magistrate turned around to face them, standing leaning over his desk as though he was about to collapse at any moment. When he spoke however, it was without any sign of frailty.

"Captains," he said, "I assume you all have crews and ships to attend to. We can't thank you enough for what you've done for us here today, and I'm prepared to see to whatever needs we can possibly fill from here. But our communication satellites picked up the transmission from the Belisarius about the same time you did. I haven't told the colony at large yet that the Borg are coming again, and that this time, you won't be here to stop them. When they find out, I don't know what is going to happen."

None of the above was spoken in tones of condemnation. It was all fact, immutable and unchangeable. The thought that the ships in orbit might stay and try to repel a Borg fleet of Nine cubes was one that the Magistrate had plainly discarded before they had even arrived. He did not even bother asking if they planned to leave before the Borg arrived. He assumed it.

"We have a hundred and fifty nine thousand colonists and refugees on this planet," said the Magistrate, leaning forward, putting both hands on the desk. "I know that even if we packed your ships solid, you couldn't take that many with you. As such, I have to assume that most of us are going to be stuck here when the Borg return, and then we are all going to die."

Even this was said without overt inflection, a detachment not quite Vulcan, but more serious than one might have expected, given what he was discussing. The Magistrate's funereal tone was a sharp counterpoint to the muted sounds of celebration occurring outside, in the bright afternoon sun.

The Magistrate sat down with a soft sigh, sliding one hand under his desk and rubbing his red, tired eyes with the other. "What I need to know, Captains, is if you plan to take anyone with you," said the Magistrate. "If you do, I need to know how many you intend to take, who they will be, and what you will do with them. And if not..." the Magistrate took a deep breath, and fixed his eyes on Captain Anderson's metallic face, "... then I'd appreciate knowing why."

[frigidmagi]

Here was a Bolian who believed his time had finally ran out and had found the ability to continue. Captain Anderson respected that and at the same time regretted it as it only compounded the tragedy and drove home with ruthless dispatch how helpless he really was. He couldn't even save what had been before the Borg, considered a vanishingly small number by most Federation citizens. The Borg were not content to leave him even scraps.

"We have made plans to take on who we could, but to be blunt Magistrate... We can only take a few thousand, if it's 20,000 that'll be a miracle. The Klingons and Romulans are interested in providing space to any of their citizens. As to what we will do with them... I have orders to report to Bajor and so I will. As for who we're taking, I can't speak for the Romulans or the Klingons but I'd like to get as many children out of her as possible, although any persons with starship experience would be considered as well. Do you have any suggestions Magistrate?" The Captain asked.

[General Havoc]

The Magistrate gave no sign of whether or not this was what he had been expecting. None of the calculations that Captain had Anderson had referred to were mysteries.

"There's no more than a dozen or so Romulans on Nivoch," said the Magistrate, "and perhaps forty or fifty Klingons. I can't speak to their official citizenship. Some have dependents that are neither Romulan nor Klingon." The Magistrate's voice was strained, visibly torn between his own contempt for the very concept of a racial selection and his sense of reality, that a Romulan crew and a Romulan captain with a Romulan battlecruiser was extremely unlikely to abandon Romulan citizens to their deaths, regardless of his feelings on the matter.

"We've never done a complete census," said the Magistrate, turning to other matters. "I really don't know who is and isn't here, or what skills they might have. The Endeavor took a few hundred "skilled" workers with them when they left last week, but they had a week or two to sift the colony for valuable skills. You don't."

He swallowed and visibly tried to swallow his bile at what he was doing. "There's twenty or thirty thousand children on the planet," he said. "You couldn't take them all even if you took nobody else. Not to mention that I have no idea what an announcement that every family on this planet should prepare to surrender their children to a fleet of starships that are about to leave forever would do. Mass panic, probably, though I think that, given time to think about it, not many would refuse. I just don't know if they'll be given that time."

He shook his head. "Are your ships equipped to deal with civilians, let alone unaccompanied minors, in those numbers?" he asked, but it was obvious to all that the question was rhetorical. Equipped or not, the ships were the only lifelines available. It did not matter what would happen once they left. Only what would happen if they did not.

"We don't have time to discuss this at length," said the Magistrate without waiting for an answer to his question. "I... I'll make the announcement if you think it best. My staff here is skeletal, and we don't have the means to carry out any kind of major population search," he almost said 'cull' "on short notice, but if you have crew you can spare from shipboard duties, a hundred marines would go a long way towards enforcing order while we do... this."

The Magistrate took a deep breath.

"One... more thing Captain. In Starfleet, the Captain always goes down with the ship, I'm told. Well in the colonial service, the Magistrate always stays with the colony, even if it collapses or fails. I won't be asking for a place on your ships, but... I have a daughter. Her mother was Starfleet, died at Earth. I'd like you to take her with you when you leave. Take her back to your ship now, before the announcements are made and things have a chance to fall apart down here. I don't have any currency that would be worth anything now, but... if you will promise to take her to Bajor with you, and to take as many as you can otherwise, however you decide on them, then you'll have every bit of support and supply we can provide."

The Bolian fell silent, staring expectantly at the Starfleet Commodore.

[Hotfoot]

Alpha Quadrant
Nivoch System
Empyrean Diplomatic Chambers

Code: Select all

Note: Contents involve dealing with past posts in a retroactive fashion, but not as to interfere with others, apologies for the delays.

As T’Lorn spoke, DuBois raised an eyebrow, glancing to his own Vulcan Science Officer, who responded with a simple shrug. Dunok had met T’Lorn briefly, and while Vulcans did have a natural aptitude towards the various sciences and other scholarly pursuits, there were, of course, variations even within the Vulcan genome. Science officers who were specialized in their fields rarely received command of entire starships, after all. “I will take all plans under advisement, Captain T’Lorn, but at this point our best option is to move quickly and not act as though we have any information aside from what we could gather normally. Even the perception that their communications have been intercepted could lead to them changing the protocol, not just the codes. Regardless, my ship is in desperate need of a full computer diagnostic, which will commence immediately following this meeting. If you could have your ship set up a sensor net with the others while our repairs are under way, it would be most appreciated.â€

[General Havoc]

It was several minutes before Lt. Commander Ereshal arrived.

She was alone, as before, and gave no sign that there had been a terrible argument aboard Argonaut as to her coming at all. She was unarmed, save for the medical bag that had been slung around her shoulder in the meeting, and still was, the monitors on the side of it still ticking away various bits of vital information.

"Sir," said the Aenar Commander as she entered the ready room, her milk-white eyes blinking blindly as her antennae did the sensing for her. "You asked to see me about my crew?"

[Marcao]

Alpha Quadrant
Nivoch System, IRW S'harien
Sensor Room

The IRW S'harien had at one point represented the pinnacle of Romulan technology, ideology and military thinking. Like all her sister ships, it had incorporated the lessons learned in a multitude of conflicts and wars. The lessons of the Dominion War had been painful as the conflict against the founders had highlighted weaknesses in Romulan strategic and tactical thinking. One of the primary lessons that had been learned was the need for enhanced collaboration between crew members in the central facets of commanding a ship. Aside from command, which was by its nature left to a handful of key personnel no individual had the ability to suitably process the multitude of information that modern sensors could process. The Valdore's sensors had been cutting edge, designed to seek out and detect an untold number of secrets ranging from planetary systems to the honeycomb of subspace.

For each member of the bridge, an unseen "choir" of subordinates worked beneath them in concert with some of the greatest computer systems ever created by the Romulan Empire. These individuals worked on secondary and tertiary tasks in order to minimize the burden on the chief sensor control officer in the bridge. Automated subroutines considered sensor contacts and anomalies, shunting the data to the bridge officer if significant enough while shunting the data to the technicians if the computer perceived no imminent threat or a high likely hood of a false positive. The computers of the S'harien incorporated several innovations, ranging from bio-neural gel packs which had been stolen from the Federation and then enhanced to fit Romulan needs to purely homegrown technologies. All these technologies worked in concert with half a dozen trained technicians who through their individual consoles stared at the space around the Romulan Warbird and the world below. It was one of these technicians that blinked when his console beeped and focused on the planet below. A moment later and his screen focused on a faint but noticeable reading located near the heart of the colony below.

"This can't be right." The male Romulan muttered. His hands glided over his input device as he focused the sensor cluster under his control on the world below. The reading clarified a moment later, his eyes narrowing before his training kicked in. "This is sensor 6, four, five, do you see what I am seeing?" As he spoke, the data stream he was investigating was shared with the sensor technicians in his cluster.

"This is four, standby..." The voice came through the headset clearly less than two and half seconds after he had sent the data to his console. "Confirmed. This is not a sensor ghost or echo."

"Five confirms." Came the calm response a moment later from the third Romulan voice a female this time.

"Six acknowledges. Pushing it up to the bridge." Was his response, a millisecond later and the data was forwarded up to the sensor officer of the S'harien.

Alpha Quadrant
Nivoch System, IRW S'harien
Bridge

The sensor officer sighed softly and leaned against the chair that supported him as he performed his appointed tasks. The impending arrival of nine Borg cubes had sapped away nearly all the euphoria he had felt about their victory in the system. He had concentrated his attention on the Nivoch system, keenly aware for the possibility that the Borg had somehow developed a faster than expected means of travel. His console emitted a familiar sound, his eyes flickering towards the lower right hand of his display. A moment later, the pop up informed him of what the sensors currently probing the planet had discovered along with all of the potential implications.

"Erei'riov! We have an anomaly on the planetary surface. We have lost transporter lock on Riov Cretak and Idrakht. The field's source is within the tower itself, it is unlikely that it was not a premeditated act." He found himself far more quickly than he had expected.

Erei'riov Dar blinked for a moment, his eyes hardening visibly as the bridge went still. "That magistrate is more stupid than I expected." He found himself snarling. "Let me see the field and all available data."

"On it." The sensor officer replied sharing all available data with his sub-commander.

"Why would the magistrate do this? Does he not know of the peril that we put ourselves and the task force in defending his world?" The communication officer spoke harshly. She had lost friends aboard the Heritage.

"Desperation does strange things to a weak mind." Erei'riov Hanaj Dar responded. "We will share this information with the rest of the task force in case they have missed it." The Federation had a Luna class ship in orbit, but it was possible that the science vessel was not paying close attention to the world below and was instead focusing on the rest of the system.

"What are our orders?" The weapons officer stated, as he did so a top down view of the colony below them appeared in the main screen. A series of red circles manifested in the top down map indicating the expected impact areas of the Warbirds weapon systems. A type 20 disruptor marker at full power nearly engulfed the entire colony.

"I hardly think that Galan would approve of punishing the entire colony for the actions of a few mad men." Hanaj responded a bit more casually than he intended. He was rather annoyed by the situation. He had always expected that the Federation were soft and this was in a way proving that fact. The warriors of the Federation had always been worthy of respect, but its people? His disdain for the colony was growing by the second. He hesitated visibly for over a dozen breaths before he spoke, his words taking the familiar commanding tone of an officer that expected to be obeyed.

"Communications, open an encrypted channel with all ships in the task force and share our data along with them. They will want to know what is going on in the world below. Weapons, keep the guns cool. It will tip our hand and I doubt it will come to that. I do want two shuttles to be prepped and ready with a mixture of marines. I want them launched as soon as they are ready and to cloak the moment they leave the S'harien. They are to move to striking range of the colony and wait further orders." His left hand moved, the top down view of the colony disappearing and replaced by the tower and its immediate surroundings. "Sensors, I want focused sweeps on the tower. I want to know what powers the tower, if it is an external power source a shuttle may be able to more precisely sever it. If it is an internal power source, I want our marines to know what to disable."

The bridge burst into activity. As it did so, Hanaj Dar took over a communication port and sent a simple message to Riov Cretak below. The energy field around the tower would not prevent transport, but it was unlikely that it would prevent communications as well. The message informed Galan of the events that were transpiring. He fully expected that Galan would know what to do. He always seemed to do so.

Alpha Quadrant
Nivoch System, Nivoch IV
Colonial Tower

His head turned as he took in his immediate surroundings. The arrival of the others did not go unnoticed. Captain Anderson of the Immortal was a striking figure for a man, but his reputation preceded him and a man that had cheated death as often as the captain of the Immortal was rumored to have done was worthy of respect if not admiration. It was a pity he was not a Romulan. His race would not have been a handicap if the fates had been kinder. The Bolian moved, the desk creaking ever so slightly beneath the shift in weight. As the magistrate spoke his attention naturally shifted to him. The vigor in his voice surprised him. For a man that knew that death came flying on cubed wings and that he would have a front row seat to the loss of everything he had worked to build. He had not come expecting a great deal from the Bolian but he seemed ready to face death on his feet. So many had lost that fire.

Anderson led the task force in conjunction with Kadon. As such, he afforded the human captain the honor of speaking first. The words of the Federation officer were met with silence. Inwardly, he doubted that the task force could effectively ferry 20,000 souls out of Nivoch IV and maintain combat readiness for a significant amount of time. The D'Deridex had offered to ferry somewhat in the order of five thousand souls, but his own vessel was capable of less than half that number. Anderson's desire to save children was met with a blink. It hinted at the humanity of the captain but it also hinted at strong vein of Federation altruism. It was something that he had not expected in the heart of the nearly mythical Captain of the Immortal.

Children won't help us win this war.

The thought swam to the surface of his mind and then vanished. Romulan pragmatism had its benefits but he wondered if this were a Romulan colony if he would do something different from what Anderson was suggesting. He would like to think that he would have the courage to see past his emotions. He silently prayed that the elements did not place him in a position where he would find out. He had been nearly ready to speak when the Magistrate began to reply. His eyes narrowed slightly and he found himself interjecting momentarily.

"The sensors of the S'harien have detected close to one hundred Romulans in this planet magistrate." He would trust the sensors of his Warbird over the census data gathered by the overworked and understaffed members of the magistrate's team. it was abundantly clear that this colony had never been meant to support as many souls as it did now. He went silent then as the magistrate continued. In the end, the Bolian seemed to have laid his soul bare. His eyes settled on the man, who at one point in his life would have been an enemy worthy of disdain and a life in a dilithium mine. He had been taught of the superiority of his people in all ways and he had believed it. He had grown up with a simple wish. To serve the Empire and he had been afforded that wish. And yet now, seeing the Bolian before him as he had seen all the brave men and women that had placed themselves in harm's way against the Borg he wondered if his teachers had been completely right. There was no doubt in his mind that his people were worthy of survival. There was no doubt that the Romulan Star Empire had been a construct that had been necessary and prudent for the protection and continuation of the Romulan people. And yet had they not treated the Remans unjustly? Did the Bolians alongside the Andorans, Vulcans and other member nations of the Federation not deserve their own right to survive? Had the Federation not fought as valiantly as his own people?

It was with these thoughts swimming in his mind that he found himself speaking. His eyes glanced towards those of the Bolian. For the moment, he was not a member of an inferior species. For the moment, he was a warrior struggling to survive and carry out his duty to the best of his ability.

"I am not a member of Starfleet." He said pointing out the obvious and yet it bore reminding. "I am not bound by the rules and regulations established by that body. However, I have fought alongside members of that body since the Dominion War." He had also fought against them on occasion, but that was a point that did not need to be mentioned. "Through the years, I have grown to see a new perspective about the members nations of my former adversary turned ally. This is my offer to you. I will make available up to seventy five percent of the carrying capacity of the S'harien to refugees from this world." He went silent then, allowing his words to sink in.

"These refugees will be chosen at random from the census database. They will be chosen publically with your support as doing it any other way will lead to the interpretation of nepotism. I have studied many of the races that make up the Federation. You are not fools. The moment that people start to disappear, someone will put two and two together and we will have a riot in our hands. I would prefer to avoid this outcome. In this case, an honest appraisal of the situation to the populace is the sole recourse that I can see. It must be done quickly however, the Borg will not wait for us."

"The remaining twenty five percent of my ship's capacity will be filled at my discretion. All Romulans in the world will be given an opportunity to embark on my ship. Their dependents may join them depending on the numbers involved. Any room that is left over on that twenty five percent will be given to personnel that fit certain criteria or have specific skills that may prove of use in the war against the Borg. My ship will need access to your computer systems in order to scour the necessary data." He took a deep breath and looked around, his eyes settling momentarily on the celebration outside. "This is the best that I can do."

His lips parted and words began to form before a sound coming from near his belt interrupted him. "Excuse me." He said, his left hand reaching for his data pad. His eyes focused on the device, the message therein written in familiar Romulan. He paused momentarily, his head turning towards Idrakht. The Reman had been glancing at his own data pad and nodded, the pad placed aside before the Reman seemed to straighten. The Reman's body shifted slightly, his posture remaining at ease but every muscle loose as if ready to pounce in any direction at any given moment. His left hand moved as his own data pad was placed aside on his best but not before pressing a series of keys. The sequence kept the device active allowing the S'harien to eavesdrop on the conversation that was about to transpire.

"Magistrate, I have been informed by the S'harien that an energy field has manifested around this tower which prevents them from maintaining a transporter lock on anyone within this structure." His tone was significantly harder than before but still controlled, coiled like a whip ready to strike. "I cannot imagine that this development is a coincidence. As such, it can only be an attempt on your part to threaten us into complying with whatever demands you may have in mind." His eyes sought those of the Bolian and fire danced in their depths. Did the magistrate truly believe that this was a card worth playing? Had the man's desperation ruined his senses? He had faced Federation warships in the neutral zone. He had faced the Borg in dozens of occasions as they sought to extinguish the flame that represented the Romulan people. Did he believe that fear would be driven into his heart by a Bolian in a doomed world?

"I want you to consider what you have done. I want you to consider the message that you are sending to us. Every member of the task force above this world has put him or herself in great personal risk for you and the people of this world. From the lowest cook to the highest bridge officer we have shed blood for you and yours. I personally lost over a dozen irreplaceable members of my crew in an attempt to reclaim the USS Heritage. These were men and women that did not have to be lost. We could have run but we stayed behind not for the meager rations and resupply that you can offer, but because we felt that we had an obligation to protect this world. We revealed secrets and weapons that the Borg did not know about all for you. This is the repayment that you offer us? You are squandering our good will Magistrate."

He took a deep breath and held it the silence around him nearly absolute before he spoke once more. "Faced with this new information, I am amending my offer to you. I had been prepared to offer your daughter a berth within my ship. The daughter of a hero who faced with the challenge of his life did not shrink away from his responsibility. I see no need to do so now." His eyes hardened. "I am giving you thirty seconds to consider what you have done. I am giving you thirty seconds to call off this madness that seems to have momentarily descended upon you. After these thirty seconds elapse, every second that passes will remove one percent of the capacity I offered the people of this world. You have fallen in my eyes Magistrate."

He hesitated for only a moment before he finished. "Only one question remains, how do you wish to be remembered?" Would he doom the people of this world for ego? pride? He hoped the Magistrate stepped back from the precipice. If not, there were other avenues available to him. He was armed as was Idrakht. He expected that Hanaj was not sitting idly on the S'harien. As irritated as he was with the poor choice that the magistrate had taken, a part of him wished that the situation could be resolved peacefully. Still, something that the magistrate had said was an absolute truth now.

You are not leaving this world after all.

Alpha Quadrant
Nivoch System, IRW S'harien
Bridge

"Did you get all of that?" Hanaj asked.

"Yes Erei'riov." The communication officer responded.

"Make it available to the other ships in the fleet and stream the Bolian's response to any vessel that wants it. I want any ship in the task force that wants to listen in to do so in real time. " Hanaj responded.

[Hotfoot]

Alpha Quadrant
Nivoch System
Empyrean Ready Room

When the Aenar woman appeared in DuBois’s ready room, DuBois had been standing by a display which had gilded models of the previous ships he had served on, his gaze lingering on the Nebula-Class labelled “U.S.S. Nexusâ€

[General Havoc]

Through all of the Romulan Commander's speech, the Bolian gave only a single sign. One, simple indication of what he was thinking. When Captain Cretak first mentioned that his ship had detected the scattering field, there was a barely-perceptible, irrepressible flinch. One that said everything.

When Cretak had finished, the Magistrate said nothing for several seconds, staring down at his desk, seemingly having forgotten that the officers were even there. When he finally did move, however, it was to reach below his desk and draw out, not a weapon, but a PADD. Without even glancing at the PADD, he typed a handful of keystrokes into it, the small handheld data controller beeping several times in reply. And once he had finished doing so, he slid the PADD across his desk, pushing a bit too hard, for it fell off the end and landed on the carpeted floor. He did not stoop to retrieve it, nor even glance as it fell, but collapsed, all at once, into his chair.

"It wasn't blackmail, Captain," said the Bolian in a hollow, dead voice, without looking up. "I just wanted to be sure that you would hear me out before you left... or before you shot me. The Captain of the Endeavor did not. Not even after I begged. And if I've offended you, then that's what I've done, and I can't undo it. But none of us will get another chance, and I'd rather you curse me for a coward every day of your life, than lose our last chance to get someone off this planet."

The Magistrate took a breath and let it out slowly. "My staff will assist you any way you require. Our storage facilities are yours to plunder, though you won't find much there but some foodstuffs and replimass. I'll give you my personal clearance codes for the colony's computers. It will get you into anything you need, scanners, colony records, what little census data we have, everything. Whatever you think of me, Captains, I place my people entirely in your hands.

Only now did the Bolian Magistrate raise his head to the Romulan Captain, tears forming in his eyes. "And I'm certain, Captain, of only one thing. Whatever happens here, I won't be remembered at all." He waited half a beat, his eyes locked on the Romulan.

"Will you?"

[Charon]

The Barbarossa
Captain's Ready Room

Hizir was sitting back in a chair, nursing a glass of some liquid when he was interrupted by his communications officer. "What is it?"

"Apparently, a Scatter field has been put up around the position that the other captain's transported down to. The S'harien has responded to the threat." The Romulan officer finished.

Hizir chuckled to himself. "They want to make certain that when we leave we bring as many people as we can with us. Keep me informed of the situation. And tell Molly I have a new task for her. I need a hat worthy of a Commodore."

"Aye sir." The communication went dead and Hizir took another swig from his glass. Molly was the ship's artiste. She'd been a refugee that had decided to take her chances on the Barbarossa rather than on a planet. She'd had skill in reading a sensor reading so he'd let her stay aboard, and soon learned of her rather impressive talent as a clothes designer. It was a rather antiquated skill, what with replicators, but there was still something about handmade clothing that simply felt better, more comfortable. With limited supplies of his own, he had generally kept Molly from indulging too much, but his own rather ostentatious hat and suit had been made by her.

Letting himself laugh, Hizir wondered how Commodore Anderson would like his new hat.

Ereiss's Private Quarters
Ereiss sat on the edge of her comfortable bed, staring at a wall filled with pictures of older times, happier times. A rather pretty Romulan, just barely old enough to be called a woman, standing at attention, looking serious. The same Romulan, smiling as she sat at a table with two other older Romulans. Reaching up, Ereiss grabbed a picture off the wall and brought it closer to her chest, staring at it with tears beginning to form in her eyes. There were a dozen Romulans in the picture, all in full-dress and standing at attention. The same pretty Romulan was among them.

Clenching her teeth to choke her tears down she threw the picture away, it bounced off of the wall and fell face down on the hard floor as Ereiss let out a scream of pain, hatred, longing, and fear.

A few minutes later, there was a knock on her door. After several more knocks without her answering the door opened to reveal Delvok.

"Go away."

Delvok took a step inside the door. "I heard you were going to be meeting the captain of the S'harien. I thought you may need help preparing."

The Romulan snarled at him. "I am still a Romulan, even if I am in this shattered body. I do not need help."

Delvok's face did not move, but his eyes showed some worry. "You know you cannot do everything on your own."

Ereiss's mouth twitched and she fought back a cry of anguish as she stood on her one leg, a crutch lying unused beside her, the hover chair she used other times in one corner of the room. "I would rather die than become useless."

Delvok took a step towards her. "This ship would be dead a thousand times over if not for your expert piloting." The Vulcan spoke in the usual calm and collected manner that was so common among his kind.

The Romulan woman turned her scarred face away from him as she turned to pick up her crutch with her good arm. "And still I wish I had died complete than lived a cripple."

Delvok strode up to her then, placing one hand on her shoulder and turning her around to look at him. "As I recall, when the Captain and his men found you, they had been about to put you out of your misery, until you stopped them. You'd wanted to live then. Only for revenge, but you'd wanted to live."

The strength slowly seeped out of Ereiss's one leg and she collapsed to the floor in a heap, Delvok catching her and helping her down, the door to the room shut, quickly cutting off the sobs of the Romulan woman.

[General Havoc]

There was no mistaking Ereshal's reaction when the captain began to speak. She tensed visibly, her antennae going ramrod straight as she caught her breath and waited for him to finish. It wasn't until midway through his conversation that she seemed to relax even slightly, either because he wasn't telling her that her crew were all dead, or because of something else.

Still, the revelation did have an impact, clearly. It was no surprise that the permanent crew of the Empyrean was but 20, and she had wondered how they had contrived to run the ship with that few people, let alone fight her. Of all the possible solutions to that confusion, this plainly wasn't one that she had considered. For a moment, she looked frankly stunned. Holographic crew were not unknown in Starfleet, but three hundred?!

"You have... three hundred and thirty holographic crew?" she asked, sounding a bit shell shocked at the sheer number. The storage space required for even one EMH was massive. Just what level of computer power had the Empyrean been built with?

Something within the bag seemed to quiver slightly, and she glanced down at it unavoidably, laying her hand atop it as she focused back on Captain DuBois. "I... I understand how this might become a problem, Captain," she said. "I expect... we'll have to come up with something. It's no stretch to say that you have holographic crew. Argonaut has an EMH, our crew are familiar with that at least. There's no reason anyone needs to know the details."

She thought about it for a moment. "Just to be sure though, sir, I'll probably have our Security officer debrief any of our crew that were awake here. It wouldn't do to have them spreading rumors about a ghost ship. And... Commander Kalpov will need to know of this of course. We... detected only the twenty life-signs aboard when you arrived, but I don't think any of us expected this."

"I do want to thank you though, sir, for getting our people out safely. We lost nineteen dead in the boarding, and more than sixty wounded. It might have been twice that if it wasn't for the Empyrean. Whatever damage control we have to do, we'll make sure that no rumors of anything beyond the obvious come from it."

For the first time, Lt. Commander Ereshal seemed to smile, albeit fractionally. "Besides, sir, I doubt that Empyrean is the only ship with a secret aboard."

[Comrade Tortoise]

T'Lorn Transported back to the bridge of his ship in the usual haze of silvery light. He had stopped using the formal procedure of going to and from the pads years ago. It was a massive waste of time. He knew that his request from Cretak was a bit premature. It was intended to put the idea in his mind, so he would consider it. He knew that the Romulan probably would not join a new Federation with its original charter, however there was nothing saying that such would need to be the case. It would have to be a work in progress.

There was another problem. Captain Anderson had archaic, even Victorian ideas about saving children first. Of the tens of thousands of children on the colony, the fleet ships could only take a fraction, of those, perhaps fifteen were Vulcan. It would be a miracle if all of them were taken by random selection. A miracle on the order six times ten to the negative six percent. No. Another way would need to be found. A hundred children would also need to be looked for, and he needed all of his crew. Then he remembered something. The Pattern Buffer. Hotbunking between the pattern buffer and unused crew quarters, he could increase capacity from one hundred to one hundred and twenty five. Enough to take all of the adult vulcans as well. With the adults hotbunking, they could also take care of the children. Eight adult vulcans at a time, on eight hour shifts with a hundred children would not be any worse than a human school classroom in terms of the attention children receive. Even if the attention was cold and dispassionate. There. The one hundred promised children, along with the adults--vulcan adults--needed to look after them and to help assure the survival of the Vulcan culture. The only problem was that while people were stored in the pattern buffer the transporters could not be used. In the event of combat though, crew quarters would be unused, and all individuals could be taken out of the buffer. Now, the orders, along with others, needed to be relayed.

"Alan" he said informally, and looking very smug--for a vulcan"How are the damage control efforts and salvage operations progressing?"

"Torpedoes have been sent to the USS Spector, and the plasma conduits have been sent to the Gilgamesh and the IRW S'harien. Engineering and medical crews have been sent to the USS Argonaut. We are currently compiling plasma torpedoes and are preparing to distribute them to ships with compatible launch systems. We are also about to transport the borg communications array to the USS Empyrean."

"What about the Disruptor Array?"

"It is in Cargo Bay One"

"Excellent. When this is done, be prepared to configure the pattern buffer to store humanoid life forms. We can increase the carrying capacity of our ship in that way."

His first officer looked contemplative, then it seemed as if a lightbulb went off above his head.

"You plan to take Vulcan adults with us dont you?"

"Yes. Twenty four. Hotbunked sixteen at a time in the pattern buffer with the other eight taking care of the children. Do not worry, there are approximately fifteen Vulcan children. The remaining compliment will be made up of a sample of the other species on the planet. If we can get them, I would like counts of the approximate number of Humans, Trills, Saurians, Andorians, Bolians, Betazoids, Benzites, Telerites and others. I want to do a cluster sample, special preference is to be given to those who's galactic population is smaller."

The comms panel beeped

"Captain, we are getting a message from the IRW S'harien" Lt. Sevrin said "The Magistrate appears to have put up a transporter scattering beam over the meeting place. Sending coordinates to Science Console."

"Confirmed, sensor stations indicate a scattering field." said Lt. Commander Turrell "I am reconfiguring Phase Modulators and tightening Confinement Beam to compensate." he tapped on his console.

"Mr. Turrell, once you have a safe fix, transport them up."

"It has become irrelevant Captain. The scattering field has been de-activated"

"The Hell?" asked Mr. Forsythe

"I doubt the magistrate's intent was hostile. That would, afteral,l be suicidal. It is possible he was merely trying to secure some sort of cooperation, or make sure a request was heard. Ms. Sevrin, signal the S'harien, Spector and the Immortal, perhaps one of the captains informed their ships of the situation. Tactical, give me a targeting solution on the source of the field's power with ventral phaser array, but do not initiate a targeting lock."

"Complying with orders captain"

"Keep sensor arrays one and two trained on the colony. Sensor arrays three and four, keep scanning the debris field for useful components. Sensor arrays five through eleven are to keep on Sensor Overwatch. Keep Tactical Sensor Arrays one through ten active at all times. Lt. Sevrin, if the field is reactivated, send a warning to the Colony that they have been detected and that holding our officers captive will not be tolerated, and met with lethal force if necessary. I will be in Holodeck One running tactical command simulations, with the holodeck about to be taken up by refugees, I dont know when I will get another chance. Inform me if the situation changes."

With that, he left the bridge

[Hotfoot]

Alpha Quadrant
Nivoch System
Empyrean Ready Room

Reading people, body language, even among aliens, was something of a skill that any good officer possessed. While counselors were the epitome of the art, any officer expecting a promotion past ensign was expected to be at least somewhat competent at the skill. To command a ship, one had to be aware of the needs of the crew, and how to spot signs of potential problems, as well as recognize signs when presented by others. DuBois was no stranger to the practice, especially over the last several years. While not nearly as skilled as Dirrina Kam, he could recognize certain key signs, even in species not his own. As he watched Ereshal, he noted her apprehension, it was an expected reaction to the revelation he had in mind, but it had come far too early.

The Aenar were telepathic, it was possible she was sensing his thoughts before he put them into words, but it would be extremely poor form for her to intrude on his mind. Not out of the question, given the war, but it would seem unlikely still, since most races with widespread telepathy considered unwelcome scans akin to rape. So what could it be? He would file that away for later. The more important question, how to handle the current situation, was the priority.

“I thank you for the discretion, Lieutenant Commander. This information will come out eventually, I have no intention of trying to keep it secret indefinitely, but at the very least controlling the spread of the information until we get to Bajor will be beneficial. Naturally, Commander Kalpov should be informed, I wouldn’t ask you to break confidence with your commanding officer. However the both of you choose to handle this will be suitable, I’m sure,â€

[Comrade Tortoise]

USS Humboldt
Holodeck 1

Captain Vlad'Stok entered the holodeck and stood in the center.

"Computer, run program: Tactical Simulation 47, Captain Only." The grid pattern of the holodeck disappeared, replaced by the bridge of the Humboldt. Sensors, Communications, and Operations Stations were in the back. In the center, on section of hull plating ventral to the rear stations were the Captain and Executive Officer's consoles. Forward of these positions sat the Tactical, helm and Science consoles.

"Captain, Sensors are Detecting a Transwarp Conduit opening twenty thousand kilometers away, bearing seventy five, sixty five mark two point zero."*

The captain tapped his comm badge.

"Action stations, action stations. Set Alert Condition Red Throughout the Ship." The single alert Klaxon blared in the background, but the lighting did not otherwise change. Going dark made little sense. It prevented the crew from being able to see, though he admitted it did add a certain dramatic tension. His ship had, like many other ships, been fitted with a holographic communications array. He never had a use for it, and in the five years his ship spent in the frontiers of the Alpha Quadrant, it had been reconfigured into a tactical display. Strictly speaking it did not provide improved functionality, other than perhaps the ability to really visualize combat in three dimensions.

"Borg Sphere exiting conduit" said the tactical officer

"Helm, bring us about, seventy five mark sixty five. Reset grid. Go to full impulse. Ops, divert auxiliary power to shields and phasers. Science, begin Bayesian analysis of the shields and power grid of the sphere as soon as we open fire." The Bayesian analysis would analyze fluctuations in the power grid of the sphere, and its shield matrix, trying to predict the presence of exploitable weak points.

"We are being hailed Captain" said Ms Sevrin

"Of course we are"

"WE ARE THE BORG, LOWER YOUR SHIELDS AND SURRENDER YOUR SHIPS. WE WILL ADD YOUR BIOLOGICAL AND TECHNOLOGICAL DISTINCTIVENESS TO OUR OWN. YOUR CULTURE WILL ADAPT TO SERVICE US. RESISTANCE IS FUTILE"

"Helm, evasive pattern Delta seventeen but keep us on the same one eighty by one eighty degree facing. Tactical, select a square meter section between shield emitters and fire with all forward phasers. Lets see if we can cause stress points in the shields. Prepare to fire Phased Polaron Cannon and both Ion Cannons as soon as we get into range at the same point. Transfer power from aft shield to other shield grids as they are drained and prioritize recharge accordingly.

As the Humboldt got into range, the forward phaser arrays, all five of them on that arc the advanced type twelve opened fire, sending coherent beams of rapid nadions toward a point on the sphere at the farthest distance from shield emitters, which may cause sufficient stress on the shield grid to maximize bleedthrough and damage to the shield. They started all at once, but then began to rotate so that at no point in time there were less than two phasers firing on that point.

Code: Select all

*I am using three dimensional coordinates using the ship as origin. The first number is 75 degrees dorsal, 65 degrees port with 2.0 being the distance measured in tens of thousands of kilometers.  So the sphere is above and left of the Humboldt

[LadyTevar]

Nivoch System, Nivoch IV
Colonial Tower

"If any of us survive, we will remember," Eoife Kirk finally spoke.


She had kept quiet during the meeting, far more used to playing aide or escort team than to being a diplomat. Action always suited her far more than words. Captains Anderson and Cretak had far more experience in diplomacy, so Eoife listened and hoped to learn.

When Cretak announced the existence of the field, Kirk's hand jerked, self-interrupting a move for a phaser she did not have. Hand clenched, she had merely listened as Cretak made his demands, and found herself thinking that the Romulan captain was being quite reasonable under the circumstances. The Bolian's reasons were those of a desperate man, one who knew there was no escape, even with the (temporary) victory. She could not help but pity him.

"Or as the Klingons say, the Naked Stars will remember," Kirk added, looking into the tear-streaked eyes. "Right now, I'm not worried about being remembered. I simply want to keep as many alive as possible."

Kirk turned to look at the two Captains. "I will accept the Magistrate's daughter aboard the Spector, and I will not tell her what her father did here today," she stated simply. "Now, if we are agreed, I suggest we get the census information to the Empyrean and the Humboldt, while we allow the Klingons and the Barbarossa to start salvage above. The Spector has a full bay empty at the moment, we can use it as temporary storage until the materials can be passed to the Fleet."

Actions over words....