Star Trek: Death of the Federation

[Charon]

One of the Romulans on sensors suddenly perked up. "Commander, Neutrino pulse from one of the Cardassian freighters."

Khoal glanced at the Romulan, one of his eyebrows raised in a rather Vulcan manner. "Neutrino?"

The Romulan paused while he went back to looking at the information. "It seems to be the same sort of pulse emitted by Orion Syndicate small arms fire."

Khoal leaned back in the captain's chair. "It looks like someone is going about quite a bit of killing."

"Sir, the Klingons have initiated contact with the Cardassian vessel where the fighting is taking place and locking weapons on the assault ships."

Khoal nodded. "Move to support the Klingons, achieve weapon's lock as well." He paused for several seconds. "And go get the Captain. We might need him and Danava up here." There was no hiding his annoyance at this command.

[frigidmagi]

"It would appear there's been a security breach aboard one of my ships," he said, sounding unspecifiedly annoyed. "Our forces are dealing with the problem as we speak. One of my subordinate officers launched assault transports to support my security forces without checking with me. I apologize, Captain, for the start. Rest assured, we will launch nothing more, and the situation will be resolved in just a few minutes."

"And what 'situation' would that be Shodar?" Captain Anderson asked calmly. It could still go one way or another... Any moment now...

USS Immortal Bridge

"Sir, IKV Riskadh has weapons lock on the transports, weapons are cold. They are transmitting to the Cardasian ship." A sensor tech reported.

"Trust a Klingon to jump straight to the good part, encrypt all ships as follows, until we hear from the diplomatic party the transports are not to be allowed to dock with any ship on the opposing fleet. Tactical, designate the fleet tender as Green 1, Cardasian ship as Green 0. Com transmit openly to transport, this is Commander Tak, United Federation of Planets, stand down and report your mission over." Commander Tak ordered, taking the bridle in his mouth metaphorically and running loose.

[Cynical Cat]

"Zan Aaveroke, continue to attempt communications with the transport," ordered Kadon. "Heat all the guns."

"Weapons lock on the assault transports," replied Kallor. "Guns are hot. Standing by."

He addressed his Executive. "Arikel, signal the assault ships and instruct them to break off immediately or they will be destroyed."

"Helm, get us into optimal firing position on those assault ships."

"Signal from the Immortal. They don't want us to allow the transports to dock with any ships."

"Acknowledge them," said Kadon.

[White Haven]

"New contacts, three unknowns just lit off their drives...signature strength and locus suggests parasite launch from Formation Alpha."

The texan accent had vanished into clipped, professional tones midway through the contact report, the hushed bridge breaking into a dozen differnet quiet rustling and creaking noises as officers and crew straightened up and, in one case, dropped a half-eaten sandwich to the deck. Leyton leaned forwards in his chair, his eyes narrowing at the tactical projection displayed on the viewscreen. Before he could speak, though, the untexan Texan's sounded out again.

"Status change, movement in Bravo. Whatever's going on, they're reacting to it. No weapons fire yet."

"Alright, I want us ready to hit warp at a moment's notice. Something's going on over there, and I want us ready to react. Engineering, get those reactors cold and tractor them back in ASAP, I don't want them left behind if the shit hits the fan."

[General Havoc]

"A situation," said Tyran carefully, "of internal security. Like yourselves, I imagine, we have people aboard many of our ships who would not, under normal circumstances, find themselves here. Some of them have proven unwilling to submit to the rules that we have set for the good of the fleet in general. When incidents of this sort occur, it becomes necessary to restore order."

He pressed a hand to his ear once more and frowned. "Captain, this is really none of your concern whatsoever. I would not presume to interfere with disciplinary measures aboard your vessels, and I would suggest that your ships obey the same strictures. If you wouldn't mind asking your associates to disengage their targeting locks on my vessels, we can return to the matter at hand."

*---------------------------------------------------------------------*

As a matter of course, a Klingon battlecruiser locking its weapons was not the most subtle of actions, nor one calculated to be ignored. Confronted with active weapons capable of incinerating them, the assault transports could be forgiven for hesitating. They did not answer the broadcasts of the Klingon ship directly, nor those of the Immortal, but ciphered communications back to the Avenger hardly required decryption to be interpreted as a rather immediate request for orders.

The Bulk Freighter, however, was not so quiet.

The repeating, ciphered broadcast went silent all of a sudden, and the ship did not renew them, not at least for a minute or so. Yet when finally the ship began to broadcast once more, the broadcast was no longer targeted, no longer ciphered, and quite obviously, no longer saying the same thing.

"This is Glinn Marek of the Cardassian freighter Locarian Star." The voice was rushed, harried, and punctuated with a sound that was unmistakably gunfire from the background. What's more, though the speaker's voice was audibly Cardassian, the language he used was not. The Cardassian spoke not through a universal translator, but in authentic, accented, slightly halting English, making it instantly clear, before he said another word, just who it was that he was addressing.

"Repeat, this is the Locarian Star calling all Federation vessels. Please, help us! We've overpowered the Orions but they'll send re-enforcements. We have hundreds of civilians on board, the pirates have been using them for labor and god knows what else! This ship has no weapons to speak of, and the engines are disabled! Please, help us!"

The message ended as suddenly as it began, and several seconds of silence followed, only for the channel to re-open, and the same message to be repeated, this time in Klingonesse, and after that, in Rihanesu. Once finished with that, the speaker started again in a fourth language, Ferengi perhaps, or Cardassian, or Ancient Greek for all anyone could tell, for he got only three syllables into it before there was a loud sound of an energy weapon discharge, and the comm went dead.

*--------------------------------------------------------------------*

The ships hadn't moved before, but when the first plain transmission hit the airwaves, many things began to happen.

A dozen disparate warships moved all at once in formation, eight of them forming up in a wall between the Allied ships and the Cardassian transport, their shields at full power, their weapons charged. Two or three others moved to surround the freighter, aiming themselves at it. None of the ships went so far as to lock weapons on their targets, though at these ranges, it was hardly a mystery as to who they were preparing to fire on. The Assault Transports themselves still did not move, but they hardly needed to. The position of the fleet was clear enough.

[frigidmagi]

USS Immortal, bridge

Commander Tak's face did it's best impression of the Captain's as the transmission played. The Cardasian could be lying. There wasn't a single vice that was beyond that wretched and forsaken race. But, if he was, they could shoot him later. If he wasn't though... It wasn't the Cardasian fault he was born into scum.

Fuck it, slavers were slavers. Tak had served two tours trying to police the hellhole of Orion Space.

"Com get Malack on the line, case crimson, I say again case crimson!" Commander Tak ordered and turned to Tactical.

"Target the strongest ship in that formation. I want it gone. Get it the fuck out of my void!" He ordered.

Back to the Captain

Captain Anderson had leaned back and was about to respond when he saw Malack charging out followed closely by the Gorn Assault Troops out the corner of his eyes. Broshan followed behind the he Horta and cried.

"Captain, Crimson!" Cried the Betazed. Captain Anderson didn't blink but slammed his metal hand into the gut of the Shodar and grabbed at him with his normal hand.

"Menmoth, Kalpov, Cretak back to the ship!" He cried. Boring conversation anyways he thought.

USS Immortal, bridge

"Tactical, fire."

The Immortal having targeted the strongest ship in the formation blocking it from the freighter with a full weapons spread.

"All opposing vessels, cut your engines and depower your weapons or be destroyed. Comply or die." Commander Tak annouced over all channels.

[General Havoc]

And all of a sudden there was fire.

From nothing, from nowhere, without any warning whatsoever, the massive weapons of the USS Immortal stabbed through the clouded space of the Badlands and lanced six phaser beams into the forward shields of one of the Orion Brigand-class cruisers, followed in rapid succession by three photon torpedoes and a quantum torpedo. In the quarter second it took for these weapons to strike, the unsuspecting cruiser that had borne their brunt simply wilted, its shields imploding, its frontal hull scarred with weaponsfire.

There ensued a long, long second of absolute silence aboard every ship in both fleets, as helmsmen and tactical officers, captains and crew alike, peered into their instruments, and stared at into one another's faces, in mute silence as they sought to see if their eyes had deceived them, and if the Federation battlecruiser had just spontaneously deployed enough fire to eradicate a small continent against one of the opposing ships.

"All opposing vessels, cut your engines and depower your weapons or be destroyed. Comply or die."

It was another half second before the crews of the ships in question were able to access the files in their minds that told them what to do then.

And then everything went to hell.

[Cynical Cat]

Menmoth had spent a lot of time on the hot end of things and that had served to keep his very good Klingon reflexes sharp. The appearance of the Gorn was more than enough. He didn't need to hear the Betazoid or see the Horta or his Marines following up behind.

His disruptor almost leapt into his hand and he sprayed bolts at remaining pirates. Hitting targets, even at close range, was hard when someone else was firing at you. To increase their difficulties and give them something to think about he tossed a grenade at them. He didn't arm it, of course, but they wouldn't know that. As he fired he backed up towards the friendly airlock.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Blips marking launched torpedoes and lines portraying phaser fire appeared on the tactical display as the Immortal opened fire. "Evasive port! " snapped Kadon in battle language. "Pattern Three." Khedira's hands danced on the controls.

"Zan Kallor, photons into the wounded cruiser. Feed the heaviest armed survivor every forward disruptor and the cannon."

"Zan Aaveroke, flood the common band with Borg transmissions. Arikel, calculate optimum detonation point for the tricobalt. Weapons, if we've managed to adapt any of that Borg ordinance to our systems, load it."

As the V'orcha began the dance of death, guns blazing and torpedoes firing, a sinister and familiar refrain was blasted over all communications bands. "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."

[White Haven]

"Weapons fire!" the call snapped across the bridge like the crack of a whip, stiffening spines and drawing a grimace across Leyton's craggy features even as the accentless 'texan' voice continued, "Originated with Bravo, Federation hardware and...Klingon as well. Multiple sources now."

After a brief pause, Leyton began spitting orders in all directions, holding up a hand to signal them to wait for his signal to obey, "Tex, go loud. I want us to look like a whole Starfleet squadron just disengaged silent running. Scylla," he looks up into the air at that one, rather than towards any of the officers physically present on the bridge, "Warp six, shortest safe course to the Bravo elements already engaged. Be ready to accelerate to warp 8 at my command and yes, I KNOW that's risky here." The cowboy hat bobbed quickly and turned to hunch over its owner's console, preplanned ECM routines blooming into place across the displays there even as Leyton continued to dish out commands.

"Mister Evans," the grey-haired captain nodded at the yeoman standing off to one side, "Get the full bridge staff awake and in here. We'll need them sooner than expected. When Commander zh'Rethan gets--"

The turbolift door hissed open, a pack of uniformed officers spilling out to relieve watch-standers at their posts. At their head strode a slim Andorian woman who quickly moved to strap herself into a seat right next to Leyton's own. With a bemused expression, he shook his head, "Belay that, Mister Evans. Should have known you were looking over my shoulder, Lesschey. Get your people ready."

"Locked in, Captain," the deep, polymorphic texan drawl called over from the science station, at which point Leyton's hand choped downward.

"Execute!"

As the ship abandoned stealth and leapt to warp speed, a disembodied female voice asked, "Why do you never wait to hear if I'm ready? You could hurt my feelings that way." Leyton muffled a snort even as the ship's deception unfolded around it, active sensors screaming into the void in an effort to look like a half-dozen Starfleet cruisers, not the single battered Excelsior it really was.

At which point a transmission that no one with a sane mind ever wanted to hear washed across open frequencies, chilling even a veteran crew like Scylla's. The overlapping voices, the mechanical precision, the emotionless, dead tones all combined to awaken a primal horror among virgins and old hands alike.

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.

"Oh...fuck."

[Charon]

Khoal stared for several seconds as the Immortal simply attempted to sweep away one enemy ship almost without warning.

"Tactical!" He quickly turned to the Romulan. "Fire the Cutting Beams. Show the Federation how we break a formation!"

The ruse at an end, the IFF of the IRW Gannius once again became the Barbarossa. Only a split second later the front facing of the enormous ship erupted in fire and lightning as disruptor blasts and plasma torpedoes leapt out towards the opposing wall of ships. Those were only a small portion of the power the Romulan Warbird brought to bear however. The Cutting Beams lanced out towards the enemy formation, aiming to shatter the formation in one stroke.

Then the oh so familiar words came across the speakers once again. "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."

Khoal swore furiously. "Dammit, always at the worst time. Find out where that message is originating!"

[LadyTevar]

USS Spectre
Battle Bridge

Kirk was bored. Diplomatic standoffs were never fun, the two sides stared each other down, trying to show they weren't going to back down, and in the end either a war or a peace would break out.

The sudden activity on the Cardassian ship didn't bear well for peace.

"Yellow Alert." Kirk's voice snapped to her crew. "All civilians to their quarters for their safety. Torpedoes loaded and ready, I want targeting solutions on every ship close to that Cardassian."

"Klingons moving to intercept, weapons cold."

"Acknowledged," Kirk had to grin, eyes twinkling. "I'll bet they were more bored than we were."

"Barbarosa moving to support the Klingons. Message from the Immortal."

... until we hear from the diplomatic party the transports are not to be allowed to dock with any ship on the opposing fleet. Tactical, designate the fleet tender as Green 1, Cardasian ship as Green 0. Com transmit openly to transport, this is Commander Tak, United Federation of Planets, stand down and report your mission over."

"Well, boys, follow orders," Kirk said, leaning forward in her seat. "Designate the two targets, give me firing solutions on all nearby warcraft that could move to..."

"Klingons Weapons Hot, Captain!"

So much for peace breaking out, Kirk thought. "Be ready with fire support, all forward arcs. Get me good targets on those shuttles."

"Uncoded message from the Cadassian vessel, Captain!" Reading her mind, the Comms officer played it for the bridge.

"Repeat, this is the Locarian Star calling all Federation vessels. Please, help us! We've overpowered the Orions but they'll send re-enforcements. We have hundreds of civilians on board, the pirates have been using them for labor and god knows what else! This ship has no weapons to speak of, and the engines are disabled! Please, help us!"

"Warships moving between us, lining up on Green 0, Captain."

"Torpedoes locked and loaded, Captain. Firing solutions as best we can in this borsch."

"Immortal firing." Following hard on that announcement's heels was the next. "Klingons firing."

"All forward torpedoes, on the marked targets," Kirk ordered flatly. "Try not to hit any friendlies, boys and girls."

With that, the first boardside of torpedoes shot from the forward arc of the Spectre armed and aimed for wall of Orion warships so considerately lined up in front. Three torpedoes were special gifts to the Assault Shuttles, to make sure they got the message.

[SirNitram]

Boarding Teams woke up on the Vigilance. The monotone of the Borg was heard, and they reacted. The flechette launchers were grabbed, as they prepared.

Bridge

"I don't read a Borg vessel!" Shouted a sensor operator as chaos erupted.

"Then keep your eyes open! Comms, find who transmitted it! Weaponry, I want slaver-ships into hulks! Weapons to maximum burn, burn them ALIVE!" The emotions of the XO were coming out, rage a normally unsettling thing to see from a Vulcan. The massive battleship arced a curve, advancing on the slavers, focusing phaser fire into one ship like the gaze of an angry god.

Below decks, the Captain was being rushed to the battle bridge. No one gave a damn that he was out of uniform; everyone had gotten to stations in bedclothes sometimes in this war.

[Hotfoot]

Alpha Quadrant
Badlands
Empyrean Bridge

Everything had gone from an uneasy calm to rapidly degenerating chaos. DuBois jolted out of his seat when the report of the Immortal opening fire rang out across the bridge. He hadn’t expected negotiations to go that well, but given the situation, now was the time to do what needed to be done. A transmission was sent to the Scylla, offering to bring the ship into the task force’s communications and command and control network, met with the quick response to the affirmative. Once it had been linked in, DuBois clenched his jaw and keyed the communincation link.

“DuBois to Barclay, I hope that storm is ready to go, because Dunok needs the crew.â€

[Comrade Tortoise]

T'Lorn's ship had received the transmission, and was decoding it when the voice came over the comm system making all of that irrelevant. Slavers. Of all the horrible things in the universe, this Shodar Tyran was enslaving people. It could not be permitted to continue. For a brief moment, T'Lorn hoped that command would make the right decision, and was not surprised to realize that the Commodore probably had a standing set of protocols for dealing with slavers, and they were not very friendly at all. Anderson hated slavers.

He tapped his comm badge.

"Actions stations, action stations. Set alert condition red throughout the ship."

...

Throughout the Humboldt, crews already at general quarters hardened for battle. Bulkheads were sealed to contain hull breaches, damage control teams were at their posts, medical crews standing by. They moved with an efficiency that only a crew composed entirely of Vulcans could manage, and with a speed and grace which was robotic to the point of being disturbing.

Sabin was starting to recover from the mind-shock, but his assistant chief medical officer was technically a hologram, and programmed for this sort of thing.


...


"Engineering, auxilliary power to the Ion cannon's capacitors."

"Aye sir!" replied the Vagel from engineering.

"Captain, incoming transmission, all frequencies."

Code: Select all

Incoming Transmission

"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."

"Science?" Vlad'Stok calmly inquired

"Sensors stations report no Borg contacts. Transmission is local. Not Borg. Most parsimonious explanation is a scare tactic. Additionally, the Vigilance is moving to engage."

"Helm and tactical, Support Pattern Theta. Engage"

....

The tiny little ship accelerated along a course parallel to the U.S.S. Vigilance, firing all forward phasers and both ion cannons as she went, then, once ahead of the larger ship, veered to starboard and swung around and below the battleship, firing three of the five phasers and the , keeping two in reserve to intercept torpedoes.

...


A few seconds after this maneuver was concluded, a transmission was received from the Empyrean, decoded and then read by Lt. Sevrin. One piece of information in it was so off the wall that there was an outside context problem which left her raising one of her eyebrows, trying to figure out Why they might use fully powered weapons on the Scylla in the first place. Then an alarm went off at the sensor console as one of the junior officers flagged sensor data and sent it to the bridge.

"Borg sensor contacts!" cried the science officer causing a wave of barely contained fear to sweep over the bridge that every Vulcan felt. Alan bolted from his chair, ready to relay orders to every other part of the ship, but then Lt. Sevrin and Mr. Turell spoke in Unison.

"False Alarm." then Sevrin clarified first. "The Empyrean sent a message to not fire on the Scylla. Logic dictates that because they are on Scylla's approach vector that the 'borg' we see are in fact the Scylla."

"I concur with the assessment captain."

"Very well" T'Lorn replied. "We need to respond, but are already committed to our current course. Breaking off in a fur-ball to engage a sensor ghost is not logical, unless enemyh formation breaks in response to the threat of 'borg'. Maintain present course"

[White Haven]

"We look like WHAT?"

Leyton's outraged outburst lashed across the bridge, the older man staring straight at the cowboy hat.

"Er...Borg. Specifically, a whole squadron of them. We linked into the ECM net of one of the Starfleet ships out there, and...well..." The science officer trails off for a moment, then abruptly grins, his texan accent back in a heartbeat, "Ah reckon we look a whole lot more intimidatin' now, sir."

"I...I..." For once Leyton was at a loss for words. Fingers ran though his hair for a few moments, before he gives a fatalistic shrug, "I...guess you might be right? Too late now anyway, if we try to change it then Alpha will know it's a fake. Tex, start putting out some backscatter Borg collective transmissions, if we're supposed to look like a Borg squadron, let's start looking like we're all one happy assimilated family. Scylla, match Borg maneuver profiles as best you can in this soup. We might as well back this play to the hilt."

[Cynical Cat]

The Riskadh's command hummed as inertial compensators countered the strain of maneuvering as Khedira executed the evasive pattern.

"Borg sensor contacts!" Arikel announced. "Moving to intercept pirate fleet?"

"Authentic?" Kadon asked. It would be just like the federazhon to use signals trickery to create fake Borg. He had been thinking of something along those lines himself, but dismissed it as impractical given the Riskadh's position and the attention paid to it.

"Warp signatures and emissions are consistent with Borg vessels," Arikel replied. Which meant either very good tricks or very real Borg.

"Tight beam the Empyrean and see if this trick is one of theirs. Arikel, calculate a firing solution for the tricobalt for after they've taken shield damage from the pirates." Enemies fighting your enemies was gift not to be wasted. "When we fire I want to burn down as many as possible with a single shot."

[General Havoc]

To those not in on the codewords being spouted, it seemed like a sudden mania had taken hold.

One second, Captain Anderson was talking calmly if carefully with Shodar Tyran about a tense situation that had developed with a trio of assault transports. The next, the doors opened and in rushed the cavalry. Betazed, Gorn marines, and an angry Horta all barged in, even as Captain Anderson stepped forward across the threshold, and smashed his mechanical hand into Shodar Tyran's gut.

The result was probably not what he expected.

There was a resounding, electrical crash, as Anderson hit Tyran with a blow that should have broken him in half. But his fist sparked for a half second and bounced off the imperturbable admiral like he was made of solid iron. The fingers around the pirate Admiral's throat closed uselessly, for they might as well have tried to strangle a durasteel bulkhead, and the Shodar barely even flinched.

It was about the time that Tyran turned his head and nodded to something to his right, something that Kalpov could not see, that he knew that this had just graduated from a disaster into a catastrophe.

Two hands, empty and un-reinforced, grabbed Anderson and pulled him back fully into the Avenger's half of the docking umbilical. Tyran was not a large man, but the force he deployed was sufficient to hoist Anderson off his feet and drag him back the step or two necessary. Menmoth fired. One of the Gorn fired. Kalpov reached for his weapon to fire, and yet he already knew it was of no use. The flickering images before him told him and everyone else what they needed to know. Tyran had never even been in the airlock, and neither had his fellows. They were shooting at holograms.

And then a forcefield popped into place, and the Avenger tore itself away.

Instantly everyone, Klingon, Romulan, and Gorn alike, lost their footing as the airlock shook violently and the docking clamps roared in protest for a second before being torn apart. As the Avenger flung a forcefield in place to seal its half of the docking bay, it tore away from the S'harien's half of the umbilical, and in doing so, exposed S'harien's side to space, if only for an instant. Indescribable noise deafened everyone present, as guns and other weapons were torn from the hands of all within the airlock. An instant later, and everyone without exception, horta included, was torn off their feet and hurled towards the open hatch of deep space.

But they did not get there. S'harien had her automated systems too, and an emergency forcefield slammed into place to stop the air leak and prevent accident. Half of the airlock's complement, Kalpov included, slammed into the forcefield in question at speeds high enough to break bones. Had he possessed a real skeleton, susceptible to such fractures, that might well have happened. As it was, he hit the forcefield hard enough to send cavitative shocks through his only-temporarily solid form. He retained enough lucidity to hope that it had looked convincingly human, and that if not, that everyone else had been too busy being tossed around to notice.

Gravity and air pressure restored, the horribly disoriented soldiers, officers, and marines shakily tried to rise again, or rather those whose limbs had not been broken did so. Kalpov, his internal gelatin structure churning with fluid dynamic shockwaves, staggered like a drunk as he fought to extricate himself from under a pile of fallen Gorn, forcing himself to remember that this was not the venue to turn into a puddle and simply flow out from under them. Across the way, he could see Anderson, now on the Avenger, which was backing away from S'harien, standing silhouetted against the bright lights of the tender ship's airlock, before a pair of armored shutters slammed shut and the Avenger's umbilical began to retract.

And around them all, fire.

*--------------------------------------------------------------*

There were some present who had seen battles of spectacular scale, battles with fleets that would have dwarfed these put together. But few were those who had ever seen a battle degenerate into slaughter with such speed and such voracity.

Four of the six line cruisers opened fire, and the fire they deployed was among the most devastating still to be seen within the fleets of the entire quadrant. Immortal pounded down the shields of one of the Brigand cruisers before Riskadh blew it to pieces with a volley of torpedoes. Riskadh's disruptors tore into one of the K'tinga Battlecruisers, beating against its shields, joined by those of the Vigilence, arcing beams the size of houses through the roiling space into the enemy ship. The K'tinga's shields held, albeit barely, the sheer force of the fire driving it out of position as a wedge of torpedoes from the Spector lanced in and crushed its remaining shields, blowing the cruiser in half and sending both halves tumbling through space. The remaining torpedoes flew out at the assault transports, popping one like a balloon, tearing the wing off a second, and forcing the last one to dive for its life to avoid being blotted out of existence. And even as this all occurred, the Barbarossa opened fire indiscriminately, sending beams of weaponized red light into her chosen targets. One such beam missed its target, a Sabre-class heavy frigate, and instead traveled on to slice a Breen Gas Miner cleanly in half. The gas miner's flammable vapors ignited, and the entire ship went up in a ball of fire that put even the surrounding badlands to shame, crushing the Kobyrean freighter next to it like a porcelain doll stepped upon by an Andorian Mammoth.

In four seconds, three thousand people died.

And then there were Borg.

Total chaos gripped the pirate fleet. Some ships fired back, aiming for the most part at the Immortal, the lead ship and the first to fire, whose shields were deluged with shots weak and strong alike. Phasers and torpedoes slammed into the Immortal's forward shields from largely every direction, interdicted somewhat by what point defense the Humboldt could provide. Immortal seemed to buck, flayed from many directions, her shields straining under the barrage, her lights flickering as power conduits overloaded and were re-directed. The ship's gravity twisted and bucked, and her decks, packed to the gunwales with refugees, heaved as bulkheads exploded and conduits vented. Within moments, Immortal had nearly a hundred casualties aboard. Mostly children.

But not all of the pirate fleet stood and fought. In fact most did not. Some hung in place as if frozen by the astonishing spectacle of violence unlooked for that had simply materialized in their midst. They were not alone. As explosions and death materialized all around them, at least one of the ships in the allied fleet did not participate, at least not yet. USS Argonaut, surrounded as she was by ships that were spitting fire and death. Why she did not fire was unclear. Perhaps her crew was stunned, or busy, or conflicted, or her old and antiquated systems did not respond to their commands with sufficient verve. She did stand her ground however, which was more than could be said for many of the pirates. Upon seeing a wing of Borg cruisers coming their way, many ships panicked. One of the Ferengi Marauders collided with a Tholian longhauler in its haste to get away, and blew up. Many of the others scattered, warping out without so much as message goodbye, as their formerly defiant formation disintegrated before the whiff of grapeshot. Those who did not run had only seconds before the probes launched from the Empyrean swept up the ambient plasma around the fleet and drenched the pirates with it, ruining sensor performance, impeding communications, and otherwise rendering matters all the more chaotic.

But the ship in the center of the formation did not run, did not freeze, and did not panic. Instead it fired.

A shower of disruptor fire deluged the allied ships, neither terribly well aimed nor high powered. Such shots as struck home barely singed the powerful ships of the allied fleet. But amidst the chaos of the firefight just beginning, the tender ship fired a trio of torpedoes, and cemented the apocalypse ongoing.

One torpedo was aimed at the Barbarossa. And the Barbarossa, blasting away with her mining lasers and forward batteries, had as much chance of avoiding it as she did of spontaneously morphing into solid gold. One torpedo was nothing to a ship like Barbarossa, whose shields were tougher, debatably, than any other vessel present, save those of the tender herself. But when the torpedo struck home, slamming into Barbarossa's forward shields, it instantly obliterated all other contenders for the attention of the fleet. A dazzling flash, like the flaring of a newly formed sun, occluded the Barbarossa's massive form as though her singularity core had gone spontaneously nova. It blotted out of existence every other weapon present, vaporizing a flight of torpedoes that Barbarossa had just launched and physically driving the ship downwards and spinning her ponderously in three dimensions, throwing off her firing arcs and sending her mining lasers slicing across the burning sky. Along the way, they passed right over Vigilance, whose thick shields repelled the glancing blows with ease, and Humboldt whose weaker shields did not. Barbarossa herself shook like a small boat on a wild ocean, her shields desperately straining as the torpedo's blast waves tried to shake her to pieces. The mining lasers failed, a precautionary measure from the central computer of the Romulan cruiser, but ultimately the fires failed, and Barbarossa remained, badly shaken, shields mercilessly beaten, but thanks to her unparalleled strength of hull and shield, she had survived.

The second torpedo was aimed however, at a ship that might not.

Had it not been for the USS Humboldt, the Immortal might well have cracked, for the Avenger lobbed her second torpedo for the flagship of the allied formation, and in the chaos of the firefight ongoing, there was no way she could even see it coming, let alone defend herself. But the humble Humboldt had reserved much of her fire for point defense, and the vulcan tactical officers aboard were both alert and expert. The torpedo had not gone far before a long range shot from Humboldt blew it apart pre-emptively, filling the sky with fire and backlashing at the ship that had launched it enough to shut down the launcher it had used. Had it not been for Humboldt, the Tricobalt might well have cracked Immortal's battered shields like an egg and laid her hull bare to the fury of the pirates and the storm.

And as for the third torpedo, the Avenger's targeting personnel had aimed it squarely at the Riskadh, where her crew, alerted through long and practical use to the telltale signs of weaponized Tricobalt, had bare seconds with which to reply.

[White Haven]

The ride in was tense, to say the least. Scylla piloted the Scylla towards the growing battle with millimetric precision, avoiding the graceful, swooping turns that so often are the hallmark of Starfleet vessels. Tex remain hunched over his console, fingers flying wildly over it as he focused on maintaining the illusion of the 'Borg cruiser squadron.' Every other eye on the bridge was glued to the tactical plot and its increasingly-clear image of the battle raging between the two forces.

That's when things started to go...first odd, then horribly, horribly wrong.

"Many Alpha ships retreating, looks like they saw something they didn't like." That comment drew smirks and grins from many of the bridge crew as Tex continued, "Movement in the plasma streams, no idea why, but it's degrading local sensor performance. Check that, evaluate as friendly electronic warfare; it seems focused on Alpha. Nice tri--" The faintly-texan voice cut off in mid-syllable as a sudden, ravenous emissions signature bloomed on the viewscreen's tactical display right on top of one of largest contacts in Bravo formation.

"Evaluate as Tricobalt initiation, hostile!"

Leyton grimaced for a moment, his eyes narrowing at the slowly-fading flare on screen before snapping out a quick series of orders, "Scylla, warp 8 - execute. Tex, when we drop sublight, get us tapped into Bravo's tac network. Contact Humboldt or Empyrean for that, we know them. Then start putting out as many false contacts as you can, try to decoy any of those godawful torps."

Before he could even give most of the orders, the barely-audible bass hum of the ship's warp drive intensified as Scylla leaped forward at even greater speed. The range-to-target numbers tagging each of the many ships on-screen flashed downwards with absurd speed. At the same time, he tapped furiously away at the array of tactical controls surrounding his station, toggling the ship's motley phasers to point-defense mode and area-defense coverage. After a moment's thought, he slaved the tractor beams to the point-defense targeting systems, just one more tool for stopping torpedoes from striking their targets. Before the ship could drop sublight, he called out one more order, "Scylla, once you know what ship launched those tricobalts, put us dorsal-on to it so all weapons can bear. I don't want any more surprise packages getting through."

Scylla dropped sublight, the illusion of 'borg cruisers' melting away under proper visual observation...for those ships able to actually see it, and not too busy to care. The brutal, point-blank savagery of the emerging battle dictated that those numbers were smaller than would be expected. Leyton stiffened at the sight of a lone torpedo streaking towards a Bravo warship, tagging it as a priority target for Scylla's guns and tractors. in the hopes that it wasn't too late for the Klingon ship.

"Backtrack that torpedo, see if we can get a lock on what fired it."

[LadyTevar]

USS Spectre
Battle Bridge

"Let the runners go," Kirk ordered, "Don't waste a torp on them. Continue to lay fire on those that remain. Try not to hit our 'Borg', we don't want the ruse blown just yet. Save the tender for last." Targets glowed and another wave of torpedoes flew towards the pirate ships still fighting.

"Captain, tender has launched torpedoes, estimating targets," her XO called out. "Barbarossa, Immortal, and Riskadh, nothing our way."

"Good, hope it stays that ..."

The torpedo hit the Barbarossa and lit up the Nebula like the ending display of a Founder's Day. For a long second Kirk could only watch as the Warbird tumbled aft over end, wincing at the near miss of the Vigilance and Humbolt. The blast wave shook the Spectre through her shields, but luckily did no damage.

"Tricobalt," Seran announced belatedly, as the second torpedo blew kilometers from the Immortal.

[Comrade Tortoise]

Bridge consoles had seat-belts. However, Alan was not in his, as he was running around the bridge at the time being the executive officer and all. So when the ship got hit by a solid state mining laser, he got tossed into a railing, cracking two ribs. On the bridge, and other sitting combat stations such as fire control and sensor operators no one was seriously injured... Other stations were not as lucky. People in engineering got tossed around, as did the roving damage control teams. Medical teams were busy, amazingly busy. Mostly with minor injuries, but the occassional concussion or broken bone.

It would have been worse, but most of the power of the bleedthrough was shunted back to the auxiliary weapon system's capacitors instead of overloading consoles and being converted to kinetic energy.

"Captain!" called the tactical officer, obviously referring to the detected launch at the Riskadh

"Aft phasers, intercept"

Phasers along the aft arc opened fire on the torpedo, whether they would hit the torpedo was an open question.

"Computer, beam Commander Genetris directly to sickbay"

The ship's executive officer dematerialized as T'Lorn calmly tapped his badge again

"Damage report, if you please"

"Captain" came the static voice of Lt. Cmdr Vagel "We were not hit badly, most of the energy was absorbed by the shields. Eighty percent of the bleedthrough was shunted to the capacitors and Special Weapons are back at full charge. Port shields are down to seventy five percent"

"Casualties?

"None lethal, in engineering we had some bumps and bruises, medical teams are dealing with it."

"Pattern Buffer?" he asked, almost sounding concerned.

"No disruption."

"Good. Rebalance the shields and transfer auxiliary power to shield regeneration."

"Aye sir!"

"Thank you. Bridge out" he said and then cut communication.

"Captain, we are getting a message from the Scylla, they want to be linked up to fleet tactical data."

"Give it to them Ms. Sevrin."

Code: Select all

Tactical Data Link to U.S.S. Scylla Activated

"Tactical, I want that fleet tender's tricobalt launchers disabled. Switch to three dimensional tactical display and target one of the Avenger's starboard side tricobalt launchers. Use the ion cannons and polaron beam" The simple fact was, the fire control teams aboard the Humbolt were expert, but there was only so much they could do if the tender had many of those torpedoes. The Immortal was taking a pounding. Then he remembered something "Reserve two phasers on each facing arc for point defense if you please, arcs without LOS to intercept ordinance that fires past us. Aggressive Support Pattern Sigma Seven"

"Aye sir" replied the tac and helm officers in unison.

"Captain" Said Mr. Turell "I am detecting an energy field from the Tender. Analyzing. It is a transport inhibition field."

"Why would they have one of those up? They still have shields... unless..." It hit him like a charging squadron of angry Gorn. The Avenger and S'harien shared a shield bubble, and had broken dock very quickly. There were three reasons to use an inhibition field. If you were trying to avoid being taken prisoner, avoid being boarded, or had prisoners yourself. The first two options did not matter, but the last was highly important.

"Ms Sevrin, query the Immortal and S'harien" the Riskadh currently had bigger fish to fry "ask about the disposition and location of our delegation. Additionally, query the S'Harien about their shield modulation fractal key and ask them to do whatever they can to keep the Avenger inside the shared shield bubble."

Code: Select all

Transmission: Coded Query
To: U.S.S. Immortal, IRW S'harien

What is the disposition and location of delegation?

Transmission:Coded Request For Shield Frequency Modulation Fractal Key Synchronization.  Request to keep Avenger inside shared shields.
To: IWR S'harien

The little ship once again sprung into action, interposing herself between the Avenger and the larger less maneuverable fleet ships, using many of her phasers as a first bastion of defense, and heading straight toward the Avenger. three of her five forward phasers targeting a single point on the shield grid--corresponding to the location of a tricobalt torpedo launcher. The fire control teams on the other two kept a careful eye out for any and all ordinance launches which may be targeted at the ersatz heavy frigate. Those on non-facing arcs did the same for anything launched at other fleet ships. When it entered range, a polaron beam fired at the same point from the main deflector.

Upon reaching optimal firing range, the Ion cannons both opened fire, one from the apex of the saucer section, the other from its mount on the ventral apex of engineering. At this point, the Humboldt veered off and turned her port side to face the Avenger, firing with four phasers and her ion cannons, until Humbolt had fully come about and her aft aspect continued firing three phasers, and both ion cannons... all at one point on the Avenger's shields.

[Marcao]

Alpha Quadrant
Badlands, Umbilical between IRW Saeihr and IRW S'harien

Riov Galan Cretak watched the exchanges in silence. His moment had come and he had seized it the outcome was no longer in his hands although he expected that an arrangement would ultimately be achieved. What other solution laid there but a conflict that neither group wanted to truly fight? He had a trump card but he was loathe to use it. As his eyes flickered from Captain Anderson, Captain Kalpov, Force Leader Menmoth and Shodar Tyran he almost smiled.

No. I doubt I will have to use it.

Alpha Quadrant
Badlands, IRW S'harien

Erei'riov Hanaj Dar sat upon his command chair and frowned as the sensors of the S'harien strained to provide him all the information he required in order to stay atop of the situation which revolved around them. He did not have direct access to the ship's sensor systems. Instead, the sensor officer made a feed to him available with all the relevant data. The situation aboard the Cardassian freighter was a mystery and he had a feeling he would not like the answer to that mystery. When the Saeihr launched a trio of ships he was intimately familiar with his frown deepened.

"Assault transports sir, three of them leaving the Saeihr and heading towards the Cardassian freighter." The voice of his sensor office cut through the silence in the bridge.

"I see them." Hanaj responded a moment later.

"Tracking them Erei'riov." His sensor office replied a moment. "They are on a vector towards the Cardassian freighter."

Why would they go there?

The thought swam to the surface of the mind of the Erei'riov before disappearing beneath. A moment later his eyes widened. The Orions had never been fools, they would use the right tool for the right job. One did not send assault shuttles to where they were not needed. They were going to assault the Cardassian Freighter and if that was the case, it was because something or someone within that ship needed to be reminded of who was in charge.

Why would an Orion flagship sent assault shuttles to a freighter? To make an example.

"Communications, have you managed to get more information regarding the neutrino pulses coming from the Cardassian freighter?" Hanaj Dar asked.

"Not as of yet Erei'riov. It is some form of communication attempt but I am having no luck cracking it." The female Romulan's frustration was thinly veiled beneath a layer of professionalism.

"Keep at it. Inform Galan of the situation." He said a moment later.

I hope my instincts are wrong.

The reaction of the task force to the launching of the assault shuttles would be telling. He had barely begun to consider the truth of that thought when he was interrupted.

"The Riskadh has targeted the assault shuttles." His sensor officer stated.

"Riskadh is opening communications with the Cardassian transports." His sensor and communication officers said a mere heart beat later.

Your move Shodar.

Alpha Quadrant
Badlands, Umbilical between IRW Saeihr and IRW S'harien

The information from the armored core of the S'harien was carried to him as a whisper directly transmitted to his right ear. Within that ear a surprisingly compact and almost invisible piece of technology allowed him to receive communication from the men and women under his command. As he received the information of what was transpiring beyond his ability to see and affect, he began to notice the tension begin to build between members of both retinues. Captain Anderson and Shodar Tyran in particular seemed to be involved in a contest of wills. The tension was almost palpable.

He did not offer any words because there was no need. At that particular moment his interruption would only add to the fire not remove from it. Captain Anderson had seemed irritated by his having taken the initiative and any overt interference on his part now would be seen as a voice of no confidence by the human. He had accepted that Anderson and Kadon would lead this task force. He had to abide by that decision. Nonetheless, as the situation began its spiral out of control he found himself in an unusual place. He had always been at the heart of such moments in the past. Now, he felt like an onlooker seeing the moment, understanding it for what it was but helpless to stop it. When the message from the Cardassian freighter was whispered to his ear by his technological device he understood it as the death knell.

Anderson will not abide this.

Alpha Quadrant
Badlands, IRW S'harien

Until the moment when Cardassian freighter's message had been broadcast Hanaj Dar had allowed the S'harien to not interfere. The message however was such that left little doubt about what was about to transpire. As the message finished and the forces of Shodar Tyran began to move, he took a deep breath and savored it before he spoke.

"Condition Red. Power the Sword, full readiness across all decks." He said in the language of his people a phrase that he had uttered many times.

At the core of the S'harien the command from its command core, Engineering acknowledged and the heart of the Warbird began to race. As it did so, its borg enhancements quickly delivered enormous amounts of energy throughout the ship. This energy was harnessed by Borg designed conduits, filtered and allowed to spread throughout the myriad of power conduits which made up the Warbird. The majority of these energies raced towards the Sword of S'task where the six individual disruptors hungrily drank the energy. The energies raced onward, flooding into the Warbird's shield generators reinforcing their ability to reflect and absorb damage.

Hanaj Dar received confirmation that the Sword of S'task was powered and that all primary and secondary systems were prepared when the Immortal flooded her phaser banks and fired.

"Ah hell." Hanaj Dar muttered a moment before the apocalyptic might of one of the greatest Warships his once favorite adversaries had managed to build unleashed its anger. "Transport rooms. Get our people out of there."

So much for negotiations.

Alpha Quadrant
Badlands, Umbilical between IRW Saeihr and IRW S'harien

So much for negotiations.

The thought danced in his mind as the situation around them imploded. Captain Anderson yelled about him getting back and darted forward with a speed that he had not expected a simple human to possess. His cybernetic enhancements clearly gave him more of an edge than he had anticipated. He managed to take a step back, his right hand reaching for the familiar weight of one of his two pistols. His responses were slowed however by the not insignificant weight around his shoulders. The 10kg vest that he wore was certainly not balanced properly and it slowed his reaction time. His kinetic pistol in hand, he brought it to bear against Shodar Tyran. Captain Anderson was on the way, so he shifted the barrel to one of Shodar's companions and blinked.

A shot had plowed through the head of his intended target and simply had continued on its destination impacting behind the target and leaving an angry scar on the Saeihr's side of the umbilical. Holograms? His head turned and he caught sight of Shodar Tyran overpowering Captain Anderson and dragging unceremoniously into Orion's side of the umbilical.

Why would they...

As the force field manifested on their side he was already moving towards the core of the other members of the task force still present within the umbilical. The airlock shook violently, the umbilical groaning as metal ripped and tore beneath the force of the Saeihr's shield. The S'harien responded, erecting its own shield. As many people accelerated towards the force field, not all managed to reach that target. Over half of the people within the umbilical were plucked away to the safety of transporters which managed to gain unusually strong sensor locks due in part to the 10kg burden that Riov Galan Cretak had bore throughout the negotiations. Priority had been given to the leaders of the delegation.

Alpha Quadrant
Badlands, IRW S'harien

With the umbilical cord that had linked the IRW Saeihr and the IRW S'harien severed the Warbird seemed in a daze. All around it, the fires of heaven were unleashed upon targets on both sides. For a moment, it seemed that the Warbird was stunned and uncertain as to how to proceed. It had not been Hanaj Dar's desire to fire upon the other Romulan forces. The ships were reminders of the past and each vessel was potentially priceless the Saeihr most of all. Hanaj watched as through a combination of ferocity and duplicity, the enemy began to scatter. The smile that had been creeping up to his lips died when his sensor readout screamed an all too familiar alarm as it tracked three separate torpedoes leaving the IRW Saeihr.

Tricobalts!

The S'harien had managed to drift less than five kilometers away from the IRW Saeihr. They were not the target. Had the S'harien had expected the salvo it could have attempted to intercept them somehow, but by the time the tricobalts had been detected they had already moved past the S'harien and were moving far too quickly for any hope of interception.

"Tricobalt launch! Targets Immortal, Barbarossa and Riskadh!" His sensor officer called out in a rush staring at his sensor screens as if through sheer force of will he could make the enemy salvo disappear.

"Maintain our distance move us in front of the launcher and prepare to fire at the following coordinates." Erei'riov Hanaj Dar growled. A moment later the S'harien responded to his command.

"Erei'riov?!" His helmsman responded almost instantly confusion evident on his tone.

"If we neutralize the Saeihr's launcher and a tricobalt is armed, it may well destroy the whole ship and likely take us along with it. If we place ourselves in front of it, they will not likely use tricobalts since they would be in their area of effect." Erei'riov Hanaj Dar said hoping that Shodar Tyran was as reasonable as he hoped he was.

Galan you better get up here...

When the Valdore had left her moorings and joined the naval forces of the Star Empire it had been one of the deadliest ships in the stars. The S'harien had been built in the image of the Valdore but years of fighting and adaptations had made her quite unique to the first of her class. The six type 20 disruptor cannons of the S'harien doubled the heaviest firepower of the ships of her class and with her Borg enhanced heart, each type 20 disruptor delivered twenty percent more destructive force to its target per shot as a matter of course. It was the array of six type 20 disruptors that prepared to fire first, the so called Sword of S'task. Its smaller brethren the four type 16 disruptor cannons that looked non-threatening next to the far larger siblings were fully powered as well. Twelve plasma torpedoes waited patiently to be disgorged.

The S'harien shifted its position and placed itself directly in front of the launcher that had moments before launched its deadly payload towards the Riskadh, Immortal and Barbarossa. Upon arriving on its destination, it opened a channel a moment after its type 16 disruptors opened fire on the nearest cluster of disruptor weapons that were within range. These weapons had not directly targeted the S'harien but they were being used to threaten other people in the formation. The type 16's had been chosen due to their lack of overwhelming destructive power. Each strike was enough to cripple the targeted disruptor rather than ravenously consume dozens of meters in armor, bulkheads and personnel.

Erei'riov Hanaj Dar leaned against his chair and spoke. "Shodar Tyran, I believe that our circumstances are readily apparent. I believe the establishing of negotiations is once again in order. You have someone that I am certain me and mine want, and I am certain that there are things that you want. I await your pleasure." The communication was ended but the channel stay opened and unencrypted. He wanted the rest of the task force to understand his predicament. The S'harien and Saeihr had shared much in order to allow docking procedures in the badlands. At the moment, neither vessel possessed shields to the other which the S'harien had shown by pruning the disruptor cannons of the Saeihr that were a direct threat to it. Nonetheless, the torpedo launcher of the Saeihr was unassailable without risk to destroying the ship completely and perhaps the S'harien itself. It was not a position that Hanaj Dar enjoyed.

Our very own Kobayashi Maru.

A moment later, his left hand moved and a channel was opened to Engineering. "Arrain Velal, I am unhappy with our current circumstances. I need options."

"Understood Erei'riov" Was the near immediate response.

Hanaj Dar sighed, his left hand touching a holographic screen which magnified the image of the Saeihr's torpedo cluster. All that Shodar Tyran had to do was to have the will to push a button and the S'harien would be destroyed. It was also true that if that were to occur, the Saeihr would face a terrible if brief response.

He needed a way to cheat. Arrain Velal was his best hope.

[Cynical Cat]

Menmoth hit the force field hard enough to blast the air out of his lungs and left his dazed. If he had not been Klingon and wearing body armour bones would most likely have been broken. His disruptor slipped from numb hands and he fell to his knees.

A low growl emerged from his throat. He was not as young as he once was, but he was Klingon. He scooped up his disruptor and turned to see the other half the docking bay, separated by the void of space. He saw the airlock doors slam shut.

Why had Anderson chosen now to attack? His timing was poor. Very poor, but it didn't matter now. Now there was battle and he was a Force Leader of Marines. He hit the airlock controls and stepped inside the S'harien. "Follow," he commanded the Klingon Marines still picking themselves off the floor. They needed to learn how to fall better. Once he had an exercise room again he would make sure to schedule training time.

That's when the transporter beam snatched him up and rematerialized him in a Romulan transporter room. Memnoth lowered his disruptor and saluted the Romulan transporter personnel and then gestured for his Marines to follow him as he stepped out of the room.

He hit his com badge. "Morizan. Direct me to the nearest arsenal and secure a suitable assault transport from the shuttle bay." The Roms had some very nice kit and Menmoth would see it put to good use.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------l

Khedira's evasive maneuvers allowed the Riskadh to avoid almost all the fire sent her way. The few shots that hit were too weak to cause significant damage to a ship as heavily shielded as a Vor'cha Class Attack Cruiser. Then the fleet tender opened fire.

Arikel saw it first from her position at the sciences station. A long standing joke going back to her Academy days was that she was a Vulcan fusion. An automatic alert protocol was triggered when enemy tricobalt weapons were used. "Tricobalt!" she snapped in battle language. As she did so she triggered the program that would set the Riskadh's disruptors in autotargeting point defence mode with the tricobalt as their target. There were some tasks that it was unwise to trust to even Klingon reflexes.

As the main viewer was still in tactical mode and tricobalt weapons were displayed in a distinctive, vibrant blue Kadon didn't need the warning. "Countermeasures!" he snapped. The torpedo slid across the tactical display towards the Riskadh as Khedira turned the ship's nose into the attack. A photon torpedo was a focused warhead that required a direct or very near miss in order to be fully effective but a tricobalt was much more effective as a proximity killer. Thus presenting the Vor'cha's bow shields was a far more productive maneuver than attempting to dodge and catching even a proximity blast on the Riskadh's weaker flanks.

Power was leached from all systems and the emergency reserves to reinforce the forward shields as the battlecruiser turned into the oncoming torpedo. Guns blazing and shields crackling, the Riskadh fought to live with every erg of her strength and every ounce of her crew's skill.

[Charon]

The Barbarossa
Bridge

The Tricobalt exploded with the force of a star and the world turned upside down for several seconds as the Barbarossa spun and shook from the impact. What Romulans were not strapped down went flying to the ground while those who were strapped down would likely be suffering from whiplash for the next few days. As the world began to settle again, Khoal shakily got to his feet. "Damage report!" He looked over, only to notice the Romulan was not at his station, but 10 feet away, still moaning as he clutched an arm that was bent the wrong way. He looked over to another Romulan nearby. "Get over there, damage report!"

The Romulan in question quickly moved to his new post and assessed the damage. "Minimal. The shields took the brunt of the blow. Minimal bleed through. The lasers are offline. Inertial dampeners took what they could but it wasn't nearly enough. There will be casualties."

Khoal snarled as he looked back as the sudden burst of fighting. "Put more into the shields."

For the moment, the Barbarossa's guns had stopped firing.

Corridor
Slipping from his private quarters just a second ahead of Danava, Hizir rushed towards the bridge, still slipping one boot on. Danava came behind, still throwing her shirt on when the blow struck. Hizir was thrown back, into Danava, where both then struck the bulkhead. A further spin and suddenly they were hitting the ceiling, once again with Danava being sandwiched between Hizir and the metal fixtures. Both collapsed to the ground then, and after several seconds Hizir began to move. Pulling himself out from under Danava, he noticed she wasn't moving. A quick hand to her neck confirmed there was still a pulse and he got out his communicator. "Delvok. Danava is down."

The communicator chirped quickly in response, and the Vulcan seemed somewhat harried. "Her and half the ship, Captain. I will see what I can do."

Grumbling, Hizir got to his feet and made for the bridge again, though his spinning head made him slow down and keep a hand on the wall.

Engineering
It was a post-apocalyptic scene from hell. Tubes and wires had fallen down into the way, gases were being emitted and only two Ferengi were standing to deal with it all. Zek lay on the floor, unconscious from where a beam that had never been the most stable had finally fallen from it's precarious perch. The engineering crew were doing their best but the limits of what can be done and what needs to be done do not always align.

[frigidmagi]

USS Immortal, bridge

"Evasive maneuvers, try to keep the ships in the opposing fleet between us and that damn tender. Generate me some misses and open fire on any ship that hasn't powered down their weapons and engines. Com, to the Humvolt, thank them for the save and ask them to stay close. Tell the Spectre to switch fire on the tender and avoid any counter fire. To the Riskadh, intercept the Cardassian freighter if at all possible, if that thing gets away it was all for nothing. Some one wake up the fucking Gilgamesh and them to shoot a damn slaver ship! Advise the Argonaught to fall back. Tell them we can discuss it later." Commander Tak ordered, trying and failing to match Anderson's poker face. To be fair it was easier when you only had half a face to start with.

"Sir, Damage control reports fires on Deck 7." Came a report in a tightly controlled voice. Rotten Ice thought Tak* that was one of the decks the children were on. This could have gone better.

Worse, Captain Anderson wasn't on the ship! The crew was operating well right now but they had an atavistic faith in the power of Captain and ship, which fed into a superstitious dread of the separation of both. He had heard the whispers on the lower decks and knew they were spreading in officer country. Captain Anderson couldn't die if he was on the ship no matter what the universe did to him. The ship couldn't die unless the Captain did. And here he had started a fire fight, a justified one! But the Captain wasn't on the ship!

The USS Immortal leapt into movement, into a fast, tight looping course it's phasers and torpedoes still firing on opposing ships.

USS Immortal, Engine Room

Commander Higgins cursed as she directed damage control teams and snapped out orders. They needed more power to the shields. What the hell had Tak been thinking? The Captain wasn't even on the damn ship!

USS Immortal, Deck 7

Cerezi grabbed the small child and ran, herding others in front of her. The fire wasn't honestly all that big, likely from a faulty power relay that there simply hadn't been a spare for or something. The problem was there were just to blessed many people on the damn ship! She felt the ship shudder as the helm took it through a twisting course, one that didn't toss her around, grav plating be thanked.

Damage control teams raced pass her and her small herd of refugee children. Hopefully they could kill this problem before it grew to much.

What had Tak been thinking? Anderson wasn't on the ship!

Speaking of Captain Anderson...

Captain Anderson took stock around him. Holograms. Figures. He raised his hands, his face expressionless as always. He could fight and be subdued by the holograms or wait, sooner or later if he survived the moment would come. He just hoped Tak hadn't lost his mind, the XO was fighting his ship... without him!

[LadyTevar]

Tell the Spectre to switch fire on the tender and avoid any counter fire.

Spectre
Battle Bridge

Comms relayed the message from the Immortal to Kirk, who frowned slightly. Capt Anderson wasn't back onboard, obviously. The S'harien had broke free from the tender, but for all Kirk knew Anderson and the others were floating dead in space. Between the nebula, the tricobalt backwash, and the battle confusion, she knew the Spectre's sensors would be unable to pick out bodies.

Targets, however, were far easier to find. "Full spread on the tender, targeting the hemisphere furthest from the S'harien," Kirk ordered. If by chance anyone was trapped on the tender, Kirk did not want one of her torps to be the killing blow.