Status: RO
X-VM-v5-Data: ([nil nil nil nil nil nil nil nil nil]
["39525" "Tue" "12" "January" "1993" "16:53:42" "+0500" "\"Colin J. Wynne\""
"
[email protected]" nil "788" "GhostsFromThePast.6" "^From:" nil nil
"1"])
Return-Path: <
[email protected]>
Received: from liberty.uc.wlu.edu by depot.cis.ksu.edu SMTP (5.65a)
id AA25559; Tue, 12 Jan 93 15:53:52 -0600
Received: by liberty.uc.wlu.edu
(16.8/16.2) id AA08427; Tue, 12 Jan 93 16:53:48 -0500
Reply-To: "Colin J. Wynne" <
[email protected]>
Message-Id: <
[email protected]>
Mime-Version: 1.0
Content-Type: TEXT/PLAIN; CHARSET=US-ASCII
From: "Colin J. Wynne" <
[email protected]>
Sender: "Colin J. Wynne" <
[email protected]>
To: asc <
[email protected]>
Subject: GhostsFromThePast.6
Date: Tue, 12 Jan 1993 16:53:42 +0500 (EST)
This story is property of:
Colin J. Wynne
P.O. Box 4661
Lexington, VA 24450
(703) 464-4030
[email protected]
Permission is given to distribute this story freely as long as this header
is included with all files/hardcopies/electronic postings.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Ghosts from the Past," Ch. 16 through Ch. 17:
----------------------------------------------
CHAPTER XVI
Admiral Heirok looked up from the sector status board he was
studying. The aide stood patiently, a small databoard held in his
hand.
"Yes?"
"New reports, sir."
Heirok read over the screen, blinked read it again, then a
third time. Without a word, he shoved the board back at the aide,
who almost dropped it, and shot across the room at a dead run.
"What the hell!" muttered the aide, then looked at the data
himself. A knot of fear tightened in his stomach.
The President looked up at the approaching Chief-of-Staff.
"Mr. President!"
"What is it?" he asked, worry seeping into his voice. He had
already been two days without sleep and wondering how things
could get worse.
"New reports. Best estimates give us 1500 enemy heavy units
in Federation territory."
"Oh my God." The sweat was noticeable on his brow.
"They're concentrating in one of our weakest sectors, at
least six-hundred of them. Right here." His hand pointed towards
a nearby strategic plot.
"How many ships do we have there?"
"Sixty cruisers, and about one-hundred smaller units. For
the entire sector. And..."
"What is it Admiral?"
"The Transwarp Strike Fleet is the closest force."
"I see. What is your recommendation, Admiral?"
"Mr. President, if that is any indication of the total force
that the Jhonkai possess, Wesley doesn't stand a chance. Even if
he does manage to win, what good will it be if there's no
Federation to come back to."
The President all of a sudden felt incredibly burdened.
Wesley's force appeared to be the UFP's only chance. But Heirok
was a good officer, and the President had come to trust the
Andorian's advice. "What does Gruber say?"
"One minute, sir, and I'll find out."
Heirok spoke to a nearby intercom for several minutes, then
returned. "He concurs."
"I see. Prepare to recall the Strike Fleet. Log the order
on my authority, Stardate 42954.0."
In defiance of everything that Wesley had been told, the
fleet was ready almost two hours ahead of schedule. With a
queasiness of anticipation in his gut, Admiral Garrett Wesley
surveyed the bridge of his flagship.
"Status."
"Sir, all engineers report alterations complete and
simulations positive. Shield refits are all completed and full
tests conducted. Shuttles and small craft have been recovered from
starbase, and the fighter-shuttles are all armed and ready. All
ships at yellow alert, all supplies aboard, and awaiting departure
order."
Wesley took in a fateful feeling breath and prepared to give
the order, when the Communications Officer announced, "Admiral,
priority Flash, Starfleet Command to Task Force Commander."
"On screen."
The starfield turned into a blue UFP shield, and Wesley heard
the voice of Starfleet Chief-of-Staff, Admiral Heirok.
"Admiral Garrett Wesley, Commanding Officer, Task Force
Odysseus. As of Stardate 42954.0 you are ordered, by authority of
Starfleet Command representing the President of the United
Federation of Planets, to cease all preparations for entrance into
Jhonkai space. Your force will engage a reported six-hundred
Jhonkai heavy units in your sector. Interception co-ordinates
have been transmitted to your ship's computers. Acknowledge this
order."
A stunned silence clamped down on the bridge crew.
"Acknowledge this order," repeated the screen.
"Commander, get me the admirals."
In moments, the shield was gone, and the screen split to show
k'Rzaal, Krond, and S'Tyrrg.
"Admirals, I have just been ordered to abandon Odysseus
because the invasion has begun in this sector. I need opinions."
"Bah!" snarled Krond. "We will do nothing here. We must
strike into these usurpers' homeland before we will accomplish
anything."
The Gorn nodded his scaled, dinosaur-like head gravely.
"Admiral Wesley, he is right. The purpose of this force must not
be sacrificed for a victory of one battle, only to lose the war."
The kzin's only response was a piercing, shrieking warcry,
and a mouthful of carnivorous teeth.
"I see your opinions. I will let you know of my decision
shortly. Wesley out.
"Captain, maintain your ship." Wesley left through the
central turbolift. Out of sight, it rotated, and deposited him in
the viewing lounge just aft of the bridge, and above a docking
port. He went to the intercom.
"Fleet Admiral to Captain Picard."
"Picard here." His hawklike nose and thinning white hair
became visible. "Jean-Luc, I have a problem."
Two minutes later, Picard said, "I see. It is your decision,
Admiral. Not much of one, because it was quite clearly a direct
order. But my people will not get a chance to do their jobs while
we're still here."
"But all the people in this sector. What are we condemning
them to by leaving? Don't answer, Captain. It's not your
problem. I must return to the bridge."
The doors parted and Wesley was back on the bridge. The room
was dead quiet, without even any of the normal intercom chatter.
The energisers rumbled faintly through the deck, and all eyes
followed Wesley as he walked carefully to his seat. It seemed a
monumental task to climb the two small steps to mount it.
Taking in every face in the compartment, thinking of them,
whatever families and friends they were leaving behind, thinking
of everything, he finally settled his eyes on the main viewer, out
of contact with anything and anybody but the blackness of space.
What am I condemning them to?
"The die is cast."
He inhaled deeply, and closed his eyes. "All ships to Red
Alert. Prepare to cast off, and move to predetermined departure
point.
"Communications, -"
The Comm Officer interrupted the Admiral with a cleared
throat. "Sir, that last transmission was too garbled to be
clearly understood. I don't think we really need to log
reception. Will that be alright, sir?"
"Just fine, commander. Just fine."
Wesley felt the relief wash off of his crew in waves, felt it
seep reassuringly into himself. Low voices took to their tasks,
and the entire room came back to life.
"All ships report ready sir, waiting for your command."
"Go!"
William Riker sat nervously in his command chair. Data was
at navigation, Worf at weapons, and Wesley Crusher at the helm.
Geordi stood over his shoulder, waiting patiently for anything
that required his duties as Exec. Argyle was at the engineering
station.
Familiar faces to comfort him, but he was on pins and
needles. They all were. Even Data was unnaturally quiet.
A beep sounded from the Comm console. Geordi moved quickly
to it, pushing a button, and listened to his earpiece.
"Signal from flag, Captain. Red Alert, and prepare to cast
off."
"Red Alert," ordered Riker. The bridge was bathed in
crimson. Mr. Crusher, make preparations to depart."
"Aye, aye, sir."
"Geordi, report ready."
"Yes, sir."
Geordi spoke briefly, then listened again. "Go."
"Mr. Crusher, cast off."
"Aye, sir."
"Data, lay in course for first rendezvous."
"Course laid in, sir."
"All moorings clear."
"One-fourth impulse, helm."
"Aye." Wes's hands moved over the board, and his eyes watched
several displays. "We are clear of the station and free to
navigate."
"Data, engage."
The ship accelerated, then the viewscreen made the slightest
shift as warpspeed was achieved. In less than five minutes, all
of Odysseus's ships were at the rendezvous, and the Admiral
ordered them into formation.
"Mr. Crusher, make it so."
Hours of computer simulation had told the tactics officers
just where every ship should go to provide the best coverage and
interlocking fire. The three SCS's and six battleships were
spread as evenly as possible, each with an accompanying complement
of battlecruisers. The heavy cruisers formed a forward line, and
the smaller ships were scattered seemingly randomly. The carriers
were in the middle.
"We are now in formation on the flagship," announced Data.
"Argyle, power up the rip generator."
"Yes, sir."
The viewscreen shifted again, revealing the Admiral. "This
is Admiral Wesley to all ships. We are here on the threshold of
the unknown. This will probably be the most important mission of
many of your careers. You will not let me down. Good luck to you
all. Begin countdown...NOW."
"Thirty seconds," announced Data.
"Rip generator at full power and holding."
"Worf, load all torpedoes to maximum."
"Aye, sir."
"Twenty seconds."
"Torpedoes loaded. Preparing to divert power to phasers at
breakthrough."
"Good. Standby."
"Ten seconds."
"Data, bring shields to full power."
"Yes, sir. Shields at full.
"Five seconds."
"Argyle, go."
The engine pitch rose to a scream, as if the nacelles were
trying to rip themselves free of the hole.
"Three, two, one. Engage."
"Minimum magnification on the viewer."
Riker took in a view of the entire fleet from his position at
the top of the right flank. In the very center of the tremendous
formation, a small jet black orb appeared, crackling with white
lightning. It expanded, swallowing up the stars.
Crusher announced, "Reversing thrust to compensate."
The engine noise became even louder, and Riker felt a small
trembling in the deckplates. The void continued to grow.
Presently it expanded past the fringes of the fleet.
"Inform the flag that we now have clear passage, Geordi."
"Yes, sir," answered the temporary Exec and Comm Officer. He
sent the message, and then repeated the reply. "Ingram says to
standby for transition."
"Increasing reverse thrust." The bulkheads were vibrating
noticeably now.
"Engines standing by."
"Signal to fleet from Ingram. Complete transition in ten
seconds...MARK."
Sweat poured down Riker's forehead. The engines were now
shaking his teeth. He was glad that this ship had chairstraps,
else he would have fallen on the deck already.
At two seconds, the lightning exploded into one ferocious
instant of light, leaving an oval shaped swath of misplaced stars.
At one second, Wes put the engines to full power ahead.
Everyone squashed back into their seats before the acceleration
dampeners could compensate. At one-half second the ship bucked
incredibly, and Riker felt tunnel vision setting in. His body had
turned traitor, and he couldn't move a single muscle in his body.
Then at T minus zero seconds it really got bad. Will heard
someone grunt, as though hit in the belly, realised it was
himself, and wheezed. He could feel the blood coursing through
his temples, and the veins on his neck bulge. His neck ached, but
so did everything else. He thought he heard the engines shut off
automatically, and either lights went out, or he became
unconscious a moment before he thought he did.
Admiral Wesley croaked into his log recorder. "Task
Force...Log, Stardate 42594.2: The Ingram is through the
interphase." He paused to inhale very deeply. One of the
helmsmen, rousing himself, tended to his partner, who had slammed
his head into the console and was bleeding badly from a large
wound. "Will now check status, other ships."
The Science Officer coughed, and said, "No enemies, sir."
He sat upright, and waited until he felt in control of his
body again. There was a generally increased level of activity on
the bridge, and the injured helmsman had been removed by an
emergency medical team.
The Ingram's captain, Fanek, a dark-skinned Arab, barked a
few quick commands. "Damage report, casualties, now."
Wesley said to the Comm officer. "Get reports from the other
ships, and find out how we did."
In a few minutes, they had their answers. The flagship had
sustained no damage, and a few minor injuries on breakthrough. In
the entire fleet, one ship had been crippled coming through, a
Klingon frigate. The turbulence had sheared one engine nacelle
completely off, killing the engine room crew. Wesley ordered an
evacuation, and the ship was scuttled. The Vulture took her crew.
Otherwise, there were twenty odd fatalities, and no
significant damage.
However, the fleet had been tremendously scattered by local
tides in the transition, and it would take some time to
reestablish formation.
The fleet was on minimum power, so as not to broadcast its
position. Wesley went to the flagship's Science Officer.
"Commander, I want you to assemble a long-range sensor picture,
using microsecond bursts from the sensors, on the lowest power
setting. Just enough to figure out where we are. You have at
least two hours while the fleet reassembles."
"Aye, aye, Admiral."
Wesley and Fanek toured the ship, and after two hours,
returned to the bridge. According to the records extracted from
Enterprise's logs, they had arrived in very good position, in one
of the biggest empty pockets in Jhonkai space, but still near
inhabited systems. And the fact that it only took two hours at
impulse power to reorganise meant that the transition had gone a
lot better than Wesley had privately thought possible.
With everyone and everything back in order, the engine room
reported ready to manoeuvre at warp speed.
Of course, they were still at Red Alert, with weapons and
shields ready, so they set off as soon as possible.
"This is Admiral Wesley to all ships. Our first target has
been selected, and information is in your computers now. We will
proceeding at ultrawarp factor 1.5. That is conventional warp
factor 2." Analysis of Jhonkai technology, what little had been
recovered or captured, said that at that speed they were below a
dangerous chance of being detected. Wesley hoped so. "From now
on, all courses and speeds will be in conventional warp. Upon
arrival, we will analyse the situation, and then engage as
necessary. Flag out.
"Comm, transmit 'go' signal."
The Ingram accelerated. The ship had a tremendous saucer,
connecting to a secondary hull that looked not quite like a
pregnant guppy. But that pregnant guppy held thirty-six fighter
shuttles, and a dozen heavy attack shuttles. Each one, not very
significant, but all together, an impressive amount of firepower.
The huge transwarp nacelles glowed faintly blue, illuminating
the main hangar that sat astride their junction on the ship's
dorsal.
At Warp 2, the target system was 110 minutes distant at a
little over half a light-day. They were moving 'blacked out',
meaning no active sensors or scanners, nor any major power using
systems shipboard which could be identified and tracked. Each
ship's computer realised when it had arrived and shut off the warp
engines accordingly, as no living being could be precise enough to
keep the formation at 2.4 million kilometres per second.
"All ships have reported in, sir. The formation is tight."
"Good, good. All right, Commander, take a look out there.
What do you see?"
The Science Officer peered into his scopes and monitors. "No
major collection of ships. G-2 primary, three planets. The
middle planet is Class M, and inhabited and industrialised. Two
moons, one of which is inhabited, the other may be a shipyard.
All together, maybe forty ships in system."
"Have the fleet maintain minimum profile. Comm, get me an
indirect beam to the planet, laser only."
"Aye, sir. Established."
"Good. Send the following in local language."
"Attention Jhonkai. This is Admiral Garrett Wesley of the
United Federation of Planets' Starfleet. You have invaded our
territory and we are here in response to your hostility. If you
surrender willingly, we will not attack. We are ready to
negotiate your needs. Otherwise, we will be forced to take
actions in protection of our government and our territory."
"Message sent."
"Good. I want the fleet to move at full impulse towards," he
consulted a navigation screen, "two-seven-five mark zero."
"Aye, sir."
"And let's all hope for a good response."
CHAPTER XVII
"What's the count?"
"As far as I can tell from this distance, three hundred and
growing."
After the Admiral's signal, Jhonkai ships had appeared out of
almost nowhere, gathering at the other end of the system. Wesley
had said let them, because they wanted to achieve their objective
as soon as possible, in as few battles as possible. The Klingon
and Kzinti admirals agreed, because they wanted a good fight.
S'Tyrrg had agreed, but with some reservations.
Besides, the waiting made the diplomats happy, because it
gave the Jhonkai a chance to respond peacefully--while their
entire warfleet gathered.
Theoretically, the Federation had a major advantage, in that
the Jhonkai didn't seem to be able to fight at warpspeeds, while
Wesley's ships could. Realistically, though, no commander could
even hope to manoeuvre a fleet of this size in complex tactical
warp manoeuvres.
Theoretically, then, a few of the Federation's warp capable
ships would be able to run rings around the entire Jhonkai fleet.
But again, with this many hostile ships, it would just be too
crowded, and the ships would probably collide with something else
anyway.
So, the fleets were meeting at roughly equal status.
Another fifteen minuted passed. "Admiral, the rate of
appearance is dropping."
"How many now?"
"Three eighty, give or take."
"Let me know when five minutes passes without an arrival."
Wesley took a leisurely walk around the bridge, nodding
approval at the officers' screens and panels, offering a little
technical chit-chat along the way. He was just returning to his
chair when the Science Officer announced what he was waiting for.
"Sir, five minutes and no new vessels. Current count is four
hundred and two."
"Very well." Wesley looked to the officer seated immediately
to his right. As a captain needed his executive officer, a flag
officer was equally dependent on his Chief-of-Staff and Flag
Lieutenant. "Captain DiSanto."
The fragile looking woman responded immediately. "Yes, sir?"
"In your opinion, are our interests better served by an
offensive posture, or by waiting for the Jhonkai to make the first
move?"
DiSanto called up a tactical display on the flag console.
"Sir, as deployed, the Jhonkai forces are making very good use of
terrain, with this asteroid clump here," she pointed, "and the gas
giant's moon system over here. If we wait, they have nothing to
lose, and their position is just too good to throw away. I don't
think they will even make a first move."
"Good point. And if we go straight for the planet..."
"They will clearly outflank us."
"Comm, send the ultimatum once again. Tell them they have
fifteen minutes to respond, or we will attack."
To nobody's surprise, the Federation forces listened to
interplanetary static for a quarter of an hour. Admiral Wesley
reluctantly admitted that his last chance to avoid bloodshed was
gone, and he was out of options.
With a lump in his stomach, he barked orders. War orders.
"Flag to task force. All carriers deploy sub-units. Prepare
for engagement plan Alpha. Right flank will engage enemy forces
concentrated at one-one-one mark zero; all other ships will engage
the enemy near the asteroid field. Report Ready."
"Aye, aye, Admiral. All units report ready. Carrier
deployment underway."
"All units, ahead three-quarters impulse. Godspeed and good
luck."
The multi-layered formations of the Federation armada rolled
through the narrow asteroid belt. During the earlier, more
warlike history of the Federation, large fleet engagements had
occasionally been fought. They paled in comparison.
One-hundred and eighteen allied ships, among them forty three
capital ships, mingled in a giant deepspace 'furball' (a term used
by fighter-shuttle pilots to describe large complex dogfights) with
four-hundred and two Jhonkai warships, fielding some seventy
dreadnaughts of their own.
Dozens of shuttles boosted to warp speed, moving aft of TF
Odysseus, and circling far around to come up from behind the
asteroid defenders. With the range between fleets still at some
tens of thousands of kilometres, Admiral Wesley gave the order to
fire. Federation ships began to volley proximity fused photon
torpedoes, whose high yield warheads began to pound the giant
rocks into small free-floating debris.
Dozens of small drive flames winked on near the Kzinti ships,
guided missiles dancing in crazy, unpredictable patterns toward
the defenders. The Gorns, who had learned a thing or two from
decades of border skirmishes with Romulans, loosed over a dozen
plasma torpedoes.
Klingon disruptor fire washed across half hidden ships, then
half of their battlecruisers went to cloak. True, they would
reveal their position every time they fired, but with all the
sensory clutter, a few ships lost track of would be very nice for
the allies.
Jhonkai ships near the system's one gas giant boiled out in a
wedge shape, seeing a flanking opportunity. Suddenly, a mixed bag
of Klingon and Federation ships (which also carried cloaking
devices, though they were, until now, almost never used) appeared,
diving straight down on them from above the plane of battle. A
wave of attack shuttles completed the hammerblow from underneath.
The flankers, now themselves outflanked, fell to chaos.
Riker watched the tactical display with intent eyes.
Wesley Crusher was doing an outstanding job of combat
manoeuvring. Even Riker was getting a slight tinge of vertigo
from the top down orientation of the attack. Crusher apparently
didn't notice, staring at his screens instead of the viewer.
"Mega-phasers in range, sir."
"Right, Worf. Open fire, and target to cripple."
"Aye, sir."
Lightning blazed from the four huge pods on the ship's beam,
converging on the scattering Jhonkai scoutships. Blooms of light
were testimonial to Worf's accuracy.
The subspace chatter told Will that the fighters had achieved
surprise. The Jhonkai sensors were not good enough to target such
small ships, and the formation of the attack wing was wide enough
to make blanketing fire very inefficient.
"Damage?"
"Slight, sir. Shields are holding very well."
"Good, Mr. Argyle. Keep it up, everyone."
The forward engagement was beginning to overwhelm the allied
forces. Bearing the brunt of the Jhonkai heavy ships, Wesley's
forward units had fallen out of formation, and were being harried
by waves of the enemy scoutships. To reinforce the situation,
Admiral Wesley ordered the battleship Simonov forward with one of
the Gorn dreadnaughts and a handful of battle- and heavy cruisers.
Following a wave of max-powered photon torpedoes that
annihilated six Jhonkai vessels, the small group entered the fray
directly. Plasma torpedoes hounded the Jhonkai like hunting dogs,
dragging their quarry ferociously down.
Simonov's mega-phasers carved a swath through four
scoutships, two of them igniting in silent pyrotechnics. Then,
from every Jhonkai ship within range, hundreds of missiles
appeared, filling the black sky with menacing intent. The
Carnisaur fired phasers on rapid-pulse, swatting the incomings as
well as they could. The alliance ships filled space with
electronic jamming, all the while firing phasers and anti-
missiles.
Simonov's captain ordered his detatchment to close with the
Jhonkai, to get as close as possible. They lumbered forward,
swapping shots with each other, hurling deadly energy in
tremendous quantities. Simonov's primary shields failed as a
nearby Jhonkai battleship flashed into energy. Fire and death
punched through the primary hull, blowing the port side into a
jagged display of destruction.
Carnisaur dropped a plasma torpedo directly on top of a
nearby enemy. The Jhonkai unloaded its weapons all at once into
the shimmering ball of death, killing what turned out to be a
decoy. Then the real torpedo engulfed the now defenseless ship,
breaking it in two.
A wall of Avenger class frigates closed on the swarm of
missiles, trying to knock them down, but there were too many. The
heavily damaged Federation battleship struggled under the killing
rain, her captain watching as one nacelle blew up, taking a good
portion of the secondary hull with it. His ship was gutted as
forty missiles struck the now pitifully weak shields and hull.
A badly damaged Carnisaur limped away with a small protective
screen to the safety of the inner formation. Drifting apparently
without power, the Simonov floated through the reforming Jhonkai
ships.
And then the Federation fighters coming from behind salvoed
half a thousand missiles at the tightly packed Jhonnkai. Lost in
the midst of this new threat, the Simonov jettisoned a few dozen
lifeboats moments before she exploded with the fury of total
conversion. The Jhonkai battleships that didn't die outright
coupled lethally with the missile wave.
Their main defensive positions shattered, their flanking
force gutted, the Jhonkai began to spasmodically withdraw. The
alliance destroyers swept thoroughly through the Jhonkai
stragglers, making sure none of them were able to fight.
"Admiral, they're out of effective range."
"Cease fire. All units reconverge. I want a fleet damage
assessment ASAP, and prepare units to recover all lost fighters
and lifeboats."
"Aye, aye, sir!"
The fleet pulled itself back into shape, as reports were
processed and compiled. Wesley looked it over. Not as bad as
he'd feared, but not as good as he'd hoped, either. Sixteen
allied ships were destroyed, along with about sixty percent of
their total crews. Several ships were crippled as well. For
that, they'd destroyed or knocked out of action over a hundred
Jhonkai warships. Percentage-wise, they were just barely behind
expectations.
"How about Simonov's crew?"
"Sir, the rescue shuttles picked up a hundred and twelve
survivors."
Out of over six hundred, Wesley mentally added. But given
the kind of punishment that the ship had taken, it was more than
he would have expected.
"Okay, split them up between Excelsior and Ascension. How
soon until we're ready to fight again?"
"About a half an hour."
"Hmmm. Alright, in five minutes, I want to send another
offer of terms to them. Again, fifteen minutes to respond.
"What's their deployment now?"
DiSanto answered, "They're gathering around the planet and
the moons. That second moon is definitley shipyards. And we've
identified a second group of ships here." The Flag Lieutenant
indicated the planet's trailing Trojan point. "No signals from
them whatsoever. We're lucky to have noticed them."
"What are they doing there?"
"Sir, they appear to be transports."
"Ah, I see. Yes, if I wanted to get out of a star system
quickly I suppose I would keep the transports very nearby.
They're not defended?"
"Nothing detectable, Admiral. They probably don't realise
that we know where they are. Passive defenses are likely,
however."
"Minefields?"
"Aye, sir."
One of Wesley's staff was the CFG, or Commander Fighter
Group, who was in charge of coordinating all of the fighter and
attack shuttles. "Captain Stant, I want you to organise a small
secondary mission. Two squadrons of fighters, and one fleet scout
of your choice. They're going to go and destroy those transports.
The scout will serve as a minesweeper and electronics warfare
platform. Understood?"
The Vulcan nodded gravely. "Aye, aye, sir."
"Excellent. Report to me in eighteen minutes."
Wheeling his stocky frame towards the turbolift, the admiral
was interrupted by the Comm Officer. "Admiral, Captain Picard is
on the line or you."
Garrett pushed a button on the armrest of the command chair.
"Admiral Wesley here. What is it Jean-Luc?" Although friendly,
his tone of voice belied his sense of urgency, something that
Picard completely expected.
"Admiral, has there been any sort of reaction to our
communiques?"
"None at all, Captain. Not even acknowledgement."
"Could it be that they're not even receiving our
transmissions? Is that possible?"
"Jean-Luc, I understand your position. You are here to
negotiate, and I have no doubt that you sincerely hope to be able
to end this conflict as quickly and cleanly as possible. But the
Enterprise-C's records clearly indicate communication with the
Jhonkai, and we are following Captain Romanov's methods precisely.
Also, our electronic warfare capabilities are more than suficient
to make ourselves be heard over any sort of jamming they may be
employing. They are just not interested yet, and we have to
convince them to be interested."
"Of course, admiral. I didn't mean to imply dissatisfaction
with your methods, only with results thus far."
"Yes, Jean-Luc, yes. If it would be preferable, I can have
all diplomatic communications with the Jhonkai handled by your
party from the Saipan. Is that acceptable?"
"Yes, very much, sir."
"Fine. Wesley out.
Admiral Wesley quickly contacted the captains of as many of
the ships as he could, trying his best to spread encouragement and
to keep morale from falling. True, the fleet had done well, but
they had lost a battleship. That could have a terrible effect on
the men.
As Commodore Mateo's visage faded from the screen, Garrett
noted Stant's lanky figure standing over him.
"Yes, Captain?"
"Final preparations subject to your approval, sir?" The
Vulcan indicated a viewscreen displaying the plans for attacking
the transports.
"Excellent, Captain Stant. Very impressive for such short
notice."
Wesley and his staff spent several more minutes finalising
tactics for the next attack. When they were all duly satisfied,
Wesley ordered the command frequency open.
"Flag to all units. Acknowledge receipt of revised battle
plan." Less than a minute later, he continued. "The Jhonkai
still show no sign of responding to our overtures for a cease to
hostilities. We have no choice but to continue the attack.
Captains, do not allow yourself to be distraced by the yards or
support ships. We must fight the Jhonkai warfleet until the
either fallback or offer no further resistance. Then we can
concentrate on the logistical support.
"Any questions?"
There were none.
"Very well. Commence engagement plan Beta-two, and good
luck. All units ahead, one-half impulse power."
Ingram surged smoothly forward. "Here we go again."
Captain Kjell warily watched the enemy ships sitting unmoving
around their two moons while his small group moved slowly towards
the transports. Sentinel had been chosen to escort the fighter
squadrons, one Klingon and one Kzinti.
Kevar's eyes had practically melted onto his console, so
intently was he scanning for the first signs of a minefield. The
Tactical officer was holding back the fighters for the moment,
waiting until they could attack in safety.
The main body of the fleet was waiting just inside of maximum
range of the Federation photon torpedoes, which was quite large
indeed. They were sniping from safe distance, waiting to see how
the Jhonkai would react to Kjell's attack on their transports. So
far, they had made no move. Kjell couldn't understand why; they
certainly had almost nothing in the way of terrain advantage now.
The cowards should be attacking to defend their homeland.
Obviously the cowering fool Jhonkai had no insights into the way
of a true warrior.
Kevar's voice barked out, "Full stop, now!"
Kjell watched with interest as the helmsman hurriedly obeyed.
"What is it, Kevar?"
"Definitely a minefield, sir."
"Any active sensors."
"Six, equally covering a sphere. Nearest is one-nine-seven,
mark two-two."
"Analysis."
"Deadman mines, tracking the rest of the field."
"Then we must take them out first."
"Aye, sir."
Kjell switched the officer of his attention. "Weapons! Time
on target missile salvo, two drones on each of those mines.
Understood?"
"Clearly, sir." The weapons officer operated his console
quickly and efficiently. "Pattern set, captain."
"Open fire!"
A dozen missiles came off of two launch racks aft, near the
impulse drive. The first ones arced around the minefield to hit
the deadman sensors away from Sentinel. In perfect unison, six
explosions dotted the edges of the field.
"Scan?" inquired Kjell.
Kevar responded, "No active emissions."
"Good, good." The captain didn't bother to remind Kevar that
if he had missed even one deadman mine, the entire minefield might
have been set off at once. He didn't have to. The sensor tech
was already sweating.
"Launch the shuttles, and divert power to the tractor beams."
Sentinel moved forward, beginning the tedious and dangerous
work of disabling individual mines. As her tractor beams tossed
some mines out of the way, a triplet of shuttles mounting small
defensive phasers knocked many more out of commission.
"Sensors?"
"About halfway through the field, captain," reported Kevar.
"Maintain."
Suddenly, Kevar sat bolt upright. "Captain! Lifeform
readings, and power coming up in one of those ships!"
Kjell growled low in his throat. "Disruptors! Target, and
fire."
Kjell knew what Kevar's report meant. All any living person
needed to do to wreck a minesweeper was to throw one switch, order
one computer command. And he couldn't do anything about it,
except to kill any Jhonkai before they got the chance to do so.
Even as the pale green beams licked at the new power
readings, causing their target to bubble away into slag and
vapour, Kevar spoke again. "Active sensors all around us. We're
being targetted."
And then Kjell, the mighty Klingon warrior, panicked. He
should have ordered full stop and blackout. He could have
clocked, or launched decoys. Or any number of things. Anything
but move.
"Full reverse, now!" Kevar heard the tinge of hysteria in
his voice.
Energy blossomed all over the Sentinel. Some explosions,
some phaser fire, or missile launches. A half-dozen different
effects, in fact, none of which were good. The impulse
engineering section was ripped indelicately from Sentinel's spine.
A burst of explosive force ripped the forward boom from the rest
of the ship, and the increase in motion triggered even more mines.
Watching from a safe distance, the Kzinti wing leader,
k'Trrek, saw the scout engulfed in flame and debris. As the nova
bright light dimmed, he saw what was left of the command boom
spiral crazily away from the center, in the general direction of
the fleet.
k'Trrek thumbed his radio. "Leader to all fighters. The
minefield is down. Attack. Attack and avenge! Attaaaack!" The
last word turned into a shrill scream of rage as k'Trrek jammed
his throttle to full. Two dozen heavily armed shuttles charged
down through a chaos of twisted and still burning debris.
Three minutes later, twenty-one fighters reformed to return
to the fleet, leaving behind no piece of metal bigger than a
deckplate. The Jhonkai transports had been scrapped, and every
being who might have been aboard killed to a man.
As soon as Sentinel disappeared into that hellish ball of
energy, Wesley spoke to his fleet. "All ahead full. All units,
engage now!"
Even as they leapt forward, the entire Jhonkai fleet began to
volley missiles. Every scout could launch six at a time, every
Jhonkai battleship eighteen. Space was quickly filled with small,
deadly dots. The massed firepower under Wesley's command took to
their defense with a vengeance. Hundreds of missiles were
destroyed or electronically deflected, leaving less than a hundred
and fifty to arrive in the midst of the fleet.
Those ships which mounted them fired high-density kinetic
kill weapons at close range detonating a third of those remaining.
Had their tagets been spread out, the missiles could not have
seriously harmed the fleet. But the Jhonkai were getting smarter.
Those missiles which got throuh were all aimed at two ships, the
Federation heavy carrier Saratoga, and the Klingon D-7V Peregrine.
Saratoga's fighters emptied their own missile racks to defend
their mothership, and Saratoga took only minor structural and
heavy shield damage.
Unfortunately, Peregrine's fighters were with the Sentinel,
and she had no extra defense. After some fifty missile hits,
Peregrine, and her four frigate escort, ceased to be.
"Damn!" Admiral Wesley swore emphatically as he watched the
Peregrine's death. Between the five ships, over one-thousand
crewmen had just been lost. "All units, engage closely. Full
impulse ahead, now."
The image on the forward viewer sped by even faster as the
armada gained speed. The long-range photons and disruptors began
to be answered by the Jhonkai heavy weapons. They weren't
accurate, but they were powerful. If any one thing was
maintaining the allies' advantage, it was electronic warfare. The
Jhonkai ships were powerful, but crude.
"Captain Kant, what's the status on the fighter group?"
"Sir, all fighter shuttles are formed up behind the main
fleet, with the heavy attack shuttles trailing them. They're
prepared to follow up any major openings made by our assault."
"Good." Fighters had once been labelled 'attrition units'.
Admiral Wesley was not about to use them in a direct frontal
attack just to support that moniker. After all, this mission was
going to, and had already, cost enough in blood to just throw away
those pilots.
The allied fleet pressed on, the larger ships weapons
pounding Jhonkai units, while frigates and destroyers laced
defensive fire in all directions. On the offensive were also the
remaining fifteen Federation Avenger class heavy frigates,
aggressively designed ships mounting two phaser-cannon pods of
their own. One of the earlier ships in that class, NCC-1864
Reliant, had achieved infamy with those weapons.
And the second battle against the Jhonkai raged on.
