Star Crossed Fanfic Part 2

[Johnathon_Chance]

Damn you stravo!!!! builds up and builds up, this is worse than that damned Heroes on NBC!

Eagerly awaiting more!!!!

[fusion]

More, stuff more stuff too reed so goud

[Scottish Ninja]

This has definitely become one of the better days of my life. Please keep up the awesome.

[Darth Yoshi]

Yargh! More cliffhangers! Keep it up, Stravo.

[JME2]

Hmm. What is Mitchell hiding in his home? Inquiring minds want to know!

Good stuff, as always, Stravo.

[Trogdor]

Yay! New Starcrossed!

Hmm. What is Mitchell hiding in his home? Inquiring minds want to know!

If Palpatine wasn't on the DS2, my money would be on him. The roach metaphor just instantly made me think of him for some reason.

[halverson]

more starcrossed please.

[A-Wing_Slash]

Halverson, do not post in the Starcrossed thread unless their actually is new material. Stravo leads a busy life; it takes a long time between chapters, and everyone else on the board recognises that. Constantly pestering him for updates serves zero purpose.

You seem too stupid to realize that, and so are now going to cause hundreds of SDNetizens to click this thread in eager anticipation, only to realize it is just some dumbass one-post troll. Well done.

[Chris OFarrell]

You son of a....

[Stuart Mackey]

Bitch

[Stravo]

At the risk of pissing off yet more fans I just need to say something. I really appreciate people who want to read the next installment. It makes me very happy and proud as a writer that people actually look forward to more. But please understand that if there is no new installment for awhile it really is because life is just too busy for me right now.

I can only write this on my free time and there are precious few moments for me to do that lately.

I also don't want to churn out crap chapters - especially now that we're in one of the most crucial parts of the story. This is all about quality and if it means you may only get an installment every few months I think the long time fans understand and appreciate that.

Anyway I just wanted to let the fans know I am aware its been awhile and I just ask for some patience. It's not fun to tweak the others either so please refrain from posting in this thread unless there is a new chapter or to comment on one that is already here. Testing can always be used for supplication and demands.

[halverson]

Ok Ok i'm sorry for getting everyones hopes up !
Thanks stravo for writing one of my favorite stories! I really loved reading it.


Anyway I thought i would post something usefull.

Originally written by consequences Edited by me, to bring it up to date

Side A, The Federation: thousands of Starfleet and possibly Klingon ships, the Excalibur, the Reckless Hope, Andor's system defenses, and an untested doomsday weapon. Is there to fight the Empire, has a treaty with the Imperium but only for the battle of Andor right now, will probably be forced to fight the remnants of Shadowfleet.

Side B, the Imperium: a group of battered Star Destroyers and possibly Strike Cruisers, and however many romulan ships they bring to the party, along with the Emperor's Will, with its mini-ultimate death cannon. There to fight the Empire, will cheerfully fight Shadowfleet, is fighting the Empire with the Federation currently but may change sides if the empire is defeated.

Side C, the Empire: unknown number of assorted GE warships, headed by the Executor, with the most obnoxious super weapon imaginable, Grand Admiral Thrawn unconstrained by the need to keep named characters alive for story purposes. There to crush the Federation, and will steamroller anyone else who gets in their way.

Side D, Overcompensating Assholes: Gary, with Unlimited Power(TM), and the Emperor with the beach ball of destruction. Basically willing to kill anyone and anything.

Side E, The Borg 2.0: Unknown number of ships, may not even get involved, probably there to fight the Empire but not up on current events as far as we know. Everyone else will probably reflexively start shooting them.

Side F, KHAN!: limited number of genetic supermen, unknown number of worm-controlled Imperial fodder, there to personally kill Kirk, and will kill or use anyone to achieve that goal.

Side G, Shadowfleet: unknown number of ships, superweapon to blow up Andor's sun. There to fight anyone they see as threatening the Federation, will probably get shot at by everyone. Is currently waiting to see whether the federation and the imperium can win against the empire before they blowup everyone.

Side H, Omnipotent Slackers: Don't even know how many still survive, or if they'll ever get their thumbs out of their asses, or which way they will jump if they do.

Side I, Q: Just enlisted Q2 to help. Trying to save the universe, and getting nowhere fast.

[Master_Baerne]

Grrr. You got my hopes up.

EDIT: Made less grumpy, and added the smiley. Because its smiletastic.

[Stravo]

Ah. Where to begin. I am here to post an update. I truly hope that this new chapter holds up a candle to previous works since its been almost 3 years since there's been an update. First an apology to the fans who invested so much time and emotion to the story and patiently waiting for updates. I'm hoping to get back onto some sort of regular schedule. It's been a helluva ride for me with a new child, getting married, things at work coupled with a writer's block that did not let me put down a word story wise in years. This chapter has been sitting on my hard drive since the last update. So in essence it's taken 3 years to write it.

I hope you can all be kind, forgive any slipped details and hopefully this flows seemlessly into the last chapter and the tone/voice hasn't changed too drastically. I welcome anyone to send me reminders about subplots I may have left dangling as these updates progress.

Without further adieu I gave you the latest update. Mayabird if you would be so kind, at your convenience of course, to add this chapter into the cleaned up section.



Chapter 96: Battle of Andor VIII



ENTERPRISE 1701-E ---------------------BOARDING ACTION


“Stop fidgeting and let me check you out damnit or I’ll hit you with enough sedative to knock you out for the rest of this war.” McCoy snapped angrily as he tried to check Kirk’s throat.

Uhura remained by his side, an ear bud she held in place with one hand and a phaser in the other. She was listening intently while firing her weapon at the stricken stormtroopers wracked by electrical energy running along the deck grating on the main level of the bridge.

“Sir, Operation Mohammed is fully underway and almost ready for deployment.” Uhura reported.

“They didn’t wait long did they?” Kirk replied dryly as he tried not to fidget as McCoy tended to his bruised and swollen throat where a stormtrooper very nearly succeeded in collapsing his trachea with his blaster rifle.

“You did choose Captain Jellico for his strong independent streak, captain. I fail to see why you would be disturbed by this development.” Spock noted and for a split second Kirk could have sworn he saw a hint of a half smile on the Vulcan’s lips.

“Duly noted, Spock. Remind me to recommend him for a distinguished service medal once this is over in whatever fleet we end up serving in.”

“You’re lucky you didn’t die, you know that?” McCoy added with a grim smirk as he finished examining Kirk’s bruised throat.

“Let’s not count ourselves lucky yet, Bones. We’ve got a boarding party to repel and a fleet to get back in gear. This battle is far from over and Mohammed is far from a done deal.” Kirk replied with a curt nod to Scotty.

“Mr. Scott, can you do something about that assault craft latched onto us?”

Scotty nodded.

“Aye, Captain. They’re locked on with magnetic grapples. By reversin’ the polarity of our hull and generating a burst from our security field we may be able to push her off, if you will.”

“I like the sound of that. Let’s get to it.” Kirk nodded to his team. He motioned towards the stricken stormtroopers and the battered and bloody remnants of his security team redoubled their efforts to kill the remaining boarders.

As they stalked around the upper tiers of the bridge and blasted away with phasers and stolen blasters at the stricken white armored enemy Scotty’s hands were in motion over and engineering control panel. In moments there was a loud blaring alarm and deep blue lights lit up along the bridge panels.

It was an alarm tone unlike any usually heard during standard starship operations and it was one many captains dreaded ever hearing. Imminent Explosive decompression.

“Everyone! Hold on for your life and lets pray the emergency force fields do what they’re supposed to!” Kirk ordered loudly. He wrapped his arms around one of the guardrails of the upper deck of the bridge.

“Wait one damned second, Jim! You’re venting us out into space!?” McCoy sputtered.

“Calm yourself doctor. The captain knows what he is doing.” Spock gently explained as he took hold of McCoy’s waist and then with the other hand he gripped the bridge station he was using as cover. Uhura quickly scuttled under a control station.

“The man just took a blow to the head and is probably suffering from a concussion and you’re telling me he’s in his right mind?” McCoy shouted over the rising alarms.

“Now, Mr. Scott.” Kirk nodded.

“Well, here goes nothin’” Scotty sighed and hit the final control sequence.

The hole blasted through the ceiling of the bridge compartment was suffused with a burst of brilliant white light as the magnetic polarity of the hull shifted and the security force field system kicked in sending a jolt through the Imperial assault shuttle clamped onto the bridge unit like an armored beetle.

Articulated magnetic clamps lost their purchase and gave way as the armored hull plating ruptured in some parts. The kinetic impact of the security fields pushing outward gave impetus to send the shuttle tumbling up and away from the stricken bridge, a small cloud of oxygen, debris and several white armored figures tumbled away from the broken umbilical connection.

The Enterprise was free of her boarders.




A HOUSE ON THE EDGE OF REASON AND CHAOS



Q2 sniffed the air with some disdain as he stepped onto a rock in the middle of a stream separating the forest from the barren land up ahead. A cliff jutted out from the landscape into the oblivion beyond where the sky was no longer blue but black and not a single star shined but light suffused the area from an unseen source.

At the very edge of the cliff was a small rather humble home. The style was that of Old Earth before the Eugenics and nuclear war that ravaged her. A large welcoming wooden porch was covered by a low overhanging ceiling with plain brown shingles. A screen door squeaked softly as it caught some of the breeze that seemed to blow through this landscape without much let up.

“How so very droll.” Q2 muttered as he slowly made his way to the house. His house. Gary Mitchell had constructed this shelter from his very thoughts and dreams. Here on the very frayed edges of the Continuum no one cared to look in and see what the refugee from humanity was doing. As far as the Q were concerned, Gary Mitchell was a problem they had solved way back when he first approached them for asylum. With his predilection for mental instability and exponentially growing power he was a dire menace to humanity and galactic stability. Frankly if he had not approached them something would have been done about him anyway.

It was such a neat solution to a potentially thorny situation.

Maybe that’s why Q had been so opposed to it. Q had been suspicious from the start of the human’s intentions. Why would he act so rationally? Why would he willingly exile himself from a race he had grown to view as insects and hold a grudge against for murdering his physical shell?

The rest of the continuum’s reaction was a collective shrug of the shoulders.

As Q2 stepped onto the porch he felt an immediate sense of unease. There was a dread in the air, as if the entire universe had taken a sudden sharp intake of breath in anticipation of something horrific about to occur. Q2 paused for a moment and marveled at the sensation crawling up the back of his neck. Goosebumps. How long had it been since any of his kind had felt such a viscerally organic sensation?

“Q, what have you gotten me into.” Q2 muttered to himself as he took some hesitant steps to the door. The floorboards of the porch creaked ominously and Q2 shook his head ruefully.

“Alright, this is just silly. These aren’t even real objects just constructs of mind and shadow.” He sighed dramatically and took a firm hold of the door knob. He received a brief flash of thought, an imprint left behind by someone, a being dark and malevolent wreathed in dark power like some primordial god out of a distant and archaic past.

He stood still, hairs on his arms and back of neck standing up almost comically as the power of the being’s aura still cloying to the knob coursed through his fingers and hand.

“This is not what I expected.” An old voice almost sneered.

“It usually never is. Please, come in. We have much to discuss.” A voice that was unmistakably Mitchell’s replied.

“You are certain of this theory of yours?” The ancient wizened voice asked sharply.

“Even if I was not, my ally, it doesn’t matter much now, does it? Our universe, as we know it, is unraveling around us like some well worn sweater fraying at the seams. If I am wrong we will cease to exist. However if I am right.” Mitchell’s voice trailed off with an expectant pause.

“Power beyond imagination.” The statement was followed by a dark chuckle.

“Are we agreed then?”

“My friend, when this is over the entire universe will know my name and the unlimited power of the dark side.”

“Our names.” Mitchell’s voice gently chided.

A brief pause pregnant with barely contained malevolence. “Of course. Our names.”

Q2 pulled his hand away from the door knob as if shocked. He stared dumbly at his hand and rubbed his fingers together to regain the feeling in them. The menace in the air was now palpable as he pushed his way into the house, more determined than ever now to put this all to rest and calm the dread sinking into the pit of his stomach.

“What the hell were you planning in here, Mitchell?” Q2 whispered to himself as he quickly scanned the foyer of the old house. His eyes swiftly adjusted to the gloom barely kept at bay by a sputtering lantern hanging off of a hook on the side of the doorway leading deeper into the house.

He could smell nothing. Not even the obvious mold and decay that was eating away at the wooden slats on the floor and the exposed wooden panels of the peeling walls. There was an old wood burning stove and a kettle was sitting on the top. Q2 noted that there was a fire still burning, bringing the contents of the kettle to a low simmer.

He gently stepped over a pile of old mail collecting underneath the door and snidely noted that Mitchell held on to too much of his human memory in this construct. Mail. On actual wood pulp written with ink. How crude and barbaric.

“You’re no mastermind, are you?” Q2 snorted softly while he peered into the inner sanctum of the house. It was cold and dark in the heart of this house and the only source of illumination came from the crude stone fireplace at the far end of the small living room. The fire cast long wicked shadows up against the wall behind Q2 as he cautiously stepped into the room.

There was an odd electricity in the air that he was certain humans would equate to the feeling in the air right before a particularly violent thunderstorm was about to break. There was something else too but Q2 could not quite put his finger on it. There was a presence or object that was trying to avoid detection as if there was something darting in and out just out of his peripheral vision taunting him. The moment he brought his senses to bear it was gone like a half glimpsed shadow.

“Whatever is going on here I’ll figure it out, Mitchell. You’re just human but I was born to this nature.” Q2 muttered darkly. He did not like how out of sorts he was increasingly feeling in here. In the end this cabin and everything in it was an expression of Gary Mitchell’s subconscious. It all meant something even if Gary himself did not realize it.

Humans had only glimpsed their true selves and very few truly knew themselves enough to recognize all the signs and symbols. The voyage of discovery they were so enamored with at the moment, flinging themselves so haplessly into the void, was an ironic joke to many of the great powers. To try and discover the without before having mastered the within was like putting the cart before the horse so to speak.

Gary Mitchell likened himself to a god yet he barely knew himself. Every aspect of this mental construct was a clue to his true nature and inevitably his plan. Though what the human could possibly accomplish that worried Q so was beyond Q2. The end was very nearly here. The signs were all on the ether. The galaxies were burning in wars and insurrections and the very foundation of it all was floundering. Time and space, the most vulgar of the manifestations of reality was the first to come undone and but there were other signs as well.

What was Mitchell trying to accomplish? What ephemeral objective or goal was within grasp?

“Why the hell are you doing all of this here at the end of all things?” Q2 muttered.

Q2 whirled around as he felt it again. Something at the very edge of his perception was flitting around and it was starting to annoy him. What was hidden that even he could not see?

He let the annoyance pass as he slowly ran his hand up one of the wooden planks of the wall nearest to him. Resonance. It was all in here. You just had to be patient enough to look. Unlike Q, Q2 was very patient indeed. One had to be when they journeyed with someone like Q. His fingers felt the grain of the wood, every knot, every flaw as they slowly ran down the plank with delicate slow purpose. He could smell the wood, the sharp pine and the oils that had seeped into the seams.

Power.

Yes, that was paramount in everything he did but where was the power here? Where did power shine from such a simple shack? What was this mental form telling him?

Purpose.

Indeed. His hands paused over a particularly deep knot in the wood, there were sharp splinters that were arrayed around it like a hedgehog of spears. His fingers cautiously felt out the outlines of the flaw.

Fear.

Ah, here was something. It was dark and deep, like a worm slowly eating away at the heart of the wood, splitting the planks, ruining the grooves and grains. Q2 leaned in closer as if he were listening for a sound from the very wood board itself and he braved the splinters to feel out the deep indentation of the knot, the hard warped wood here.

Death.

“Mortality.” Q2 whispered and his voice sounded distant, his eyes were no longer focused. It all started to gush forth like an underground stream bubbling up to the surface.

POWER DEATH POWER DEATH FEAR FEAR ANGER

His fingers worked the deepest portions of the knot, hungry for more. It was almost here, bobbing just beneath the surface like a storm tossed corpse.

Q2 paused, eyes focusing slightly.

What an odd image he used. Then Q2’s eyes narrowed and he dug his fingers deep into the knot, irritated by the distraction and heady with anticipation as he felt a truth right within reach.

REBIRTH

Q2’s eyes snapped open.

“What?”

Something was beeping. Q2 slowly turned his head towards the sound. It was out of place in this mental construct. An aberration at the heart of this perfect little masquerade. Images were flashing unbidden into his mind. He had tapped it, the very vein of secret hidden desires he had been looking for. Beneath his feet he heard it for the first time. Scuttling like fingers gently brushing against a drum. His stomach turned and there was a brief moment of panic as if a part of him realized something his conscious self had yet to discover.

Nonsense. Q2 snorted. He completely turned around and listened carefully for the beeping. It was muffled as if buried under something. His eyes darted around the small living room. A battered old sofa with a checkered quilt not unlike the pattern of a chessboard was draped over one end of the sofa and on the other was a book, half opened to a certain page. The cover was well worn and jagged on one corner. The pages were slightly yellowed and many pages were marred by bunny ears from years of book marking as the reader advanced along the plot.

Q2 briefly checked the title.

Conquest by Mike Wong.

Hmmm..it was not familiar to him.

The beeping sound interrupted his ruminations and the curiosity took a hold of him again. He continued checking past the sofa along the wooden floor where a thick yellow rug sat in the center of the room. The starfleet emblem was emblazoned on the rug but it was worn and tattered from countless footsteps on the frayed rug.

Q2’s hunt for the sound continued and in the distance, through one of the simple four paned windows on the far wall there were storm clouds gathering, thick black nasty clouds, roiling with anger and menace. The air was electric and he could barely make out a thin low keening that was picking up as he walked closer to the sound.

A small wooden end table stood at the side of the sofa where several picture frames were huddled together as if seeking warmth on a blustery winter day. The center frame held a vivid color photo of Gary Mitchell in his Starfleet cadet uniform beaming proudly while he hugged a young James Kirk with one arm and the other he held up his officer’s commission. Q2 paused and felt a pall over the picture. Like a cloud of thick sullen melancholy. He could feel Mitchell’s fingers gently running along the glass of the frame. Q2 instinctively reached for the picture and touched the frame.

A jolt of anguish and betrayal swept up his arm and he withdrew his hand as if burnt.

“He’s almost finished.” The voice was a ghost whisper almost lost in the background noise of his breathing and the mildly annoying low keening. He turned slowly and this time caught a hint of the gold and silver.

His eyes tried to focus where he had seen the flash of color but there was nothing there. The beeping pierced his concentration again and he turned towards the fireplace. There was a chessboard set up on the floor in front of the fireplace. A game was in progress. He recognized some of the pieces and a slow sense of dread crept into his heart like a thief.

There was a piece that looked undeniably like Q, another that strongly resembled the Organian Ayelborne and there in a corner square was one of the Metrons. What was this? There were some pieces off the board indicating their removal from the game, among them was an ornate sculpture of an Excalabian and there was the bulbous disembodied brains the Melkot enjoyed masquerading under.

The other side of the board was spartanly adorned with several neatly arrayed pieces, a mysterious ancient wizard wrapped in black with arcing blue lightning and a massive spherical object with for all the world looked like a gun port near its equator among their number.

Q2 wanted to turn on his heel and leave immediately. Outside a swollen fat drop of rain splashed against the window and a low rumbling thunder clap broke the sudden silence. The beeping, always there grew slightly louder and his eyes alighted on a large open wooden crate by the hearth. It was packed with curios, rags, old clothes and some shoes.

The beeping was definitely coming from the box.

“What’s in the box?” He wondered aloud.

The thunder rumbled again and the sky grew darker still, a stiff wind picked up and the windows began to rattle. Branches swayed menacingly and some scratched the corrugated tin roof as if trying to pry it open.

Q2 slowly reached down towards the box.





IMPERIAL CENTER---------------------------EXECUTOR



Time stood still.

The players were arrayed around the bridge of the mighty command ship ready to play out the final drama of an assassination.

Jerjerrod stood impeccably straight, right hand jutting out straight hand ending in a nasty black holdout blaster. His finger tensed on the trigger and mouth open in a snarl of defiance.

Kahn Noonien Singh stood to the right of Grand Admiral Thrawn, a growing expression of alarm and shock on his face, one hand slowly rising towards the Grand Admiral.

Grand Admiral Thrawn with his back towards the armored view ports overlooking one of the greatest battles in Alpha Quadrant history unfolding before them, faced the Imperial commander, aide de camp and now would be assassin. His crimson eyes were narrowed on the young man’s face and his own expression was one of beatific calm. His lips pursed as he finished speaking the simple sentence that had come unbidden to his mind.

“It does not end this way.”

Fate herself seemed to gather her breath in anticipation of what was to come and then time snapped back into focus and life unfurled again into destiny.

Jerjerrod snarled in rage and almost orgasmic release as he felt his mission, the one pounding imperative beating through his consciousness all these weeks was finally here. Kill Grand Admiral Thrawn.

His finger jerked on the trigger and his eyes bulged as the part of Jerjerrod that was not devoured by the infernal will of the parasite growing in his brain rebelled with all his might against the treasonous act that he was committing but in the end all he could hear was the commanding steely voice of Khan Noonien Singh imperiously urging him to “Kill Grand Admiral Thrawn.”

“Kill Grand Admiral Thra---” Jerjerrod’s shout of anguish was interrupted as his head exploded into a bloody pulp and his body slumped forward only to be propped up by a fusillade of blaster fire from the stormtroopers crowded around him who responded with reflexive precision to the threat. The blaster bolts riddled his body and made it writhe like a marionette on broken strings until it was finally allowed to slump to the deck in a smoking ruin.

In the heart beats between blaster fire Khan Singh was in motion, propelled by the genetically perfected muscles that had been granted to him at birth, and despite his hands being bound by manacles he performed a perfect flying tackle that took Grand Admiral Thrawn down hard to the floor and hairs breadths away from the angry crimson bolts that spat from Jerjerrod’s holdout blaster. The blasts impacted with violent thumps against the armored viewport where Thrawn had stood mere moments before leaving blackened streaks like claw marks gouged into the glass.

Jerjerrod’s corpse continued to smoke and hiss from the dozen or so close range blaster bolts that tore through it with such murderous intent. The body still twitched and shuddered as if some portion of it was still trying to carry out the final command.




ADJUDICATOR-----------------------------IMPERIAL LEFT WING



Captain Tarsi ignored the column of smoke rising from one of the station pits below his bridge walkway and continued examining the status reports constantly scrolling down on his display. Several men were combating a fire while two were carried out quickly by stormtroopers to waiting medical teams that were assembling a makeshift triage area just outside one of the side turbolift areas.

Angry emerald turbolaser fire splashed into a deadly explosive display right outside the armored viewports of the bridge while TIE fighters whipped around each other like a frenzied swarm of insects directly over the forward bow of the mighty stardestroyer.

The source of the enemy fire was a large vessel looming menacingly over the right port side of the Adjudicator. She resembled an Imperial stardestroyer in basic ship frame and silhouette but the amount of turbolaser batteries, torpedo launchers and sundry other ship to ship weapon, in particular an awesome bank of quad heavy turbolasers mounted right on her forward forecastle made her something radically different. An Imperial stardestroyer was always meant to be a jack of all trades in terms of her capabilities. She could assault a planet, engage in ship to ship fighting, act as a fleet command vessel, part carrier, part garrison, part warship she could set out to accomplish nearly any mission given to her by the Emperor.

This vessel, the Hierophant, was a ship killer, pure and simple and her weapons load out attested to this fact as the triumvirate was discovering much to their chagrin. Tarsi hoped to keep the tight wedge formation of his attack plan under the withering fire. He was trying to keep as much of the fleet and anything else flying between themselves and the enemy ship but as they came within kill range it was rapidly becoming clear that this would not be enough.

The Relentless was in trouble. The battered and half crippled star destroyer was buffeted by another painful barrage of heavy turbolaser fire while her point defenses valiantly swatted away as many of the wall of torpedoes marching towards the attack wing as possible. Tarsi had no doubt that the ship was not going to survive until final approach. He watched with a sinking sense of dread as the banks slung over the sides of the Hierophant glowed menacingly and promptly followed by another wave of torpedoes launched like red claws arcing away from the stardestroyer. How many had she expended so far was beyond his calculation.

“I cannot believe that she can keep up that kind of rate of fire on her heavy batteries.” Tarsi snarled and strode purposefully to his tactical officer. “I want all scanners focused on her heavy batteries.” Tarsi’s head snapped up to his gunnery bays “focus all our fire on her primary coolant exchangers.”

“Aye sir!”

“Captain, I’m picking up horrific IR spikes along her port side batteries.”

Tarsi smiled wolfishly.

“So, she has reached her limits after all. Signal to the triumvirate to follow our firing solutions and put everything we can spare into their engines. We need to close to slugfest range.”

“Immediately sir.”

As the tactical officer began to turn Tarsi gripped him by the shoulder. “Let’s see if these Scimitar ships are worth the time and effort Emperor Skywalker expended. Signal to Shinzon to begin his attack runs.”

“Without our covering fire they will be torn to shreds.” His officer warned.

“She’s overheated and overtaxed. They might be the final blow I need to pin her down for the kill.” Tarsi explained coldly. He turned his attention back to the beast looming on the top quarter of his viewport. “Soon, we shall dance you and I.” He vowed and tightened his grip on a guard rail.

As if the behemoth heard him the fury of her fusillades increased and battered the brave triumvirate as they made their final approach.




IMPERIAL REAR--------------------------OPERATION MOHAMMED



“Did you hear that?!” Jellico asked tightly. The sounds from the channel broadcasting Thrawn’s propaganda that Jellico had relegated to the background to avoid any confusion had suddenly exploded with the unmistakable sound of weapons fire and confused shouts.

“Sounded like…blaster fire.” His XO volunteered with bewilderment etched on his face.

“Captain Jellico, this is Princess Leia.” Leia’s voice broke through on the priority alert com.

“Go Princess.”

“The Reckless Hope reads all systems fully charged on the apparatus.”

Jellico nodded and eyed the tactical display. There were an increasing number of fighters and now several smaller capships making a beeline for their position.

“I’d say we couldn’t have waited another moment. I’m sure Thrawn is on to us.”

“Begin Operation Mohammed immediately. The Hope is on an intercept course to provide covering fire for your ships as they pull out.”

“Acknowledged Princess. Don’t keep us waiting.”

“Leia out.”

Jellico turned his attention to his bridge crew as he stood up from his command seat and adjusted his uniform.

“Alright, people. Let’s be quick about this. We’re pulling out but providing whatever firing cover we can for the array. We cannot afford to have the Imperials even damage her or this whole party will be for nothing. We’ve got a nice probe in force coming at us in the form of a few squadrons of TIE interceptors backed up by some Strike cruisers so this is going to get hot and heavy. Lay down suppressing fire with the phasers and load the proton torpedoes. Let’s see if we can’t give these bastards a bloody nose.”

“Aye sir.”

“Sagan?”

“Entebbe here, sir.”

“I’m handing off the actual operation to you. We will hold them off as long as we can but for the sake of the Federation get this contraption up and running ASAP.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice, sir.”

“Anyone want to tell me where the hell half the Klingon fleet has been through all of this? We could sure use them now.” Jellico griped darkly as he watched the whirling dervish of a battle unfolding on the larger tactical display behind him.

“Unfortunately they’ve been cloaking and uncloaking throughout this little party so we can’t get proper ID’s but without a doubt, Chancellor Worf’s flagship has yet to make an appearance.” His science officer replied.

The Cairo shook heavily and explosions began rippling outside on her viewport. Jellico’s jaw tightened and he leaned forward with his hand on the back of his helmsman’s seat.

“Helm, turn us to face the enemy and bring us up to full impulse, weapons I want a constant stream of phaser fire, focus on the fighters.”

“Aye sir.”

“Take us in.” Jellico ordered grimly as behind the Cairo the web work frame of thin metallic arms fully extended to form a spherical object that began to pulse and glow in a rhythmic pattern. Tendrils of lightning began to spark off between some of the farthest metallic spider web filaments and a dull smoky ball of light slowly coalesced at its center.




IMPERIAL CENTER-------------------------------EXECUTOR



Thrawn’s head snapped up to regard Khan with an expression as close to surprise as could be expressed on the cold blue chiss’ features. Khan merely smiled coldly.

“If not for my superior reflexes I do believe this assassination attempt would have been successful.” Khan noted and pointed to the grim remains of Jerjerrod.

“There is no time for this.” Thrawn snapped. “Kirk is planning to pull off something insane in the midst of my fleet.” He continued in a hurry as he extricated himself from Khan.

“You’re most welcome of course.” Khan replied sardonically as he effortlessly kipped up to his feet hands still bound like a prisoner.

“I want every rear guard ship we have to close on the coordinates of that anomaly.” Thrawn emphatically ordered as he coldly stepped over the remains of Jerjerrod. Khan quietly watched him with satisfaction. Now try to factor what just happened into your equations my good Grand Admiral.

The confusion on the bridge was still running its course and Han Solo was lost in the jockeying of bodies as stormtroopers and imperial naval personnel who were closing in around their Grand Admiral.

“Han, I’m close by.” Ochoa shouted over the din.

“The Ochoa will behave himself.” One of the Noghri guarding the blind starship captain warned.

“I intend to but I know the panic that must be gripping him at the moment. He’s been tossed into a world he does not recognize anymore. I don’t suppose one of you fearless warriors would mind fetching him for me?” Ochoa replied.

The Noghri exchanged hooded glances. One of them quickly peeled away and stalked over to Han. The other Noghri remained close to their charge.

“Why does the Ochoa bother? He is a dead man as soon as Thrawn recovers and orders it.” One Noghri asked perplexed by the mercy shown.

“Because every life is important, my friend. When we lose sight of that we have lost this war.”

Another Noghri snorted derisively glancing out at the viewport behind them.

“It looks as if you are losing this war.”

Ochoa smiled softly and looked down directly at the Noghri despite his blindness.

“That’s not the war I’m talking about.” He replied mischievously.

“The Ochoa is strange.” The lead Noghri replied with some annoyance.

“That I am.”

Han was brought over to Ochoa by the Noghri while pandemonium was still raging around them. Han looked the blind starship captain.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

Ochoa nodded and smiled softly. Han had been accusing him of being an Imperial spy only a short while ago for revealing the truth about Darth Nemesis, yet even now he was concerned for his well being.

“Han, I need you to listen to me carefully.” Ochoa began.

Suddenly the floor beneath them shuddered and explosions erupted like suns all around the bridge area, the armored viewports automatically dimmed but not fast enough for some who shielded their eyes or were temporarily blinded by the thermonuclear fireworks that had unfurled around them. Alarms blared and several frantic shouts resounded from the enormous bridge pit below them.

“Oh hell…” Ochoa frowned.

“What the hell is going on now?!” Han exclaimed in exasperation. He hated every moment of this weakness and confusion. He yearned to jump into a cockpit or get into a firefight. Anything to make him feel more in control of his destiny than this mess. He never imagined as he had slowly descended into the carbon freezing pit that destiny would find him here in this place. For a brief moment he found himself yearning for the cold solitude of the carbonite.

“We are under attack.” One of the Noghri hissed.

“Really? I’m glad you’re hear to tell us these things.” Han deadpanned.

Outside the viewports hundreds of Klingon warships were decloaking as one. Waves of birds of prey pirouetted gracefully and dove down in an angry swarm firing continuously from their rapid fire disruptors, green bolts lancing out in quick staccato bursts that lapped hungrily against the battered shields of the Executor. Vorcha class attack cruisers unleashed an awesome torrent of heavy disruptor fire while above them the Klingon flagship whipped out a veritable storm of proton torpedoes, the opening salvo served as a signal and the second wave of Klingon heavy ships uncloaked as they released their own salvos of torpedoes all timed to impact at the same point at the same time.

Thrawn’s eyes narrowed as he instantly recognized the danger that he now found himself in,

Thrawn’s head snapped back to his crew and began to warn loudly “All hands brace for imp---” but was interrupted as there was only the hot white storm of hundreds of proton torpedo detonations at once that illuminated the bridge in such intense light that only one person did not cower or throw up and arm to shield their eyes - the blind man Ernesto Ochoa. Instead he looked into the light and frowned.

“I’m running out of time.”




KLINGON ATTACK FLEET------------------------EXECUTOR



“That’s it! KAPLAH!!” Worf roared victoriously and pumped his fist in the air as he watched with unrestrained glee while hundreds of torpedoes detonated against the might Imperial warship’s bridge tower.

Worf had quietly bided his time. His fleet had slowly taken up a tight cordon around the Executor, careful to make sure that their cloaks were as perfect as could be, power levels were kept to the bare minimum, in some cases even life support was left to such a level that ice was forming at some of the outer decks. They surrounded her like a pack of Targs ready to pounce on their prey.

Like any good hunter he had judged his moment to strike and when the comlink erupted with the confusion of gunfire and shouts he knew that this was the moment he and his fleet had been eagerly anticipating. All Klingon warriors were well versed in the ebb and flow of combat. There was always those moments, ever so fleeting when the tide of war turned and battles took on a life of their own making the invulnerable vulnerable and the mighty weak. Here was his one chance when even such a brilliant tactical mind could be distracted that he could plunge his dagger into the heart of his enemy and watch the emotions that played across the fragile stage of their face as life left them.

But these moments of introspection were all too human. Now there was bloody work to be done and the Klingon in him needed to take complete control.

“Shields are down!” His gunnery officer reported as he nodded with satisfaction and this encouraged several of the bridge crew to break out into spontaneous song.

Worf switched to the command wide band and when he spoke it was with his blood on fire, his eyes locked on his prey and vengeance the sole thought. The dead of Quo’nos would be heard this day.

“All Klingon attack ships, converge on the Executor. We have opened a hole in her defenses. Unleash you fury and vengeance and let the Imperials know this day that they are facing Klingon warriors and we will make them pay for every life ripped away in such cowardly fashion on Quo’nos. They will rue the day they spilled Klingon blood and as our own batleths drip with their thrice damned blood I want you all to remember the howls of the dying mothers clasping their children to their breasts, the screams of the innocent civilians boiled alive in oceans of super heated steam, the silence of our now dead home world and for every Imperial you kill you redeem one lost Klingon soul. So kill them without mercy, without surrender or retreat in mind and let us send a message to their Emperor that will be heard from one end of this universe to the other.” Worf leaned in close to the com and smiled darkly. “We are Klingons. We are coming for you. May your gods have mercy on you for we killed our own long ago.”

A roar cascaded away from the com like one he had never heard before. Thousands of Klingon warriors united with one purpose.

“Send our away teams and begin our attack runs. Let nothing survive us.”

“Kaplah!”

The flagship dove headlong into the fray, an attendant wing of Bird of prey cruisers broke ahead like war hounds and swept all before them in a storm of disruptor fire. The flagship unleashed torrents of withering disruptor fire punctuated by waves of torpedoes focused on taking out as many shield generators as possible, with her defenses down the Klingons were intent on making sure they would not come up again.

“Chancellor.”

“What is it?” Worf asked barely able to keep his eyes off the screen. A Vorcha was lanced by a turbolaser blast that sent it tumbling out of view and a blossom of fire a moment later at the bottom half of his screen told him she had met her fate.

“I’m picking up an odd reading to port. It looks like there is another cloaked ship is nearby moving beneath us.”

“Attack profile?” Worf asked suspiciously.

“ No sir. Whatever it is it seems to be using out sensor shadow to further mask her presence. She’s using an old cloak, something ancient, definitely Romulan. It’s purely visual with little pattern masking.”

Worf paused for a moment weighing his options.

“Keep an eye on it. If she meant us harm I doubt she would remain silent at this point. Our shields have dropped to deliver our away teams.”

“Of course, Chancellor.”




IMPERIAL RIGHT ---------------------------EXCALIBUR



“Would you look at that.” Riker mused with a grim smile. Smoke and the sharp tang of ozone hung thick in the air of the makeshift bridge of the Excalibur. Some of his crew were moaning quietly in pain behind him as Beverly Crusher worked to stabilize them in the midst of the pitched battle the Excalibur was brawling her way through.

On the liquid crystal screen display a stardestroyer was slowly falling out of the plain of engagement, her forecastle blasted clean away leaving a twisted jungle of blasted metal plates and conduits spewing all manner of superheated gasses and plasma into the void. Her starboard gun decks were on fire, a raking blast of anti-protons had gouged a jagged scar across the valley between the top and bottom portions of the hull.

She still managed to fire what little guns remained on the lumbering behemoth that was the Excalibur. The conical shaped deep blue vessel was turning slowly away from her mortally wounded prey. The enemy weapons fire that once slid off the powerful shields of the mighty planet killer now sparked weak pulsing clouds of energy discharges with each impact and many of the emerald bolts were now scoring directly against the solid neutronium hull. As the ship continued her turn the screen slowly revealed two other stardestroyers hounding her cautiously.

Will Riker smirked at the sight.

They should be cautious. When the Excalibur had first jumped into this wing there were five stardestroyers, now there were only these two.

He glanced around his bridge for a moment, taking stock of the damage. Geordi was below trying his best to keep alien power plants and weapons systems that had only been theoretically possible, and in some instances just pure magic as far as Federation science was concerned, from falling apart on them. Several stations were ruined messes of overloaded plasma conduits and blackened circuit boards while extraneous power couplings and other cables and conduits hung like blackened vines over their heads. Some of the cables still occasionally sparked dangerously and drew worried glances but all the damage control teams were tied up taking care of far more dangerous situations at the moment.

“They’re really laying into the Executor.” Tom Paris breathed with some awe as he watched on a second monitor screen the furious Klingon assault currently underway against the Imperial flagship.

“Good old, Worf, always there when you need a Klingon to lay down the law.” Riker smiled.

“The Klingon fleet has managed to bring down a large swath of shields by the bridge tower of the Executor. I am detecting heavy transporter activity as we speak.” Data reported easily multitasked between keeping the power systems of the Excalibur running, monitoring the battle they were currently involved in and running a multitude of other analysis from his station. His fingers flew over his control board with blinding speed.

“Only a Klingon would board that beast. They’ve got to be outnumbered a hundred to one.” Paris noted grimly.

“Fortune favors the bold.” Riker replied hopefully.

Data frowned slightly in response to new information scrolling down his status board. “Unfortunately I am detecting a power spike on their shield grid. They will be able to re-establish their shield momentarily.” He glanced over at Riker.

Riker absently rubbed his beard as he contemplated courses of action available to him. He nodded to himself and sighed deeply before switching on the com.

“Wedge, we’re thinking of taking a trip.”

“What’s the matter, Excalibur, not liking the company in this neighborhood?” Wedge replied through a hail of static. The amount of energy flying around was starting to interfere with ship to ship coms.

“I was thinking more along the lines of joining a party underway.”

Paris smiled to himself though Data was slightly confused and cocked his head slightly as he noticed some of the smiles among the bridge crew.

“I never say no to a party.” Wedge chuckled.

“I’m assuming that you’re not thinking of shedding such an attractive escort?” the captain of the Thermopylae interjected. Her Defiant squadron was sweeping ahead of the Excalibur and intercepting incoming fighters and missiles with bursts of their powerful pulse phasers.

Riker laughed.

“The more the merrier. Geordi, I assume you’re listening in?”

“I am though I don’t like where this is going.” Geordi replied warily.

“I want you and Data to work on a hyperspace plot that puts us right into that dog pile going on over at the Executor.” Riker ordered.

“Captain, may I remind you that the last time we plotted a micro jump we very nearly materialized inside a stardestroyer. With all the energy being expended in that small space it is liable to cause some spatial distortions that may impact my calculations and ---” Riker gripped data by the shoulder.

“Mr. Data. I’ll risk my life, this ship and this crew based on your calculations no matter the variables because I know you always manage to get it right.”

“Do you have statistical evidence to this effect?” Data replied simply.

Riker smiled as the Excalibur began shaking, reminding them all that they were in the midst of a battle.

“None needed Mr. Data. Our lives are in your more than capable hands.” Riker replied and turned his attention back to Tom.

“Now, Mr. Paris, let’s see if we can’t blow these bastards to hell before we leave.”

“With pleasure, sir.”

Data looked confused for a moment and merely shrugged and began making the calculations for the jump to light speed as Geordi fed him the variables he needed.

“Don’t worry Data, you know what they say. Practice makes perfect.” Geordi added with a good natured smile. Data nodded sagely as he watched his friend on the comlink.

“Unfortunately Geordi we are practicing with calculating billions of stellar variables, millions of power and mass conversion equations and thousands of possible approach vectors to place ourselves in a spot no more than several kilometers away from an object that is not stationary and buffeted by millions of terawatts of power that may be bending the very localized area of space we wish to enter.”

Geordi smirked.

“Sounds like a day in the park for your positronic brain and my know how.”

“And let’s hope fortune doesn’t laugh in our faces…” Riker muttered softly to himself as the Excalibur traded fire with the stardestroyers she faced.

[Themightytom]

[Ghost Rider]

Very nice to see this again. And more push towards the Q subplot which I still see is the heart of this entire mess .

[Thanas]

Great job, Stravo. I look forward to the next one.

[JME2]

It lives!

[Mayabird]

Holy fucking hell, it's alive.

Holy...hell...geez...

Anyway, I have reposted the new chapter and updated the table of contents.

And "Conquest"? Really, man?

[Stravo]

Holy fucking hell, it's alive.

Holy...hell...geez...

Anyway, I have reposted the new chapter and updated the table of contents.

And "Conquest"? Really, man?

I always like acknowledging the fic that started this whole shebang. If I had not read Conquest and been inspired this story would never have happened. There are Conquest tips of the hat riddled through the story.

[Stuart Mackey]

Praise be to non existent gods! Superb chapter Stravo.

[JME2]

Nice continuation, Stravo. I'm seriously tempted to get back to Fearful Symmetry once my current hurdles are sorted out.

[consequences]

*ahem*

Woohoo.


That is all.

[Comosicus]

It's wonderful to see you found the time and inspiration to continue this story. However the most annoying thing for me at this time is that I can't read the chapter now - there has been so much time since I last read the story that I must trace back a while to catch up with the flow.

Thanks again and keep up the good work.

[Agent Fisher]

I popped into this thread to blast whatever poor noob had dragged out this thread and gave me false hope.

Oh sweet zombie jesus, I'm so glad I was wrong.