Star Trek: War Journal

[DarkSilver]

This takes place in a alternate timeline post Voyager, where the Federation is in it's final moments. It isn't from the Borg, or some extra galactic omnipotent threat, but from a race which has invaded from another portion of the Galaxy, a race called the Trow.

The following is a collection of "posts" done in a RP thread with this plot, the ship is a Defiant Class, called the USS Heritage. I'm hoping no one will mind, but I used some board members names as NPC's (even my own name is used in the story). If you have a problem with it, please let me know, I'll edit you out and have another name in it's place.

I'm not certain how long this will go on, but each "chapter" will take place from the Heritage's point of view, third person omniscient POV focusing primarily upon the Captain, all others are supporting cast.

[DarkSilver]

Captains Personal Log - Stardate 63589.3
USS Bob Drops Trow

Finally, after 4 months of static, Linda has picked up subspace traffic coming in on Federation channels. Since the destruction of Earth, the crew's been on edge. Understandable, we're in a ship built for war, yet we've been staying out of it, trying to get close enough to do *something* to help our friends.

Josh tells me that the Warp Core is in major need of overhaul, we've been running to long without a refit, but there's not much we can do about it. Told him if he could tell me where I can find a friendly and safe Space Dock to do the refits, I'd set the course myself. He's still looking.

Kreshna's also been on me to do something about our supplies. Seems we're running low on medical. told him to replicate some aspirin and make due. Just make sure their large size, and everything should be fine.

We've been salvaging as best we can from the various wrecks, managed to hold down the vomit as we beam to ruined Starfleet ships and see the dead, mutilated bodies. We actually managed to locate the hulk of the USS Titan in the last fleet, I found Captain Riker's body in what remains of the sickbay, spread eagle upon one of the operating table, his torso slit open, a portion of his lower intestine pulled mostly out, wrapped about his neck, and the end placed into his mouth. I could see the pain in his dying eyes. His wife's corpse wasn't to much further from his, against the wall, her uniform ripped open, blood floating about her, along with other fluids best left unmentioned, her body looked ravaged, she had something in her mouth. Another look at her husband's let me see what it was.

I nearly wretched up the MRE I had for lunch.

I've never been a religious man, but I almost prayed to whatever Gods there may be, not to let that happen to me. Let my end come quick. I disintegrated the bodies myself, I couldn't let them remain like that for anyone else to see...they deserved proper burial.

I had met the Riker's when my old ship the Santa Fe had rendezvoused with the 'D', I had been to their wedding a few years ago...

We should be at the source of the subspace communications within four hours, in the Lamemda System. it looks like their the remains of the 10th Fleet. We're going under cloak, just to be safe, don't want to warp into a Trow trap....

End personal log.

-----

Allen closed his eyes as he shut off the log recorder. Nearly a year since the Trow War started, and finally his crew would get a taste of real action. To long had they gotten there a bit to late, just to see the dead, cold hulks of Star Fleet ships liter the formerly empty spaced.

'Please let this be true...let this be actual Federation ships, and not a Trow trap....they people deserve at least some R&R after a year of this hell....'

Reclining back in his chair, Captain Thibodaux closed his eyes. A short nap, that's all he wanted. Just a few hours sleep...

He closed his eyes, and was dead to the world.

----


The scene about his was from his worst nightmares, His ship, his pride and joy, was invaded. the creatures were massive and bug like, the Trow.

He had been captured early, when the Trow transported onto the bridge, right after taking down the Heritage’s shields. Linda, Rob and Jason were taken down in the first volleys of fire, their screams would forever burn in his mind.

Shep, his weapons officer had managed to fell a few with well placed phaser shots. The man loved his type II, and kept it in perfect working order, always carried it with him. It came in handy.

Still, it didn't do him much good, three Trow warriors had fallen upon Shep, and tore him to shreds, he could still make out the dark red bloodspot where he was standing, in the red emergency lights.

Captain Thibodaux looked up, as a downright massive Trow stepped up to him, multi-faceted eyes looking down upon him. He spit in what the Trow called their faces, just before he felt the power staff ram into his chest, and his heart exploded..

"ARGH!"

The cry filled his small Ready Room as he awoke from the dream. No, not a dream, more like a nightmare. His ship caught in battle, disabled, his people dead and dying around him, those he cared about like family....

'Bridge to the Captain, everything alright Allen?'

The sweet voice of his third in command, Lt Commander Decoursey, reached his ears through the comm. system. She was more than his third in command, she was also his fiancée. They had planned to get married before the war broke out, before Earth and every other major Federation planet was obliterated. Now, well, they were going to wait to see how this living hell turned out, before they went through with that.

"Yeah Nan...just...had a bad dream. What's the news?" Slowly, as he spoke, he rose from the chair, straightening out his uniform top, and cracked his neck. 'I could use a cup of coffee.....and a shave. Defiantly a shave. And a nice big cigar...I hate war.'

"We're about half a hour from Lamemda at our present speed, no sign of Trow ships within scanner range, though since their half patched with shoe shine and dreams, we can't get more than a couple light-years range. No idea what Bajor looks like. We're still operating under radio silence until we get to Lamemda, as per your orders."

Rubbing his eyes, Allen looked in the mirror, confirming he did in fact, need a shave, though the bags under his eyes confirmed he needed a good night sleep more.

Maybe when they linked up with other Federation ships...

"Half a hour huh? A'ight, I'll be on the bridge in a second. How's the Corporal doing? We hear anything from Kreshna?"

"Negative Captain, last I heard his wife was still asleep, Sawbones doesn't want to rush it, all things considering."

"Odd...he usually can't wait to get me out of Sickbay...."

"If you wouldn’t be such a as..."

"Hey now...watch it or I'll put you on KP" His tone was joking, even as he said it. His crew was about as informal as you could get on a Star Fleet vessel, a result of spending way to much time together with such a small crew. Everyone knew each other, everyone was comfortable with each other. he always made himself accessible to his crew, he knew they instinctively looked up to him, all crews look up to their Captain.

"I'll be on the bridge in fifteen minutes, keep me informed till then."

"Yes Sir" that sweet voice ranged to him, before the comm. system cut off. Turning towards the small rest room installed here, Allen went in to grab a sonic shower and shave...

-
Fifteen minutes later, freshly shaved and showered, Captain Thibodaux walked through the parted doors of his Ready Room and onto his bridge.

A few brief smiles, a wave to his crew, it's all that was required. They were his family now, everyone else had died on Earth, or when the Trow had torn their way through the colonies.

"What's the bad news Josh?" he asked the chief engineer as he took the command chair from Lt Commander DeCoursey.

Josh looked up at him, cracking a half hearted grin, "Oh, the usual, the warp core is about shot to hell..."

the engineer didn't get much further before getting interrupted, "We're within sensor range of Lamemda Captain, picking up Federation, Klingon and Romulan energy signatures. Looks like the bulk of them are pretty badly beaten up."

He sank into his chair as he listened, "Sensors are also picking up a Defiant-class ship approximately half a light-year from our position, hard to get accurate readings on her hull right now, but it seems like her main power is out, not picking up auxiliaries."

"To good t be true" he mumbled to himself, looking over to Josh and Nancie.

Both shrugged at him, Nancie giving him one of those infectious smiles of hers.

"Gee, you two are great help. Alright, remain cloaked, helm set course for that ship, increase speed to Warp 7. Yellow alert people, get Shep and Cyran up here."

With those orders, the bridge crew leapt to their duties. They may have been informal, but when he gave orders, they obeyed them.

"Course set, aye Captain, Warp 7."

"Yellow Alert, all senior officers report to the bridge."

Settling back in his chair, Allen watched the stars go by on the viewer.

'Please don't let this be another burned out hulk.....'

-----

Five minutes later, the USS Heritage slide next to the Agamemnon, still under her cloak.

"Sensors"

"There's people onboard Captain, her Warp Core seems to have gone out. Their running on backup power only. Registry says it's the USS Agamemnon under Commander Joshua Brennar."

"Great....hey Josh, know if we got a spare Warp Core in engineering?"

"Well we might if you had stopped in Space Dock when I told you to"

"Yeah, well I told you to find me one still capable of doing anything."

With a sigh, he looked at the ship floating dead in space, a snails crawl forward due to sheer momentum.

"Open hailing frequencies, we may be able to give them a tow to Lamemda at the very least..."

"Hailing frequencies open Captain. Transmitting on audio and visual frequencies."

"Indeed.....USS Agamemnon, this is the USS Heritage, can we offer some assistance?"

No response, the ship seemingly ignored the hail.

"Sir, main power is restored on the Agamemnon. they are proceeding at Warp Two."

"Indeed. Stand down from Yellow Alert. Josh, I want a diagnostic on the Cloak and Engine systems. Resume course for the Lamemda System, Warp Two, parallel the Agamemnon’s course."

Allen sat back in the command chair, his focus settled on the view screen as the streaks of light filled the view screen.

"Tactical," he turned the chair towards the station where Lt Charles "Shep" McKay was stationed, "Full report on all weapon systems on my PAD by the time we reach Lamemda. Just incase troubles comes up you know..."

turning back to the view screen, he waited...


-----

"Understood Argonaut, Captain Thibodaux will beam aboard at 1845 hours. Heritage out."

Linda looked over from her comm. station, grinning at him, "He sounds positively green doesn't he?"

Allen cracked a large smile at the statement, "Indeed. Captain to all department heads, I want a status report, list of needs and excess to me by 1820 hours. Try not to be to greedy in the needs list. Remember, these people are probably worse off than us. Now get to work ya lazy bums!"

the last bit was said in obvious jest, the bridge crew let out a low chuckle, as Thibodaux rose from his seat.

"Helm, bring Bob into standard orbit about Lamemda II. Josh, how's the cloak holding up?"

'Just peachy Cap'n, I managed to scroung enough components off the three others to actually get two of them working, with a few bits and pieces extra. If we can get enough replicator material, I can probably churn out spare parts on the industrials.'

"Good work, a'ight everybody, lets get to work. Scottie, Nancie and Josh will join me onboard the Argonaut, Shep will have the Conn. Linda, track down Scottie and let him know would you?"


-----


"...and while the cloaking device is performing just peachy, I'll remind you do need to realign the Warp Core as son as possible. We *might* be able to get to Bajor from here without some major malfunction, but I'm not going to promise you anything. Our main phaser array and forward cannons are working just fine for now, but I'm having a small glitch in our aft shield generator. I’ll looking at adapting one of the Sovereign class shield generators to put in it's place, but no guarantees it'll work."

Captain Thibodaux nodded as he listened to the final report from his Chief Engineer, Lt Commander Josh Petrosk. Josh had served with him onboard the Santa Fe, as had most of his senior staff, except for Lt Commander DeCoursey, she was a new addition to just before the Trow War.

"Good, have you looked into creating a replicator diagram for those Cloaking Devices yet?"

"It'll take sometime, it'll mean ripping apart one of those operational ones..."

"No rush, I hoping we can get a small advantage on the Trow with cloak capable ships..."

"It didn't work to well for the Klingons Captain," Ensign Walper spoke up

"Or the Romulans I may add" Commander Scott Taylor added.

"I know, but we have to use every advantage we can get here....I'll be beaming over to the Argonaut in five minutes anyway, thanks you for the reports...."

Allen was interrupted by voice of his communications officer over the comm. system just then, "Captain, Captain Kalpov is ordering all ships to break orbit, we have incoming"

With barely a glance, Thibodaux left the ready room, closely followed by his senior staff. In a single smooth maneuver, he was in the command chair, eyes fixed on the screen, as his officers moved to their stations.

"Tactical report"

"Sensors are picking up sixteen Trow attack ships, Juggernaught Class destroyers. Negligible damage to their hulls. their shields and weapons are reading at full power."

"Take us to red alert, engage the cloaking device. Helm set course 2-8-3-mark-3-5, Full Impulse. Josh I need every erg of power you can supply me with."

In space, the diminutive USS Heritage was one of the first to break orbit, her hulk gaining quick speed under the mighty legs of impulse. Moments after clearing the Lunar orbits of Lamemda 2, her frame began to waver, then disappear into the star field as the cloaking device engaged.

"We're now cloaked" Commander Taylor spoke as the lights on the bridge dimmed.

"What do we know about these Trow ships?"

"Their not extremely fast, or maneuverable. We could technically run circles around them, sticking to their flanks....." Shep began.

"Except that they love to keep in tight formations, covering each other's sides and blind spots. They have devastating weaponry, we could possibly survive 4, maybe 5 hits before shields collapse, another 2 before our ablative armor is ruptured and our warp core goes critical." finished off Lt Commander DeCoursey.

"Alright then. They outgun us, but we can outrun them....our course will take us beneath their formation, Shep, remember when you told me about tactical usage of the cloak? Decloak, launch torpedo on the run, cloak and radically change course. think that will work here with some accompanying phaser fire?"

Shep thought about it for a moment, before shrugging, "Maybe...we don't know their shield capacity...we could run out of torpedo's before they run out of shields. Besides, one lucky hit while cloaking, and we're goners."

"We'll have to risk it, Walper set course to take us right beneath the fleet, three-quarters impulse. On my mark, I want you to initiate a new course, any heading, Warp 3. We need pinpoint timing on this people. Let's not screw it all..."

With the chorus of "Aye Captain", the plan was put into motion, cruising through space, under cloak, the USS Heritage slipped beneath the rearmost Trow ship.

With the visual distortion that always accompanies the change from being cloaked, to not, or vice versa, the Heritage revealed herself, phaser cannons firing concentrated bursts of destructive energy into the Trow Juggernaut.

"Evasive maneuvers, keep those beams from hitting us. Shep, fire Quantum Torpedoes!"

The phasers continued their fury, as four globes of white energy accompanied their salvo. Quickly, the quantum torpedo's impacted the Trow shields, barely a meter from the concentrated impacts of the phaser cannons.

"Walper, NOW!"

As the first beams of destruction lanced out at the small ship, she imitated a inverse loop, streaking away from the battlefield at warp speeds, as her cloaking device masked her presence.

"Report!"

"Trow shields dropped 75% from the concentrated salvo, no damage to their hull. We managed to take a hit on our aft section, minor damage to the ablative armor."

"Round two people. Let's get it in gear. Walper, set course to bring us at their flank, Shep, full spread of phasers and Quantum torpedo's, target their primary energy systems. Let's see if we can't get their warp cores to implode......"

turning about on her axis, the Heritage charged back into battle, dropping cloak as she neared for her next run...
The Galaxy Class USS Argonaut plowed through the weakened shields of the Trow Juggernaut, causing the slightly smaller ship to crumple then explode under withering weapons fire. When the explosion was clear, the Trow formation was in shambles.

"Their breaking formation, looks like their running Captain."

"Like hell their not, credits to blood wyne their going to try to regain formation. The Argonaut bought us a few minutes to make this fight a bit more even."

The Heritage closed the small distance it had placed between itself and the conflict after it's warp jump, her cloaking device deactivating, and energy shields coming online.

"Change of plan, let's see if we can't do more serious damage. Helm, attack pattern Whiskey-Tango-Foxtrot, speed one half impulse, Shep, pick your targets and don't miss. Time to drop Trow people!"

Space is a three dimensional entity, up, down, above below, these things mean nothing, they are only relative to the ship. Combat in space was not like combat on the water, or on land. It was raw, visceral, attacks and faints coming from all angles, there was no air to impede sudden maneuvers. Weapon ranges where measured in light seconds, thousands, even hundreds of thousands of kilometers. It was taught in even the most basic of Space Warfare classes.

Yet in all this time, war in space was fought much like old naval vessels. The Defiant-class was the first Federation starships to maneuver realistically, turning on it's own axis.

At this moment, that's what the Heritage did. Coming off a angel of 90 degrees, the diminutive starship twisted on her z axis, and brought herself above the starboard flank of a enemy cruiser, phasers cannons spitting hot death at the Trow Juggernaught it had chosen for it's chew toy.

As massive and heavy armed at the front and rear the Trow ships where, their flanks had only point defense weaponry, and as such, the Heritage was free to tear open the larger ships hull and expose every one of the enemy to hard vacuum.

That was until a second Trow vessel, not yet engaged by another ship, targeted the ship, and unleashed hell with it's forwards weapons systems.

The Heritage's shields light up with the energy exchange, the static bubble of it's shields exploding, as disruptor bolts impacted. The force of the impacts knocked the ship away from her attack run, tumbling through space as yet more energy beams joined in.

"Shields are starting to buckle! Stabilizers are down! We lost Impulse drive!"

On the bridge of the Heritage, it looked to be a scene from Hell, support girders had collapsed, Optical wiring and plasma conduits normally hidden from view, were exposed. A quick glance brought Thibodaux's attention to the prone body of his weapons officer, his head half caved in by one of the fallen supports.

"Bridge to Engineering, what can you get me Josh!"

"My condolences....I'm doing everything I can to keep the shields together, but those beams blow out most of our PTS, secondary are damn close to overloading..."

"I'm not abandoning this ship!"

"Then we're all going to die very shortly...."

His face fixated to the flickering view screen, smoke thick in the bridge air, Captain Thibodaux closed his eyes, before turning his gaze on his fiancée. She was rising from the floor near her station, a gash upon her forehead.

Slowly, a sad smile touched upon his lips, his voice just loud enough to be heard, “It looks like I'm going to be a little late for the wedding." He swallowed a lump forming in his throat, his words harsh as he spoke them, "All hands....abandon ship..."

The klaxons sounded, as the computer's voice chimed out the captain's orders. Slowly, Captain Allen Thibodaux, formerly of the USS Heritage NCC-75978, sank into his command chair, watching his bridge crew run for their own lives....

[Robert Walper]

Only an Ensign? That's it?

Sounds interesting so far.

[Lord Revan]

I have just one question, who are the Trow?

[DarkSilver]

In the game Universe, the Trow are a alien race from the Delta Quadrant, insectile in nature, mostly peaceful. The Federation had minor contact with them, which showed them to most likely be peaceful, until four Trow fleets entered the Alpha Quadrant, and began to tear everything apart.

Almost all Major planets in and surronding the Federation, Klingon and Romulan Empires have been decimated, except for one planet, Bajor, which is the next target.

Walper: Yes, only a Ensign. Borg deserve nothing more! muhahah