Rebellion in Paradise.

[Knife]

Rebellion in Paradise

Chapter 1


War is an ugly thing, but not the ugliest of things. The decayed and degraded state of moral and patriotic feeling which thinks that nothing is worth war is much worse. The person who has nothing for which he is willing to fight, nothing which is more important than his own personal safety, is a miserable creature, and has no chance of being free unless made or kept so by the exertions of better men than himself.
--John Stuart Mill



Federation Penal Colony, Austral VI. 14 Light Years from Starbase 375.



The soft moon of Austral shone a dim light across the valley. The forest tree’s absorbed the rest of the moonlight and created dark swaths of shadow. From one of these shadows, Lieutenant Dan Hathaway observed the prison below him.

He used a primitive telescopic device, as no active or even electronic sensors were allowed during the mission, to view the compound below him. A large clearing was made in the lush forest of the continent and four massive buildings sprang up out of the black wood.

Somewhere in those buildings, his objective awaited.

His platoon had been on this planet for over a week. Since being inserted from a cargo ship that came out of the Argolis Cluster, his troops had moved in close to the prison and performed recon on it. Had observed it. Mapped it’s edges, traced its guards.

Lt. Hathaway now knew everything he needed to know to finish his mission. Looking through the binoculars, he checked one last time the positions of the various mission objectives for his three squads before crawling back over the ridge to his squad leaders.

“Mission is a GO.” He said in a hushed voice.

“Squad one will proceed to the subspace comm. relay. Two, you’ll advance to the transport inhibitors and sensor pallets. Three, you’ll move in to the objective rally point and await a go code from one and two. When we get a green code, we’ll move in and take the objective and all squads will move to extraction points.

Remember. All active sensors are offline. Don’t even power up your rifles until second squad blows the sensors. Keep every electronic signal off until the fireworks start.

Any questions?” Hathaway added.

He waited a moment to make sure, then nodding to his troops; he made a wide sweeping motion with his hands that signaled his platoon to move out.

*************************************************************

Federation Penal Prisoner 42521138 sat in his cell. It was not really a cell as most species thought of it. This was a Federation Prison, and as such, prisoner 42521138 had just about every comfort one could imagine.

His cell was really a small suite in building 4. The three room suite had a living room, a bed room, and a bathroom. The only real thing the prisoner lacked was his own kitchen. His cell was one of six on the floor, though there was only one turbolift out of the level. This was perhaps the only thing that reminded prisoner 42521138 that he was in a penal colony.

Sure, he was allowed out of his cell twice a day. Meal times and the daily activities. But when he was in his suite, he could almost pretend that he was at home. He had requested and gotten quite a few books that he wanted. His former rank giving him privileges that other Federation prisoners couldn’t get. His library was quite extensive.

Schwarzkoph, Sun Tzu, Pope, and a lot of the ancient classics of Plato, Tactius, Caesar, and Napoleon, all adorned his shelves.

He was once a man of history. A man of the present. A military man. And he soon would be again, if he read the messages correctly.

The old prisoner rose and began to dress himself. Slowly and almost painstakingly, he put on his dress uniform. The symbol of the entity he intended to fight, to the death if need be.

His creased slacks, his polished boots, his well ironed shirt and matching jacket. Hanging from that jacket, various medals and ribbons dangled. Tokens from previous battles. Some won, others lost, but a reminder of the lessons learned and the men who had believed in him.

Those same men or at least those like them, who reached out and found him at this place, this illusion of paradise. He had failed those who had believed in him once, he did not intend to loose again. The stakes were just too high this time.

He had arranged the last of his four rank pips, when a shock wave rumbled through his cell. A muffled ‘bang’ accompanied the dirt and debris that shook itself loose from the ceiling.

Prisoner 42521138 stood at parade rest, facing away from the entrance to his cell, his suite, his false home. He waited there in the dark shadows of the early morning. That no alarm or no sudden rush of guards arrived to check on him gave him no pause.

The people who were coming for him would take care of everything. So with a patience born of a military commander, he waited.

It seemed like hours, but prisoner 42521138 knew it was more like minutes, eventually the lift at the end of the corridor of cells hummed to life and soon he could hear footsteps of a group of people approaching.

The footfalls ended, and again the prison level fell into silence. Out of the dark, a voice sounded. Confident and strong, the male voice reported with a hint of respect, “Sir, all is ready. With your pardon, we should be leaving.”

Prisoner 42521138 turned around and saw his small suite crammed with five other people. One, the poor helpless guard detailed to his suites floor, stood with his head to the wall and one of the dark rescuer’s rifles to his head. The four new people were dressed all in dark, rugged clothes and were all armed with phaser rifles.

“I’m at your command.” Said the prisoner.

The leader of the commandos winked and smiled at the prisoner and said, “This way sir. Extraction in three minutes.”

The unfortunate guard was left in the prisoner’s cell in a state that prevented him from reporting the escape of prisoner 42521138 and the four commando’s and their new charge passed through the building of the prison complex heading for the court yard, other men in dark fatigues joining them out of the shadows of the building.

The prisoner and his rescuers emerged into the early dawn, a pale light coming from the eastern horizon across the vast green sea of the forest, and into a small clearing between the prison buildings.

They were soon joined by two other bands of commandos and each group spread out to form a large circle with the prisoner in the middle. Not long after all the commando’s were in the circle, prisoner 42521138 felt a tingling sensation in his body as a soft blue light seemed to encompass the entire party.

The beautiful view of the forest disappeared as the transporter beam carried him up to the awaiting ship. The green trees were replaced by the worn face of two older men wearing uniforms of Starfleet Admirals and an expression of relief.

“Welcome aboard, Ben.” Said one of the Admirals.

Benjamin Maxwell, former Federation Prisoner 42521138, smiled at his compatriots, Admirals Leyton and Pressman. All was in place, and now the liberation of the oppressed masses of the Federation would soon commence.






Chapter 2


There is one source, O Athenians, of all your defeats. It is that your citizens have ceased to be soldiers. -- Demosthenes



Starfleet Command Orbital Annex, Earth.



Starfleet Chief of Operations, Admiral Janeway walked into the conference room with the rest of the Admiralty that they were able to gather in the last four days. In front of her, as she strode into the room and headed for her chair at the head of the large table, were eight of the Fleet Admirals and six of the Command Admirals of various operations and strategic commands. It was time they all knew the problem looming the Federation in the face.

Behind the Chief of Operations, walked a staff officer. A Commander of no distinguishing physical appearance, of medium height and ordinary features. As Admiral Janeway took her seat, the Commander moved to the speaking podium and signaled to the Admiralty that he was ready for his briefing to begin.

“Admirals, if you will. I am Commander Hayden, from the Operations Staff. The Chief of Operations has asked me to brief you on a number of events that have occurred during the last six to eight months. I am sure that with most of the events, one or even two of you might be aware, but the significance of all the events, added together has been kept quiet until we could take a measure of the problem.”

The Commander reached down and typed a series of commands into the LCAR’s in front of him, transferring data to the individual Admiral’s PADD and a large viewing screen behind him.

Hayden didn’t look at the screen. He had already memorized the information, as disturbing as it was. In a corner of his mind, he had already made a bet with himself about if the Admirals in front of him would even see the threat or if he needed to spell it out for them.

“The information on your PADD’s and on screen, lists sixteen Starfleet vessels that have gone missing in the last eight months. Four survey ships have failed to report in, during missions in the Beta Quadrant. Eight medium ships have disappeared during combat patrol of the Cardassian DMZ. Of which, the USS Venture was dispatched to investigate, and has now been listed as missing.

The Honshu, the Lexington, the Horatio, Excalibur. All missing or failing to report in. As you can see, most of these ships are large combatants, refitted during the Dominion War. The rest are new ships out of the yards in the last four years after the war.

One week ago, the USS Ark Royal, the latest Sovereign class vessel, vanished while on a shake down cruise during her trials.”

The Commander paused his briefing as the murmurs in the room were growing louder as the Admirals read the list.

“Are we being attacked by some threat, Commander?” Asked Admiral Jellico.

This question brought on a surge of outbursts from other Admirals, “Those damn Klingons!” Blurted the Commander of the 5th Fleet.

“I’d be willing to bet it is Romulans subterfuge.” Remarked Admiral Hoyota.

Until this point, Admiral Janeway had observed the briefing and the reaction of the Admiralty with one hand supporting her head, quietly listening. Now that the initial shock was out, she interjected. “We first suspected such things. But we quickly dismissed them. All of the events are so scattered through our territory that none of the known powers could have been responsible for all of the events.”

“Then what are you suggesting?” Asked Jellico in a calm and confident voice.

Admiral Janeway nodded to Commander Hayden and he took the question for her. “As we all know, there has always been a faction in Starfleet who advocated a stronger military tradition than what the Federation Council has always dictated to us. It has ebbed and flowed for as long as there has been a Starfleet.

At the end of the Federation/Klingon conflict at the beginning of the century, the Federation Council dictated a steadily more pacifist doctrine for Starfleet. And it was one we were happy to enact. Great strides in exploration were achieved, and yet there were still those who feared that enemies were around us. They were right to a degree, of course, though never as right as they wished.

With the break out of the Federation/Cardassian war, almost two decades ago, the militaristic faction had a chance to gain attention. Some of those commanders were instrumental for some of the hard won victories, and a lot of the newer officers were brought into their fold.

The way that war ended and the follow on treaties with the Cardassians a decade ago, only cemented some of those officers distaste at the peaceful doctrine of Starfleet.”

Admiral Jellico stretched back into his seat and sighed, “That was a nice, flowery history lesson, Commander. I hope there is a point coming?”

Hayden tried his best to hide his distaste at the rebuke, though failed miserable. “Sir, it was that very cadre that subscribed to the idea of a more militaristic Starfleet that helped restructure the fleet after Wolf 359. Some of the same officers that left Starfleet to fight for the Maqi, or to speak for their cause.

The same ideology that was not content with the treaties giving Federation colonists to the Cardassians, who thought the Cardassians lost the war and saw no reason to give away anything. The same officers who warned of the coming Dominion threat, and then constructed a coup attempt.”

Hayden saw than the pessimistic side of his personal bet had won. The Admirals were too used to the utopia of the Federation that such thoughts couldn’t even surface anymore.

“Sir, the Operations Staff’s opinion on the events, is that these ships have not been destroyed or captured by enemy or even friendly nations. Rather that the Captains of these ships have chosen to disappear.”

“Mutiny?” Exclaimed one of the Admirals in the back that Hayden didn’t know.

Various side discussions erupted at that and quickly ended with Admiral Jansen’s out roar, “That’s ridiculous. Nothing of that sort has happened in Starfleet; at least not on the scale you are proposing Commander. Not in a hundred years. And even assuming you are right, and these Captains have gone rogue, those ships represent thousands of Starfleet personnel. Are you suggesting that thousands of Starfleet personnel, Federation Citizens, are rebelling against paradise?”

“The data is suggesting just that Admiral.” Commander Hayden responded.

The Admirals were staring at him as if he had gone mad, “You’ll need more than a list of missing ships, if you want to convince anyone of that, Commander.”

“There is more data to support this theory, sir. Five days ago, there was a successful escape at Penal Colony Austral VI. The Warden reports that his installation was attacked by a large number of well trained and well equipped troops, those troops and a single prisoner where transported off of the planet, only after the subspace communications system, the transport inhibitors, and the local sensor net was destroyed.

In fact, the only reason we know about this is a cargo ship making a late delivery came into the system six hours after the escape and the Warden was able to send out a message to Starfleet Command.”

“And who was the escapee?” Inquired Jellico.

Commander Hayden straightened, cleared his throat and said, “The escaped prisoner, prisoner 42521138, was Benjamin Maxwell.”

The Chief of Operations stood then, taking the podium from her Commander and said, “He isn’t the only one. The penal colonies where both Leyton and Pressman were held for their crimes have also been raided. We believe that these three rogue officers are engineering a rebellion.”

There was another outburst of voices. Admiral arguing Admiral. It took the Chief of Operations, herself, to calm the room down and proceeded.

“Four days ago, we received a message from Maxwell. It was this message that prompted me to call this meeting.” She tapped a key on her PADD and the ship list on the viewing screen changed to the face of a gentle looking old man with thin blond hair, turning slightly gray at the edges.

His voice was just as soft as his features, though his words were perhaps the harshest thing the assembled group had ever heard.

“Greetings. I hope that this message will eventually find its way to Starfleet Command. As you probably already know, I am Benjamin Maxwell. Incarcerated by the Federation for actually seeing a threat to my nation and taking action against it. I was a Captain of a ship, designed for exploration and repeatedly sent into combat. Sent into situations made worse by the blundering actions of our government.

It is these things, I have contacted you to address. I am not the only one with these feelings. There are many in the Federation that feel that the worst enemy the Federation faces is the Federation herself. Or at least the Federation that she has become.

It is in this that we declare war against the tyrannical hold that the Council has over the populace and the pacifistic bent of those charged to defend them, unless certain issues are resolved.

I know that most of you think of me and those that think as I, as warmongers. But that is far from the truth, and in truth, we do not wish to fight. So as a gesture, we wish a Federation Ambassador to meet with us and discuss these issues.

If you wish to avoid bloodshed, have your ambassador go to the Helena system and be on station no more than eight days after you receive this message.” With a burst of static, the message ended.

“Civil War?” The mere sound of the phrase was bitter in the ears of the assembled Admirals.

Admiral Janeway replied, “That seems to be his intent.”

“He’ll need more than sixteen ships, to defeat Starfleet.” Said Admiral Hoyoto.

Admiral Jellico sighed, saying, “What makes you believe that he only has sixteen? For all we know, they have twice that many, or three times that many. Still hiding in the fleet, waiting for orders.”

“Jellico is right,” Said Janeway, “There is no telling what resources they have.”

Admiral Hoyoto leaned forward then, “What do you suggest? Send an ambassador? You know it has to be a trap. Or even a chance for more ships to cross over to his ranks.”

“We should take care to send a capable and loyal Captain. But also one who could spring a few surprises too.” Jellico said. “More importantly, I think we should send a symbol to the rebels and to the loyal at that.”

Janeway caught on, “Send the Enterprise.”

Jellico nodded. “Shelby will be able to control the situation.”

Hoyoto added, “Then send in Picard too. As the Ambassador. The Enterprise with Picard on board will be a strong message to this rebel scum.”

Admiral Janeway glanced around the table and saw the nod of agreement from the Admiralty. “Agreed.” She said.

[Ghost Rider]

Interesting set up.

I like that you are using Jellico as pretty much a guy who's jumping at shadows and all about to go nuts to war. Should be interesting to see this unfold.

Also liked the description of the holiday resort that Feddie Prisons likely are.

[Crazedwraith]

Very nice. Is your use of the USS Excalibur in line with the New Frontier books? Ie) With MacKenzie Calhoun? Or jjust coincidentaly.

Also that last bit about the Enterprise seemed the imply Shelby was in command?

[Knife]

I've never read the NF books, though I do know that a vast amount of secondary characters from TNG are in it.

Since I've never read them, I really can't take into account who is where and did what. Shelby is in command of the Enterprise in this fic, after the retirement of Picard from Starfleet.

[consequences]

Darn, you got my hopes up regarding a NF link too. It even makes sense, Calhoun would almost certainly join the militarists. Of course, by this time, Shelby might have already been promoted to Admiral according to that tineline, so it might not have worked anyway. But if you want one of the renegade captains to be a scary scarred bad-ass with a history with Picard(usually amicable), you could just say that Shelby commanded the Enterprise as an interim step before her promotion. Unfortunately, this is incredibly unlikely to fly, as Shelby is married to Calhoun, and Jellico would definitely be aware of this, but then again, she's always been a paragon of SF regulations, and has reigned in her husband in the past. Ultimately, as the writer, its your call, so feel free to disregard my deranged ramblings.

Take the time to read the NF series if you can. If you get the Hardcover of Stone and Anvil, it should have a cd of the previous books in it(check though, in case some bastard lifted the cd).

But please, continue with the story.

[Darth Fanboy]

Im glad Picards something other than a Captain, especially since Tracheotomy-Way is Chief of Operations.

*Requisitions more*

[Stofsk]

Ok just finished reading it. Here are a few immediate thoughts:

I liked it.

I thought that 'prisoner 42521138' was too long a number, but I liked the setup. Have him revealed at the end to be the good Captain was nice and worked well. Nevertheless, the number just seems too long and awkward. It makes me think that that Federation either has 42'521'138 prisoners all up, or 42'521'138 at Austral VI.

A few things: Admiral Pressman was placed under arrest by Captain Picard during the Pegasus debacle. Captain Picard felt confident that he would be tried and imprisoned for his crime, while ADM Pressman seemed confident that he had friends in high places. This last part was true; the then-head of Starfleet Security, an ADM Raner, was in on it, and IIRC her fate was never broached or referred to. This is just something to keep in mind perhaps, if you wish to introduce another rebel confederate.

As to Leyton, whatever happened to his little protege? Captain Elisabeth Beltene?

There's also the infamous missing Thomas Riker, who went to war against the Cardassian Obsidian Order with the USS Defiant, surrendered, and was then promptly forgotten - even after Major Kira assured him "We'll get you out Tom."

The other admirals sound like a bunch of whining bastards. But I guess that was the intent.

Pretty nice, it's got me intrigued and wantin' more.

[edit] Oh and it's good how Picard is something other than a captain in this. In all honesty he should have been forced to retire his commission based on compassionate grounds after the Borg attack. No one should have to resume walking down the lonely path of command after going through that kind of shit. Plus, I always thought a posting at an embassy would have been just right up his alley. Or as a freelance amatuer archeologist.

[CJvR]

Nice setup.

Considering that SF have sent millions to die in poorly armed science vessels during the recent wars Maxwells complaint have a very dangerous edge to it now that it didn't before when the Feds were essentially only fighting colonial wars.
Also there are likely to be millions of new recruits in SF who joined to defend the Federation rather than counting spacedust. I always though the story of the post war Federation would be a very intresting one since essentially all the Federation's most cherished principles was shredded in battle.
If there was an effort after all that to turn back time and continue as before there would probably be a serious reaction, and it would not be limited to SF. The civilian populations will remember the fall of Betazed as well as the massacre on Cardassia.

[Knife]

Chapter 3


I must acknowledge, once and for all, that the purpose of diplomacy is to prolong a crisis.
-- Mr. Spock



Stardate 556241.3

Captain Shelby reporting. The USS Enterprise has been running a marathon for the last two days, and I think that the crew is feeling its effect. The Enterprise has picked up Ambassador Picard from the Briars Patch and is enroute to the Helena system to negotiate with the insurgents and we should arrive in a little over 36 hours.

Starfleet Command has informed me that I could face tactical problems, what with Maxwell leading the faction, but I foresee little problem. The Enterprise is more than a match for any rebel ship.

With a little less than two days before arrival at the negotiation site, Ambassador Picard has decided to tour his former command. Commander La Forge has volunteered to give Picard the tour of the ship and I’m sure there is still many a familiar face aboard.

*************************************************************

“The place looks almost like it did when I left.” Said Jean-Luc. “Well, almost. I wasn’t there when she left space dock after the refit and repairs.” He continued in a lament, as he ran his hand along the smooth casing of the plasma coolant containers.

Commander Geordi La Forge, the executive officer of the Enterprise led his old commander through the rebuilt engineering room. “The Enterprise was still pretty much new when she was roughed up, sir. Not much new technology came aboard with the rebuild. She’s still basically like she was when you commanded.”

Jean-Luc Picard seemed lost in memory, so Geordi let him be. It was good to see his old Captain. Not that he minded Captain Shelby. With Picard's retirement, and Commander Riker’s command aboard the Titan, La Forge deemed himself lucky to get the assignment of XO. His prior experience with Captain Selby readied himself for her command, and hopefully some day his own.

Ambassador Picard seemed to come out of his day dream and noticed Geordi waiting patiently near the engineering consol. “I’m glad I retired, I so enjoy my time with Anij. But standing here with the old girl brings back memories.” He paused with a kind, fatherly look upon his face, “But not as many memories as that of her crew.”

Picard’s warm smile and even warmer words would have made a tear form at Geordi’s eye if he were able to cry.

“Sir, Lieutenant Gomez is still aboard and I know she’d appreciate a chance to say hello.” He said instead. “This way sir. We still need to report to the conference room with the Captain by 1400.”

Geordi led his old commander about the ship, pointing out where the space dock had repaired the damage done by the ramming maneuver two years ago. Along the way they met every crew member they happened across, old and new alike.

Picard was able to greet various members of the crew that had served under him in his stint as the Captain of the Enterprise. As the afternoon went along, Picard noticed the Geordi was slowly guiding him back up towards the conference room and his appointed meeting with the new Captain.

At exactly 1400 hours, Federation Ambassador Picard entered the conference room on deck two and found that Captain Shelby was waiting for him.

“Punctual as ever, Picard.” She said in an even tone.

Jean-Luc seated himself, and then turned to Shelby, “Good habits are hard to break, Captain. Should we proceed?”

With an efficiency to shame a Borg drone, Shelby briefed Picard on the situation as she knew it, the possible mutiny of sixteen ships, the escape of Maxwell, Leyton, and Pressman, a looming civil war. She finished the brief by playing the classified recording of Maxwell’s demands.

Picard took it all in without question. At the end he just sat there, contemplating. He sat there so long, that Shelby became fidgety and finally asked, “Well. What do you think?”

Jean-Luc pinned her with his brilliant blue eyes, “We should have seen this coming.” He said plainly.

He would have left it at that if not for the look of doubt and suspicion that streaked through Shelby’s features.

“I do not in any way condone what he, what they, are doing. But in retrospect, how could we not see this coming. Leyton himself tried to do this before. Maybe not as overt but just as bold, the pressure has been building for years.”

He signed briefly, “And I’m afraid my antics didn’t help matters any.”

“Whether they are right or wrong in their convictions is irrelevant to me, Ambassador. What is my concern is that their power-play is illegal and dangerous. Further, if this whole pretense of diplomacy is a ruse or a trap. You’ve had dealing with all three of these traitors, what do you say?”

Picard thought long and hard on the question, once again letting Shelby stew in her seat, a predicament she was sure he was amused to do to her.

“Whether you assign the title of ‘illegal’ to them or not, all three of their past cases showed them acting in what they thought was the best interests of the Federation. Not themselves.” He let out another sigh, showing how much this predicament pained him, “I do not believe they are willing to enact bloodshed on the scale of civil war. It is more probable that they wish publicity for their cause or at the very least, an isolated attack to bring that publicity. He said.

Shelby looked shocked, so Picard elaborated. “Pressman and Maxwell are good officers. Tacticians. They can fight, and they have before for their beliefs. But not unabashed bloodshed. Leyton is the wild card. He is both ambitious and cunning. A political animal. I imagine that he has both the welfare of the Federation and the welfare of Leyton first and foremost in mind.”

“If there isn’t a trap awaiting us in the Helena system, and these thugs do wish to negotiate, do you think you can resolve it?” The Captain asked.

Jean-Luc wasted no time in replying, “No. A resolution will be a long time coming, I think. This part is merely an introduction. I expect posturing. Chest beating, if you will.”

“I’m not sure, Jean-Luc.” Stated Shelby.

“We’re going in hot and on red alert. Whether they want negotiations or to make a statement, I will go in expecting a fight until I’m convinced otherwise.” She continued.

Picard nodded in agreement. “As you should, Captain. As you should.”

*************************************************************

The USS Enterprise surged out of warp into the Helena system with only a few scant hours left on the countdown and Captain Morgan Bateson watched the pearly white ship angle towards the dirty brown globe of Helena IV from the comfort of his command chair.

Bateson was some what of a curiosity in Starfleet. He, his ship and its crew, were dragged into the 24th centaury by the Enterprise-D over ten years ago. The Federation of the 24th centaury had rules and regulations about time travel and so did not allow him or his crew to return home.

Captain Bateson was trapped here and the longer he stayed in this new Federation, the less he liked it. All was well at first, the advancements of technology and knowledge in general, the peace treaties with races and empires that Bateson knew as enemies, now friends.

But ever so slowly, the differences between the Federation that Morgan knew and loved, and this new Federation became obvious.

The Federation had always strived to ‘better humanity’ but that mantra had gone overboard in the 24th centaury. Bateson’s old quarters on Earth were chocked full of memorabilia and memento’s of his life. He had a lovely book collection and various bits and pieces of his life scattered all over.

Most people in the ‘new’ Federation could pack everything they owned into a suitcase the size of a coffee thermos. Which was another thing Bateson despised about the new Federation, any thing remotely bad for you had seemed to disappear. Coffee, real alcohol, even the occasional cigar. Gone, never made, not real, can’t get it. Even from those wonderful replicators.

And it only got worse from there, in his opinion. He and his crewmates had sat quite when the Federation first abandoned and then helped hunt down the Mariqi when the Federation Council gave up territory in blatant appeasement.

The last straw was when those bureaucrats in Starfleet Command decided that the Bozeman was too old to continue service. True, on paper, she was well over a hundred years old, but the ship had skipped over eighty of those years.

Captain Bateson had skippered the old ship through the new Federation’s war with the Gamma Quadrant aliens and they didn’t mention anything like ‘old age’ to him during those hairy years.

So Morgan Bateson sat in the command chair of the former USS Coronado waiting for a chance to avenge his old ship. Former, because he and the crew had re-christened her the Rebel Spirit when he and his entire crew had defected over the Leyton’s camp. It had been simple to just ‘disappear’ during the mind numbingly boring survey missions the Federation had sent him on.

So now he sat there in his new chair, with his old uniform from the 23rd centaury, watching his prey come at him. All he waited for now was the signal.

[Crazedwraith]

Very nice. But Coffee is readily Available in the Federation.

[consequences]

Very nice. But Coffee is readily Available in the Federation.

Maybe, but everyone seems to drink Raktajino for some strange reason.

[CJvR]

The destruction/capture of Ent-E would be quite a signal to send. Unfortunately Sovvies are hard targets to crack.

[Knife]

The destruction/capture of Ent-E would be quite a signal to send. Unfortunately Sovvies are hard targets to crack.

Meh, I've got shit in the works for that. It's not what your thinking.

[darthdavid]

Looking good.

[CJvR]

Meh, I've got shit in the works for that. It's not what your thinking.

Wasn't Shelby part of what was considered the military faction of SF? Perhaps not the ideal choice to send on this mission...

[Knife]

Meh, I've got shit in the works for that. It's not what your thinking.

Wasn't Shelby part of what was considered the military faction of SF? Perhaps not the ideal choice to send on this mission...

She was....agressive, yet oh so proper. A stickler for regulations and all that. The Admiralty wanted a sysmbol to send, Enterprise was the symbol, Shelby's just along for the ride.......Well that and she's loyal even if a bit harsh.

[Trogdor]

Nice, I like it. I can't see SF sending the Bozeman into battle, even as desperate at they were. Maybe if they refitted the hell out of it. Other than that, i really like it. More please.

[Knife]

Nice, I like it. I can't see SF sending the Bozeman into battle, even as desperate at they were. Maybe if they refitted the hell out of it. Other than that, i really like it. More please.

They decommisioned the Bozeman. That's why he in Command of the Coronado aka Rebel Spirit.

[Zed Snardbody]

Very good so far. I can't wait for the next instalment.

[brianeyci]

Very enjoyable.

Hopefully both sides are not completely set on their positions and there is some "grey area". I know it is overdone, but I see this grey area as S31. I wouldn't be surprised if there wasn't a S31 plant on every Starfleet ship, and that the rebels get a rude awakening when S31 tries assassinating some of the rebel leadership. Maybe S31 even gets exposed later, a rallying point for the rebels about everything that is bad about the Federation.

<edit> Oh about the number Stofsk... I disagree. I think the number shows exactly what is wrong with the Federation. With two trillion citizens, they can't all be sheep, and several million tossed in prison seems high but isn't really. If you're wondering where two trillion comes from, its from 900 billion casualties and maybe 50% casualties before SF surrenders. </edit>

Brian

[Trogdor]

Nice, I like it. I can't see SF sending the Bozeman into battle, even as desperate at they were. Maybe if they refitted the hell out of it. Other than that, i really like it. More please.

They decommisioned the Bozeman. That's why he in Command of the Coronado aka Rebel Spirit.

Yeah, but in your fic the Feddies sent it to fight in the Dominion War, if I'm reading it right. Wasn't the Bozeman a class of ship that hadn't been built in 80 years or something? I know Starfleet was desperate, but were they THAT desperate?

[Knife]

Yeah, but in your fic the Feddies sent it to fight in the Dominion War, if I'm reading it right. Wasn't the Bozeman a class of ship that hadn't been built in 80 years or something? I know Starfleet was desperate, but were they THAT desperate?

OH, sorry, you ment that. Well, the Bozeman was with in its operational lifespan when it did get yanked into the 24th centuary so its not like all the parts were shit.

Also, we know that the Federation still uses Miranda's and other spaceframes that were designed in the general timeframe as the Bozeman so its not like the ship would be useless.

As I said in the fic, the Bozeman might be *on paper* over a hundred years old, she skipped over 80 of those years.

Ontop of that, Kesly Gramer did an uncredited voice bit for First Contact and you can hear his voice on the radio as the bridge crew of the Enterprise listen to the battle.

So between that and the fact that we see Miranda's, Centaur's and other 23rd centuary designs in combat with the Borg and with the Dominion, I see no reason why Starfleet would just scrap the Bozeman after she got to the 24th centuary.

After the war, where she might have been beaten up and other newer ships were coming off the line to replace damaged/destroyed and plain too old ships, she might be decomissioned, which is the route I took.

[brianeyci]

Yeah, but in your fic the Feddies sent it to fight in the Dominion War, if I'm reading it right. Wasn't the Bozeman a class of ship that hadn't been built in 80 years or something? I know Starfleet was desperate, but were they THAT desperate?

Federation sent Conny to fight Borg Cube.

Brian

[CJvR]

Maybe S31 even gets exposed later, a rallying point for the rebels about everything that is bad about the Federation.

Well S31 should be rather sympathetic towards the rebell cause, they essentially have the same complaint as S31. At the same time they are a threat to the Federation not to mention competition in the "defend the Fed" business. S31 might well split over the rebellion, half attempting to assist the rebs in an effort to end the pacifism in the Federation and the other half to prevent the risk of a civilwar and an even more negative attitude towards the military

[Tribun]

I hope you write more about the captain of the Bozeman.

THis is a cool fic!