"Anatomy of a War" - Alt-Trekverse Fic

[Steve]

Bomber Atomic Dolphin, Near the ADN-Cardassian Border
23:09 GST


Seated in the cockpit of the B-202 interstellar aerospace bomber Atomic Dolphin, Squadron Leader Ryan "Shep" Sheppard looked at the pack of unopened cigars in his left hand while he listened to his navigator declare they were only a few minutes away from crossing the border. Which meant that unless war had broken out, they would be recalled within a minute of actually reaching it
Seated beside him, Flying Officer Lionel "Lenny" Eastman was conducting the duties of co-pilot. Immediately behind him, Corporal Dan Rickover was navigator and Corporal Jessica Barton was at the comms. Farther back in the bomber's cabin, Bombardier Sergeant Ken Michaels commanded the men and women responsible for arming and aiming the bomber's payload and controlling the bomber's defensive weapons.
The silence in the cockpit was finally broken when Dan, the "new guy", asked, "So, why the extra chair?"
"Hmm?"
"The extra jump chair you had welded back here, Major. Why?"
Shep smirked. Even though his official rank was "Squadron Leader", most Americans in the AF still used the American equivalent ranks in informal situations. "You want to know about the extra chair?" Shep looked over his instruments and ensured the bomber was still on it's appropriate warp course.
"Yeah. I mean, why bother with an empty chair?"
"You've heard of the Big One, haven't you Rickover?"
"April 8th, 2607," Rickover replied, using the Universe PA-6 calendar. "During the Neo-Nazi War. Two thousand interstellar bombers from the US, UK, France, Italy, and Germany launch a full-scale bombing raid on the planet Hitlerwelt. In terms of firepower, it was the biggest raid any aerospace strategic force has pulled in any universe. Completely obliterated ninety percent of life on Hitlerwelt."
"Good boy." Shep tapped a couple of buttons to view local space. "Now tell me the other big thing about the Big One."
"Like?"
"Like the fact that only eight hundred of those bombers got home," was Shep's irritated reply. "Dammit, Rickover, you don't look that young."
"Well, sir, the Neo-Nazi Rebellion wasn't really big news in PA-6..."
"I hate that fucking name. 'Rebellion'. Like they were a bunch of pissants with some automatics. The Ratzis had a full-blown military, son. Lots of clonetroops, ships, you name it. They were fully committed to exterminating their way into Earth to reclaim their fucking Aryan homeland. Well, son, they didn't, and we annihilated the bastards like the rats they were."
"Of course, sir."
"Don't you interrupt now, let me finish." Shep twirled the cigar pack in his hand. "Anyway, the Big One. I was a Flight Leader then, had a nice twin set of Captain's bars on my shoulder. Commanded a flight of the 398th out of a base on Raynor. We had just finished dropping our loads and were returning to orbit when the interceptors hit us as we emerged from the atmosphere. Explosions everywhere, my young friend. We were packed together so thick that you were guaranteed to hit something with your defense phaser batteries, so that made counter-fire our worst enemy." Shep stared absently into the closed cockpit canopy, as if he was relieving the entire experience. "We figured we were fucked. A lot of pilots were. Hell, most of the French didn't make it. They'd volunteered to take up the last bombing slot. Lost one hundred out of one hundred and forty bombers they sent. Italians lost sixty percent of their people. The Krauts lost about a third 'cause they had that damned good active ECM, and I guess the Ratzis preferred shooting up everyone else than trying to lock a missile on a Ju-322. The Brits suffered fifty percent losses because they went first and got the initial wave head-on. We'd gone right behind them, since everyone figured the Brits would get out quick and then our bombers' better defense weapons would maim the defenders. Intel didn't know the Ratzis' home interceptors were that good."
"Anyway, our Wing got hammered. An entire squadron got annihilated, and the other only had two bombers return home. Wanna guess what our losses were, Corporal?"
"Heavy, sir?"
Shep looked back at him. "Try none."
Now that got everyone's attention. Every set of eyes was on Shep as he calmly examined his cigars again, as if contemplating opening the pack. But before he could, Corporal Barton reported, "Sir, we're getting an ELF from Sotomura. It's the turn-back order."
Shep nodded and took the flight controls, which he twisted to the left until the bomber's bearing would no longer take it over the border. He set the auto-pilot to begin a course parallel to the border. As was protocol, they would spent an hour going along here until looping back and away from the border to begin another approach. "So, sir...." Rickover spoke up after confirming the course for him. "You took no losses in the Big One?"
"Nope."
"How?"
Shep turned in his chair and pointed toward the unoccupied, empty chair brought into the cockpit. Rickover looked at it. "Sir, I don't understand...."
"Corporal, my Squadron CO was a rather superstitious guy. You've heard about pilots and crews that insist their bombers have personalities, right?"
"Yeah."
"Well, that's true, but Major Slade took it an extra step. He had extra, unoccupied chairs placed in our bombers because he believed the ghost of General Curtis LeMay would ride with us into battle and help get us out alive." Shep shook his head wistfully. "I had my eyes on the displays the entire time, but my co-pilot swore up and down that she looked back and saw a guy sitting in the chair, toking on a cigar and smiling. Every bomber had someone in the cockpit crew who reported that. Hell, Captain McGregor and his entire cockpit crew insisted that LeMay not only appeared, but winked at them after an incoming missile blew up before it could make impact on the cockpit! Became something of a legend until some jackass pussy butter-bar claimed he'd overheard the cockpit crews of the squadron talk about planting the story as a practical joke."
"Wow, I'd never heard of that."
"I have," Officer Eastman remarked. "It was a tall tale they used to tell at New Colorado Springs."
Shep nodded at that. "Well, people, another approach, another recall. But let's keep on our toes. Sometime soon, we're not getting that recall, which means we'll be delivering our cargo of nuclear loving to those sorry ass Cardies on Felvar 8."



Sotomura Aerospace Force Base, Henderson, ADN Colonial Zone
23 November 2153 AST
00:05 GST


Freshly showered and clad in a fresh uniform, Monica Sandhurst stepped into her private quartering in the command center, within a hundred yards of Base Command itself, and slipped into her chair at her desk. With the military at DefCon 1, she wouldn't be able to return home for quite some time.
Sandhurst turned on the TV for some noise, setting it to IUNS, before going to work on a private letter to her husband Gary, a retired RAF officer now working as a starliner pilot. She didn't pay much attention to the station as it played on.
"President Gao's sudden resignation has sparked some surprise in the Federation press. Sources have told IUNS that Gao's departure from office was probably the result of a internal politics, making him the second Federation President ousted in such a matter in this year alone. Former Commissioner of Starfleet Operations Kerlo Tobis has been named as the interim President as he awaits approval by the Federation Council. For IUNS, this is Jerry Eaker reporting from Paris."
The screen flipped back to the news room for IUNS, where the anchors went on to report other news related to the ongoing crisis. Finally, one of them said, "IUNS reporters were among those at Earthdome earlier today for a quick press meeting with Earth President Patrick Lefcourt and ISA President John Sheridan on the ongoing crisis."
The image switched, first to an older man with gray hair and a matching beard and mustache. The caption read, predictably, "President John Sheridan". "Mister President, what is the official position of the InterStellar Alliance to the ongoing crisis in Universe ST-3?"
"Currently, we are waiting to see the situation develops. As of now, we have no position save that we wish to see the truth come to light as quickly as possible and that we want to see justice done for this tragedy."
"Mister President, what do you think of the news that Federation President Gao Hi-Yuan has resigned?"
"I have no opinions on that at this time."
"We've heard reports that White Star ships have been seen transiting the New Liberty Gates in Universe ST-3. Are you planning on using the Rangers in any attempts at peacekeeping?"
"No. The deployment of the Rangers was done merely as a precaution to protect the innocent shipping and trade of Alliance races in the Alpha Quadrant."
"Have there been any attempts by Cardassia to forcefully inspect your ships?"
"So far, we have no reports at all of ships from ISA member races being attacked or otherwise harrassed by Cardassia."
"Sir, what is the InterStellar Alliance's position on the Bajoran Freedom Act passed by the the Alliance of Democratic Nations' Council?"
Sheridan bit into his lip for a moment. "As of now, we have no official opinion. Again, I would have to speak with our Council before giving one. I will say that I do feel some sympathy with the desire of Bajorans for political autonomy and that I hope the Cardassian Union will see the wisdom of a peaceful withdrawal from Bajoran-populated worlds."
"Sir, could you tell us if you are in agreement with the current official Federation response, calling the Alliance's position an illegal attempt to interfere in the sovereign affairs of Cardassia?"
"I will admit that it does raise disturbing questions if a government passes a law saying it will no longer honor another government's control over a specific area. However, every case is unique and the real issue here is the ongoing question about the fate of Bajor. I'm not sure that, in his position, I would be doing anything differently from President Mamatmas. The Alliance Government is in a very uncomfortable position currently due to recent events and President Mamatmas has undoubtedly been forced to make hard decisions."
"Sir, what do you think of the allegations of Cardassian responsibility for the nuclear attack on Gytep?"
"If they are true, I think the Cardassian government will have a lot of explaining to do. Launching a nuclear attack like that on another nation's territory - and on a refugee camp as well - is not just an act of war. It's a crime against peace, and the slaughter of innocent civilians is a crime against sentients. If this turns out to be the truth, the InterStellar Alliance will give it's full moral support to the Alliance of Democratic Nations and we will demand Cardassia accept punishment for such an act. Now, if you'll excuse me...."
The screen shifted and now it was Lefcourt on the screen, with the proper caption. "President Lefcourt, can you tell us the official position of Earthdome on these developments?"
"President Sheridan's statements are consistant with Earth's position as well."
"So Earth is also maintaining neutrality on the matter?"
"Yes, for the moment. Though I will add that the people of Earth have not forgotten what the Allied Nations have done for Earth. The Alliance Government's generous aid during our recovery from the Drakh plague has been of great benefit to Earth, it's helped millions of our people, and the Earth Alliance will always remember that. If it comes down to it, Earth will side with the Alliance of Democratic Nations."
As the screen shifted, Sandhurst finally changed the channel to the BBC. "....reports from the Alpha Quadrant indicate increasing hostility by Cardassia toward Bajoran expatriates and those who are giving them passage," an anchorwoman said. "We have now received official confirmation that four hours ago, several Cardassian vessels attempted to force the inspection of the JumpShip Hermocrates, a vessel flagged in the Federated Commonwealth. The Hermocrates had several vessels attached to it for it's return jump into Alliance space and the New Liberty Gates, and apparently one had picked up three dozen Bajoran expatriates who were in hiding in the Federation. The Hermocrates was under escort by two corvettes in the Federated Commonwealth Navy, who opened fire on the attacking Cardassians in a short exchange of torpedoes and missiles near the Nadir point of the Sigma Hoffman System in the Federation. According to our information, the Hermocrates and her escorts jumped out of the system after the first volley of fire and before the Cardassians could finish closing into range. We do not yet have a response from New Avalon, but our sources in Avalon City have said that First Prince Hanse Davion will be issuing a statement on the attack within the hour...."
At this point, Sandhurst turned off the TV completely and focused on her letter.

[CJvR]

Battlemechs don't get much good PR but it would be amusing to have them stomp the ST-verse infantry armies...

[darthdavid]

Battlemechs don't get much good PR but it would be amusing to have them stomp the ST-verse infantry armies...

Now there is an enemy that a Battlemech could win against.

[CJvR]

The wouldn't even be outranged, an MG with 90 meter range is a long range killing machine in a universe of daggers and Batlets.

[Duken]

The wouldn't even be outranged, an MG with 90 meter range is a long range killing machine in a universe of daggers and Batlets.

Forget the MG, stomp on them!

[Steve]

Allensby Army Base, New Norwich, Alliance of Democratic Nations
07:46 GST


The men and three women of Platoon C, Charlie Company, 799th Mechanized Battalion, 2nd Brigade, 79th Division - assigned to the Alliance Army's CXIV Corps - were gathered about in bunkings in Allensby's living quarters. The Base, home to the entire Division, was under complete lockdown as they awaited orders to move out.
The Lieutenant in charge of the Platoon was Peter Pinelli, a Brooklyn-raised kid fresh out of VMI. A semi-devout Catholic, intentionally named after the first Pope by his even more devout parents, Pinelli was young and eager to jump start his Army career, and it looked like he was going to get the chance now.
He was seated by himself, watching one of the squads playing cards. Corporal Jenny Kent - a native of the British colony of Victoria, was about his age, young and tough, with dirty blond-hair cut short and a body that was more muscular than athletic. Privates Rogers, Pacelli, and Hogan were also playing, while Sergeant Dobson had already folded. A stack of green and blue-tinted paper was in the middle, the betting pool with the soldiers gambling away some of their weekly pay in the usual style. A few other Privates were watching, while a few other men - the very youngest - were ogling Private Dina Masters, the one woman in the entire Platoon who could be considered attractive and who at the moment was not wearing a uniform jacket but the standard issue dark brown sleeveless top. The rest were tending to letters home, playing portable video games, reading, or generally lounging about.
Pinelli was also keeping an eye on the clock and on the TV. They'd kept flipping it between Fox and IUNS since the order to DefCon 2, keeping an eye on things since they'd probably be one of the first units into action. Currently the channel was on IUNS, which was showing an anti-war rally in San Francisco ST-3 outside of the Alliance Embassy in the Federation. Pinelli's jaw clenched at the sight of PAPAL faithful holding placards denouncing the Alliance, the Bajoran race, and generally proclaiming that the Cardassians were the innocent party. At the sight of the Alliance flag being burned in the midst of the throng and vandals spray-painting slogans on the Embassy walls, Pinelli flipped the channel to IUNS. ".....-matmas is expected to address the Council at about 2 PM GST, or 9 AM Washington Time. Some sources say that the President will be presenting new evidence in the Gytep explosion that confirms Cardassian responsibility. IUNS has also learned of large-scale fleet and troop deployments in the inhabited Colonial systems nearest to Bajor. Our reporters assigned to local units have won permission to remain with them on-base, though they are now legally considered to be embedded reporters and the military is limiting their contact as of this time. And now we go live to...."
"Turn it off! All they can do is prattle on and on and on..." Dobson huffed in irritation. "Damned reporters."
"And we've got a Feddie one here," Kent added in her rough colonial English accent. "The bitch is one of those anti-war tossers."
"Hey, the Feddies are like that. Someone took a pair of garden shears to their balls."
"Oh, Private, so I need balls to have a brain? How about I take your's?"
"Kent, Hogan, knock it off." Dobson took a pack of Camels out of his shirt pocket and took one out. As he pulled out his lighter, he said, "Feddies have as much right to know what's goin' on in their neck of the woods as we do in our's."
"Hey, Sarge, those synthetic?"
Dobson had finished lighting his cigarette. He snapped the lighter closed audibly and blew smoke into Pacelli's face. While the young man coughed, he snickered, "What do you think?"
"Sergeant, I don't think it's good to blow smoke in the face of the Privates," Pinelli said.
"You're right, Sir, my apologies." Dobson smirked and leaned back in the chair. "So, anyway, we have that Feddie girl here. Should've seen the look she gave me when I told her I was sixty."
"Look?"
"They've got laws, don't allow any kind of gene-tinkering. Even the little stuff like age-delay. So here, sixty year old men are already going past middle age. Not in their prime of life." Dobson took a drag off his cigarette and blew the excess smoke over the table. "She gave me this killer look. Like I was some kind of abomination."
"I have a friend from school who enlisted in the Marines, he's over with the 10th Division on Krellor." Rogers looked back to his cards. "Last letter said they had this bitch from the Federation show up, all but accused them of being 'Khans' or something. She actually reported back home to the Federation home peeps that she was afraid that any day one of the Marines would rape her to death, 'cause we're apparently all megalomaniac genetic supermen or something. Jeez, like age-delay's a big fucking deal. We ain't Ratzis."

"Wow. They must be fucking nuts. Though Marines are also fucking nuts. And they're horny mother fuckers too." Pacelli tossed an extra five dollar bill into the pot. "Okay, I call."
"I'm out," Hogan declared.
"Same here," Kent said.
"Just you and me then, Pacelli," Rogers said with his Southern drawl, slamming the blue-tinted slip of paper onto the table, then tossing in a green-tinted $1 ADN to the pot. "I raise and call."
Pacelli smirked and tossed the extra buck in. "Three Kings," he said, laying out the respective Kings of Clubs, Spades, and Diamonds, as well as the 2 of Hearts and the 6 of Spades. "Well, redneck?"
Rogers smiled widely. "Beat you with a flush, Damnyankee," Rogers declared, throwing down a hand of all Spades; the Ace, 10, 7, 5, and 2. "Pot's mine."
Pacelli tossed his cards down in frustration. "God fucking dammit, Jesus Christ!" He suddenly stopped and crossed himself. "Shit, another sin to remember when I go see Pop Colanza."

Kent smirked and tossed another dollar into the pot after Rogers cleaned it out. "So, where did that Feddie bitch go anyway?"
"Heard Colonel Streiber has Major Ogden dealing with her," Pinelli said, smirking. "We'll be bringing her along wherever we go. Hopefully the Major can keep her hot redheaded ass occupied and out of our hair."


Major Ogden's small office on-base was one of the few occupied at the moment, though it wasn't for official purpose. Ogden was with that "hot redheaded ass", as Federation State Press war correspondent Kellie Stevenson was called by the troops, and they were having a personal interview. A very personal interview.
Ogden was seated on the edge of his wooden desk with Kellie in his lap, his formal duty green uniform and her bland dark blue jumpsuit crumpled together on the nearby carpet. Kellie's dark red hair flowed freely down her elegant shoulders, her chest heaving and a heavy moan escaping from her throat. Her "hot ass", as Pinelli called it, was in Ogden's hands, keeping her right where she had to be. They continued about their business for a bit before Kellie started screaming various things while their breathing picked up heavily.

With the "interview" concluded, Kellie slipped off of Ogden's lap and recovered her one-piece jumpsuit. It was a bland piece of clothing, with underwear built in, put on in two stages; first, she inserted each leg into it and pulled it up to her waist, after which she brought the upper part up and put her arms in like it was a coat. A hidden magnetic strip was then used to noiselessly seal the suit from collar to navel. Ogden was getting his white tank top and underwear back on while Kellie slipped into one of the office chairs, laying her head back and wiping the sweat from her forehead. "Well, Major, that was the most... physical and intimate interview I've ever been given."
"The pleasure was all mine," Ogden said with a smirk, quite certain he'd be in for it if Colonel Streiber learned about this. He took a look at Kellie and decided it was a crime for women to be allowed to wear such tight suits. "So, Miss Stevenson, we were talking about the cold shoulder some of the troops in my battalion were giving you?"
"Oh yes," Kellie replied, smiling at him and catching her breath while he started putting the rest of his clothes back on. "I've experienced this kind of hostility before, though, so it's nothing new."
"Oh?"
"Yes. I graduated college, University of Pennsylvania, eight years ago. Got my degree in journalism and joined the State Press, and they sent me right off to cover the war with the Cardassians." Kellie started pulling her hair back, trying to restore order from where it'd become disheveled. "I was a Paxist, Major. I joined PAPAL joyfully in my senior year of primary school and I was fully devoted to the idea that we were in the wrong and we had provoked the Cardassians into attacking us. I went to the front with that attitude, got a lot of angry treatment from the locals. But what I found wasn't the kind of war I'd been told it was. We weren't doing a thing to the Cardies. They kept attacking us and it was all Starfleet could do just to hold the line. I found out about all the atrocities, listened to the refugees talk about the firebombing of entire cities during planetary assaults, and when I realized the truth, I began reporting it back home. But I kept getting my stories rejected as too militaristic or jingoistic. The ones they didn't reject were editted and hacked up until they were nothing like I'd reported." Kellie looked down. "By the time the war was over, I knew that it'd been for nothing. The truth didn't matter to the State Press or to PAPAL. They would only hear and show what they wanted to be heard and shown."

"So here you are."
"Yeah, here I am. Hey, it pays the bills, and keeps me from becoming another BLN bum. I'm only hoping I can get to be your division's embedded journalist. The State Press might not show my stuff truthfully, but on the open networks, maybe I can get my face recognized and find somewhere else to work." She shrugged and smiled shyly. "Maybe even emigrate to the Alliance."
"That'd be very good." Ogden finished slipping on his uniform jacket. "I'll speak with the...."
"Attention all personnell, all officers of Captain rank or higher are to report to the Central Auditorium for briefing. Repeat, all officers of Captain rank or higher are to report to the Central Auditorium for briefing. That is all."
"That's me." Ogden kissed Kellie on the cheek and led her to the door. "Go back to your bunk. I'll meet up with you later and give you that continued tour."
"That will work fine, Major Ogden."


09:00 GST


A loud roar was echoing throughout the base, jostling Kellie out of the cat nap she'd started in what was left of the afterglow from Ogden. She twisted out of her bunk and on top of her sleeping cameraman. The Andorian, Levek, awoke with a start and glared at her as Kellie stumbled out of their room and into the dorm hallway. It was still nighttime outside, about 02:12 local if one used the Earth clock equivalents adjusted for the different day length, but in the clear sky there was a clear sign of something coming down. "Something's going on Levek, hurry up!"
As she did so, a voice came over the PA. "All personnel of the 79th Division are to report immediately for embarkation. Repeat, all personnel...."
"What was the big idea?!", the burly Andorian demanded.
"Get a shot of that, dammit! I don't care if they won't let us transmit it yet, I want it on record!" She pointed to the sky, where a large blocky form was slowly coming downward.
After a few minnutes, a voice called out, "You're not going to be allowed to show that footage, you know."
"I know, but I wanted a record of it, Major." Kellie tried not to smile too widely at Ogden as he stepped closer to her. She was wondering if she'd seduced him or if it had been the other way around. "So, what's going on?"
"First things first. This is for the two of you." He handed Kellie and Levek updated identification badges. "Colonel Streiber agreed to letting you be our battalion's embedded journalist. I'm going to assign you to Captain Reynolds and her people."
"Charlie Company," Kellie said, grimacing. "They hate me."
"No worse than the others, and I needed to find a Company CO who wouldn't treat you like shit. Sandy Reynolds is no-nonsense. She gets the orders to let you do your work, she will."
"Thank you, Major. I won't forget this."
Ogden smiled at her. "Of course not, Miss Stevenson."
"Major, if I might..." She pointed to the window outside. "Just what is that thing?!"
"That, Miss Stevenson, is the Arthur Clinton. She is a Vandegrift-class troop transport, manned by our friends in the Stellar Navy. She'll be carrying the 79th Division."
"Where?"
"I'm sorry, ma'am, but that information is classified."
"So, even when embedded I don't get to know things?"
"You'll find them out as soon as the grunts do, Miss Stevenson. Now, if you'll excuse me..."
Kellie watched him go and smirked. Oh, I'll get something out of him. Pillow talk never fails, or so my third year journalist ethics professor told me. Of course, he also said that our duty was to expose government lies about the necessity of war and to promote peaceful outcomes at all times. She looked back to Levek, who had a smirk on his face as he slipped the identification badge into the plastic tag holder hanging over his neck. "What is it, Levek?"
"Somehow I think you and the Major are making the term 'embedded' hold an entirely different meaning."
"Shush, Levek! That kind of talk could get us all in trouble."
The Andorian shrugged. "Oh well. But I suppose it's just my imagination. Besides, you wouldn't dare sleep with an Alliance army officer. That kind of breach of ethics is... unthinkable, Miss Stevenson."
"Of course it is. Now let's go pack."

[Steve]

DNS Intrepid CVF-9, Near the ADN-Cardassian Border, Alliance Colonial Zone
14:22 GST


Sprawled out on her bunk in underwear, Lt. Camille Burelli was staring up at the top bunk and the pictures of her family she'd taped to the bottom of the bed occupied by her roommate - Lt. Adrianna Purcell. Purcell's blonde hair was hanging a little over the side of the bunk, far longer than Burelli's short dark hair.
Burelli turned onto her side and looked back at her PDA, laying on the bed beside her. It's audio-recording system was on, ready to send an audio mail to her parents back on New Queensland. "And Mum, I know you worry a lot," she said, "but I'm fine. Really. I've got good mates here to watch my back."
"Cammie, please, I'm trying to sleep up here," Purcell moaned, visibly turning. The A-12 Marauder pilot spoke with an American Midwest accent, though like Burelli she was from a colony world and not Earth itself.

"Sorry, Adrianna." Burelli brought the PDA closer and started speaking lower. "Sorry, but Adrianna just got off CAP and is trying to catch some winks. Everyone is around here. We all know something's about to happen. It's just so frustrating. We know there's going to be war. We're going to end up seeing action. But it's not that we're afraid of fighting and dying. It's just that.... we're tired of waiting. We just want to get on with it and get it over with, you know? Kinda like Freddy and doing chores, just we're not doing things half-arsed." Camille grinned to herself, imagining her little brother's reaction to that. "Anyway, you have all my love and such. Don't know when I'll be coming home, but I will. Love you all. Goodbye." She turned the PDA off and laid back on the bed, seeing the pictures of her family - her mother, father, younger brothers and older sister. A picture of her with her prom night boyfriend Mitchell on the beach at Menzies was a little off center, and she looked at it with a little pain in her heart. He'd been her first lover, until a drunk driver in a large American pickup had crushed Mitchell's car into a tree and him in it. She'd been in her second year at the Royal Naval Aviation Academy in orbit over New Townsville at the time.

Camille looked to another file on her PDA, something she'd already written. Though the CAG and Captain had already arranged for a condolence letter to the families of Lieutenant Wang and Ensign Weatherspoon, Camille had written one of her own. Jing Zhi had been her wing mate and a damned good pilot, even if Camille had sometimes had trouble understanding the Chinese girl's broken English, and it'd hurt to lose her on their ship's first deployment. Camille looked over the text, and then a Cantonese approximate that the PDA translated it into for the official communication. It looked like a bunch of funny symbols to her, of course, but Camille knew that Jing Zhi's husband and sisters in Kowloon would understand it easily and hopefully try to understand she'd done her best. She'd have to see if Chief Shao could help her make sure it made sense.
Though she hadn't flown in a while, Camille was certain that when the shit hit the fan, she'd get more than enough flying time. So she finished sending her audio message home and slipped the PDA back into the pouch she'd attached to the wall, then pulled the sheets up over herself and closed her eyes.


In his office near the CIC, Line Captain Gill was reading over reports after ensuring the proper translation of his condolence letter to Lieutenant Wang Jing Zhi's husband and family. The Lieutenant had married in her last trip home, Gill had heard, and had filed her papers for retirement so she could go live with her husband and become a mother. But that had ended in a quick flash of compressor energy, and now all that her husband had left was a few letters, a box of orphaned belongings, and shattered dreams - maybe more, since Gill had put Wang's name in for a posthumous commendation, but odds were she'd not get anything above, perhaps, a Silver Star, though he was pushing for a Navy Cross. Dying from a single hit by an enemy anti-ship weapon wasn't quite as glorious as ramming your crippled fighter into an enemy ship or jumping on a grenade to save your buddies.

Even worse, Gill knew this was only the first letter he'd have to write. Soon they'd be at war, and even victorious war demanded it's price in lost blood and shattered dreams. And then there would be more letters. More notes to inform parents that they'd lost their baby girl, to make wives into widows, and children into orphans. Gill hated those damned letters, and had hated them since he was a young officer finding out his hot-headed younger brother had taken a disruptor in the chest from some Ratzi clonetrooper on one of those Godforsaken planets the Neo-Nazis had built their new Fatherland in.

There was a knock at the door and Gill said, "Come in." The man who entered was Commander Edgar Pierson, the Intrepid's CAG. "Hello, Commander."
"Finished my letter to Ensign Weatherspoon's wife."
"Good, got mine done. We'll transmit them to Operations with our next packet." Gill rubbed the bridge of his nose. "If we weren't at DefCon 1 I'd offer you some tequila."
"Sorry, but Jack Daniels is my favorite poison." Pierson took the seat that Gill gestured to. "At your request, I moved Lieutenant Laurent to active status to replace Wang. Ensign Richmond will be flying his second seat."
"Good. Laurent's a veteran of the Agresskan conflict. He'll help the young bloods like Burelli keep themselves reigned in."
"Then...."
A solid beep filled the room. Gill pressed the intercom button on his desk. "This is Gill, go."
"Captain, we're getting an ELF burst transmission. You'd better come quick."
Gill shot out of his chair. For Fleet Command to use an ELF burst meant that what they were sending was extremely sensitive and they were determined to prevent Cardassian SIGINT from hearing it. And that could only mean.... "I'm on my way." Gill jumped out of his chair in time with Pierson. "Looks like the shit's about to hit."
"Give the word and I'll get my pilots roused to go over the data we've got for Kemar," Pierson said.

Gill nodded at that and the two men went their seperate ways. Gill was in the CIC within a minute, stomping up to communications. The officer on watch was Lieutenant Commander Iskinder Fitzhugh, a tan-skinned man from Ethiopian and American parents. He turned to Gill and handed him a PDA with the message displayed on it. "Do the codes authenticate?"
Fitzhugh and Gill looked over to the Petty Officer 1C at the station. The Caucasian brunette was crunching the transmission's command codes in the computer. The display popped up and Gill's spine straighted as the woman said, "Sir, code authenticates", in a Texan drawl.
"Comm, send a narrow-beam transmission to our escorts, informing them of our planned course and speed and orders for strict radio silence." Gill looked to Fitzhugh. "Change running status to Orange. I want every off-duty man ready to suit up the instant I even think 'General Quarters'."
Fitzhugh nodded and walked off, soon bellowing, "We are now at Code Orange!" and ensuring the running status lights changed to that color. He looked back at Gill. "Sir, if I might ask?"
"Don't bother, Fitzhugh." Gill handed him the PDA. "You've read it. You know what it means."
Fitzhugh swallowed. And Gill didn't blame him.
And Gill knew that very soon, he'd be writing even more of those damned letters.

[Steve]

Bomber Atomic Dolphin



Seated once more in the cockpit of the B-202, the crew of the Atomic Dolphin were leisurely watching their stations as they made another approach on the border.
To break the ice, Corporal Rickover suddenly asked, "Sir, why is the bomber named the 'Atomic Dolphin'?"
"What?" Shep looked back from the pilot seat, where he was again considering the unopened pack of cigars he kept aboard in defiance of Group Captain Sandhurst. "You tellin' me you've never seen an atomic dolphin before, Rickover?"
"Well, no sir."
"Ah. Then forget about it."
"No, I'm really curious."
"Son, if you've never seen an atomic dolphin before, you'll never understand."
"It's a private thing of the Major's, Rickover," Eastman remarked. "So don't worry about it."
"Oh." Rickover looked back to his display. "We're three minues from the Cardassian border."
"Good." Shep looked back at his cigar pack. After about thirty more seconds, he suddenly began to open it. Eastman stared at him. "Something wrong, Lenny?"
"Well, sir, I thought Captain Sandhurst had forbidden you from smoking?"
"There are lots of things the service will overlook in time of war, Eastman. Smoking regs, fraternization regs, hell, had a buddy in one fighter squadron who's entire outfit got serviced by hookers while they were stationed on Jasperville during the Aggie War." Shep took a cigar out and put the pack up.
"We're not at war yet."
That made Shep smirk. "We're not at DefCon 1 for nothing, Rickover. Besides, I've got a gut feelin'." He put the cigar in his mouth, holding it with his teeth while he lit the tip with a lighter. On other craft, like actual fighters, this would be impossible due to the near-pure oxygen atmospheres in smaller craft, but bombers used Earth-standard atmosphere to reduce flammablility. He took the first drag off the cigar and brought it away from his mouth. "Barton, don't bother strainin' your ears trying to pick up a recall signal."
"Why sir?"
"Because, young lady, it ain't comin'." He took another drag and calmly listened to Rickover tick away their range to the border.



Command Center, Cardassia Prime, Cardassian Union
14:35 GST


Relim and Yatar were together in the Command Center on Cardassia, from which the leaders of the Cardassian Union could supervise the military operations across their empire. The Legate would be coming at 1600 to supervise the launching of Cardassia's pre-emptive strike on the Alliance. However, Relim was not liking what he was seeing on the screens. "Where are the carriers?"
Yatar looked from where he was monitoring the Bajoran sector. "What?"
"Where are the Alliance's carriers?"
"Who cares? They're glorified attack craft tenders." Yatar walked up to Relim and pointed out their displays on the screen. "We know exactly where the Alliance's offensive fleet is. It is in position to strike at Bajor, leaving New Liberty and the surrounding systems to be attacked by our own forces. The carriers are irrelevant. Nothing better than fleet scouts and decoys."
"Might I remind you of what happened to Strovarak?"
"That was a mere cruiser. And our investigation into the exact details of the battle is still officially continuing, I'll remind you."
Relim lowered his voice and made it harsher. "I understand, Yatar, that we want to ensure that a proper, politically-convenient edition of the battle is officially circulated. But we are about to go to war. War does not give a damn about what is politically convenient. We should start looking for those carriers!"
"There is no time," Yatar said. He frowned. "And I do not like your tone, Torcet. In fact, I'll remind you of your place right now. The Military Strategy Staff. You are a war planner, and I expect you to stick to planning wars and not to dictating them to the Advisory Board."
Though the volume in Relim's voice was low, it was still hard. "Why you little! I was commanding men into battle when you were a mewling youth whining to his instructors about how cold it is in the wastelands at night! I have fought for Cardassia for fifty years and I have not done so to have my experiences ignored in favor of the self-righteous stubbornness of a bureaucrat!"
Yatar put a finger in Relim's face. "Shut your mouth now, Torcet! Do not patronize me! Do not even dare think of it! I am the next Legate, I'll remind you. One snap of my fingers and Kelataza will have you retired and forced to beg for scraps in the capitol! Your son will find himself working on a rusted out old garbage scow in the ass-end of the frontier! You'll be sending that Bajoran housekeeper of your's to the Alien Quarter to whore her aged body out just to support your grandchildren!"
Relim's jaw clenched and the aged man looked very ready to knock Yatar onto his rear. Before he could, a Glin manning one of the command consoles turned in his chair. "Gul Hergata, Gul Torcet, we're having a problem!"
Relim and Yatar continued glaring at each other for a long moment before Relim broke the glare and turned to the man. "What kind of problem, Glin Durkal?"
"Our sensor posts and buoys along the Alliance border are being jammed, Sir. We can't read anything."
Yatar stepped passed Relim, scowling at him before barking, "Order our local defenses to be prepared for an attack!" Yatar looked back to Relim. "Well, Gul, it's happening. We have our war. It will be over soon enough."
"You presumptuous fool," Relim muttered under his breath, so Yatar couldn't hear him. He had a feeling that the war was not going to be over quite as soon as Yatar imagined.



Washington D.C., Earth, Alliance of Democratic Nations
Universe Designate HE-1
14:45 GST


In the White House press room, a digital display had been set up right beside the podium. The assembled reporters and journalists of the press corps were seated and waiting. At precisely 9:45 AM EST, Nicolas Mamatmas stepped into the room and with a solemn posture went to the podium. A signal from behind him was given to let him know when he was live. Trillions of beings were undoubtedly watching as Mamatmas began to speak. "Good morning members of the press, fellow citizens, and those watching from across the known Multiverse."
"The events of the past few days have been trying upon us all. But the investigation of the Alliance Government into the circumstances of the nuclear detonation at Gytep has brought to our attention what I can only call a smoking gun." Mamatmas pressed a button on the podium to activate the display. "This is the freighter Deyteliz, owned by the Xepolite merchant cartel of Jem'irira. Jem'irira has already been noted by all concerned nations of the region as a client of Cardassian intelligence. At precisely 11:46 GST, the Deyteliz was involved in transporting consumer goods to a warehouse in Mwinyburg." Mamatmas pressed the button again, altering the colors of the display. A clear line was visible, coming down from Deyteliz. "Scientists at the University of New Israel recorded this from available sensor data the day of the explosion. Please watch."
At another button press, the beam continued for a few seconds until a second beam shortly appeared, going very close to the first, but slightly off-axis. "This second transport beam had a termination point in Gytep, at what local investigators have confirmed to be Ground Zero of the nuclear detonation. This second transport occurred about four seconds before the device detonated and destroyed Gytep, killing twenty-five hundred innocent people."
With his jaw clenched, Mamatmas pressed the button again, bringing up the face of Ortem Jorcet where he disembarked on Bajor. "This man has been identified by our intelligence sources as Ortem Jorcet, a former Cardassian naval engineer according to Cardassian record. Jorcet was seen disembarking from the Deyteliz onto the Cardassian mining station Terok Nor, in orbit over Bajor, several hours after the Gytep blast. Deyteliz visited only one other port between Henderon and Bajor, and our sources confirmed Jorcet did not embark there."
"The nuclear weapon used on Gytep was a tritium-boosted fission device, the type developed in Human history shortly after the Second World War. This kind of weapon would be within the capability of someone trained as a modern naval engineer. It is also primitive and easy to make without the extensive use of technology, making it the perfect device for hypothetical Bajoran terrorists to use. It is now the Government's opinion that the Cardassians sought to frame the Bajorans living in the Alliance as terrorists who had accidentally set off a nuclear device."
Mamatmas gripped the sides of his podium. "It is clear to us all now that Cardassia cannot be negotiated with. They cannot be dealt with. They are willing to hurt, to lie, and to kill to get their way. We all seek peaceful outcomes to our problems, but this is impossible when the other party is not willing to be dignified, as the Cardassians have proven themselves incapable of being. The Cardassians have built their empire on violence and cruelty. Their hunger for conquest has proven insatiable to the point that they have badgered their neighbors into sacrificing sovereignty to allow them to hunt down and imprison innocent refugees."
"This Alliance has resisted them, and they have subjected us to attack. History will show that Cardassia has harrassed and has now attacked Alliance shipping without provocation in neutral space. They have spilled the blood of our uniformed personnel, who serve selflessly to defend us all, and they have killed innocent sailors aboard vessels flying the Alliance flag. They have insulted the sovereignty and freedom of the Allied Nations through these acts of wanton aggression."
But even that pales to their greatest crime. They have subjected Alliance territory to a cowardly and treacherous nuclear attack in a brazen attempt to undermine the integrity of the Allied Nations and the innocent Bajorans it is protecting from their cruelty. It shall be remembered that on November 20th, twenty-five hundred innocent beings were savagely murdered by the Cardassian Union for it's own aggrandizement. In fact, I have no doubt that for some of us the date of November 20th will go down in history alongside those of December 7th and September 11th."
"Our duty is now clear. The Cardassian Union has made itself the enemy of the Allied Nations. They have murdered our citizens and insulted our sovereignty over their desire to maintain their enslavement of the entire Bajoran race. And now they will pay the price. It is my duty as President to inform you, the Citizens of the Allied Nations, that by the full authority of the Alliance Members' Council and Government, the Alliance of Democratic Nations formally declared war on the Cardassian Union at 14:18 GST today. Our hopes and prayers are with the men and women of our Armed Services as they go into battle. That is all."

[Steve]

VKFS Pobeda, 85 Light Years from Cardassia-ADN Border, Cardassian Union
14:45 GST


Yefim was seated at his desk after a nap in his off-shift time, writing a letter to his wife-to-be Anna back in sunny Kostinagrad on Novvy Ryazan. Presuming, of course, that she hadn't decided to call it off because he'd forgotten to write her for her birthday. Duty was duty, and women were women.
He was working on some of the more private parts of the letter when a call came from the conn for him to report to the bridge. He stormed onto the bridge and had a PDA handed to him by Cmdr. Kamarov, his XO. Yefim looked and read the digital display and the Cyrillic characters on it. His eyes widened a bit and he stormed over to sensors, where a petty officer was seated. "What is the nearest Cardassian target?!"
"A convoy. Four transports and an escorting destroyer, Captain. Over two light years distance. We can make intercept in about seventeen minutes at flank speed."
"Navigator, set course for target!"
The Navigator, Lt. Vassily Yuburov, nodded emphatically. "Plotting course, captain." He tapped the data into his controls. "Helm, change attitude bearing One-Six-Four mark Zero-One-One, go to flank speed and prepare for further course correction!"
"Changing course, One-Six-Four mark Zero-One-One," the helmsman replied, moving the ship's left-right bearing almost completely around - that is, making a one hundred and sixty four degree turn while lifting the ship's "nose" by eleven degrees. He keyed in a speed and pressed a final key, sending the Pobeda racing into warp speeds.
At this time, Yefim grabbed the mike for the ship's intercom and keyed it to play through the entire ship, causing a loud whistle to come over the system. "Good day, crew of the brave Pobeda! This is your Captain speaking. It is my pleasure to tell you that we are finally being given the chance to prove our greatness. The Alliance has declared war on these Cardassian cocksuckers, doblestniye kosmonavti, and by the authority of our government we have been ordered to engage and destroy all possible targets in our patrol region."
"This is what we have been waiting for, my fellow Cosmonauts. A century ago, our grandfathers and great-grandfathers struck fear into the hearts of Anglos everywhere. Our Motherland's greatest heroes resisted attack after attack from the Anglos! Now, we are being given the opportunity to live up to their great legacy. I expect every one of you to do your duty! We shall be as Aleksandr Korchagin was to the British in the Karellian stars and strike fear into every Cardassian who dares to come into vacuum. We shall bring glory to our beloved Motherland through our victories so that future generations of our people will invoke our names when they seek glory for Mother Russia! The order is now given to man your combat stations and prepare for battle! Za Rodinu!"

[fgalkin]

MWAHAHAHAHAHA! Za Rodinu!

And if you're wondering, Alexander Korchagin is not a real Russian hero, so don't bother looking him up.

Have a very nice day.
-fgalkin

[CJvR]

The KF drives of the Battletech universe would be nasty firststrike surprise weapons against an enemy used to warpdrive. One moment the enemy is 30LY away minding his own business, the next he is in your rear systems launching strike fighters.

One other thing from the BT-universe that would be amusing would be a Klingon Batlet charge against a few Elemental points...

[Trogdor]

And so began the end for the Cardassian Union

For those of us who don't speak Russian, what does Za Rodinu mean?

[fgalkin]

Tsk. Tsk. Tsk. Mother Russia is not pleased with the ignoramus. "Za Rodinu" means "For the Motherland."

Please proceed to your local train station for your transport to the gulags.

Have a very nice day.
-fgalkin

[Trogdor]

No, comrade! Please, not the gulags!

Thanks for telling me.

[CJvR]

Please proceed to your local train station for your transport to the gulags.

Mother Russia is a 500 pound bitch!

[Steve]

Bomber Sum of All Fears, Near Chin'toka System, Cardassian Union
15:00 GST


The Tu-310 interstellar aerospace bomber nicknamed Sum of All Fears was approaching Chin'toka under cloak, along with the other nineteen bombers of the 3rd Defense Bomber Squadron. The Squadron Leader in command of the force was Thomas Martel, a thin wiry-framed man. He and his crew remained professionally silent during the flight, only speaking for their checks and tests as their vessel moved along under warp flight.
The mission of the twenty Tu-310s was to hit the Cardassian squadron at it's berthing at Chin'toka before it could launch. Martel's bombers were loaded with anti-ship missiles attached to an impulse booster, which would allow them to engage from a longer range and hammer the Cardassian squadron at Chin'toka. Then they'd come about and return to Opelson AFB on Henderon.
Quietly going over the briefing specifics in his mind, Martel looked to the clock and counted down the half hour they had left. Hopefully the Cardassians would take the border-wide jamming as a distraction for the main fleet's movements and he'd have a clear target.



CDS Hiparak, Chin'toka System, Cardassian Union
15:10 GST


Seated in the command chair of the Hiparak, Gul Iltacek stared at one of his tactical displays, waiting for the order to get his new Dorkarak-class cruiser into action. One of the finest, newest vessels in the Cardassian fleet, the Hiparak had all of the "lessons learned" advances of the war with the Federation and the Betreka Nebula "Incident". He had fought in both and was waiting for another chance to rise in the ranks through his capability.
It had been over half an hour since the border sensors had come under jamming. Given the communications sent in and out before the jamming became too powerful, it was along the entire Alliance-Cardassian border. Which meant an attack was coming soon. Near Bajor, the Central Command thought, but Iltacek was quite willing to meet them at Chin'toka or to begin raiding Alliance territory while their fleet was tied up fighting the main Cardassian force at Bajor.
Iltacek pressed a key to alter the display to show various sensor bands. Local sensors still worked, but the jamming meant that ships couldn't receive data from the main sensor hubs or sensor buoys. There was something gnawing at the back of Iltacek's mind. He couldn't help but think that the jamming has some deeper purpose beyond an attempt to hide their main fleet's movements.
And then he saw them. Small, very slight disturbances on the tachyon sensor band. The Hiparak's sensors were the only ones in the fleet that could have seen them, and for good reason, since Iltacek knew the capability was meant for dealing with cloaked vessels, as he often had to during the Betreka Nebula campaign. He brought up the specific readings and then barked, "Sensor Operator, what do you make of these anomalous readings?"
The sensor operator looked at them. "Tachyon distortions, Gul."
"Distortions that constant and steady?" Iltacek shook his head. Older Cardassian systems had been able to pick up such things in sub-light ranges. "I've seen such distortions before. At Betreka Nebula, made by cloaked Klingon Birds-of-Prey. Get me Gul Percet of Squadron Command."


At about 15:29 GST, the twenty bombers of the 3rd Squadron came out of warp under cloak and neared Chin'toka. Martel's people switched on their passive sensors to get a fix on their targets.
The Hiparak and the twenty-nine other ships appeared, as expected, but they were not in their berths at the station near Chin'toka. They were all in space, with shields up and weapons hot. Martel's stomach twisted as he realized that somehow they'd seen them coming. "All craft, release weapons!"
The twenty Tu-310s unleashed their weapons at once. Twenty impulse booster assemblies, one per bomber, and five anti-ship missiles on each, all heading to the squadron of thirty Cardassian vessels.
The disadvantage to the boosters was that the moment they activated, it was like lighting a flare in a dark room. Every Cardassian ship in the fleet could see where they were fired from. And the boosters were large enough and visible enough to be fired upon.
The advantage was how quickly they crossed the distance. The Cardassian fleet opened fire immediately when the boosters hit range, but only managed to destroy or otherwise knock off-course five boosters before the other fifteen came into terminal range and their missiles detached. Each missile was programmed with a quasi-AI that would logically determine the best target for hitting from it's priority list. Their smaller ion engines were still powerful enough to accelerate them rapidly, giving the Cardassians little time to shoot them down - about ten out of seventy-five surviving missiles.
The sixty-five survivors came into range. Some would make direct hits - others would activate their proximity failsafes and detonate as they emerged from the other end of the enemy formation, causing at least some shield degradation. Their blasts were powerful - each missile had a 200MT max-rated fusion warhead, making them at least four times as powerful as the average Cardassian photon torpedo.
On the bridge of Hiparak, Iltacek would watch half of his squadron go down in flames. Several ships were outright destroyed or crippled by a couple of direct missile hits - one to deplete their shields and the other to hit the hull - and others were severely damaged from multiple proximity detonations from near-misses. Very few ships survived damage save for Hiparak and the four other vessels in her wing, which only had four missiles come after them, the proverbial luck of the draw from shooting down four boosters and ten missiles. Iltacek's first move was to order his wing toward the enemy craft. But very light flashes of Cherenkov radiation told him that the enemy's missile vessels had made their getaway. "Those vessels were not moving very fast," Iltacek said. "Give me the course from which they came!"
A few moments later, Iltacek was noting that their course came from an angle not toward any inhabited system in the Alliance Colonial Zone. His first thought was "secret base", but then it occurred to him that they had been smart and had not gone on a straight course. He looked at systems near their path and noted Henderson and New Liberty as choices for their point of origin. "Hail Gul Percet again. I think I know where these craft might have come from." Iltacek leaned back in his chair. The moment had come and the war had quite obviously begun; now all that remained was to win it and get his name recognized for higher posting, as Iltacek - like many intelligent military officers - looked forward to the day he could work himself into Central Command itself.

[dragon]

Nice battle. I liked the long range missiles they use.

[Steve]

DNS Intrepid CVF-9, Nearing Kemar, Cardassian Space
16:15 GST


With the other pilots of the Intrepid's wing, Camille was in her flight uniform and seated in the briefing theater. The CAG - Commander Air Group - was standing in front of a digital display showing the schematics of the Cardassian naval station at Kemar. He had already laid out the specific flight path of the craft going in - a full strike of 200 craft which would target the approximate 100 berths at and around Kemar. The strike would be led by the three squadrons of F/A-32s, with the FB-34s and A-12s following and shielded from enemy detection by the impressive ECM suite on the destroyer Marcus Whittleby. Contingents of F-30 StarRaptor and F-31 Hellcats would provide CAP for the Intrepid and her escorts.
Camille's squadron was assigned to one of the 10-berth wings; Camille would take the vessel at the end with her new Wingmate, Lieutenant Pilowski. Their first shots would have to count, coming right after they dropped out of warp and into range of the target in a very precise, dangerous maneuver. After that, any ship that wasn't crippled or destroyed in the initial volley would undoubtedly raise shields and start combat. And in a very perverse situation, the lack of good point-defense on the Cardassian ships meant the Cardassians had to engage with anti-ship weapons, which would destroy any fighter and it's crew with a single hit.
After the briefing, Camille joined the rest of her squadron with their CO - Lt. Cmdr. Alexia Douglas - at the section of the main hanger their fighters were kept in. After making sure all of the flights in the squadron knew which formation to keep, they piled into their craft with the help of enlisted air crew personnel and prepared for launch.
Camille's flight was set for a stern launch. She and her second-seater Jimmy ran through the usual system checks as they were towed and fixed onto an elevator to raise them to the launch deck with the rest of their flight. Camille finished all of the necessary checks while their flight was pushed up onto the launch deck. Launch crew attached the fighter to tracks that would put it in line for lift off. Camille readied the craft's burners for when the rank of fighters ahead of her lifted off. Finally they did so, leaving her to launch. She cranked up the throttle and, in perfect time with her wingman, raced out of the stern opening of the launch deck and out into space.



CDS Yavar, Kemar Naval Post, Cardassian Union
16:31 GST


On the bridge of the Yavar, Harak was seated in the command chair checking displays and readiness reports. Gul Akel was in a fleet-level briefing with the other Guls, preparing for the coming attack. There was still two hours to go until all of the ship's crew would be back aboard and the Yavar fully replenished.
Harak finished reading a report from the engineering section and his eyes went back to the tactical display. Communications and sensors were partially on-line, but there was jamming in the various subspace bands that functioned for scanning to find ships at warp or in nearby interstellar space. The jamming was heavy enough to force them to go to powerful burst transmissions to communicate with Central Command, which in turn had said the entire border with the Alliance was under jamming. Harak was quite impressed. Certainly he'd been right; the Alliance's capabilities were more impressive than the Federation, which had never bothered with jamming.
Something was gnawing at Harak's mind, though. Jamming sensors along the border was one thing, but they were nearly forty light years away from the border. Subspace jamming could leave a large shadow, true, but Harak had a very strong feeling in his stomach that something was wrong.
He returned his attention to the computer terminal on the chair. A few button presses and the entry of his code brought up the intel data he was cleared to see. As a ship XO involved in this operation, he was given access to a portion of the intelligence for the operation. Harak brought up the one thing he was most concerned with; the known positions of Alliance vessels. The concentrations were as reported, all near Bajor. He checked the identified vessels in those concentrations.
Harak soon realized that intelligence had no track on the carriers the Alliance Navy used. They weren't even looking for them; the post stating the replacement of the Alliance carrier Intrepid with two smaller carriers for the forces guarding Alliance shipping in the Federation had only come in three hours ago and was dated for fifteen hours earlier.
The Alliance had clearly begun reinforcing their local fleet, according to intel. But Harak could find little reference to the Alliance's carriers. He was certain they'd have sent more, considering their carriers' effectiveness. The problem was that military intelligence was as conservative as ever, and they were far more frightened of the Alliance's main warships than the carriers.
"Glin Dergal," he said, speaking to the thin Cardassian woman at the defense systems station. "I'd like it if you routed shield control to my control board."
"Sir?"
"I have a suspicion, Glin, about our sensor problems. Give me shield control. And Technician Jerak, as soon as Gul Akel is out of the meeting, I want to speak with him immediately."
"Yes Sir."
Harak looked back to his screens, his left hand remaining close to the control to bring up the Yavar's shields.
A control he'd be pressing in about two minutes.


Camille watched her HUD display timer tick down to exit from warp space. The fighter's computers were handling the entire thing, set to bring the entire fighter formation out of warp at the same time and in position for their anti-ship missiles and torpedoes. The faster missiles would be thrown first, then the torpedoes, and Camille had her finger on the torpedo trigger to fire the instant they came out of warp. They would have to be quick, as their coming out of warp would light up every sensor in the Kemar system.
At about 16:38 GST, the Cardassian sensors registered a massive spike in Cherenkov radiation. The initial strike of 60 F/A-12s came out of warp a mere light second away from Kemar Naval Post and it's open space docks. A barrage of Mark XIV torpedoes erupted from the Thunderbolts before they broke off in formation and prepared for the arrival of the Avengers and Marauders.
All except Camille and her wingman. Camille watched the torpedoes she fired crash into the dock holding her target.... and explode against raised deflector shields. A moment later the main gun on the ship fired straight forward as she began to turn. Pilowski was off her wing far enough that the blast only clipped his wing and damaged his fighter. Camille had no such fortune; the compressor beam enveloped her Thunderbolt, shattering it's defensive shield in a fraction of a second. When that second ended, Camille Burelli and Jim Kell had disappeared with the rest of their fighter, reduced to a handful of free-floating atoms in the cold blackness of space.


Chaos enveloped the Yavar and the space around her. Even as the enemy fighters' torpedoes exploded against her shields, bringing them down to forty percent, Harak was shouting the order to open fire. The target was dead ahead and never stood a chance. The Galor-class battleship's massive bow cannon vaporized one of the fighters within a second and clipped the other one.
"Blow all moorings and cast off from the dock! Fire impulse engines!"
"Yes Sir!"
Harak felt the ship begin to move out and immediately regretted his one oversight; he hadn't shared his apprehensions with the other ships. He'd been so worried about the consequences of being wrong that he forgot the danger if he was right. If he'd had the time, Harak would've felt a great deal of grief and anger at himself for failing so spectacularly.
But there was no time for that. Harak's mental training and mind jumped into action. As Yavar's engines pushed the Cardassian vessel out of it's docking bay, Harak looked over his display.
Sixty enemy craft had attacked, striking docking bays in twos. Where thirty large vessels of the Cardassiian fleet once were, only five remained, all having suffered heavy damage save for Yavar and one of the new Keldon-class heavy cruisers. It was a severe blow from such a comparitively light enemy.
"Begin evasive maneuvers! Weapons, target and fire at will!"
"I'm trying, Sir, but now that we've come active...."
"Sir! More craft are dropping out of warp!"
Before Harak could react, over twice as many craft came out of warp. A flurry of torpedoes and missiles came from the fighters, directed at the other seventy docks. A number of vessels had managed to bring their shields up now, but a number of the smaller ships had been totally unprepared - their crews inferior in skill and experience - and were caught unshielded. Another thirty Cardassian ships were lost in the barrage.
Yavar shook violently. "Enemy fighters are reforming and engaging! We just took a near-miss off the dorsal hull! Shields holding at thirty-six percent!"
"Keep firing! Use photon torpedoes, lock them on their formations and set them for proximity detonation!"
At Harak's order, Glin Dergal set the torpedoes properly and fired them with a press of the button. They erupted from the Yavar's bow launcher and raced toward the initial wave of fighters, which had just crushed the Keldon under the weight of twenty missiles and torpedoes. The torpedo detonated within damage range of five of the fighters. None were outright destroyed, having sufficient shielding, but two seemed to take damage. Dergal's fire from the Yavar's compressor cannon missed entirely. He looked at her, but all Dergal could do was grip her console tightly and growl, "They have some kind of ECM capability, and they're so damned fast it's hard to hit them."
"Keep trying!"
Other vessels that survived the initial strike were beginning to react, raising shields if they could and opening fire. There were nearly two hundred enemy contacts, making it hard to determine what was where, but Harak was gratified to see an occasional contact wink out. His people were putting up a fight.
Dergal's second torpedo had more success than the first, veering off axis to explode just behind and between a pair of Avengers. Their shields failed and both fighters' engines were taken out, leaving them helpless to stop Dergal from blowing both to nothingness with a compressor beam.
And then the Yavar shuddered violently. Showers of sparks erupted from consoles from the electrical feedback, which thankfully fried the controls' fuses. "We just took several hits to the impulse drive!" The Technician manning the operations console brought for Harak the damning damage screen. "The enemy missiles blew through our shields and have severed the impulse drive tail from the ship's main body!"
"Status on the reactor?!"
"Still functioning, but we've lost Atom Reactor 2 and power is starting to fluctuate! Shields down to twenty percent effectiveness!"
"Dergal, keep firing! Draw power from every system you have to!" Harak punched a button on the command chair. "This is Glin Torcet! All non-essential personnel to the escape pod!"
Within moments a few such pods erupted from the hull of the Yavar. Harak watched them go and refused to let himself think of the fact that he was not going to return to Cardassia Prime. He was not going to hold Vertal again, or see his children. To think of such things was a sign of weakness. He was a Cardassian officer of command rank. He had a duty to perform.
"The Gerkal has been destroyed! Wait.... the Oparak just took a crippling hit!"
Dergal ignored the Comm Technician's frantic calling out of the fleet's losses in the battle and continued trying to shoot the Alliance fighters. She managed a glancing blow on one, an A-12 Marauder, as the large space craft drew close. But it was not destroyed or even badly damaged, and a pair of missiles dropped from it's wings. Brilliant blue light erupted from the missiles as their ion thrust drives ignited and pushed them toward Yavar in a few moments. Harak watched futilely as the missiles soared straight for the bow of the Yavar. For a brief moment, he thought of his family. The lead missile hit the weak bow shield and detonated, shattering the Yavar's battered screens and leaving the second missile to hit the bridge itself. Harak barely had time to visualize his parents, wife, children, and Samia before he, Dergal, and many other Cardassians were deduced to atoms much as Camille Burelli had been.


About half an hour after the death of Harak Torcet, the Intrepid and her escorts were in-system. An entire Cardassian fleet of a hundred ships had been caught unprepared. Now, only four had survived long enough to withdraw, and the Intrepid's escorts and bombers had reduced Kemar Naval Post to scrap.
From the CIC of the Intrepid, Line Captain Gill watched as the Intrepid recovered her craft. Search-and-Rescue craft launched from the secondary bays had gathered up the surviving pilots who had been forced to eject from crippled or doomed fighters. He had lost thirty-four fighters in one way or another; twenty of them had been lost with their pilots and sensor operators.
Forty dead. Forty letters to write home.
But what a mess they had made. At a rough estimate, his fighters had probably slaughtered over ten thousand times that many Cardassians. The space around Kemar was filled with the blackened remnants of what was once a proud portion of the Cardassian fleet. Gill, for a moment, wondered just how many Cardassian children he had helped to orphan this day.
Fitzhugh walked up beside him. "Sir, what shall we do about the Cardassian escape pods?"
Gill thought for a moment. "Can't carry prisoners, can we?"
"Not that many, sir."
"Well, Commander, it seems the only thing we can do is hope the Cardies get here in a hurry."
"Of course, Sir."
"How are we doing?"
"We're still completing a final sweep of the area to make sure we didn't miss anybody, Sir. All but four of our bombers have been recovered. The rest are preparing for final approach now."
"Good. I want to get the Hell out of here ASAP."
"I'll let Fighter Control know that, Sir."
Gill nodded and watched Fitzhugh walk off. He walked over to a viewscreen on the CIC's wall and turned it on, just to see the fruits of his dreadful labor.
The Cardies have used war to get their way before. It might hurt for the families of these Cardies we've killed here, but we're the ones who were attacked first and we had every right to do this. No, can't have any sympathy for the Cardies as a whole. They've got to be taught that "Ye reap what ye hath sown".
Gill called for a cup of coffee and watched silently as the charred remnants of Cardassia's finest twisted before his eyes.

[CJvR]

Nice carrier strike. However I think a base preparing for war should have a higher alert status. If nothing else the jamming should have scrambled a few patrol ships.

[dragon]

Nice carrier strike. However I think a base preparing for war should have a higher alert status. If nothing else the jamming should have scrambled a few patrol ships.

You would think so but several times in history a sneak attack succeded even though they were expecting problems.

[Steve]

I do intend for a couple of the other strikes to have been less successful. But the carriers aren't the only ships doing this; they've got attack ships like Pobeda that are probably torpedoing some of the patrol ships or helping with the base strikes. Additionally, I'm taking the view that the Cardassians are less advanced than the Federation. Their sensors aren't as fine-tuned or capable.

In the end, I figured two-thirds or so of the Cardassian 1st Fleet will be eliminated, effectively removing them as an offensive threat. I intend to very soon have a "real" naval engagement between the Cardassian ships protecting the Bajoran region and the Alliance forces they were keeping an eye on.

[CJvR]

But the carriers aren't the only ships doing this; they've got attack ships like Pobeda that are probably torpedoing some of the patrol ships or helping with the base strikes.

You should have put in some of that, clearing away patrolships and the security around the bases would have been vital to a successful surprise attack. Now the Cardies have been caught with their pants down twice with little security and no major response to massive jamming efforts. There is a reason why fleets relax in those bases, they are supposed to be secure there.

[Steve]

But the carriers aren't the only ships doing this; they've got attack ships like Pobeda that are probably torpedoing some of the patrol ships or helping with the base strikes.

You should have put in some of that, clearing away patrolships and the security around the bases would have been vital to a successful surprise attack. Now the Cardies have been caught with their pants down twice with little security and no major response to massive jamming efforts. There is a reason why fleets relax in those bases, they are supposed to be secure there.

I did mention attack ships ("attack squadrons") as part of the operation in the President's briefing.

But with that said, I'll probably throw in a scene with one such vessel torpedoing a Cardassian scout. But I've been back at work recently, and there likely won't be much in the way of updates over the weekend because today is the first of three straight eight-hour work days for me. *sigh*

[CJvR]

No updates for three days? That is horrible news!

[Zed Snardbody]

indeed