Sidewinder wrote:A good story so far-- thanks for clearing up the confusion regarding Kirk and Bateson. However, I hope the Titan isn't the ONLY ship stationed in the area to backup the Enterprise-- I suggest a couple of warships, like Defiant or Akira class ships-- unless you have a character mention this as proof of the pacifist faction's stupidity or arrogance.
There will be a place for a large conflict, with fleets, later.
The question, "What happened to the Maquis?" was asked in an issue of 'Star Trek' magazine. The person who answered readers' mail mentioned a novel, which stated that surviving Maquis were offered a full pardon in exchange for their aid in the Dominion War-- although the person admits it's not canon, he/she believed it was a reasonable possibility.
I belive there was an episode of Voyager where it is mentioned (after finally contacting earth) that the Marqi were wiped out completely.
By the way, this topic-- -- mentioned suppressed racial tension within the Federation, e.g., between Vulcans and humans. Is this conflict going to be brought up in the story?
I don't know, but thank for the suggestion.
They say, "the tree of liberty must be watered with the blood of tyrants and patriots." I suppose it never occurred to them that they are the tyrants, not the patriots. Those weapons are not being used to fight some kind of tyranny; they are bringing them to an event where people are getting together to talk. -Mike Wong
But as far as board culture in general, I do think that young male overaggression is a contributing factor to the general atmosphere of hostility. It's not SOS and the Mess throwing hand grenades all over the forum- Red
Blows dust and rust off of story........sure, why not. Give me a few days, if not a week. Gotta catch up and find my notes.
They say, "the tree of liberty must be watered with the blood of tyrants and patriots." I suppose it never occurred to them that they are the tyrants, not the patriots. Those weapons are not being used to fight some kind of tyranny; they are bringing them to an event where people are getting together to talk. -Mike Wong
But as far as board culture in general, I do think that young male overaggression is a contributing factor to the general atmosphere of hostility. It's not SOS and the Mess throwing hand grenades all over the forum- Red
“Courage is what it takes to stand up and speak; courage is also what it takes to sit down and listen”
-Winston Churchill
USS Titan
Helena System
“Dropping out of warp now, Captain.” The Helm announced and Captain William Riker watched the star streaks and warp stars slow and then disappear on his main viewer.
They were immediately replaced by the dirty brown ball of the planet Helena and the small silvery speck of the Enterprise in orbit above the planet.
“Tactical, report!” Ordered Riker, settling his bulk into his command chair. He fully expected a fight. He always expected a fight, it was in his nature. His mentor had always been a diplomat. A problem solver. But William Riker had fought all his life to get to where he was. He wasn’t a warmonger; he just wasn’t as convinced of some pacifistic notion of the universe as Jean-Luc was.
“Sir,” Gutierrez said from his tactical station, “I’m reading only the Enterprise. There is a lot of EM radiation all over the system though. Either some sort of jamming or transport inhibitors. I can’t get any readings on the planet though, reliable ones anyways.”
Captain Bateson sat with his fingers steepled as he watched the Titan streak out of warp and angle in on the Free Enterprise. He had only one minute to prepare his attack, but it was more than enough. With all the EM Helena had pumped out to prevent the former Enterprise from using her transporters, he doubted the sensors from the Titan would pick up the cloaked Rebel Spirit.
The current generation of Federation Cloaking Devices was actually developed by a research team on Tarsas III. It had nothing to do with Romulan nor Klingon designs as past Federation attempts had been. Working off of fragments of Admiral Pressman’s notes and reports, the design team came up with a true Federation Cloak. It was damn near seamless, with very little in the way of neutrino leakage.
Knowing that they would be in legal trouble if they reported their findings to the Federation Science Council, the research team instead contacted the former Admiral Pressman. Little did those researchers know that their discovery and the subsequent report to Pressman would trigger a civil war.
As the conspiracy continued, Bateson was recruited as others and a loose infrastructure began to emerge, the Coronado put into Starbase 74, where unknown to the commanders of that base, the conspiracy place the first working model of the new cloak in Bateson’s ship.
The Coronado had also received a few more modifications too, while she was in port. The Nova Class ship was originally designed as a test bed for the Defiant project. The first ship, NXP-2365WP/T, was designed as a fast torpedo boat for deep penetration strikes. As the Defiant project continued, the space frame changed to what is known today as the Defiant, but the original frame was recycled into a survey ship.
However, many of the design features, the structural hard points, and design philosophies of the original intent were still present on the Nova Class. Originally, she would have sported six torpedo launchers (four in the primary hull) as her main armament.
While it was later changed to a secondary deflector and sensor suite, the structural frame of the area was still designed and built with photon torpedo launchers in mind. While in Spacedock, that little fact, made replacing the secondary deflector dish with two torpedo launchers easy, and just like that, the Coronado was transformed to the Rebel Spirit. The survey ship into a warship.
Captain Bateson knew there were now four other of these ships out there with the new cloak and revived weapon systems. Each doing some mission for the new United Federation of Free Planets, or what would become the UFFP should they succeed here.
He watched quietly as his shipped slipped in behind the Titan. The Luna class surveyor was conceived not all the differently than the Rebel Spirit. It was clearly an interpretation of the Sovereign class ship. More compact, with it’s warp nacelles bent downward and a sensor pod attached to the primary hull with some additional hull structures.
But the basic lines of the Sovereign were there. The Sovereign was a warship, much as the Nova was suppose to be at it’s inception, but her little sister, the Luna was watered down and designed more for exploration like the Nova eventually became.
The Luna still had more power than the little Nova did, and that was a fact that Bateson did not wish to forget when he engaged the Titan. But the weapons emplacements that all that power could be focused against his little ship were not as wide spread and thought out as the larger brother, the Sovereign.
“Stand by to decloak.” He ordered. “Load the Quantum Torpedoes.”
His tactical officer replied and made the order so. “Sir, their shields are up. We will need at least four barrages to break them down.”
“Understood.” Bateson said, then looked at his First Officer. “Four passes, cloak and decloak on each. I figure roughly eight minutes. That’s what we can give Free Enterprise before things get serious.”
The serious looking XO only replied with a nod of his head and saying “Aye sir.”
Bateson sighed, then leaned forward in his command chair. “Fire!”
There was an air of tension of the bridge of the SS Free Enterprise. Crew were hustling to and from duty stations frantically preparing the large ship to move out of the system.
She was vulnerable and would be for precious minutes more while the USS Titan was right outside. In her current state, if the Titan attacked, the Free Enterprisewould be recaptured or worse yet, destroyed.
Ambassador Jean-Luc Picard stood off to the side wishing for just that. Riker could end this right now and then, saving his beloved Federation a civil war and who knows how many deaths.
But what Captain Riker did not know was the cloaked Federation ship that was about to attack him. Picard’s thoughts were racing. How to warn Riker, or how to stop this madness. He had tried to appeal to Leyton. It did not work. Even an attempt of reverse psychology failed.
He looked over the bridge, there were some familiar faces there. He did not know Brenteen, but Kell Perim had served aboard the Enterprise with him for many years. She had fought with him when he took the Enterprise against the Borg Cube at Earth. She had manned the helm battling the Son’a ships.
He glanced over his shoulder at Leyton and the lean hawkish man’s attention was else where, so Picard decided to chance moving towards Perim. He walk slowly around the outside of the bridge until he stood off to the Lt. Commander’s right shoulder.
“Kell,” He started, not quite knowing what he was going to say. “You must do something. This is madness.”
She spared him a quick glance as she worked at her station. “Kell, that is a Federation ship out there. You are about to commit a crime, a horrendous crime. Once that happens, you can not turn back.”
The young Trill officer was ignoring him so Picard put some edge into his voice, “Commander, listen to me!”
But before he could finish his thought, a bright light caught his eye and he turned to the main view just in time to see four torpedoes impact on the Titan’s hull.
Riker felt the arm rest of his chair stab into his side as his ship rocked and bounced from the attack. “Report!” He practically yelled over the intercoms and the cries on the bridge.
“Sir, four torpedoes in our aft shields. I’m not sure where they came from. We had a momentary neutrino surge on one sensor but I don’t see any ships out there besides the Enterprise and she did not fire them.”
“Damn, some sort of cloaked ship.” Exclaimed Riker. “Auxiliary power to the shields. Evasive maneuvers.” He ordered.
Bateson’s first pass went off with out a hitch. The Titan probably still didn’t know what hit them. “Set up the next pass. Starboard Aft, we’ll concentrate there. Drop their shields and if we have to, take out their warp engines.”
His helm was already in motion, swinging the re-cloaked ship about in a new approach pattern. The crew in the torpedo room already reloading the torpedo launchers. It only took a minute until they were ready again.
Lt. Gutierrez saw the ship de-cloaking this time and had just enough time to shout a warning to his captain before four more missiles impacted on his shields.
After the ship stabilized enough that he could release his grasp on the console he said, “Looked like a Nova class ship, sir. But with Quantum Torpedoes. What the hell is a survey ship doing with that armament?”
Riker responded, “Obviously to shoot at us with, Lieutenant. Can you find that ship?”
Gutierrez studied his sensors for a second and replied, “No sir. We get a neutrino surge as they decloak, but they fire as soon as they do and then re-cloak.”
“Damn.” Swore the Captain. “When they hit us again, fire phasers along their last know trajectory. Dispersal pattern, if you must. We might get lucky and hit them with their shields down.”
“Aye sir.” The Tactical Officer replied with all the enthusiasm he could muster.
Picard watched in horror as the second barrage hit the Titan in the aft quarter before he turned back to Commander Perim. The woman was still hard at work bringing the helm controls and navigation back on line after the sabotage attack.
“I’ve served with you Commander. You are no coward. Do not be one now, to do so will be to turn your back on the very principles we hold dear.” He said to her in what he hoped was a fatherly tone.
But the look she gave back to him almost chilled him to the bone. She glared at him, forgetting her work for a moment. What Picard could only describe as ‘hate’ stabbed at him through her eyes.
“The principle we hold dear?” She asked. “I served with you for years. I went into battle with you. I know you to be a good man, but your principles are flawed, Captain.
The Enterprise is the largest, most powerful ship in the fleet. That’s what the Federation bills it as, and I know it is true. We went up against the Borg and won. We fought the Son’a and won.
But in all the time of the Dominion War, the biggest and most powerful ship in the fleet was on the sidelines. We did not participate in the Battle of DS9, we didn’t help retake it. We were not at Cardassia at the end, nor were we at the Battle of Earth when the Breen attacked.
It was almost like Starfleet did not want us in the war. We catalogued anomalies, we patrolled the Neutral Zone, and did diplomatic missions to bring new members into the Federation so they could help us with the war. But we never were part of the war.”
She paused for a second, a tear glistening on her eyes as she struggled with the decision to tell Jean-Luc something, “But while we were out in the fringes of space, do you know who was at the Battle of Earth when the Breen attacked?”
She glared at him, daring him to answer, “My whole family was there. They are not Starfleet, just citizens. Trying to live their lives. They were killed when Breen forces fired down on earth during the battle. My father, my mother. All of my brothers and sisters. Dead.”
She turned back towards her station but continued, “The Federation won’t even protect itself, nor will it send it’s most powerful ship to defend her.”
Commander Perim turned back to her former Captain and the whole of the bridge seemed to go quiet and still. “You, yourself had disobeyed orders not to go into battle. You went to Earth against orders to fight the Borg. You went against orders from Admiral Dougherty at Baku to save people you did not even know.
At Earth, for our own citizens, our own families, you did nothing.”
Picard could do nothing but just stand there, he did not know, couldn’t have. “Perim, Kell, I did not know. I’m sorry.”
He was pinned with an icy stare again, “If the principles of the Federation are to protect people we don’t even know, rather than fight to save people we do know and are part of our civilization, then I reject your Federation and it’s precious principles.”
She turned back to her consol and continued to ignore him. Picard glanced around the bridge and notice everyone staring at him and the Commander. A few were nodding their agreements to Commander Perim’s conclusion.
“I told you, Jean-Luc. These people are here for their own reasons. I did not lie to them, I did not charm them into this. The Federation has abandoned it’s people so it can sit in awe of it’s own greatness. It uses it’s principles as a shield, a shield to protect it from its responsibilities and their consequences.” Leyton said from the top of the bridge.
“Even you, when questioned on them, quickly spew out your need to uphold your principles. Even when you know you’ve disregarded the Federations principles to fulfill your own.”
Picard was at a loss for words. He was sure that these people had been manipulated by Leyton into this war. He thought for sure that if he could just find the right thing to say, the right truth to point to, and this whole thing would crumble.
But standing there, hearing Kell Perim’s painful story, his belief that this war could be avoided died a horrible death. There were indeed people out there who had been disillusioned by the Federation. People who did not wish to stay in Eden and live in Utopia. Even worse still, there was a small piece of Jean-Luc that wasn’t sure they were wrong.
He stood there, quietly, no longer trying to reason with anyone, wrestling with his own conflict, and watched yet another barrage of torpedoes slam into the Titan’s failing shields.
They say, "the tree of liberty must be watered with the blood of tyrants and patriots." I suppose it never occurred to them that they are the tyrants, not the patriots. Those weapons are not being used to fight some kind of tyranny; they are bringing them to an event where people are getting together to talk. -Mike Wong
But as far as board culture in general, I do think that young male overaggression is a contributing factor to the general atmosphere of hostility. It's not SOS and the Mess throwing hand grenades all over the forum- Red
Hit em again! Spank Riker like the little bitch he is!
Bah, Riker is window dressing in this chapter, what of the 'main event'?
They say, "the tree of liberty must be watered with the blood of tyrants and patriots." I suppose it never occurred to them that they are the tyrants, not the patriots. Those weapons are not being used to fight some kind of tyranny; they are bringing them to an event where people are getting together to talk. -Mike Wong
But as far as board culture in general, I do think that young male overaggression is a contributing factor to the general atmosphere of hostility. It's not SOS and the Mess throwing hand grenades all over the forum- Red
Via money Europe could become political in five years" "... the current communities should be completed by a Finance Common Market which would lead us to European economic unity. Only then would ... the mutual commitments make it fairly easy to produce the political union which is the goal"
Excellant, some practical evidence of Leyton's tales. Though surely not all the rebels can have tragic tales of woe, that make them want to rebel. Hopefully there are some that are just plain evil bastards. (ala 'The Rock.')
I find it difficult to believe that some sensor station, somewhere, didn't notice that there were a hell of a lot more people on the shuttle coming back than were on it when it left, with none of them wearing comm badges.
Rogue 9 wrote:I find it difficult to believe that some sensor station, somewhere, didn't notice that there were a hell of a lot more people on the shuttle coming back than were on it when it left, with none of them wearing comm badges.
On the way down, the shuttle had six SF security, Picard, Wallace and the pilot. (9) On the way up, it had eight Marines, Hathaway, Jensen. (10)
It was different, but not hugely different. Shuttle Ops are never that cloesly monitered anyways. Usually just the redshirt who opens the door for the shuttle and the pilots. I don't ever recall huge amounts of people in the shuttlebays durring ops in any of the shows.
As for the Comm Badges, I think it's a brainbug. Sure, SF personel use them, the ships computer can use the to track you, but I would assume that if you wished to communicated with the shuttle via the Enterprise, you'd use the ships comm, not your personal walkie talkie.
Beside, Jensen *the chief pilot of the Enterprise* was in on hte conspiracy. He knows the SOP's of shuttle ops for his ship, probably created a couple since he IS the chief pilot. Any approach codes and even a simple voice transmition to shuttle control would just show Jensen and that all was normal.
That's kind of one of the points I'm trying to make in the story. SF personel, fighting SF personel. They know all the rules, all the tech, all the procedures. Those who can adapt first, win.
They say, "the tree of liberty must be watered with the blood of tyrants and patriots." I suppose it never occurred to them that they are the tyrants, not the patriots. Those weapons are not being used to fight some kind of tyranny; they are bringing them to an event where people are getting together to talk. -Mike Wong
But as far as board culture in general, I do think that young male overaggression is a contributing factor to the general atmosphere of hostility. It's not SOS and the Mess throwing hand grenades all over the forum- Red
If Section 31 can't conceal this rebellion, then other AQ powers-- the Klingons, Romulans, Cardassians, Breen, Ferengi, etc.-- and the Dominion will surely take sides for ulterior motives. For example--
Romulan to Rebs: "Our 7th Fleet will deploy in support of your forces IF you grant us sovereignity over the following systems along our border..."
Dominion to Feds: "Our 3rd Army will deploy in support of your forces IF you grant us sovereignity over the area around the wormhole, including Bajor and DS9."
How will this conflict end? Quickly, so the other powers can't take advantage of the rebellion against Fed rule? Or...?
Those gun nuts do not understand the meaning of "overkill," and will simply use weapon after weapon of mass destruction (WMD) until the monster is dead, or until they run out of weapons.
They have more WMD than there are monsters for us to fight. (More insanity here.)
Sidewinder wrote:If Section 31 can't conceal this rebellion, then other AQ powers-- the Klingons, Romulans, Cardassians, Breen, Ferengi, etc.-- and the Dominion will surely take sides for ulterior motives. For example--
Romulan to Rebs: "Our 7th Fleet will deploy in support of your forces IF you grant us sovereignity over the following systems along our border..."
Dominion to Feds: "Our 3rd Army will deploy in support of your forces IF you grant us sovereignity over the area around the wormhole, including Bajor and DS9."
How will this conflict end? Quickly, so the other powers can't take advantage of the rebellion against Fed rule? Or...?
Depends on how the Feds handle this. Right now, they're keeping a lid on it. Only a few captains are going to know about this, and both sides want to keep this quiet until the coup itself happens, I'd imagine. Both sides want the Federation to come out whole at the end of this. Neither side is going to collaborate with any enemies that want territory.
Sidewinder wrote:How will this conflict end? Quickly, so the other powers can't take advantage of the rebellion against Fed rule? Or...?
Depends on how the Feds handle this. Right now, they're keeping a lid on it. Only a few captains are going to know about this, and both sides want to keep this quiet until the coup itself happens, I'd imagine. Both sides want the Federation to come out whole at the end of this. Neither side is going to collaborate with any enemies that want territory.
When Iraq invaded Kuwait in 1990, Hussein claimed Kuwaiti rebels had overthrown the government, and asked him to support their cause. If the Federation or the Rebels suffer a severe setback, they wouldn't be able to stop a foreign power from providing unsolicited help-- for example, if the Federation somehow reverse-engineers the supernova weapon from 'Generations', and uses it to destroy the Rebel fleet, the Rebels wouldn't be able to prevent a Romulans from "helping them" by sending a fleet to occupy their territory, and Starfleet might not be able to drive off the Romulans.
Those gun nuts do not understand the meaning of "overkill," and will simply use weapon after weapon of mass destruction (WMD) until the monster is dead, or until they run out of weapons.
They have more WMD than there are monsters for us to fight. (More insanity here.)
This is true, but that also assumes that either side is going for such tactics. Remember, these are the Feds, afterall, and this fighting is going to be largely through the back channels. It'll start out as posturing, and eventually it'll hit the "Well, time for one side to behead the other" and whichever side loses becomes the rebel faction. Repeat if necissary.
Hit em again! Spank Riker like the little bitch he is!
Bah, Riker is window dressing in this chapter, what of the 'main event'?
Very well done. I'll write more latter, sorry, something else has presented itself.[/b][/i]
*tap tap tap tap tap*
They say, "the tree of liberty must be watered with the blood of tyrants and patriots." I suppose it never occurred to them that they are the tyrants, not the patriots. Those weapons are not being used to fight some kind of tyranny; they are bringing them to an event where people are getting together to talk. -Mike Wong
But as far as board culture in general, I do think that young male overaggression is a contributing factor to the general atmosphere of hostility. It's not SOS and the Mess throwing hand grenades all over the forum- Red
Great Fic so far. Will we be seeing any Battleship Potemkin's or German High Seas Fleet Mutinies? After all the first thing any rebellion does is to seize the navy and Military arsenals and then move into the army and finally the populace.
I want Federation citizens rioting in the streets to the tune of "City Hall" by Tenacious D.
If Religion and Politics were characters on a soap opera, Religion would be the one that goes insane with jealousy over Politics' intimate relationship with Reality, and secretly murder Politics in the night, skin the corpse, and run around its apartment wearing the skin like a cape shouting "My votes now! All votes for me! Wheeee!" -- Lagmonster
Knife wrote:
Bah, Riker is window dressing in this chapter, what of the 'main event'?
Very well done. I'll write more latter, sorry, something else has presented itself.[/b][/i]
*tap tap tap tap tap*
I rather like the run down that she gives to Picard. It drew a nice line in the sand between her ideas and his. People like me, who have read the fic that Steve is writing I think have adopted his view of what life is like in the federation.
I think it would be better served by you when you flesh out your rebellion, to point to the sheltered lives of those on earth, versus those on the colonies and the things that those in starfleet have seen. The faluir's of the war, the separation of the haves and the have nots, and just a difference in the mind set of these different sets of people.
Prepare a noble death song for the day when you go over the great divide.--Tecumseh
USS Titan
“Shields down to 35%.” Lt. Gutierrez yelled across the bridge as another group of enemy torpedoes hit his ship.
Captain Riker acknowledged the report as he picked himself off the ground for the third time that day. “Tactical scan of the area? Is there anything we can use?”
Gutierrez studied his monitor for a second and pushed some buttons only to have the console beep negatively at him. “No sir. Open space, no near planetoids besides Helena, nor is there any asteroids or particularly dense pockets of gas.”
“Damn,” Swore the Captain. “Never a pocket of Metreon gas around when you need it!” He braced himself against his chair for the next volley and didn’t have to wait long. When it came the barrage shook the ship violently. Sparks flew from consoles and the lights dimmed for a second.
“Shields are gone, Captain.” The helm officer and Lt. Gutierrez reported at the same time over the wail of klaxons and alarms.
William T Riker sat in his command chair, listening to damage reports flood the comlinks in the bridge, watching various members of his crew pick themselves off the deck from the latest attack. A sad look came over his normally proud features and he was glad Deanna wasn’t here to see him right now.
“We can’t stay here any longer. Helm, get us out from between the planet and the Enterprise then set course out of the system.” He ordered.
On its fourth pass, the Rebel Spirit smashed through the Titans shields and Captain Bateson leaned back in his seat and quickly exhaled and allowed a small smile to spread across his face.
“Secure from cloaking stations. Full power to shields.” He said, and then turned his attention back to the Luna Class Surveyor.
His always grim looking XO reported, “Sir, the Titan is breaking off and heading out of system.”
“We can’t allow them to leave. If they get a signal out, past the jamming, we’ll have dozen of ships here within a day looking for us and the Free Enterprise. Damn Riker. Why can’t he just surrender?” Bateson said.
“Very well, let’s go in close and take out a warp nacelle. That’ll keep them bottled up in system long enough for us to get out of here.” He said almost regretfully.
“Captain!” Exclaimed Lt. Gutierrez, “The Nova has decloaked and is on an intercept course, she’ll reach us before we go to warp.”
“Full power to aft phasers, fire!” Riker ordered, coming out of his command chair and glaring at the image of the Nova class ship coming up behind his vessel.
His stern face watched the main viewer as two angry beams streaked out from his wounded ship and struck the enemy vessel. However, unlike his ship, the Nova still had its shields and the phaser beams flared when they came into contact with the protective barrier around his enemy. A blue shaded sphere blossomed around the closing ship.
“Ineffective, sir. Their shields will hold off just about anything we have for more than enough time for them to finish us off. Without our shields, they’ll cut us to pieces.” Gutierrez cried out from his station.
The tactical officer was almost in a state of panic. Gutierrez had thought the post of Tactical Officer on the Titan would be boring and indeed it had been for over a year. But this encounter here, at Helena and against one of their own ships, had shaken him badly. How could he have anticipated being attacked by a Federation ship, let alone a ‘cloaked’ Federation ship?
“Lieutenant!” Riker said, perhaps a bit too forcefully. “Lieutenant, activate the main tractor beam. Hurry, full power now.” He said a bit more calmly.
“Aye sir.” The nervous man replied and fumbled at his controls.
The Titan shot out from between the Enterprise and the dirty brown planet of Helena, desperately trying to find open space to go to warp. Right on its tail, the Rebel Spirit lashed out with its phaser strikes, trying to prod and corral the larger ship.
The small surveyor ship streaked in at the Titan lining up for a perfect shot at one of the long graceful warp nacelles. As the Nova ship settled in right behind Riker’s ship, a soft blue beam shot out of the mission pod hanging above the saucer section and snared the Spirit in its grasp.
“Locked on.” Cried out Gutierrez. “Tractor beam on full and holding.”
A hard look came over William Riker face, “Swing them around to our starboard bow and stand-by torpedoes.”
The bridge crew of the Rebel Spirit were flung around the circular room as the tiny ship was spun around by a powerful tractor beam. Captain Bateson had a white knuckled grip on his command chair and yelled at the helm to stabilize them.
Then, without warning, the tractor beam snapped off and the Spirit tumbled and spun in front of the larger vessel. Morgan Bateson was just finishing righting himself in his chair when three red torpedoes tore from out under the Titan and smashed into his shields.
Bateson heard a lieutenant behind him report; “Shields down to 50%.”
“Damn, what the hell was that?” The executive officer of the Spirit shouted next to Morgan.
“Why can’t these people just fight?” Bateson grumbled, “That is it. Helm; Z axis 500 meters.” He ordered sternly.
His small fleet ship sprang up and out of the line of fire of the Luna Class ship and Bateson saw a perfect line of sight to her warp engines in the main viewer.
“Lock torpedo’s and fire!” The captain yelled, smashing his fist on the armrest.
As Bateson watched with a deadly glare, four red glaring missiles tore out of the forward bay and detonated on the fragile engines of the Titan. There was a large explosion as the weapons ignited the warp plasma creating a large expanding plume of fire. Most of the bridge crew on the Spirit had to shield their eyes from the glare but the dramatic display of destruction was exactly what Bateson needed to sate his blood lust.
The long nacelle was ripped from the pylon by the explosion, floating down away from the ship while great gouts of flame rushed out of the hull as the very atmosphere of the ship burned away.
The main power was out, the bridge was dark. Only the dim red glare of emergency lights enabled Riker to check the status of his bridge crew. His Ops Manger was unconscious from the explosion, his console sparking and shorting out. His Helm officer was looking at him, expecting him to order some miracle.
Behind him, Lt. Gutierrez was picking himself off of the carpeted deck. He was shaking and looked nervously at Riker. William was sure that similar scenes were taking place all over his ship.
The helm turned back to the station before reporting to Riker that the Chief Engineer was on the intercom. The connection was horrible, when patched through what was left of the bridge speakers, lots of static and distortion from the battle damage.
“Sir, they’ve sheered off the port nacelle. It’s gone. The plasma feedback has reached the core. We are in the process of having a major Warp Core Breech and I don’t think I can stop it.”
“Understood, Chief. I’m heading down there now to give you a hand.” The Captain said, then looked over his shoulder to his tactical officer as he moved towards the turbolift, “. Gutierrez, abandon ship, all hands to the escape pods, get them to Helena.”
Captain Benteen watched in silent horror at the battle playing out in front of her. She was completely on Leyton's side, yet here again she was watching two Federation ships attack each other. Benteen was glad that this time she didn’t have to make the difficult choice again of actually shooting at a Federation ship like Bateson had today, though with a looming civil war, she knew that sooner or later the she would have to revisit the decisions she made eight years ago. She had to consciously stop herself from cringing every time the Rebel Spirit unleashed upon the Titan. When Riker pulled his little trick a few minutes later and engulfed the smaller ship in torpedo fire, she could not stop herself from fidgeting.
She glanced over to her mentor and even Admiral Leyton himself looked shocked at the drama playing itself out on the view screen. “Sir, engines are coming on line now. We can leave; there is no need for Bateson to continue…..”
There was a blinding light that engulfed the bridge of the Free Enterprise as the warp nacelle was sheered off the Titan and Benteen could hear Ambassador Picard gasp at the horror.
“There is no going back now, Erika.” The old man said, sorrow dominating his features.
The emergency lights were blinking and the gravity field in the ship had listed 15 degrees to port, making those few crewmen trying to make it to their escape pods stumble and trip on the deck and bulkhead on their way down the corridors.
William Thomas Riker was moving through the chaos, helping members of his crew maneuver through the obstacles and debris littering his ship. He kept his face stern and his demeanor calm as he past crewmen and lent aid as he could. But inside, the Captain of the Titan was almost in tears. His proud ship was now in tatters, his friend and mentor was still in danger and god only knows what the hell was going on onboard the Enterprise.
He was a proud man himself and he had just had his ego crushed along with his ship. For perhaps the third time that day he was glad that his wife was not onboard. First and foremost for her safety, but it would shame him even more than he already was, for her to see him like this. Beaten, not even able to retreat and lick his wounds. Not even able to come back and right this wrong, rather forced to abandon his ship in defeat.
Using more strength and leverage than grace, Riker continued his trek towards the engineering space through the crooked and leaning corridors, helping all he could along the way.
By the time he reached the secondary hull, most of the crew had already abandoned ship. He could feel the vibrations of the escape pods launching, a steady thrumming like a set of drums. When he reached the doors to Main Engineering, the vibrations had ceased and he was pretty sure that the evacuation was complete.
Moving into Main Engineering at almost a run, Wil could see that the compartment was in total mayhem. The Chief Engineer was yelling at various repair parties, swearing sometimes, repeating specific details of repairs at other times.
Riker moved up behind him and tapped him on the shoulder, “Report!”
The engineer turned and saw his commander, “We tried to dump the plasma and bleed the reactor dry. But there is a cascading effect going on and we’re running out of coolant.” The man reported.
“Eject the core!” Riker demanded, moving towards the engineering station to do it himself.
“I can’t, command systems are fried. To much battle damage, something is broke in the ODN lines.” Came the hectic reply.
Riker was frantically punching buttons on the LCARS, rerouting power from there to here, trying to avert disaster. “You’re pumping in the coolant manually?”
“If we hadn’t there wouldn’t have been enough time to evacuate the crew.” Replied the Chief. “Sir, maybe you should get to an escape pod.”
The computers voice came over the speakers then, soft and calm as only a computer can be in such an emergency. “Warning, warning. Plasma cascade of warp core reaching critical. Warp Core breech eminent. Warning, warning. Recommend total evacuation before Warp Core bree……..”
There was a bright white light in Main Engineering and then there was nothing.
Chapter 10
Every man is surrounded by a neighborhood of voluntary spies.—Jane Austen
Federation Headquarters
Paris, Earth
“Ambassador Worf,” President Lyn-Cho said, addressing the Klingon wearing ornate battle robes and a highly decorated sash standing in front of him and his council. “If civil war happens, what is the stance of the Klingon Empire?”
Worf looked nervous, as the official Federation Ambassador to the Klingon Empire it was his duty to know these things. Yet, when he had taken the post, it had more to do with his close relationship with the Chancellor of the High Council, Martok. After long years of war against the Dominion, the Klingons and the Federation had enjoyed a lasting peace and their alliance was strong. But now with a looming war in the Federation, old hatred and discontent were brewing in the Empire.
“Mr. President; Chancellor Martok confirms his dedication and intent to honor the alliance with the Federation.” The Ambassador said, his deep baritone voice echoing off of the walls of the large, spacious room.
“And officially, the Empire will stand with its allies of the Federation. But unofficially, it gets complicated.” He said with a nervous look.
One of the Council members snarled, “What is complicated about it, Ambassador? This esteemed body wants to know if the Empire will side with these rebels or not.”
Worf stood ramrod straight, a dangerous gleam came into his eye and he visibly fought down the temptation to go and punch the Council member, as would be within acceptable protocol in the Klingon government for impugning his honor and interrupting him in such a rude way.
“Councilman; there are some factions in the Empire that would no doubt like to join the rebels and have a chance to fight and die in glorious battle against the Federation. Such notions have been in the Empire for two hundred years. However, there are other factions that would come to the Federations aide, if asked, to fight alongside our brothers of battle like they did in the Dominion War.”
Ambassador Worf paced inside of the space in the middle of the long semi-circle shaped table where the leading members of the Council were seated, “And there are those among the Klingons who wish to wait and see who will prevail in a Federation civil war. Some to see if the Federation is weakened. Perhaps to conquer if it is. Others to join with a militaristic Federation to conquer other weaker Alpha Quadrant empires with a newer and stronger Federation ally.”
The President smiled weakly at the Ambassador, “So the High Council is swamped in indecision, then?”
“That would be a polite way to say it, yes Mr. President.” Worf responded.
“Thank you, Ambassador. Thank you for your report, and I am sorry to drag you all the way back to Earth to give it. But you understand the necessity of not having this information transmitted?” The Ambassador nodded, “Very well. I wish you a good journey back to Q’onos.” The old statesman said before turning his attention to the group of uniform clad people from Starfleet.
“Admiral, your report please.” He ordered in a soft voice.
Admiral Janeway stepped up to a small podium in front of the Council. Unlike the Ambassador, Janeway did not feel comfortable pacing in front of all of the council members; rather she wanted the small support that the podium offered.
“Mr. President, Council members.” She greeted them, “Since my last briefing here, the Admiralty and the Operations staff have reviewed all the files from all of the Starfleet personnel aboard the sixteen ships we either know or suspect are apart of this rebellion.
Some are obvious, like Captain Bateson and his crew. Others are shocking and some still do not believe that a missing ship should automatically mean the ship and its crew should be labeled as rebels.”
“Yes Admiral. We agree. However, with the events at Helena, the Council feels that all Starfleet personnel need to be rechecked for security issues.” Said a Councilwoman off to the side of the President.
“With all due respect, Councilwoman, we are still not entirely sure what happened at Helena. We…” The Admiral tried to explain before she was cut off by the politician.
“I don’t see what’s not to understand? You send the Enterprise to Helena with Picard as an ambassador, and Captain Riker and the Titan as back up. The Titan is attacked and all but destroyed, its crew escaping to and being left on Helena. The entire crew of the Enterprise; minus Picard, the tactical officer of the Enterprise, and the chief pilot of the same, is stranded on the before mentioned Helena.” She said, leaning forward and placing her palms on the table.
“It does not take an entire Starfleet staff to conclude that Picard set you up, Admiral. That he engineered a situation that enabled Leyton and his rebellion to hijack another Starfleet ship and if it wasn’t for Captain Riker, we would not have known about it. Or worse yet, they’d still take the Enterprise and Picard could still return saying some woe story to be in our confidence and be a spy in our very mist.”
“Miranda,” the President said in a grandfatherly voice, “That is only one possible conclusion of the evidence. Picard missing is hardly indicative of him being a traitor.”
Councilwoman Miranda sighed, “Begging your pardon, Mr. President, but it is the prudent conclusion. The only evidence we have of this rebellion is from the military and it is of a military coup. Leyton, Pressman and Maxwell are all former Starfleet. Bateson and his band are too. Picard, as we all know, is former Starfleet. Every single person that we know of that is apart of this, belongs to Starfleet. We need to be sure of or suspect any and all officers of Starfleet until we can prove their innocence.”
The Federation President stared at the esteemed councilwoman for many moments knowing that what she had just said was echoing through the council and the Federation elite. “That is a discussion for another time,” He finally said, then turned back to the Chief of Operations, “Admiral how is Captain Riker?”
“He was dehydrated after such a long time in the escape pod. He was extremely lucky that the pods engines shorted out after getting him out of the blast zone of the Titan’s warp core breech. Even then, the shock wave banged him up pretty bad. He’s at Starbase 74 recovering, as are most of the two crews recovered from Helena. We notified his wife and she’s enroute to Tarsas III now.”
“Very well, Admiral. Your orders are to continue to investigate the disappearance of the sixteen some odd ships and their crews. But also, by a tight decision from the Council itself, Starfleet is to mobilize at once and prepare for war if the rebels persist in their actions.” President Lyn-Cho said, a painful look on his old face, “Perhaps with the fleet organized and centralized, finding the traitors among the noble citizens will be easier.”
Commander Brock Cartwright was sitting calmly in the visitor galleries above the esteemed council of the Federation. He was old for his rank, nearing his fifties, Brock had a worn looking face and bits of gray were invading his meticulously kept hair. But that was alright with the man, physical appearance meant little in the long scheme of things. Vanity was important, to look dignified. But history looked at ones actions, not at your appearance so the weathered Commander did not mind the tell tale signs of his age.
Ten years ago he would not have though as such, but ten years ago many things were different. A decade ago, he was still seething with anger at the Federation and Starfleet in general. Ten years ago, he almost left Starfleet.
Brock Cartwright was a direct descendent of the much vilified and maligned Admiral Cartwright who had been charged and convicted of treason almost 87 years ago. Five generations of Cartwrights had lived under the dark taint of that man.
You would think that in a civilization that billed itself as egalitarian, such things would not stigmatize the decedents. But the truth was that it did. The legacy of the ‘Cartwrights’ were one of betrayal and deceit and it had stuck with them for close to a hundred years now. It was undeserved, yet nobody in the family had seemed to escape it.
Brock was the first member of the Cartwrights to join Starfleet in four generations, thinking that he could at long last save the family name and restore it or at the very least start to rebuild the family name and lessen the legacy of their long dead grandfather of the past. But the young Brock Cartwright was to be disappointed, the legacy of the Cartwright name too strong for him to overcome.
While he did graduate Starfleet academy, his career seemed to have been bogged down and trapped in spectacular nothingness. Nobody out and said that he wouldn’t go anywhere, but it was strongly implied that he would never get a command nor any sort of post of leadership with in Starfleet because of the legacy of his family.
After ten years in the service and still at a junior rank of Lieutenant, the young Brock was about to give up and resign his commission. That is, until Section 31 recruited him. An instructor at Starfleet Academy had quietly pulled him aside and given him an opportunity to serve the Federation like Brock had never dared dream. To be apart of a secret brotherhood that defended the Federation against all enemies. In return, Brock would keep his post in Starfleet as a cover, in fact they’d promote him up through the ranks, and he would serve his nation.
This was the chance Brock needed to bring honor back to his family name, even if it was not going to be a public affair. He accepted the offer and had served as part of the shadowy organization for a decade now, climbing the ladder of Section 31 quicker than he ever did Starfleet. For in Section, they were concerned about what you did for the Federation, not what your family name was.
So Commander Brock sat in the chambers of the Federation Council and listened to the Ambassador to the Klingon Empire give his report, then to the Admiralty. He took interest in Councilwoman Miranda’s political position and mentally noted the opposition the President offered in contrast.
Lyn-Cho was weak, politically speaking. And a civil war during his administration would probably be catastrophic for his political faction. Miranda’s faction was stronger, but only in a political way. If a war did come, neither could be trusted to run it in an efficient way. It would be up to him and his peers once again to defend the Federation, which is what brought him to the chambers, not to actually watch the reports but to make contact with another member.
Brock saw the Section 31 agent exit behind the Admirals and Brock stood and walked with dignity down the aisle and out a doorway into the busy corridors of the Federation Headquarters complex. The tall Commander was able to cut through the throng easily as he caught up to the leaving cadre of Starfleet personnel.
He smiled a sly smile when he saw his contact slowly drift behind his admiral as she was engaged in conversation with other fleet commanders, and Brock glided up next to him as if he belonged with the group.
“Hayden, so nice to see you.” He said.
Commander Hayden looked anything but pleased to see Brock, “Cartwright, I was surprised to see you up in the galleries.”
The two moved along in the crowds of the building and Cartwright lifted up his hand to cut off Hayden’s response, “You’re helping them Hayden,” He said, motioning to the Admirals, “The Trimunitive decided not to.”
“The Trimunitive is wrong. Our mission is to protect the Federation, how can we not do so now?” Hayden whispered a hint of anger in his voice.
“We all know our mission, Hayden. But the question that stumps the Trimunitive now is which Federation to serve? Or worse yet, is the Federation the enemy we need to fight to save the Federation. Section’s part in this is not decided, which is why you were told not to help the Admirals with our intelligence and analysis.” Brock scolded him.
“You could upset a balance, before we have time to decide which action is prudent. Go to far, and the Trimunitive will have to respond to restore that balance so they can continue with their decision making process.” Cartwright finished.
Hayden’s eyes grew wide, “They would help the rebels to ensure a stalemate? That is horrific, even for that bunch.”
“It’s not a threat, Hayden. Just a reality. Quit passing on information to Janeway, quit using official Section analysis as your inspired conclusions in staff meetings at Operations. This isn’t me saying it.” Brock ended and slid off back into the crowd disappearing shortly after.
“It never is.” Mumbled Commander Hayden as he hurried up to catch the Chief of Operations and the other Admirals further along in the corridor.
They say, "the tree of liberty must be watered with the blood of tyrants and patriots." I suppose it never occurred to them that they are the tyrants, not the patriots. Those weapons are not being used to fight some kind of tyranny; they are bringing them to an event where people are getting together to talk. -Mike Wong
But as far as board culture in general, I do think that young male overaggression is a contributing factor to the general atmosphere of hostility. It's not SOS and the Mess throwing hand grenades all over the forum- Red
Edit: Read it. A very good chapter overall. I think Worf was a bit blunt with the Council, but then again, he never was one to mince words. Section 31 are ruthless bastards.
"I want to mow down a bunch of motherfuckers with absurdly large weapons and relative impunity - preferably in and around a skyscraper. Then I want to fight a grim battle against the unlikely duo of the Terminator and Robocop. The last level should involve (but not be limited to) multiple robo-Hitlers and a gorillasaurus rex."--Uraniun235 on his ideal FPS game
"The ability to destroy a planet is insignificant compared to the power of the Force."--Darth Vader
Bump. Nudge
Blows dust and rust off of story........sure, why not. Give me a few days, if not a week. Gotta catch up and find my notes.
