"Anatomy of a War" - Alt-Trekverse Fic

[Steve]

Wexford Naval Headquarters, New Liberty, ADN Colonial Zone
23:54 GST


The staff for each of the commanders present in the facility were coming and going everywhere, delivering and organizing all sorts of reports and the other minutae of military operation that necessitated the bureaucracy that the field soldiers and officers so despised. Seated together at the table, Simonov, Crawford, Polk, and Lumet were looking over the final plan.
What was being called for now was a sixty-six division assault along the front, starting from the right-most border of control for Field Marshal Bisla's Corwich Front Sector Army to the beginning of the Control Zone that stretched out to Darane and over to the Bajoran systems, under the Bajoran Liberation Zone Sector Army. Six Armies and two Marine Assault Corps, organized into the 1st and 6th Army Groups under the New Liberty Sector Army commanded by Field Marshal Pierre Esterhazy, would strike out from six solar systems taken from the Cardassians in the early offensive of the war. 5th Army Group, with forty divisions gathered in 4 Armies, would remain as the operational reserve. 5th Fleet was to provide the naval support, backed by the carriers Audacious, Kuznetsov, and Akagi and Task Forces 9.2 and 9.4 of the 9th Fleet; marked on the map was also 10th Fleet, which had replaced the 5th Fleet forces that were originally defending Kelos and minding the Alliance border with the Federation and which were now ready to join the war at last.
The mood was frantic. This was the largest military operation the Alliance military had yet launched as an organized body; it was the largest operation launched throughout the known Multiverse since the fascistic European Union of Universe FHI-8 had invaded the Kingdom of Iran in 2141 AST. Over a million ground troops and many thousands of naval personnel would be involved on the front alone; thousands more would be involved in the complex logistics and communications needed to run the entire thing. It was here in Wexford that the center of the storm was, with Fleet Admiral Simonov holding the final authority.
As the clock approached midnight, Simonov looked to the other commanders. Admiral Poniatowski had now arrived and was overlooking some final dispositions for the navy. "We have the preliminary green light from Washington," Simonov finally announced. "For the next three days, I will be relying on all of you to do all that is necessary to make this operation a success, and to give those in the field the greatest chance of victory and survival. When the New Year dawns, the Allied Nations will once again bring vengeance to the Cardassian fascists" - Simonov almost spat "fascist" when he said it - "who have murdered and harmed so many innocent peoples. God will see us through to the end, comrades. With the grace of God and the might of our soldiers, we will advance to Cardassia Prime and strike down the vile snake in it's den!" Simonov looked to the operational clock, as did everyone. It displayed "23:59:30". "Set the clock. We launch in three days!"
When it hit "00:00:00", signalling the beginning of the 29th of December, a second digital clock display turned on. It was labeled "D -36:00:00", and immediately began to count down from that to 35:59:59 to 35:59:58 and on.
In three days, at the stroke of midnight to herald in the new year of 2154 AST, Operation: Rolling Thunder would commence.

[Steve]

Anti-Cardassian Coalition Frontline Army Forces (As of 29 December 2153 AST)

New Liberty Sector Army
CO: Field Marshal (ADN Army) Pierre Esterhazy (10 Armies - 106 Divisions)

1st Army Group
- 5th Army (10 Divisions)
- 8th Army (10 Divisions)
- 12th Army (10 Divisions)
- 8th Marine Assault Corps (3 Divisions)

5th Army Group
- 13th Army (10 Divisions)
- 23rd Army (10 Divisions)
- 25th Army (10 Divisions)
- 26th Army (10 Divisions)

6th Army Group
- 28th Army (10 Divisions)
- 29th Army (10 Divisions)
- 30th Army (7 Divisions)
- 9th Marine Assault Corps (3 Divisions)
- Expeditionary Forces (3 Divisions)
- 1st Tanite Division
- Strana Mechty Division
- Pentagon Division


Joint Command Authority (Corwich Front Sector Army)
CO: Field Marshal Vanessa Bisla (AFFC) (2 Armies - 22 Divisions)

Federated Commonwealth Expeditionary Force (11 Divisions)
- 10th Lyran Guards
- 30th Lyran Guards
- Davion Heavy Guards
- Davion Assault Guards
- 1st Davion Guards
- 5th Sytris Fusiliers
- 10th Donegal Guards
- 2nd FedCom Division (RCT)
- Wolf Dragoons Beta Regiment, Gamma Regiment, and Delta Regiment + support

Saint Ives Compact Expeditionary Force (1 Division)
- 2nd Saint Ives Lancers
- Aliesha's Mounted Fusiliers

ADN Task Force Percival
- 4th Army (10 Divisions)



Bajoran Liberation Zone Sector Army
CO: Field Marshal Sir Anthony Hunt (ADN Army) (9 Armies - 79 Divisions)


4th Army Group
- 14th Army (10 Divisions)
- 18th Army (10 Divisions)
- 19th Army (10 Divisions)
- 21st Army (10 Divisions)

7th Army Group
- 20th Army (9 Divisions)
- 22nd Army (9 Divisions)
- 24th Army (9 Divisions)

8th Army Group
- 6th Army (6 Divisions)
- 9th Army (6 Divisions)

[Steve]

CDS Yukar, Departing Kortaxis, Cardassian Union
29 December 2153 AST
20:19 GST


Yukar was heading away from the Kortaxis base now, joined by over half of the Tsen'kethi Frontier Fleet. Three hundred and forty warships were now en route to Pelikar, where Gavron would - if need be - fight to keep the enemy from advancing beyond Dervak.
Reports were that the enemy fleet was not large. There were about two hundred combatants, both from the Alliance and the Commonwealth, which gave Gavron a numerical advantage. But, then again, pretty much every battle in the war had seen the Cardassians with numerical advantages that failed to win victories. This had left no confidence in the Cardassian fleet. His own fleet was the only major fleet left, aside from Home Fleet, to have any of their old confidence left; they had not yet been defeated by the enemy, and they were committed to winning, if not entirely convinced.
The best way to ensure victory would be to devise a stratagem. A good stratagem. Something that would bring a victory that could restore the morale of the Cardassian Defense Forces. And make Gavron a hero....


FCS Warspite, Departing Dervak, Cardassian Union
30 December 2153 AST
03:19 GST


"We'll be ready when you give the word. Ground Command out."
The image of Major General Paul van der Groot, the commander of the Alliance 39th Division, disappeared from Johnston's screen. Johnston settled into a chair. The fleet he had with him was seventy ships strong, including a squadron of destroyers and cruisers from the 14th Fleet; veterans of the Battles at Darane and at Telkur. An additional 40 ships would be jumped into Pelikar if he arrived and saw a favorable fight.
All around Johnston, men and women went about their duties with an energy produced by their high morale. The Commonwealth Navy had, after all, met the enemy and he had retreated without much of a fight. The Cardassian military was crumbling before their very eyes. For the youngest, it was a chance to live what their parents, uncles, aunts, and grandparents had lived a quarter century before, when the 4th Succession War had seen the glorious victories over the Capellans and Kuritans.
For Johnston, it was a chance to make an impact he'd never made in the peacetime Royal Navy he had made his career in at first. A chance for naval glory to give his name a place in the history books. Let the enemy come; they would be defeated once again.


And so the stage was set....

[starfury]

This is really cool, I wanted a cleaned up version of this fanfiction.

[Steve]

FCS Avenger, Pelikar, Cardassian Union
07:00 GST


Avenger was in the second position of Attack Division 7's formation when the Commonwealth fleet dropped out of warp. Durlacher and his crew were tense yet eager, as they had been at Shervarak.
The system was quite built up, an important frontier system for the Cardassian Union with the local sector administration located in it's orbiting space station and on the planet's surface. The system had defenses, but that was not the concern of the Commonwealth fleet.
Also on scope were fifty Cardassian ships. There were only two Galors among them, clearly a screening force. Durlacher waited patiently for the order to be given to attack.
It wasn't long in coming.


FCS Warspite


Johnston carefully considered the situation. The only contacts on scope were ahead of him, already outnumbered, and none of them matched the identifier codes from Shervarak; this was a new force. His mission was only supposed to be a recon-in-force, but this opportunity to reduce the Cardassian fleet would be hard to ignore. "Target enemy and fire."
Warspite and her companion ships turned toward the enemy ships, which were beginning to react to their presence by turning to run away. As they did so they came under fire from the Commonwealth fleet. Some shots missed, others hit, and ships were damaged, crippled, or outright destroyed when their shields failed to stop the hits against them.
A few contacts disappeared from Johnston's display. Four enemy contacts, then five, then finally six. A seventh winked out just as the Cardassian force got out of their effective weapons range. "Detach light squadrons to pursue the enemy. We will go commence bombardment of the enemy system defenses."


FCS Avenger


The enemy had good pilots, Durlacher noticed. The Cardassian ships' evasive maneuvers were effective, throwing off clean shots and so far preventing further losses. Avenger and her sister ships maintained the pursuit, joined by corvettes and destroyers of the Commonwealth fleet that were mostly surplus from the navies of the Allied Nations with a few warp-fitted Achilles to act as torpedo corvettes.
"We're getting closer to the Pelikar star, sir. It's beginning to affect mass sensors."
Durlacher nodded; they could use other mediums just as easily. But at the same time he felt uneasy. The Cardassians weren't going to warp just yet. He had assumed they were trying to gain a bit of distance, or perhaps buy time for the arrival of larger fleet elements. But why would they go so close to the sun?
"I don't like this at all. Keep an eye on scanners, let me know if we get any contacts coming."


CDS Yukar


Gavron was sitting silently on the bridge of the powered down Yukar. Save for the shields and position-keeping thrusters, most of the ship's systems were offline. The bright blue glare of Pelikar's star filled the viewscreen whenever it was turned on. They were very near the corona, close enough that the mass of the ships in his fleet would be masked from detection by the star. The shields were protecting them so far, and would continue to do so.
Using narrow-beam communications, they had a link with the fifty decoy ships Gavron had left in the open. They were luring an enemy force of about forty ships after them. But the enemy still had about thirty that were not pursuing and consisted of the heavy units. Gavron wasn't going to spring the trap for light elements. Especially since he knew they'd run, and he'd miss the chance to do any meaningful damage.
However, he needed to get the enemy's heavy units in position. It occurred to Gavron that if he sprung his trap but only with a portion of his own fleet, he might draw in the other enemy ships. He gave the orders to do so.


FCS Warspite

Johnston was watching particle cannon fire start to batter on the shields protecting the orbiting station when one of his officers gave a new report; another hundred enemy vessels had appeared near the system's star and were moving to attack the detached light elements.
"Dammit, I should have been more careful," Johnston muttered. "We've got a fight on our hands. Send the signal to the Blue Fox to make their jump. All ships, come about and move to the aid of our light divisions."
At those orders the twenty ships with Johnston began to turn and head to the aid of the lighter ships, going to full speed to get into range quickly.


FCS Avenger


Attack Division 7 was trapped with the other light elements, but it was also amongst the best ships equipped for this kind of fight; the Valiant-class was specifically designed to withstand greater punishment than ships of it's tonnage usually took; it was "a flying armored pulse phaser battery" by intention.
So the Avenger's powerful pulse phaser cannons maintained a high rate of fire as the ten Valiant-class ships amongst the light elements spearheaded their breakout attack. They kept going, not turning to face the larger enemy force bearing down on them but to break through the ships they had been pursuing. Avenger shook from the hits that made contact with her, but her shields held; her state-of-the-art forward battery was far more effective in dealing with the Cardassian ships.
An Ikvak was torn apart by Avenger, after which she battered down a Dorkarak's shields. A spread of photon torpedoes retaliated, three hitting directly and one indirectly. "Deflectors down to sixty percent!" Another rough shake. "Now forty-eight percent!"
"We've lost the Regina Hill!"
And that was not all that was lost. Six Commonwealth warships were completely gone now, and another eight were severely damaged. The Cardassian fleet was still moving to fully engage, and if they didn't break out successfully the entire force would be nearly wiped out.
Durlacher's concerns, magnified as another series of hits put them below a third their normal shield power, did not last long. A hail of fire came down on the Cardassian force pursuing them; the Commonwealth battle line had moved into position. Further off, JumpShips materialized at a pirate point and more missile and torpedo ships began to move to their aid, with about sixty upgraded aerospace fighters.
The battle was still theirs to win.


FCS Warspite

Particle cannon fire joined the myriad other types available - energy weapons, nuclear-disruptors, missiles - to pound the Cardassian light elements and help the beleaguered Commonwealth light ships escape. Only thirty-seven successfully did so, the others crippled or outright destroyed. But the odds weren't as bad as they seemed with the forces that had jumped in. "Assume standard wall formation. Fire support vessels are to remain behind us, we'll draw the Cardassians' fire."
The Commonwealth light ships moved to join the formation, serving as the wings to guard against the Cardassians attempting to ensphere the Commonwealth formation, and the ten battleships of the Commonwealth fleet, supported by heavy cruisers and missile cruisers, used their sheer firepower to inflict losses on the Cardassian fleet as it approached, more intent on surviving with maneuvers than pressing home any attack on the Commonwealth battle line. Their supporting ships were moving up and things were looking fine.
"Sir, we're picking up power spikes. There are more enemy ships!"
Johnston looked to the subordinate making the report. "How many?"
"At least.... three hundred, sir! Coming up behind us"


CDS Yukar


The bulk of the Tsen'kethi Frontier Fleet pounced on the enemy, coming up "behind" his formations to attack the torpedo and missile ships coming to support his formations. Gavron gave the order to fire with glee, his strategem having succeeded magnificantly.
The enemy fleet's reaction was to begin pulling back, but it was too late. Just within weapons range as they came out from around the star, the Cardassian fleet's compressor cannons and torpedoes lashed out with such a volume of fire that it was almost impossible not to hit. The enemy ships' shields flickered once, twice, thrice... and pop! They were gone, and usually only a single hit was necessary to destroy them, often with magnificant explosions. Ship after ship was wiped out. Gavron detached eighty ships to pursue these vessels, incapable of warp, as they frantically tried to fall back to the carrier ships that moved them between systems. They adopted a tight formation, pushing past the determined aerospace fighters that met them with missiles and torpedoes of their own. A few ships were lost, others damaged, but massed fire from the tightened ships eliminated the great danger; the aerospace threat was neutralized.
This left Gavron free to direct the bulk of his force on the enemy fleet. They too began to withdraw, seeking to avoid the trap. Gavron wasn't going to let them get away so easily, though. The Cardassian ships were faster and were able to close quickly, linking up with the initial forces he'd sent against the Commonwealth to press the much smaller Commonwealth fleet.


FCS Warspite

Warspite shook violently as a barrage of torpedoes made it through her point-defense and battered her shielding. Her particle cannons continued to fire, slicing into Cardassian ships here and there, breaking through shields at times and cleaving off portions of hull.
The entire fleet was under intense fire now. The JumpShips were almost within enemy range as well, and the Cardassians' numbers and the speed of their ships were making it virtually impossible for the Commonwealth fleet to effectively regroup. Johnston watched an element of the Cardassian fleet put itself between his ships and the surviving DropShips fleeing back toward their JumpShips. The DropShips themselves continued to take losses; almost half were lost now, having been under intense fire for several minutes as they burned back toward their JumpShips.
The battle was becoming a reverse of the Prodigal. The Commonwealth fleet was nearly surrounded, pressed against the Pelikar star, and being pounded by an enemy with vast numerical superiority. It was not a battle that could be won. Johnston bit into his tongue. He disliked leaving men behind, but the DropShips could not be saved.... He used his controls to patch into the DropShips with narrow beam transmissions to break through enemy jamming. "This is Admiral Johnston to all DropShips. Come about and attack the enemy. Buy time for the JumpShips to finish emergency charges to escape." Johnston looked to the man at communications. "Order all of our ships to make things easier on the DropShips until we're far enough away from the star to go to warp."
The fleet continued to press outward from that order, taking losses as it went.


CDS Yukar


Gavron was generally pleased with the progress of the battle. The enemy had committed 110 ships so far; they had lost half. His fleet had taken only a few dozen outright losses, as he had been instructed to ensure.
It was rather obvious, of course, that the enemy fleet would seek to withdraw as soon as the numerical disparity was clear. The first to go were their "JumpShips", which disappeared with tremendous power spikes just before Gavron's ships could reach them. This meant that the non-warp ships and aerospace fighters were stranded, abandoned to the Cardassian fleet.
Another few ships were destroyed or crippled as the warp-capable ships cleared the star's inner gravity well. A well-timed torpedo barrage from a few Galors crippled an enemy battleship, much to Gavron's delight, but that was the end of that. In groups the Commonwealth fleet leapt to warp speed, about forty-six ships remaining to them.
The Commonwealth ships left behind continued to fight. Gavron turned to his communications officer and ordered him to open a channel. "This is Gul Gavron of the Cardassian Empire to enemy forces. You are crippled and unable to escape. Continuing to fight is futile and would be a pointless waste of lives. If you surrender, I can promise that you will be treated well and in full accordance with the recognized laws of war."


FCS Avenger


The Avenger had been the only ship of her class to not escape, with a photon torpedo having torn apart her port warp drive nacelle. They could still fight, though Durlacher had taken the time to listen to the Cardassian's offer.
For a moment he debated the choice. He had a responsibility to his crew to not see them die needlessly. The honor of the Commonwealth had been fulfilled; they had fought to the point of inability and ensured their comrades' escape. There was no practical reason not to surrender.
But Durlacher's thoughts turned to the Cardassian prisons so recently liberated. The sorrowful tales of torture and humiliation. He wasn't about to suffer that and didn't want his crew to.
He made his decision. Gonig to his command console, he keyed in his code and brought up the self-destruct command to scuttle the ship. He set it to a minute and a half before flipping a switch to activate the ship intercom. "This is Major Durlacher. You've done well, everyone, and the Commonwealth is proud of your service. The enemy has offered us quarter and promised mercy. You have one minute to evacuate the ship if you choose to accept it and take the risk that the enemy will not honor his word. If you stay, it is of your own conscious, and we will die together as soldiers of the Commonwealth. You have a minute. Make your decision."
Durlacher looked around his bridge. Leftenant Wilcox rose and turned to his commander, as did Leftenant Luvon. They walked up to him. "Sir, request permission to abandon ship."
"Permission granted. Good luck."
They had lumps in their throats, Durlacher could tell. He prayed - as he typically did not - that they would be safe. They were still young officers, and had bright careers and futures ahead of them if they survived.
The section head at communications followed them, but the others remained in place, choosing to follow Durlacher to death. Throughout the ship, individiuals made the choice to risk torture and degradation, perhaps future death after suffering, against the certainty of dying here, in the cold vacuum, far from the stars they had lived under - indeed, an entirely different cosmos from where they'd been born. And out of a remaining crew of 48, 35 made that decision, choosing the hope of the future over their knowledge of their enemy's legendary brutality. Durlacher was a bit surprised, but he did not fault them. If facing another foe he would have joined them. But he knew too much about how this ship worked, about the AFFC's plans and capabilities. He would not risk having them tortured out of him.
The agonizing minute was up, and Durlacher and the dozen who remained with him committed their final duty. Signalling the surrender of their crew and his intent to destroy his ship, Durlacher looked to his command display and watched the seconds tick downward. They could be activated manually if necessary, but the computer systems were still intact. He knew the enemy would soon be ready to send boarding teams. With escape pods having cleared, the Cardassians were again firing on Avenger to remove her shields and board her, perhaps hoping to prevent her self-destruct from working (he wasn't certain why, but that was the only reason for them to resume fire).
He wouldn't allow them. Saying one final prayer to the Maker he'd not consulted often on his life, Durlacher watched the ticker count to 00:00. Throughout the hull of gallant Avenger, charges detonated. Her computer core was destroyed. Critical equipment, centers of the hull structure, all of it flew apart. Durlacher and twelve citizens of the Federation Commonwealth - Davion and Lyran alike - were claimed by fire, having fulfilled their oathes of duty to the ultimate end.


CDS Yukar


The enemy had mostly surrendered now, with the diehards having been destroyed. Gavron was generally satisfied with his victory, but not by much. He had defeated the lesser power; the Commonwealth was little better than the hanger-on of the much more powerful Alliance. And this victory was not that great of one, really. More enemy ships had been destroyed in the defeats at Zygola and Second Darane than at this victory of Pelikar. This wasn't what Gavron really wanted.
But there was still the enemy, retreating back to Dervak. Still his troops. Cardassian space under occupation. The enemy fleet was broken at the moment, and he could seize advantage. Gavron returned to his seat. "Detach half the fleet to remain here and finish collecting survivors. The other half is to take formation with us. For the first time in this war, Cardassia has had the joy of seeing the enemy's backsides. Now we will become the hunters and we will drive them back as far as we can. For Cardassia!"
His soldiers - good men and women all - cheered. The other fleets had seen only defeat. The Tsen'kethi Frontier Fleet, under Gul Gavron, had tasted victory. And he wanted to taste it yet again.
Soon, the pursuit would be on.


FCS Warspite, Nearing Dervak, Cardassian Space (Occupied)
09:12 GST


Johnston was in a depressed mood, for obvious reasons. He had lost over half of the Commonwealth fleet in an engagement that had only been intended as a "recon-in-force". Even worse, he had lost it to a major concentration of the enemy fleet, one that even now could threaten Dervak. He had already alerted the commanders there of the defeat and the enemy presence, and preparations were being made to evacuate quickly if necessary.
"Sir, we're picking up enemy contacts, about two hundred and twenty of them."
Johnston's stomach twisted painfully. "Will they intercept us before we get to Dervak?"
"Yes, sir."
That was it, then. They were no match for such a larger enemy force. There was nothing more to do but fight and die gallantly. Johnston couldn't have his grand victory; he would at least be remembered for dying in the fashion of Tom Phillips and Horatio Nelson; in battle, for the glory of the Service and the Nation. "Send the message to Dervak. Begin evacuations immediately. And call Wexford and inform them that the enemy is pursuing us in force. With luck, the Alliance 14th Fleet may yet prevent us from being thrown all the way back to Corworth."
As they did so, Johnston composed in his mind what he would say next. When the orders were finished, his finger hit a key to trigger the intercom. The young man at communications - Good lad! Johnston thought of him - patched him to the other ships. "This is Admiral Johnston speaking. This is it, everyone. The enemy outnumbers us four times over and will overtake us soon. Our hopes of victory are gone. All we have left now is to die gloriously, protecting the National Honour of the Federated Commonwealth." And the British Empire, Johnston thought to himself; he still represented it, after all. "Your families, your comrades, your Nation expects you to do you duty, and to do it proudly. It is in places like this that legends are made, and if history will write that the Federated Commonwealth Navy was annihilated at Pelikar, it will write that it died well, fighting the enemy to...."
"Sir! Contacts ahead of us!"
Irritated that his statement to his sailors had been interrupted, Johnston turned his attention to the display and the orange "unidentified" contacts on it. Could the damned Cardassians have gone around us?!
"Signal coming in, sir!"
The lad at the comms put the signal on immediately, having made the report only for Johnston's benefit and not to seek permission. A voice spoke clear and true; "This is Captain Mitchell, DNS Enterprise. Commonwealth Task Force, do you require assistance?"
"Thank God for you, Enterprise!" Johnston's shout drowned out the celebration from his crew. "Two hundred twenty enemy contacts following us!"
"Task Force 14.1 will meet you on the way with our fighters to cover you. If the enemy wants another fight, he's welcome to it."


CDS Yukar


Gavron listened to his subordinate report on the new enemy contacts moving into sensor range and knew that the game was up. They were all equal now. Too equal; he was under orders to preserve as much of his fleet as he could and to only engage if he could guarantee a minimum of casualties and losses. That was impossible now. "Oh well," he muttered. "Order all ships to come about and return to Pelikar, maximum speed. If they want another fight they're welcome to it. Send a signal to Gul Kuval to be ready in case they do decide for another try."
As his subordinates fulfilled those orders and the Cardassian fleet turned, Gavron sat in silence. He had been on the verge of a great victory, he sensed, and it would have given him greater power. As it was, he at least could claim the only undisputable victory in the entire war; that should be help enough for his ambitions.
As it was, the Battle of Pelikar was over.

[Steve]

Camp Ganymede, Yuvar, Alliance Occupation Zone
13:28 GST


The 79th Division was nearly finished loading into Arthur Clinton's immense living areas and storage bays. The meager skyline of Turek Ikara hung in the distance, where the Cardassian inhabitans remained mostly docile in the face of the occupation; some even seemed to enjoy what they considered the greater freedom of Alliance military occupation and the accompanying martial law, a rather somber appraisal of the power of the Cardassian State over it's citizens.
Kellie Stevenson had added all of this to her reports, most of which she was still awaiting permission to transmit. When she wasn't gathering reports and trying to get interviews, she was working with Major Ogden, or Kyle as she knew him now, the lover she had never expected to take while on assignment.
But now he was leaving with the rest of the 79th Division. Kellie didn't know where they were going and they weren't letting her come along. Too many of her colleagues had acted in the wrong fashion, so the Federation press was no longer being permitted any kind of entry until third wave reinforcements. It was causing it's share of problems - and condemnations from the State Press against the Alliance military - but that was the fault of the people in the field screwing up.
They were at the edge of the tarmac now, Ogden walking away from her after giving one last press statement. She had wanted a goodbye kiss, but neither were terribly willing to be overt about their relationship, so they settled for a handshake and a silent look; their last kiss alone together would have to suffice.
The tarmac was fully cleared and Kellie returned to an aircar to be taken back to the inn in the city where the press corps was staying. As the private acting as her chauffer drove, Kellie watched the shape of the Arthur Clinton lift off under plumes of flame, rising toward the twilight sky and off toward the sunset. She blew a kiss toward it, thinking even now of what she wanted to do when reunited with Kyle.



Torvur, Korukak, Alliance Occupation Zone
13:00 GST

Another member of the Federation State Press to be left behind was Arvan Kortis, a Betazoid reporter initially attached to the 56th Division. Now he too was being left behind, without being told when he would be allowed to the new front areas to commence his reporting.
He was talking on a secured line with his boss now. The white-haired Andorian woman Uvalia was back on New Liberty in the State Press' local headquarters in Wexford. She listened to him rant and prattle angrily. "They just want to keep us out of the loop," Kortis muttered. "They want to hide things from the Alpha Quadrant. They can rely on their own press to not criticize them, but not us."
"I know, Arvan, I know. But there's nothing we can do about that." Uvalia put her hands together on her desk. "So what are you doing now?"
"Oh, I'll cover more stuff with the locals, I guess, though there's not much I want to show The Cardassians sent their undesirables here. The people cheered the Alliance when they arrived. Cheered! They're just a bunch of troublemakers, and there's no way that a responsible journalist can show such a thing. It'd be like justifying the war!"
"Oh, I understand. Just do what you can. Take care, Arvan."
The screen flipped off. Arvan went to bed, irritated still.


Wexford, New Liberty, Alliance Colonial Zone
13:05 GST


Uvalia stepped out of her office and looked at her secretary, Pauline Trexos. Half-Human and half-Betazoid, the blond-haired woman smiled at her boss. "Another late night?"
"Oh, yes. Anyway, it's time for the graveyard shift. Coming, Pauline?"
"I'll be right with you." Pauline smiled at her and watched Uvalia leave. She turned to her monitor and opened a subspace link to Rymorta. The face that appeared was a Cardassian woman her age, Juvia Kulap, a Cardassian state press journalist assigned to their Rymorta office for covering the Sphere. "Pauline! How nice to see you!"
"Hey Juvia, I've got something you might like to know. To really scoop everyone else." Pauline was nearly whispering, not wanting to be heard. "We just heard from one of the reporters we had assigned to Alliance front-line units. He says they've forced our people to be left behind, can you imagine it?"
"Obviously they're hiding something."
"Oh, of course. And I heard him tell my boss that the division he was assigned to has already left their planet! I wonder what's up...."


CDS Droumall, Marull System, Cardassian Union
18:19 GST


Gul Dukat was enjoying a quiet meal in his quarters when the intercom chirped. "Gul Dukat, sir, we have a message coming to you. Sir.... it's from the Obsidian Order."
Dukat sighed and put his plate down. "Patch it through." Dukat turned to the screen and saw a dark-clad male Cardassian his age appear. "This is Gul Dukat."
"Gul, we have been instructed to pass information on to you. A source we have in the Federation State Press has alerted us that at least one of the Alliance front-line divisions has embarked transports and left the worlds they were operating on. We suspect several others have done the same, though we can only fully guarantee the one."
"Thank you. Droumall out." Dukat turned the screen off. He didn't like talking with Obsidian Order spooks more than he had to. Not after what they'd done to his father. Scowling, Dukat looked back to his meal. "Dukat to bridge."
"Bridge here."
"We have word that the enemy is preparing to move. Send out the preliminary go order now. I'll be up as soon as I finish my meal."
"Yes sir."

[Burak Gazan]

Lot of chapters to catch up on, but thats the breaks working on boats

Great stuff Steve!

[fgalkin]

Yay Federation State Press, lying their assess off, and spying for the enemy! Is it possible to have every Feddie correspondent attached to ADN forces executed as a spy?

Have a very nice day.
-fgalkin

[Steve]

DNS Yancy Carlton, Mapakar, ADN Occupation Zone
31 December 2153 AST
06:19 GST


The 52nd Division had finished embarking an hour prior, and now they were in space awaiting final go orders for the coming offensive. The soldiers on board were now left to the old waiting game, wondering when they would be on solid soil again.
Wearing work trousers and a short-sleeved white cotton shirt, Amy Byrd was busy cleaning Trogdor, removing the dirt and grime of their Mapakar operations. The yellow sponge was specially made with scrubbers to get the really hard stuff off, though it still required a lot of elbow grease, and both of Amy's arms were growing tired.
A shadow stood over her, making Amy look up. Captain Devon looked down at her, the flourescent lights of the tank bay reflecting off his muscled ebony figure. "Lieutenant Byrd, usually E-1s are assigned to scrubbing tanks."
"Ah, but this isn't just any tank, Sir. This is my tank. Aren't you, baby?" She affectionally ran her hand on the light brown surface of the M3-3A3. "You're my baby, and you like being cleaned after setting bad guys on fire, don't you?"
Devon snickered. Though he was a product of an officer academy - unlike Byrd, who had just gotten out of OCS when the war began - Devon was often amused by her antics instead of irritated. "Well, Lieutenant, I'll leave you to cleaning your baby. Just remember to get some sleep and report to briefing at zero hundred sharp."
"I will sir."
After Devon left, she continued her work quietly. Amy was putting away the cleaning supplies when the calm of the transport was shattered by the alarm klaxons.


CDS Utoumal


5th Rank Gul Sikrep was the officer Dukat entrusted with his "4th Strike Group", a collection of 120 warships directed at Mapakar as part of the eight-unit thrust toward the Alliance positions. From the bridge of the Utoumal, a Mark VI Galor-class warship, he would lead his six squadrons against whatever force the enemy had available.
The timing had been excellent. The enemy was jamming once again to cover their impending offensive, but that would work for Cardassia's benefit now, allowing Dukat's fleet to approach undetected. They entered the system to find the enemy ships only now beginning to react, an excellent advantage.
The orders were simple. Sikrep was to ignore the enemy's warships and focus on transport vessels. There were five in the system now, guarded by about sixty enemy vessels, mostly destroyers with a handful of cruisers. "Squadrons 2 through five, sheild us from the enemy craft. We're going after the transports."
"Acknowledged."
The order was sent and the Cardassian fleet raced to it's target. The three Alliance squadrons, led by the heavy cruiser Novvy Smolensk, opened fire first, but they were still getting into formation and were very much surprised, so the attack was hardly as bad as it could have been.
The Cardassians returned fire as soon as they reached range. Point-defense blunted the torpedo attack, but Sikrep was happy to see four destroyers crippled or destroyed under the onslaught. As eighty of his ships attacked the enemy covering fleet, he moved on to the transports that were trying to escape. His ships opened up a torpedo barrage.
The enemy transports were hardly inspiring. They were flying blocks with engine nacelles and openings to disembark their troops upon worlds. And now their shields flickered under the onslaught of the Cardassian fleet, which poured on it's attack. The enemy's destroyers turned to try and give aid to the transports, but Sikrep was not about to divert from his targets. He left it to his detachment to deal with the enemy fleet.
Pursuing enemy destroyers and Sikrep's forces fired at the same time. A Cardassian destroyer took three torpedoes and blew apart near the rear of Sikrep's formation, and a cruiser lost it's port warp engine. Numerous ships took shield damage of some kind.
The transports fared worse. Despite ECM and point-defense weapons, all ten received torpedo hits. One blew apart nicely from a second torpedo hit, and two more were outright crippled, left to be destroyed by compressor beam shots. The remaining two, despite damage, succeeded in charging their warp drives up and finally went to warp, fleeing further into Alliance territory.
"Enemy transports fleeing, sir. The enemy fleet is turning to follow." On cue, the surviving Alliance warships retreated, leaving the husks of the three lost transports, four destroyers, and a single light cruiser missing a warp drive nacelle. His squadrons went to work dispatching the ship, not bothering to accept any surrenders. His weapons officer looked up. "Shall we program coordinates to commence bombardment of enemy positions on the planet?"
"No. That's not our mission. Set pursuit course, maximum warp!"




Wexford Naval Headquarters, New Liberty, ADN Colonial Zone
06:40 GST


Simonov was seated at a table sipping some tea when one of his officers came up. "Admiral, we're receiving some garbled reports from the frontlines. The Cardassians have launched attacks along the front."
Simonov stared at the soft-spoken Canadian Lieutenant - he forgot the young man's name - and stammered, "Wha... what? But intelligence hasn't reported any activity..."
"Sir, the jamming's effecting our communications, but we have reports of at least a hundred Cardassian ships hitting Mapakar, Tuvorak, and Felvar. No reports on losses yet, though a report from Captain Foquet on the Novvy Smolensk stated that the Cardassians were targeting our troop transports."
Simonov nodded, quickly gathering his senses. "Send orders to Admiral Usagi on the Lafayette. 10th Fleet must move forward to aid 5th Fleet against the enemy. All transports are to be pulled back toward New Liberty and Kensington. And see if 9th and 14th Fleets can spare any ships without compromising their positions. We may be dealing with a full-scale enemy offensive."



DNS Yancy Carlton, Mapakar, ADN Occupation Zone
06:45 GST


With great hesitation, Amy opened the door to the shielded protection bunker of the Carlton's port bay. She looked back at the handful of her people who'd made it. Eddie Lewis was present, as was Sergeant Wilcox and Staff Sergeant Watts; Privates DiNozzo and Purette were also present. All were in their combat suits, which would give them limited oxygen until they could get to tanks and the internal oxygen tanks for them and protect them from radiation.
The Carlton was a lifeless wreck. The Cardassian torpedoes hadn't completely destroyed the ship's hull, but they'd taken out it's engines and released deadly waves of radiation that killed everyone save for Amy and her five subordinates, the only ones she'd managed to get into "the box". Sweating and rather terrified, Amy tried to force herself to calm. She was the officer here - she had to take charge.
"We might still be close to Mapakar," she heard Wilcox say. "If we're too close, the ship could drift into a decaying orbit and crash into the planet. We'll all be roasted into ash."
"Well, let's get to the life pods," DiNozzo said, his Tuscan accent smooth and hiding any apprehension or fear.
"They'll be this way." Amy carefully maneuvered herself out of the box, trying to remember what little she could from emergency zero-G training. The others followed her. "Let's hurry."
Carefully they bounded down a cross hall, avoiding a fractured part of the hull and trying not to look at the irradiated remains of their friends and comrades. They took a detour to get around a blocked hall, nearing the port-side escape pods.
Amy boldly pulled herself around a corner to the pods.... and gasped. The others came about and all six lost shades of color on their faces.
The pods were gone.
In fact, the entire section of the ship was gone. They stared out at lifeless cold black, and in the distance, they could make out the slowly growing shape of one of Mapakar's moons. It was the second moon, a sulphur-atmosphere rock with raging storms.
And they were heading right for it.

[darthdavid]

Oh my...

[Zed Snardbody]

This wont end well.

[Steve]

Turek Ikara, Yuvar, ADN Occupation Zone
07:18 GST


Kellie was alone in her suite, glaring at the computer monitor screen set upon the desk beside her bed. Her boss, Gerry Pinelli, was a short stocky man approaching middle age that was always looking to take the next step up the latter. Currently, the pudgy little power-hungerer was again refusing to air her material. He always did, citing this reason or that for his decision.
This time she was fighting back.
"Just let me do my job, Pinelli! We're supposed to report on these things!"
"We're supposed to be responsible journalists, Stevenson. Airing provocative material isn't reponsible at all. It is information that the public does not need to know and which could easily be used to justify this war."
Breathing in sharply, Kellie waited a moment before taking the argument up again. "So the public doesn't need to know that all of those innocent people got slaughtered?"
"No, but the public doesn't need to know who did it. All they need to know is that innocent people were killed. Saying who did it is unnecessarily provocative and you should know better."
"And what about my other material? My interviews with local citizens? With Alliance troops? Why won't you air that?"
"We're still thinking about it, Stevenson. But we feel it would be misleading to show the people back home too much positive footage of Alliance troops or their supporters in the Cardassian population. So we're waiting for material that we can put together a report that would be fairer and more neutral. I'm sure you understand."
"Oh, yes, I do," Kellie replied angrily. "I'll try to get you some more material then."
"Yes, please do. And Kellie, please, remember that out there you represent all of us, and you should make sure you don't say or do anything that could make the Federation Press look... biased."
"Oh, I won't," Kellie promised. "I'll report in when I have more material."
"Great. Pinelli out." His face disappeared from the screen, replaced by the Federation insignia for a few moments. Kellie, without much to do, decided to lie down and try to get over her irritation.


DNS Arthur Clinton, En Route to Ituval
08:13 GST


Every man and woman in the 79th knew this could be the end. The minutes had ticked down steadily, and no relief was in sight as the Cardassians came closer and closer.
Kyle Ogden had only one picture of Kellie so far. She had provided him a photo of her vacationing on Risa, wearing a lovely two-piece bathing suit that was very flattering on her. He was alone now, sitting in what amounted to his quarters. He had never expected to fall for her when they first met, but he'd found her charms and her beauty captivating.
He had spent the last hour writing a farewell to her. Commander Weathers had promised to transmit all stored messages in the ship's queue once the Cardassians were in range to open fire, though nobody could be certain that the messages would ever be received.
Like the others, Ogden was suffering from the anxieties of near-certain death. Every moment held the hope of rescue and survival and the terror that they would die here, alone, far away from home. He didn't know what to do with his writing finished. He didn't want to try to get to the bridge or control center and he didn't have any strong acquaitances in the unit. There was nothing to do but sit and wait, every second full of inner torment.


Lieutenant Pinelli, Private Pacelli, and the roughly 6,000 other Catholics on the Arthur Clinton were gathered in the main bay near the embarkation door at the ship's bow. Father Colanza, a middle-aged priest and chaplain with a stern demeanor that complemented and contradicted his paternal nature at the same time, was giving the Last Rites to the assembled crew, standing atop a tank as those around him gathered in tightly. Frightened of imminent death, a death they were helpless to prevent by any effort of their own, the assembled had nothing better to do but seek solace in a faith that not all adhered to strongly, but which now stood as the only thing they had left to console them. Even Colanza had within him the fear of the end of his mortal life, a fear so primal to the human instinct that his faith could never fully restrain it.
Nevertheless, he continued in this final duty, ensuring those gathered around him would be assured of a better life in the beyond if the worse were to come, and giving them an outlet for their terror in the process.


In the control center, Weathers watched helplessly as the vanguard of the Cardassian fleet, twenty strong, was on the verge of entering firing range. "Time to range?"
"Three minutes, forty seconds."
The waiting began anew. The Clinton and the other transports were in an echelon formation, so there were no "rear" ships. The Cardassian gunners would decide who died first.
"Sir! Contacts ahead! Friendlies!"
A cheer came from the control center, but it quickly died down when the sensor officer added, "Sir, they'll get in range after the Cardassians. The Cardies will have about eight seconds to get some shots off before our ships can engage."
Stomachs began to twist; there was hope now of survival, all they had to do was not get shot at for eight seconds. Eight long seconds....
The two forces came closer... and closer.... the religious on the bridge made their final prayers, seeking deliverance, and Weathers found herself joining them as she watched her display and saw the sphere representing the Cardassian firing range grow ever closer to her ship and the others.
"In range!"
The eight seconds began. Six of the Cardassian ships fired torpedoes, then another eight. At warp flight, the torpedoes' accuracy were reduced, but they could still make hits, as the shaking of the ship confirmed. Every transport was hit at least once, but their shields were holding. One torpedo brought Clinton's shields down to seventy-five percent, then another to forty-nine.... then another....
One second before the Alliance ships entered range, a final short spread of torpedoes raced out toward the transport ships. Weathers held her breath, waiting to see where the torpedoes would go, if they would hit anyone, if after all this time her ship, her crew, and the 20,000 soldiers aboard would be spared, waiting to see if she would get home aga-....
Two torpedoes hit Clinton. One removed for good her aft shielding, and as her systems tried to recycle and restore the shielding in that quarter, the second torpedo got through and impacted on her warp nacelle.
At warp, nacelles are energized with plasma to help produce the fields that permit faster-than-light propulsion. Now that plasma was freed in the midst of a great explosion of energy. The energies blew away hull and ship frame, ripping the port side of the Arthur Clinton apart. This alone killed enough, but the others would have been spared.... if they had been at sublight.
The warp field collapsed suddenly and violently. Instead of the gradual (at least relatively gradual) return to sublight that ships made when coming out of warp, it was a sudden stop which tore the ship apart, producing an explosion from the freed anti-matter in the ship's bunkers.
With the suddeness of a moment, the men and women on board were dead.

[Steve]

DNS Yancy Carlton, Mapakar, ADN Occupation Zone
08:33 GST


With nowhere else to go, Amy had lead her people to the main bay at the bow of the ship. It was, in turned out, the only place left to go. When they got there, they found another twelve soldiers, led by Sergeant Michael Beck, who were tankers like Amy and her people, save that they had "real" tanks with guns instead of flamethrowers (or so they claimed).
Informed of the course the ship was on, Sergeant Beck and his people had immediately relegated themselves to Amy's command and a desperate plan was made. With everyone in their combat suits and with fresh oxygen tanks acquired from the bow stores, they turned to the one method of escape they had left.
Their tanks.
Five tanks had now been carefully run to the main bay doors. They were loaded with ammo so that their guns could be fired as a primitive form of retro-thruster. Fortunately, since the ship was moving toward the moon "sideways", they would not actually be moving directly toward the moon when they pushed out for good. The main door was open now and the tanks ready to roll.
Before climbing into one of the M3-A3s, Amy looked to her tank. "Goodbye baby, I loved you," she said wistfully. This done, she pulled herself into the commander's seat. Again she prepared to start the engine.
Sergeant Beck and Private Wilson had volunteered to open the doors. They did so using a mechanical lever in the side of the bay, opening it just high enough to let the tanks roll out. As tanks began to roll out, they climbed into one and the driver within started his engine. Amy watched them roll out before following them.
In the distance, again, was the moon. All of the tanks rotated their turrets toward it and fired a shot, then a second, then a third. As the hulk of the Carlton slowly passed by them, it was hard to see if they'd stopped moving toward the moon or not, but Amy was hopeful that they had at least slowed their "descent" and that they had bought enough time to be rescued. They had many hours of air left, with carefully stored rations, and the tanks' radios were broadcasting SOS signals.
Below her, Privates Lewis and Purette were functioning as gunner and driver. Purette looked up and asked, "So, Lieutenant, what do we do if the Cardies are the ones who picked us up?"
At that, Amy looked to the sidearms they'd taken. Nuclear-disruptor pistols instead of guns... clean kills if they chose that route. "Well, they might think that since they're losing the war they can't afford to be mean and end up on trial for war crimes..... or they could decide they have nothing to lose, so they'll rape and torture us to death. Your call as to what you're going to risk."
"And what will you do, Lieutenant?"
Amy shrugged. She really didn't wanna think about it.


CDS Droumall, Nearing Rutavak
09:19 GST


After the initial attacks, which had seen the destruction or crippling of twenty enemy transports and the likely deaths of 150,000 or so enemy ground troops, Dukat's fleets had split up further. Now that their initial attacks had been launched, there was no more need for strict radio silence, and they were now broadcasting on a secure encrypted line - even if the code was broken, the enemy could never break it and read the orders within quick enough to be of use in the unfolding battle. With this limitation on operations gone, Dukat had ordered a further splitting of the fleet. Twelve groups were now making deeper headway into Alliance-held territory, shooting up enemy transports as they went. Dukat had taken sixty ships himself.
Ahead of them were six enemy transports, a couple of troop carriers and four supply ships, the survivors of a larger contingent that had been at Sorukel when Dukat's part of the fleet attacked. Their small escort had already been brushed aside in a desperate, suicidal attempt to delay Dukat's fleet, causing only damage and no outright loss. The transports would get to the Rutavak system before he could overtake them, but he'd be literally seconds behind.
As they came up on the system, Dukat's sensor officer reported the presence of enemy ships in-system. "Forty enemy contacts, sir."
"What kind?"
"Warships. With at least ten of their superwarships."
Dukat sat for a moment and considered. Numerical advantage alone only insured greater losses for him. His entire plan counted on preserving his forces, striking targets that could not strike back. It would be foolhardy to risk even this relatively meager portion of his fleet (less than a tenth of it's strength) in a fight.
Nevertheless, he wanted to take out the troop carriers. Every enemy division destroyed was one more Cardassian world that might be held or not even attacked.
"Keep the enemy transports targeted. We'll make an attempt to outmaneuver the enemy ships to maintain our attack on them. Have all ships prepared for immediate withdrawal should enemy fighters arrive."


DNS Sam Houston, Rutavak, Alliance Occupation Zone


Admiral Lewis was watching the sensor station intently, her two squadrons from Task Force 14.2 in position to give support to the transports fleeing the enemy attack. She had to hand it to the Cardies; intel hadn't seen this one coming.
"Tell the transports to get into the midst of our formation, we'll provide them cover fire. I want a formation change to Sphere, battle divisions opposite one another, light ships in position to provide torpedo fire for support to both our battle divisions and the transports."
The two squadrons began their revolutions to do so. The transports came out of warp first, seeking refuge in their formation. As they began to enter the sphere, the Cardassians came out of warp.
The Cardassians had exited warp close to the Alliance fleet, almost to their own firing range. Torpedo and particle fire answered them, but the Cardassians did not stay in a single formation, but broke up into six different groups of ten. The split fleet flew away from the Alliance group, then came back in toward the portions of their sphere made by the cruisers and destroyers. Lewis ordered a shifting of the sphere formation to put her battleships in position to concentrate more fire on the Cardassians.


CDS Droumall

Dukat's ships split up well, and at multiple points ran straight for the enemy transports. Torpedoes and compressor beams lashed out at the enemy warships, though every ship was keeping a torpedo ready for the enemy transports as per his instructions. As the volume of fire struck shield and armor in the Alliance fleet, it returned fire, it's sphere shifting to present the deadly Alliance heavy warships a better firing position against Dukat's ships.
"Faster, get us in faster!" Droumall shook as her shields were struck. "Shield status?!"
"Seventy percent..." Another hit. "Fifty-nine percent."
There was an explosion off the main screen. "We just lost the Travak. Houvrall has lost shields!"
"Keep going! Fire at the transports when we reach optimum range!"
The distance continued to close.... 100,000 kilometers, 75,000, 50,000.... At 20,000 kilometers, a flurry of several dozen torpedoes erupted from the Cardassian fleet. Seeing his losses - five ships lost, forty damaged to various extents, Dukat barked the order, "All ships, withdraw! Return to base!"
As the Cardassian ships broke off from combat, losing another two of their number in the moments after the order, the torpedoes entered the midst of the Alliance formation. Point-defense fire erupted everywhere, shooting down torpedo after torpedo, but some got through. One of the troop transports lost it's port nacelle, the other had it's entire bow blown away. A supply transport was torn apart.
Dukat had a chance to see his partial success before Droumall leapt to warp speed.


DNS Sam Houston


Admiral Lewis cursed the luck of those damned Cardassians. On paper it was a victory for her - seven enemy ships destroyed, a few dozen damaged, at the loss of just three transports and two destroyers - but she knew better. The Cardassians weren't interested in fleet engagements. They were after the troops and supplies for the next Alliance offensive. They had won this one.
"I'll get you, you bastard," Lewis vowed. "Get me a damage report on those transports. And let me know when the rest of the task force is in range, I want to move back to Sorukel to make sure the Cardassians don't start vaping our troops there too."


Wexford Naval Headquarters, New Liberty, ADN Colonial Zone
10:07 GST


Simonov had assembled the other service heads to watch things unfold. The Cardassians had attacked in six and then twelve directions, their targets being transports. Every time battle was offered by the Alliance fleet, they retreated. Now all but a couple of their thrusts were returning to their space.
But what damage they'd done! Ten troop transports had been outright destroyed, killing around 200,000 ground troops, more than doubling the number of dead Army and Marine personnel in the entire war. More troop transports had been crippled or heavily damaged, not to mention several dozen more supply ships that the Cardassians had ran into and taken out. Warship losses were comparitively light, thankfully, but so were those of the Cardassians.
"Bloody bastards still have plenty of fight left in them, eh?" Crawford's tone was bitter, if with a bit of respect. "They've played merry hell on our attack force."
"We should have been more careful. We relied too much on intel to tell us where they were," Simonov admitted. "But that's done. We've lost roughly 20 divisions for the first wave of the attack. But, we still have the necessary warship force to cover an offensive. What shall we do? Do we postpone the attack or call the Cardassians' bluff and launch anyway?"
"Postpone," Polk proposed. "We need time to gather more transports and restore forward supplies. An offensive would be foolhardy."
"Call," Crawford recommended.
"I agree," Lumet added. "The Cardassians' intentions were to stop our offensive. If we launch it anyway, we might catch them off guard. We still have many divisions, and troops can be pulled off Bajor if necessary, since virtually all resistance has ended there anyway."
Simonov nodded. "I'm going to alert the President of our plans. Have your staff officers do whatever work is necessary to modify the attack. We'll move zero hour to Thirteen Hundred Hours tomorrow to give time for the reserves to embark and more supply transports to be gathered and stocked. Dismissed."

[Trogdor]

And thus ended the existance the flame throwing tank, Trogdor, the only time a fic writer saw fit to name something after me. RIP you badass flamethrowing tank.

[Steve]

And thus ended the existance the flame throwing tank, Trogdor, the only time a fic writer saw fit to name something after me. RIP you badass flamethrowing tank.

I'm sure there'll be another Trogdor....

[Glocksman]

We really should just chain you to a keyboard and force you to write more chapters.
This is a really engrossing story.
Good job!

[Trogdor]

And thus ended the existance the flame throwing tank, Trogdor, the only time a fic writer saw fit to name something after me. RIP you badass flamethrowing tank.

I'm sure there'll be another Trogdor....

Excellent. I look forward to the appearance of Trogdor Jr. (or Trogdor II, you're the author, after all) then.

[Steve]

Mapakar, ADN Occupation Zone
15:29 GST


There were still hours of oxygen left in their personal tanks and the main oxygen tank of the M3-3A, but already Amy and her people were starting to lose their minds with boredom. There was nothing to see but more space and nothing to do in their tanks but sit and wait. Little attempts at story-telling had ended a while ago.
There was a sudden lurch, and the sense that the tank was moving faster. "What the hell?" Lewis looked up at Amy. "Lieutenant, what was that?"
"I dunno." Amy looked to her radio and keyed it up. "This is Lt. Byrd, Bravo Company, 29th Armored Battalion. Anyone there?"
For several tense moments there was no reply. Finally there came a reply with a German accent; "This is Ensign Werner Maurer of Squadron SR-119 from Audacious. Hold tight, Lieutenant, we're bringing you home."
Laughter and cheers echoed in the tank. They had survived and were being rescued! The whole thing was over with.


CDS Droumall, Marull System, Cardassian Union
18:19 GST


Upon return the local Cardassian populations had assembled into celebratory rallies at what authorities were calling the first great victory against the Alliance. For the first time in the war, Cardassia had killed more enemies and destroyed more enemy ships than they had lost in the effort.
Dukat knew better. He was, in fact, a bit disappointed that so few enemy ships had been exposed enough for easy attack. The Cardassian attack had been well-timed, certainly, but it could have been more fortunate if the enemy had been a bit less cautious. But, a victory was a victory.
However, now Dukat was concerned that Kelataza would recall Home Fleet. The victory would certainly restore some of the shattered prestige of his government, making the planned coup hard enough. Home Fleet's return would ruin it's chances of success. So Dukat now had to think of a way to stay out on the frontier.
As he sat alone in his ship's small war room, sipping some celebratory kanar, a call finally came through. He turned to the monitor built into the wall, which flipped on to show Keve and Kelataza. "Congratulations, Gul Dukat. You have dealt the enemy a harsh blow."
"Thank you, Legate."
"Now that we have bought time, it is time to recall the Home Fleet to Cardassia Prime."
Dukat shrugged. "Very well." Wisely, Keve showed no reaction, but he knew Keve wouldn't be happy with his acqueisance. Unfortunately, there was nothing else to be done, as resisting the measure would only make Kelataza suspicious. Better to wait until Home Fleet was forced back to the front, which would give Keve more time for his preparations anyway. "I would like to leave five squadrons here at Marull with the 3rd Fleet, however, to form a forward guard to skirmish with any enemy advance."
Kelataza frowned. Again, he clearly didn't like leaving Home Fleet away from Cardassia Prime for too long, but Dukat was only asking for 100 ships, a fifth of the fleet's normal strength. "Very well, Gul Dukat. However, I insist that you detach yourself from the rest of the fleet and continue to command our frontline forces. There are too many in the Central Command who would look badly at bringing back home the only man to beat the Alliance."
Dukat nodded. "Of course, Legate. I'll send Gul Sikrep back with the rest of the fleet. Dukat out." He saw his commanders disappear and looked to his kanar. He would finish it before he sent the order, Dukat decided. Make what you can of this, Keve. I suspect you won't be waiting long. Deep down, Dukat was certain that the enemy would attack anyway, if only with limited force and scope, to seize advantage and catch Cardassia off-guard after their effective spoiler attack. He would do what he had to, and leave it to Keve to pull off the planned coup. He just hoped that putting Puvek in power wouldn't become a mistake.


Camp Ganymede, Yuvar, Alliance Occupation Zone
18:30 GST


After a good sleep, Kellie had returned to Ganymede to get an update on what she was certain was an impending Alliance operation. She milled with other reporters left behind in one of the civilian-open areas of the small military base.
Something was clearly up. Kellie had learned from a colleague that for several hours Camp Ganymede had been on alert, as had the planet's remaining Alliance garrison. The alert had only been canceled a few hours ago. There were reports, scattered, of some kind of Cardassian attack on the front. It was amazing to most, but Kellie wasn't surprised, as the Cardassians thrilled in surprise attacks.
After a short while, the Major who was the adjutant to the base commander showed up; a petite woman with African complexion who called for calm as the reporters began barraging her with questions. "What's going on?" "Any news on this reported Cardassian offensive?" "Have the Cardassians been stopped?"
Finally the Major stopped and turned to the reporters. "Listen, everyone. A full press release will be provided soon. I can only tell you that yes, we took some losses, and a lot of good people got killed, and yes, the Cardassian attack has been stopped and they're retreating. That's all."
Kellie's stomach twisted a little. She followed the Major as the woman went to leave the room. "Major? Major, can I..."
"Didn't I just tell you...." The woman saw Kellie and appeared to recognize her. "Ah, Major Ogden's little honey-bun from the Federation."
"Um, yeah."
The woman sighed. "I'm sorry, honey. The Clinton was lost with everyone aboard. Please, try to keep it to yourself."
The words were like a hammer blow to Kellie's heart. She stood there alone for a moment, uncertain of how to act or what to do. Pain twisted through her like she'd never imagined possible. Her heart quivered from it. Tears began to form in her eyes and go down her cheeks.
And then, there was some calm. She knew what she had to do now. With firm resolution, she left the gathered press to catch a ride back to her hotel. She had work to do.

[Steve]

Washington D.C., Earth, Alliance of Democratic Nations
Universe Designate HE-1
23:15 GST


Mamatmas had cut short his stay at the early New Year's Eve party as soon as all of his chiefs were ready. Minister Rathbone and Security Advisor Takahara were present along with the JCS - Director Bronson was not present, visiting New Avalon for meetings with his Commonwealth opposite, Sir Alex Mallory. "What kind of explainations do we have for getting caught with our pants around our ankles?" Mamatmas finally asked after quietly preparing the stack of reports in front of him.
Rathbone was the one picked to speak. "Well, Mister President, there was no warning from our codebreakers that the enemy fleet was planning to strike."
"Have they changed their codes?"
"No sir, no new encryptions have appeared in Cardassian messages."
Speaking up, Hollingwood said, "If they suspected we were reading their naval orders, they may have turned to couriers instead of transmitting preparation orders."
"So we may have lost that advantage. Very well. Does our success in code-breaking excuse the Navy's failure to provide escort?"
Hollingwood swallowed, but that was the only sign of any apprehension he had about dealing with the President. "Sir, there was some escort in a number of systems, but not enough to overcome superior enemy numbers. Our warships and carriers were still out of position when the enemy attack hit. We were keeping them back to try and disguise our attack positions because we did know that the enemy's surviving fleet forces had left the region of Cardassia Prime. We just didn't know they were going to attack. We thought that they had deployed their Home Fleet as a force to react to an attack, not to launch one of their own."
Mamatmas nodded. He still wasn't happy, but it was a good sign to see this light reaction. "Okay, well, the damage is done. What can we salvage from this?"
"Admiral Simonov intends to attack in thirteen hours," Longwell reported.
Mamatmas stared at her for a moment. "Now, correct me if I am wrong, Marshal, but did we not just lose the transport capacity for nearly a third of our attacking forces and millions of tons of shipping capacity? How the hell are we supposed to launch the offensive anyway?"
"Admiral Simonov is using transports ear-marked for redeploying troops from Bajor to embark 28th Army and the Kerensky Cluster Expeditionary Force. Transport ships are being gathered as quickly as possible to provide for an offensive more limited in scope than the planned attack." Longwell was flipping through some papers. "The figures match up rather well. The offensive should be sustainable for our planned first wave, which is enough for what we're looking to do. The Admiral hopes to catch the Cardies off-guard as they did us. They might not expect us to launch our offensive anyway."
"And when we have to stop to rebuild our supply stores? The Cardassians will try to do the same thing again."
"Well, sir, there are always measures to try and force them to come to the negotiating table. I mean, convince the Central Command to give up Kelataza and his people, and do so by making it clear that if they don't, they won't survive."
"And how do you propose I do that?"
Hollingwood shifted a bit in his seat. "Well, sir, you made it clear that any attempt to wipe out the Bajorans would be met with retaliation, and the Cardies killed probably hundreds of millions of them in the days leading up to our invasion. You could authorize the use of strategic weapons again."
Mamatmas gave Hollingwood a nasty look. "I seem to recall that the last bombing sorties went bad. What have you got to keep them from destroying more of the bombers we have left?"
"Well, sir, I'm not talking about using bombers. Mjollner is in position."
That silenced the table. All eyes looked to Hollingwood, though his focus was on the cold glare from Mamatmas. "I never signed any order to deploy our strategic missile ships," Mamatmas said coldly.
"No, sir, you didn't. I ordered them to the front to act as scouts for our Sierra-India missions. I have them placed under cloak outside several key industrial systems in the Cardassian inner sector, including Cardassia Prime itself."
Hollingwood was safe, at least from the regs. He had acted within his purview, as Mamatmas only controlled the use of those ships' strategic stores. Nevertheless, Mamatmas saw it for what it was, and coldly remarked, "Well, Admiral, I will place it under consideration. That is all." Looking back to the others, Mamatmas' frown did not disappear. "Well, I won't block Simonov. He knows what he's doing, I'm sure. There's certainly no point in staying here. You're all dismissed, go enjoy the New Year."

[Steve]

DNS Olivia Burlacher, En Route to Mapakar
1 January 2154 AST
05:00 GST


Private William Tooler howled a New Year's greeting as the Times Square crowd erupted in chairs on the small flat TV he'd set up in the rec area of his company's living area. The 272nd Division was on it's way to the front. Rumors abounded everywhere that the Cardies had hit hard the previous day, but none of the people in the know were talking.
"God dammit, Tooler, you're the only HE-1er in the unit," he heard another Private, Rick Paxson, grumble. "It's not New Year's for the rest of us."
"Ah, pipe down, we put up with you celebrating your's a couple months ago," Private Mueller said, tossing down cards from a friendly game of poker that was happening nearby. "And what's that awful ruckus?"
The awful ruckus was, in fact, the heavy metal music playing from the portable stereo belonging to Corporal Green, who was sitting alone nearby cleaning his sidearm. "It's good music, not an awful ruckus," Green replied.
"I can't understand a fucking word they're saying," Tooler said. "What language is that?"
"Oh, it's, uh, it's some regional Andorian language. Yeah, I bought it from a kiosk in Parker City before we left New Liberty. Guy said he bought it with a bunch of junk brought in from the Feddies. Kickass, huh?"
"But what're they singing, Green?" This was from Staff Sergeant Evans, the only woman in their particular platoon; she often muttered in irritation that her job was like baby-sitting. "What kind of music is it?"
"I think the words were said to be in a secondary data stream. Here, lemme see if I can...." Green looked at his radio and it's data display. He stared at it for a while. "Holy shit."
"Well?"
"The chorus is 'Kill the pinkskins, kill the pinkskins, rip their mud-filled veins out...'. Damn."
"You bought a music disc of alien racist songs?" Tooler laughed. "Jeez, man, the Human stuff not bad enough?"
"Like I fucking knew!" Green growled in reply. He popped the disc out. "The bad thing is, I thought the music itself sounded good. Well, now for some Raw Metal..."
"Naw man, put in something classical. Iron Maiden or something."
"Iron Maiden? What the fuck, Paxson? Are you one of those types who got all hung up on the 20th Century? Listen to me man, fuck Iron Maiden, fuck Metallica, fuck all of that old shit. Raw Metal is where it's at."
"If only their name didn't sound so shitty," Paxson retorted.


16:04 GST


Paxson and Tooler awoke in startlement as a klaxon howled in their sleeping area. It wasn't the ship's battlestations alert, they soon realized, but the specialized alarm for troops to get their gear together and prepare for "hot" disembarkation.
So they did, getting their field gear and following their company to the IFV-3s assigned them. Tooler and Paxson were in the squad led by Sergeant Tourville, a Frenchman from Toulouse AR-12 who spoke barely-accented English and was generally amiable. Only as they were secured did they learn that the mudball they were to take was an innocent-looking-enough planet called Rutuvall.
Operation: Rolling Thunder had begun.


Capital City, Cardassia, Cardassian Union
17:00 GST


"Keve!"
The shout echoed in the Central Command's Operations Center. Gul Keve was observing the developments from the central position when he heard Kelataza's voice echo in the room. Keve looked back and stood at attention as the Legate stormed into the room. "I was assured that we had crippled the enemy's offensive forces! Assured! Now I hear that the enemy has commenced their offensive! What happened?!"
"Gul Dukat did severe damage to the enemy, Legate. Either this is a bluff, or...." Keve sighed and looked down. "The enemy may have established greater reserves than we thought."
Kelataza shook his head stiffly. "Dammit, Keve, the Home Fleet is out there instead of where it belongs, here, to defend us from anarchists and traitors! If we lose it...."
"Gul Dukat has no intention of losing the only coherent force that stands between the Alliance and Cardassia Prime," Keve retorted. "He will respond as necessary and preserve the fleet."
"He'd better." Kelataza looked back to Keve after checking the map display, as another system was lit up to display the presence of enemy landings. "I'm very disappointed in you, Gul Keve. Do try to remember what happened to your predecessor on the Strategy Staff." The attempt at a thinly-veiled threat was clumsy, showing how Kelataza himself must be slipping from his prime as this still-young war continued and looked so very bad for Cardassia.
"I will, Legate." Keve watched Kelataza leave. "I will."


20:19 GST


With nothing more to do in the Operations Center, Keve had left and returned to his office. After a short time, a visitor was brought before him. Keve stood and offered a chair to Loralo Puvek. "What can I do for you, Councilman Puvek?"
"Oh, I think you know, Gul. I think you do." Puvek sat. "We're free to talk, yes?"
Keve smirked. "If you're concerned about Obsidian Order bugs, don't be. My office is quite secure from them."
"Well, one can never be too careful. The Order does like to keep tabs on us, after all."
"Yes, they do." Keve returned to his seat. "The Alliance has launched a new offensive. Home Fleet is at the front now and Dukat is undoubtedly trying to plan some kind of counterstroke."
"The war must end, Gul, certainly you see that!" Puvek pounded a fist on the table. "Kelataza let that fool Hergata and the bloodthirsty bitch from the Obsidian Order talk him into that foolish strike on the Alliance, and now all of Cardassia is at risk. He must be removed. We should turn him and his ilk over to the enemy as they demand, we have no want of them here."
"Still, it's rather dangerous, don't you think, to be seen as surrendering to the enemy? The people will be bitter."
"The people will do as they always do; follow the State. The State, in the meantime, has the duty to preserve itself, and so men like Kelataza matter little. After the war, we can turn to rebuilding, and make luxuries available to the people to win their allegiance should the peace be unpopular." Puvek leaned forward. :"The leader of the Home Guard is loyal to you, Gul Keve. Do I have your support?"
Keve looked long and hard. Finally he spoke; "Do what you have to do, Councilman Puvek. The military's duty is to protect Cardassia, not necessarily it's leaders."
"Thank you, Gul Keve. Your cooperation is very appreciated. I look forward to working with you more in the future..."

[Steve]

Turek Ikara, Yuvar, ADN Occupation Zone
19:33 GST


Kellie was looking at her viewscreen, the only thing showing on it being the Federation symbol as her call was routed through. She was dressed casually, in a standard civilian jumpsuit, but she'd taken care to brush her hair and generally tended to her appearance. Therefore, she was smiling when Henry Neff appeared on the screen. Henry was about her age and was Pinelli's senior subordinate. Kellie also knew he had something of a crush on her. He greeted her with a smile of his own. "Hello Kellie. Anything I can do for you?"
"Pinelli's out, isn't he?"
"Yeah, he's gone. You just missed him."
"Oh, well, I'm sure you can help me instead." Kellie giggled as she spoke. "I finished a new cut of my material for release. I was hoping to get it out tonight."
"Well, do you want me to call him back? He has to watch the mat..."
"Oh, c'mon Henry, I need to get something out. I haven't had a single report make public yet." Kellie smiled sweetly at him. "If you can put it out tonight, I'd be indebted to you."
Henry swallowed. Undoubtedly a number of possibilities were running through his mind. "Dinner. At Colbert's in Paris. After we get you a dress from one of the nearby stores."
"It'll be a night to remember," Kellie promised. She transmitted the material along on a sub-channel.
A few moments later Henry nodded. "Got it, I'm putting it up on the subspace comms tonight."
"Thank you very much, Henry. As soon as I get back, it'll be a date." She watched Henry's smiling face disappear and sighed. Oh, poor Henry. I hated doing that. But this has to be done.


New Orleans, Earth, United Federation of Planets
21:05 GST


It was night in New Orleans, and the doors of the famed Sisko's were closed for the evening. Joseph, the eldest Sisko, was finishing cleaning work in the kitchen. Upstairs, his son Benjamin was sitting at a table going over a computer readout of a ship schematic. Ben's young son Jake was seated on the floor in sleepers, flipping through the planetary interweb.
Busy overlooking his schematics, Ben was irritated when his son excitedly grabbed his leg. "Dad, hey Dad, look."
"Jake, I'm busy."
"Dad, you really need to see this...."
"Jake, no. Go get ready for bed."
"What's all the commotion?" Joseph Sisko walked up, still wearing his chef garb and with a towel draped over his shoulder.
"Grandpa Joe, look!"
"At what?"
Jake pointed over to the viewscreen unit. Joe Sisko looked at it and muttered, "Good God, Ben, look at that!"
Thoroughly irritated, Ben Sisko finally looked up from his work to see what had gotten his son and father so riled. On the screen was a trench of some kind with soldiers walking around it, Human soldiers with helmets cast aside or under an arm. One was on his or her knees puking.
The camera panned over to the trench, and there, rows and rows of Cardassian bodies were present. They were all in civilian dress, the young and the old together. A timestamp showed the scene to be over a month old. ".....was the sight when Alliance troops entered the mining town of Evelek. The people here were part of one of the few surviving Cardassian religious sects. Earlier today, troops from the Cardassian garrison entered the town, and when they left, the only living people remaining were children that Alliance troops found huddled in small cubbyholes and hiding spaces built into the local homes."
The screen changed to show a Cardassian boy a bit younger than Jake. His voice had the slightest electronic distortion from the use of a Universal Translator. "Whenever the soldiers come, our parents make us hide. We always hide and say prayers to Jokaravar while we wait for our parents to come get us. Always, our parents came for us when the soldiers leave. This time, they didn't come back."
A red-haired woman appeared on the screen, with her name spelled out at the bottom: "Kellie Stevenson". "According to Cardassian troops taken prisoner by Alliance forces, the Jokaravites' pacifism and refusal prompted the local commander, a Gul Gural, to order them executed. We are still attempted to speak to Gul...."
"Screen off." The screen flashed off at Ben Sisko's command. "Jake, you don't need to be seeing that kind of thing. Go to bed."
The complaint that might have come was stifled by a yawn, and Jake departed for his room. Ben remained at his table for a moment, rubbing his eyes. His father walked up behind him. "I just.... that's so horrible, them butchering their own people like that. Why couldn't they just leave them in peace?"
"It's what the Cardassian government does, Dad." With that said, Ben returned to work.



Turek Ikara, Yuvar, ADN Occupation Zone
2 January 2154 AST
05:19 GST


Kellie was awakened from her bed by a constant tone from her monitor. Groggy, she slipped her nightrobe on and slipped into the chair in front of her monitor. She forced herself to wake up when she saw Pinelli's livid face. "What have you done?" he rasped.
"My job," was her yawned reply. "Why? Have a problem?"
"Oh, you've stepped over the line this time, Stevenson," Pinelli hissed. "That.... that filth of your's has been spreading on the interweb all night! We've removed it from our system, but it'll take time to halt it's spread on our comm systems. By the time we do, all sorts of provocateurs will have had time to record it and spread it on isolinear recording rods. Because of you, this whole thing has been blown."
"Again, that's my job. I'm a reporter. I make scoops and reveal them to the public."
"You were under explicit instructions not to release provocative material! You did! I'll have your job for this, Stevenson! More than that, I'll talk to the Justice Secretariat. We'll see how smug your pretty little face is when you come home and get arrested for what you've done! You'll be spending the next fifteen years in a penal..."
"Oh shut the fuck up, you pencil dick," Kellie retorted, using some swear she'd learned from Kyle and his troops. "I did what was right. It's not my fault the Federation has a problem with actually recognizing the Cardassian government for what it is. I sent that through because the people of the Federation needed to see what the Cardassians are really like. Their government murders it's own people for the dumbest reasons, Pinelli. People need to know this. I'm so sorry if I've interrupted your plans to impress Party bureaucrats and get up another rung on the latter."
He went to speak, and she cut him off again. "And you can threaten me all you want, I'm not coming back. I've got nothing to come back to now. So go ahead, get them to sign an arrest warrant for me. It'll do you no good. Again, I'm not coming back."
"Now, I'd like to go back and get to sleep, but before I do, I might as well tell you, I didn't just pull that trick to get my material aired uncut, I also gave it to the Associated Press. The entire known Multiverse will know about what happened here. There's nothing you can do about it. So good night, and leave me the hell alone."
With a tap of her finger, Kellie turned the monitor off and went back to sleep, holding her tear-soaked pillow tightly.

[Zed Snardbody]

Fantastic ::claps::

[darthdavid]

Awesome.

[Trogdor]

Excellent. Kudos to Stevenson, she's the best reporter in the Federation.

Out of curiousity, what's Sisko been up to, seeing as how he hasn't been commanding DS9?

[Edward Yee]

I don't recall if this fic is post-Battle of Wolf 359 or before.