PainRack wrote:Wonderful story as always, now if I can only find the thread where you posted the backstory about the Federation so I can refresh myself on the details........
Heh, interesting that it was just bumped, given Marina and I did another update. One I wish could've been done before starting Chapter 4, but is here nevertheless.
Trischi Palace, Valera, Talora Prime
Taloran Star Empire
Taloran Home Universe
5 April 2166 AST
28 October 2380 ST-3 Calendar
Two members of the secret service detail, only, were allowed into the room itself. The others were left uncomfortably staring across at their counterparts. The room was very large, and normally intended for banquets, but it was not entirely empty, now. There was a band of youths playing soft music in the far corner, and numerous attendants and servants. Only one small round table was set, however, and entering from the far side of the room was the Empress, leading in a figure who had no doubt become very familiar to Dale, lurking in the shadows, but to whom he had never had a chance to speak or interact much, her position being very limited in the formal ceremonies before. Jhastimia Rulandh was present nominally simply to serve as a 'second' across the table from Julia, a hostess as it were, to make up for the Empress being unmarried.
The room itself was stone with a high column-supported and arched roof, with the columns being more delicate than usual, and inscribed in pictograms in something vaguely resembling Egyptian fashion. The walls were covered in paintings rather than tapestries, and there was one wall which was done up in the style of a fresco but was instead an immense mural, which attracted immediate and tremendous attention.
It was surrounded by a single line of studded rubies, apparently to accentuate the title of the piece, which was 'The Wine of Violence' and marked prominently below it in Taloran, and, surprisingly, an english placard had been added. It showed a great gathering, the blue haired and blue eyed figure of an average-sized Taloran male at the head of the table, regal in his bearing and dressed in armour even while eating, with a red cape. To his right hand was a tall woman dressed in yellow and blue robes, red hair, lavender eyes. The two were pointing in cool contemplation at the severed head of a Taloran male, ears savagely cut off to disfigure the visage even in death, held on a platter by a tall, feminine-like figure, dressed in a red and, to Talorans, black uniform, strangely ugly, hair stiffly pulled back and Dalamarian in ethnic appearance; darker skin for a Taloran, more pasty than translucent in its white, while a more normal feminine figure with pink hair in the same dress presented the head with a crisp and slight smile of sheer malice, a crazed look in her eyes. To the left side of the great male figure, two perfectly identical women, half-naked and wrapped with their arms about each other, hair green and eyes orange, raised a boisterous toast to the main figure, and he, in relaxed conversation with the female to his right, clearly ignored them, and the toast.
But the rest of the room did not. Even as a nude girl of some considerable youth gyrated in the background to the assembly of a flute band, and the servants came and went, there were nine more figures at the table. Eight were male, and of these, seven of them faced their sovereign with gleeful and boisterous expressions, their glasses raised, sloshing the alcohol in them, something like wine enough to translate it as such but not quite, more a liqueur, one of them with another of the female-like figures tangled around him on the broad couches at the table they set, also raising a toast, and quite naked enough to reveal that they were not women but eunuchs who had developed the height and features from a youthful castration. The eighth raised his glass, but absent-mindedly, his eyes appraisingly on one of the serving girls, more concerned with his libido than the bloody toast to their sovereign's having obtained the severed head of one of his foes. The Ninth figure, however, served to be the focus of the piece. She did not raise her glass in toast like the others, but stared into it with a dreadful expression, half fury and half resignation, drumming the fingers of her left hand on the table while her right was clenched in her lap, head turned away from the disgusting spectacle. She was tall, and she was Dalamarian.
The arriving Empress and Jhastimia themselves turned to gaze at the excellently done, fully realistic and lifelike mural for a long while, seeming to invite Dale and Julia to do the same, though it was given with a certain long and considerate look by Saverana, before she stepped over to Dale directly rather than sitting. "President Dale, do you know about what this painting portends?"
"I've seen some of the figures, or rather ones like them, on other works of Taloran art I've seen, but I'm afraid I don't know the specifics," he replied to her.
"The Wine of Violence was commissioned by the First Empress to show the moment where the severed head of Valera's prior husband was delivered to the Tyrant Moloyr. The principle figure is of course the Marshal Taliya, reacting, with her morality, in disgust, while the other eight Marshals of the Tyrant celebrate, only Retgari not completely given over to the moment, the incestuous twins of the Tralvian family, one the favoured wife of the Tyrant and the other his Exchequer, egging them on, while the pagan philosopher Bylyhka and the Tyrant amuse themselves with the finer features of the dead man, coolly ignoring the toast. It is a contrast between different forms of evil and wrong, from minor to hideous, with the disgust of the moral amongst them. And it was thought a suitable piece for a banquet hall, to contrast between the reserved and moral customs of Our own dynasty, and that of what preceded us."
"It does its work well," Dale remarked. "Moloyr is often compared, in Human terms, to Alexander the Great. Of course, Alexander's death was far less dramatic than Moloyr's, and today has little religious connotation."
"I think the closest comparison, at least for Christians, would be Nero," Julia added for him, showing that she was hardly worse off than her husband when it came to learning.
"The one Roman Emperor," Jhastimia observed abruptly, lavender hair done up only lightly to contrast with the severe Imperial Style of Saverana II. "Quite possibly. Moloyr, however, remains a unique figure. Would you like to sit? Dinner will be served shortly."
"Certainly," was the reply, and they all went to sit down. This was, surprisingly for those unexpecting Taloran protocol and formality, the first time in Dale's month-long stay on the Taloran homeworld that he and the Empress had met in a completely informal, business manner like he was long accustomed to with other heads of state. After a week of almost non-stop parades and formal reviews and inspections and gift exchanges, followed by weeks of speeches and tours and dinners leading up to a formal address to the Convocate of Nobles and the formal "signing" of the general agreement with the Talorans (divided as it was, legally, among several treaties known collectively as the "Intuit-Wells Concordat", reflecting the leaders of the two negotiating teams, Princess Jhayka itl dhin Intuit and Alliance Foreign Minister Peter Wells) where Dale penned his name and the Empress placed her seal upon it. It had been exhausting at times, demanding great patience and accordance with strict protocol, leading up to the treaty signings and a formal exchange of awards which had necessitated by Taloran custom, Robert and Julia receiving a Taloran award referred to as the Order of the Shattered Crown, and in turn the Empress being formally presented with the Medal of Freedom (to justify it under the terms of the Medal's requirements, Dale's staff had used the Gilean Crisis and the Taloran government's role in insisting upon relief of Kalunda being given priority and in their following support against efforts to be harsh to the Gilean native populations by the other states).
The Empress and Jhastimia were dressed in full dress uniform, which to them was a considerable step down from ceremonial court dress, which frequently featured heavy quantities of medieval body armour. They set, arranged in such a way that Julia was to Dale's right and Jhastimia to Saverana's; the two rulers faced each other across the table, and it certainly gave the impression of the rumours which all the trying in the world could not prove or deny, that they were lovers, yet the relationship seemed a wholly unnecessary one in that case; they could quite legally be married, and were of a perfectly suitable match for each other. It was heightened by the way that Jhastimia introduced all of the dishes to the Dales, and in Taloran custom, the conversation, with the Empress almost entirely silent, was simply over works of art and how the Dales had enjoyed the city so far, light bordering on inane. It was only when main course was finished and dessert was served that Saverana began to speak in a cool and deliberate way, dropping, however, her use of formal plural pronouns which for Talorans was only done in formal situations. "Did you know, President Dale, that your late book on naval strategy and interstellar operations has a Taloran edition which was published a year ago?"
"I had heard something to that effect from the Naval Institute Press, who hold the primary publishing rights to it," Dale replied while Julia gently enjoyed the dessert. "I admit I'm surprised at how widely it sold. And just when it seemed it'd sold enough, I was elected and an entire new edition was printed."
"I composed the preface for the Taloran language edition," Saverana explained after a moment. "Under a pseudonym, of course. It is broadly recommended for all officers of the Imperial Starfleet and the Navies of Grenya, the Concordat, Jikar, and Dalamar and the new colonies, that I have authority over. I take the work with considerable regard, and I am surprised that you yourself were surprised at its success. It is an immediate classic of modern operations, and we regarded it as such from the start. You must remember that, now that we are together here, the treaties have been signed, and as per the agreements with the IUCEC, all of the bulk data has already been exchanged with the central institutes, the first teams of scientists for cross-training have been dispatched... I can confide to you that we were terrified of the Alliance. To us, no position of strength or equality was possible between a nation which did not have interuniversal drive technology and one that did. Working out these treaties has allowed us to function as equals and friends, very important considering that we regarded the strategic operations your nation, with you at its helm and interuniversal drive on your ships, were capable of, as being a basic threat to the fabric of the Empire. It was my decision that the appropriate response to this was engagement with your State, despite all the fears and doubts this entailed. I consider that act, with its result now at hand, to be the most important of the decisions I have made for the sake of my crownlands and vassals."
Dale was admittedly surprised at the revelation of the Empress' interest in his work, though her commentary on the pre-treaty situation was not far from what he figured. "We're familiar with the concerns of great powers suddenly thrust into the Multiversal era. Not all have handled it as well as the Empire, and I'd like to say I feel the same relief at the treaty as you do. You feared us for our IU drive, while my own security advisors had nightmares about your empire and the Habsburgs combining against us out of fear of our more idealistic citizens. The important thing, of course, is that the Empire and the Alliance are firmly dedicated to peace and prosperity, and the interstellar trade that fuels that."
"As for the book.... when I wrote it, I wasn't just an admiral articulating strategic theory and the base of interstellar naval power through modern and historical example." He put his utensil down into the dessert he'd been working. "I was also a concerned father afraid of losing his daughter because the people in charge, and the public in general, had little idea of the folly they were pursuing in naval policy, and the very real consequences they'd have for us all."
Saverana seemed very curious at that, her ears flexing intently as she looked across to Dale. "Could you elaborate on that, President Dale? I'd like to know the specific circumstances, rather than the general bad examples of the work, which brought it to fruition in the first place."
After finishing a bite of dessert, the fruit taste rather welcome and enjoyable, Dale went into some of the specifics of the naval policies of the Plotinikov Administration and the member nations of the Alliance, who had at the time failed to make up for that weakness. Bad force strength, a lack of strong adherence to naval tradition created for the 'Alliance Space Force', a foolish attempt to concentrate on lighter vessels that, while capable of protecting the spacelanes from piracy or other such threats, left them woefully unready to deal with an enemy with heavy fleet elements if such a war should happen.
Julia sat and listened patiently, seeing that Jhastimia was listening though possibly not as intently as the Empress, who seemed genuinely thrilled at a chance to discuss naval policy with Dale.
"My allusion to the errors of fascist Italy in Universe AR-12, during the Franco-Italian War, were of particular use given that the Plotinikov Administration was pursuing a generally effective policy on Army forces; the Italians had the better army, overran half of France, and almost took Paris.... but the French Marine Militare, being the superior force, tore apart their space empire and the Italian war machine faltered on land from a lack of funds and resources from colonial sources," Dale said as conclusion to his list. "Nations get wealthy from interstellar trade, and acquiring resources from asteroids and other planets that aren't always in abundance on Earth or in the Sol System, but without a powerful navy to protect their trade routes and to ensure the flow of these resources, that strength is hollow. All star nations are, by their very nature, the equivalent of a thalassocratic state, that is, a state that commands only maritime territories, their very existance reliant upon sea power. In our case, space naval power. Only by having such power can a star nation, or a star empire, actually exist and thrive."
"Then what is your opinion on the fundamental failure of the United Federation of Planets, which at one point possessed in active duty and reserve or mothballs a fleet of almost eighteen thousand ships and whose power could arguably be compared favourably to the British of our shared CON-5? They now face a long and uncertain contest with a dedicated group of rebels who have stripped them of a significant portion of their most economically productive colonies, and the war, being an ideological one, will certainly last to the bitter end." No, the Empress wasn't stupid, and Jhastimia was now very interested, for this touched on current policy and events.
Dale smiled thinly at that. So far the Federation Civil War had managed to stay firmly in the background, despite the failure of the De Silva Resolution in the Council. "The Federation's difficulties are not simply linked to naval policies or defense policies as a whole, though they certainly played a part, but rather also to domestic policies that have been going on for the past seventy years, and as one of the few universes to not practice anti-aging medicine, that's a couple of generations easy for most of their races. Given my knowledge of the Federation, and my dealings with them as a policy maker and advisor... their failure stems from domestic problems, the onset of a socialist welfare state in their core worlds, and the inequity of political representation among their worlds. Productivity in their Core Worlds has declined dramatically in the past seventy years while their welfare system's demands for material and funds has grown much larger. Their only recourse was to tax, in increasingly heavy amounts, the semi-autonomous states in the Federation known as charter colonies who have no representation in the Federation Council, an arrangement those worlds only accepted because the alternative, cutting the size of Starfleet, would have left them unprotected from attack."
"Unfortunately, years after this set in, newer political ideologies in the Federation's leadership led to Starfleet being cut anyway, and being further undermined by fanatical pacifism, which rendered this deal null and void. So now the charter colonies, having become the wealthiest and most productive worlds in the Federation, have to deal with up to half of their production being diverted to the Federation Core Worlds to maintain welfare benefits they are not permitted to enjoy and even their defense is not guaranteed, in their eyes, due to the pacifism of elements of the Federation ruling party, which has already, in the past, abandoned charter colonies to attack and outright conquest."
"Now, Majesty, imagine the situation. To the people of these charter colonies, they have to pay exhorbitant taxation for benefits they will never enjoy and to people who, having promised to defend them, have made it adamantly clear they probably will not do so or will cede those worlds to the alien threats that they fear in the first place. Since the Dominion War the only major change, aside from a resurgence in the pacifist numbers after the Borg Scare temporarily diminished them, has been a group of militarists who want to go even further and turn the entire Federation into a fascistic, corporatist state where individuality is discouraged and everyone has to work for the sole benefit of the State. They might want to get rid of the welfare state that has led to this problem in the first place, but to the average citizen of a charter colony, who I think is little different in outlook or desire from any of my citizens or your subjects, the cure that the Association for Federation Unity represents is worse than the disease."
"Now, that this civil war has happened now has surprised many of my policy-makers as well as other experts. We thought the Federation might sputter along for another few decades before the charter colonies declared enough is enough. But given the situation that developed on Pacifica, and the Federation's reaction to it, I can't be in the least surprised that we've come to this point."
"The decline and danger to the Federation now seen is due primarily to their domestic policies, and their failed attempt to create a widespread welfare state. Everything that has followed since - the rise of the fanatical pacifism espoused by Deborah Miller, their wars with their neighbors that demonstrated the weakness of their naval and foreign policies, the rise of Virshk and the AFU - can be blamed on that one fundamental mistake. The Federation's idealists in the post-Khitomer Accords era overlooked the sad fact that a lot of people, if they didn't have to work to survive, would not work, or at least not as well or as productively, without some kind of social or cultural pressure to do so, and the Federation never adequately developed such pressure. Virshk is the first to propose the development of such pressure, but using the force of the State to create it and maintain it, which is far more dangerous than a long-standing social tradition against idleness. And those policies lead us to where we are today."
"Your people seem particularly against the Federation, President Dale," Jhastimia said softly, blue eyes alert. "Will you intervene? This is a serious consideration, as the Federation seems to be going through a natural and inevitable period at the terminal point of decay in such a society. We do not object to Virshk and his political faction, insomuch as we maintain relations with the United Federation of Planets, from a governmental standpoint... Sometimes a harsh purging is required to cure an ill body, President Dale. He does seem to offer that, and war provides innumerable excuses for the regimentation and repair of a society through harsh measures which would otherwise be impossible to implement."
"Personally, though my dear Kavrila is correct, I do not find Virshk to be anything other than a second-rate demagogue, and his means of obtaining power are irregular. However there is the real issue at hand of your response to the conflict, which I suppose it is suitable to discuss."
"The only way I can see the Alliance intervening in this conflict, Majesty, Your Grace, is if the Federation commits an act of war against the Alliance, or if it does something so perverse, so odious, and so shocking as to invite the outrage of all civilized nations and governments of the Multiverse, and in such a condition I don't think any state would be in opposition to intervention," Dale answers tactfully. "As for my people being against the Federation, that's a matter of history. The Federation has treated us rather unfairly in their propaganda over the years, and even when it seemed we had finally became close and were moving on to a better relationship, they stabbed us in the back and attempted to undermine our war effort against the Dominion when they were overruled by the coalition that we led in that war. When President Mamatmas died, the Federation slighted us by not even sending their Ambassador to his memorial service, the only major state not to do so. And during the Dominion War, many of our people got to know some of the people who are now fighting the Federation, and close bonds were formed. Aside from that.... as I said before, one side wishes to force the other to work as helots for their own pleasure, the other simply wishes to have the freedom to enjoy the fruits of their own labors, and nevertheless for years attempted to make their relationship with the Federation work, to show faith in it. That many of my citizens show sympathy with the Colonials and against the Federation is not surprising."
"Of course," Saverana answered, "the law remains on the side of the Federation. I will outright now say, however, that the decision of a certain individual named Slyperia, lately an Admiral in the Imperial Starfleet responsible for the outrageous Istegard Incident, was not sanctioned by this government in taking up Federation employment, and we do not regard her behaviour as acceptable. It never has been, for all that she is a good Admiral and student of the Countess of Kriesdihl."
"Your Serene Majesty, the Istegard Incident?" Jhastimia seemed alarmed.
"I believe it is time for us to explain that in the same way that the Alliance has been very open about the threat from the Borg," Saverana answered. "Especially since Slyperia, Countess of Ughamir, has now taken up Federation service and therefore made herself an interesting person to the Alliance, whose intelligence services," Saverana had an amused look, "Will probably find out much better about her regardless. Istegard is an open secret at best."
Having observed the interplay, Dale already suspected that Bronson knew fully whatever this "Istegard Incident" was, given that even after leaving AID for the Security Advisor post Bronson still remained close to Intelligence with White Eagle being his chief of staff, in military parlance. That said, he found it interesting that Jhastimia was so concerned about talking about it, and that it was considered of such gravity as to equal the Alliance sharing its intel on the Borg with the Taloran Empire.
"President Dale, consider this confidential, though communicate it to your advisors as you wish," Saverana began very levelly, on what was clearly a serious issue. "But several hundred years ago by the human count, when my grandmother was still fairly new to the Imperial throne, a minor colony world on the outer fringe named Istegard was invaded by an alien species, or force of species, calling themselves the Oh-han-kha-lee. In those days, to protect the Empire, we had a policy of the leaders of minor colonies saying, in such a circumstance, that they were the last survivors of a species decimated by internicine warfare, while trying to do everything possible to contact the Empire. This would give us advanced warning before having a new enemy come down on our heads, and give us time to prepare a response which would be overwhelming and unexpected, if the story was bought. With this race, however, it led them to conclude that the survivors were of a mad species, and sought to engage, we posit, in genetic tinkering to 'fix' us. Minor colonies can be founded by innumerable people. Control over them is rare, and they are easily lost. So for a considerable number of years, this colony simply vanished.
"This species.. Systematically modified the population, modifying their gene-pool and manipulating them with a large number of abilities using a sort of advanced, inherent bio-crafting of an order of magnitude unfathomable to us. They forced them to breed with each other in programmes to increase their numbers, and bring their genetic mix into that of the broader genetic knowledge bank of the Oh-han-kha-lee. Resistance was extensive, particularly from the ruler of the colony, the Baroness of Istegard, who was never once broken to their programme while nonetheless maintaining her story. In the meantime, the entire surface of the world was re-ordered on Oh-han-kha-lee principles so that all life-forms were absorbed into their genetic knowledge base, and the resources of the world used to create a series of living world-ships out of the surface of the planet, which ultimately would have lifted off, containing the modified Talorans and the original inhabitants, to spread on slower-than-light courses throughout the galaxy.
"Now, of the whole species, this has happened thousands and thousands of times over tens of thousands of thousands of years, and it was argued by the Baroness of Istegard in Slyperia's presence that most of the time these 'trades' had been mutual; she felt much remorse, even though she refused to bow to them, to misleading them to take this tack. For, by now, Slyperia was the commander of that expansion sector, a major new government formation, and the strange developments had been uncovered and documented. Her response was to completely cleanse the surface of the world, burning it down to the bedrock, and destroying or contaminating with long-term nuclear particles every single habitable system. She destroyed the organic ships of the Oh-han-kha-lee and she completely exterminated such of our subjects which survived among them, perhaps curable of their mutations and perhaps not, but nonetheless worthy of the attempt. And she did this all immediately, without permission or consultation. She likewise sent out sweeps and scouts which accounted for twenty-six of their worldships in deep space and irradiated and destroyed another system that they were found present in, in the area. Around the same time three nearby worlds suffered attacks of spores from orbit which caused strange and progressive mutations in the plant and animal life. Significant areas of valuable land were irradiated on these planets and some thousands of people in the affected areas killed outright. It was believed that this was a counterattack by the Oh-han-kha-lee, but the connection was never made precisely sure. The Admiral of Ughamir was sacked for the extremity of her measures due to the protestations of the Baroness of Istegard, who committed suicide after these actions... A very grave thing, so sinful a way to die, which influenced my grandmother to believe her story to some extent. Slyperia, however, she has...
"A vocal following in the Starfleet of those who say that as the pupil of the Countess of Kriesdihl she acted with speed and decision to save the Empire from an impossible plague which is, as we speak, spreading throughout the Empire by slower than light ships, almost undetectable in deep space, as they are made up of organic compounds. Their adherents have secured such large expenditures in civil defence as you may notice, particularly in the colonies. I have always attempted to remain balanced between both sides, for there are also those who assert that, as the Oh-han-kha-lee ships never once returned fire and their actions, according to their own claims, were in the best interests of the colonists as they believed them to be, that Slyperia waged war on a completely pacifistic species incapable of violence, or, according to their own claims to Slyperia before she destroyed their ships, even of lying."
The Dales listened to Saverana explain the entire thing. "I will, of course, only share this with the Alliance Security Committee under secrecy, under what we refer to as Silver Level classification - the highest, I assure you. We may even see what we can do about scanning for such vessels in deep space, and share that technology or process with the Empire to aid you in locating any of these 'Oankali' and ascertaining their motives. As much as it would mean to destroy Admiral Slyperia's reputation, I sincerely hope that they are not aggressive as she feared. A war with such a capable species would certainly be devastating."
Inwardly, Dale found himself with another fear. Would such an aggressive woman, capable of widespread killing like that (even if under circumstances she thought necessary), merge well with the AFU's newfound militarism? Would she do the kind of thing that would enflame the Alliance citizenry, make them even more virulently anti-Federation, and perhaps drag the Alliance into the war? It was a very... uncomfortable thought, given how aware Dale was of the cost of Alliance intervention in the Civil War in foreign relations with other powers.
"Certainly," Saverana agreed. "Though in her performance with the Federation I am quite sure her particular organizational genius will show itself in good stead. Speaking of which, President Dale, I must warn you that my disapproval does not extend to minor officers on half-pay who wish to risk their lives for the sake of glory and combat experience. My issue with Slyperia is because she has both, and this is simply her desire to be back into the saddle, rather than the understandable and traditional practicing of half-paid officers seconding themselves to foreign powers. I trust this will not be an issue? It is an internal conflict, and customary law does not forbid this."
Dale had already heard of this, and remembered hearing comments from Princess Jhayka's entourage to a similar effect. "I understand this practice occurs often in the Taloran Empire," Dale answered, "and so I have no immediate complaint. My only concern, Majesty, is that among the Alliance it may be misconstrued as your government privately supporting the Federation, and given the anti-Federation sentiment that is in the majority, it would have a negative effect on our relations. We generally do not have such a thing as placing officers on half-pay reserve for long periods of time, so your practice is not as widely known. At the very least, I suspect it may only intensify efforts in recruiting Alliance citizens, including war veterans, for the Colonial war effort."
"I don't see why our governments need to let that interfere with average business, though," Julia added, wanting to get into the conversation. "Though I am curious, Your Majesty, as to how your allowance would extend to any Taloran officers who find the Federation odious and would instead support the Colonials?"
"No, though of course it would be impossible to stop them," Saverana answered. "but the Federation is a recognized state; the Colonials are not. For what it is worth, we will extend no lines of credit or other aspects of formal support to the Federation. They shall obtain from this country, as has always been our policy, only what they can pay for from our private individuals and business in hard currency. We have no interest in the war which would bring us to prevent this trade... Or, most importantly, to facilitate it."
"Such measures should, at least, reassure our people as to your general neutrality," Dale answered, not remarking on the Empress' expression of a likely unenforcable ban on Talorans aiding the Colonials. He had not said so, not directly, but he supported them just as heartily as most of his citizens, having had ten years of time spent in the upper echelons of the Alliance Government to understand the debasement and foolishness of their system, as well as the education and beliefs to abhor the AFU's proposed 'alternative'. "I have, of course, signed an Executive Order forbidding military equipment from being sold to the Colonials, as had been done up to the point of the Pacifican Crisis exploding, and while I have not explicitly banned exports to the Federation, they have not bought military equipment and it has not been offered. I do not think they are fools, and they know most of our military equipment providers will not sell if it results in popular outrage being reflected in the Council."
"Then what will you do if the Federation orders trade with the rebellious colonies to cease? They have it in their power to make such a formal request, as they remain the legal controllers of the territory. That could spark a crisis in your relations with other powers. I will not be bothered by your ignoring such an order, for generally speaking in the Taloran tradition, trade decrees must be enforceable to be binding, and that is certainly not enforceable. However, others do not impose such a standard.."
"My advisors are already preparing various routes to take," Dale responded, not hiding anything but also not quite sure there was anything more to share. "It's quite clear, to be frank, that my people would never permit it, not just out of sympathy for the Colonials, but because our ST-3 holdings especially trade heavily with the worlds that have joined the Colonial cause and to cut off their trade would be economically painful, perhaps disasterous in a few cases. The Federation has not done so, not yet, I think because they know it's unenforcable at current and that it would only hurt them with a number of powers."
"States have gone to war to protect their economic interests on innumerable occasions, President Dale," Jhastimia spoke. "What will you do if the central government crushes the opposition to it? You will surely lose your trade ties with an autarkist regime such as the AFU at that point, and your economy will suffer accordingly."
"Yes, I am aware of that, and I wouldn't be truthful if I said some of my advisors have argued for more active measures to be taken because of it," Dale answered, "But on the other hand, even if the AFU wins the war, they will only do so by devastating the most productive worlds in the Federation. Even if they successfully get the Core Worlds to start working, I doubt they'll have the production means to satisfy the lingering welfare demands - which will not go away overnight and which they must meet to keep their support from evaporating - and to rebuild and restore the production of the conquered worlds, especially when you consider the likelihood that Colonial defeat would mean millions of refugees fleeing to avoid persecution or trial, refugees that would include the skilled workers and managers needed to rebuild. In such a situation, they need someone to trade with, and given the policies of the Romulan Empire, the Klingons' lack of an export surplus in many kinds of goods, and the collapse of the Ferengi Alliance.... that leaves extra-universal sources, and we happen to already have long-standing trade links. Yes, in the future there could be trouble with with the AFU, victorious in this scenario, but for now, there won't be, and it would grant time for our member nations and worlds with trade ties to diversify and protect themselves from the impact. Provided, of course, that the AFU doesn't give in to its revanchist elements and attempt, at an interval where we seem preoccupied, to try to nullify the Treaty of Saint-Germain or demand the reintegration of Nova Savona into the Federation."
"Certainly we would see the movement of major elements of your fleet there at the appropriate juncture in the conflict to obviously not indicate any desire to intervene," Saverana answered. "As for the present, I would suggest that you use some care in the situation. Allowing your citizenry to be inflamed will certainly bring you on a course that it does not appear you wish to go down, and the better for it, for of late there have already been numerous wars and dissensions in that universe which are a detriment and distraction to all of international commerce, though we certainly understand that the very decayed state of most of the polities in ST-3 demands a disproportionate focus from your government, and, often, responses which in other parts of the multiverse are completely unnecessary. We do not consider the survival or death, prosperity or humiliation, of any state in that universe to be in our interest. However, the forms of international law.. Should certainly be maintained in your dealings thereof."
"The Alliance is committed to upholding international law, Your Majesty, and short of the proposed circumstances I mentioned before, my administration will not intervene and will work to ensure the citizenry of the Alliance do not go too far in their support for the Colonials." It was easy to say, of course, but not so easy to do. For years the Federation had sowed itself badly into the minds of the Alliance populace, and what that reaped could be dangerous for everyone. He had already heard of the failure of the De Silva Resolution and that the Democrats, aligned with the ST-3 Federalists and other parties, were resolutely blocking any attempt to limit or stop wider trade to the Colonials (Though not charity, Dale agreed with Alexandria Verdes that de Silva had erred in writing his proposal too generally). When he returned to Washington he intended to take immediate charge of the situation.
Of course, he also had to agree with her about ST-3. It was a terrible mess of a place, with governments run by everything from lunatics to ideological extremists to religious fanatics, with a very peculiar concept of diplomacy and a very backward approach to war, at least until the Alliance arrived on the scene.
"We appreciate the effort, President Dale. Circumstances sometimes force the hand of peoples, but in this case principled neutrality in the internal conflicts of others remains the most rational course. We will, of course, use our diplomatic influence with the Federation government, which for various reasons is not inconsiderable, to encourage them by all means to treat the population of the revolted Colonies, including their military personnel, by the same standards as those of foreign powers, even though they are entitled to do otherwise. We will exert pressure in this direction, in an affair that we otherwise have no interest in, for the sake of making your government's task easier by avoiding any developments which could cause popular outrage among your people."
"The aid of the Taloran Empire in trying to keep that situation stable is welcomed," Dale added. "Perhaps, if the two sides get tired of the fighting, they might even be convinced to accept Taloran mediation, as I doubt that Alliance mediation will be acceptable, and given their discontent with the Saint-Germain Treaty, Minbari mediation may also not be deemed acceptable."
"We would of course be pleased at providing such an arrangement, given the opportunity," Saverana answered. "For the moment, however, the drums of war have sounded, the guns have been arranged, and blood will decide the issue, as it usually does. I believe, however, that as far as the relations of our governments and how this issue affects them are concerned, we have settled things quite amicably, and made our positions clear in a positive manner."
"I believe so as well, Your Majesty," Dale replied, and for the brief time left in the private meal, the conversation turned to other, lighter matters.
They were on the ride back to the Harbor Palace, where Saverana had arranged for them to stay while on Talora Prime, when Julia looked to Dale and asked, "Well, it could have gone much worse. Seems to me that she's saying she's okay if we intervene as long as we do it for a good reason."
"While warning about her desire for neutrality," Dale added. "Yes, it was altogether a good evening. With the treaty signed, relations with the Talorans should improve steadily, barring any problems related to this Admiral Slyperia acting up while in a Starfleet command."
"What are you going to do about the volunteers on our side?" Julia asked.
"Try to get the public to remain calm and not interventionist," Dale answered. "The war has dampened enthusiasm for that kind of intervention, but unfortunately this isn't just any state we're talking about; it's the Federation. They're so hated now that if not for the War having given everyone their fill of 'I regret to inform' letters I think I'd be dealing with a demand to intervene, not simply refusal to forbid trade with the breakaway colonies. As for the volunteers, there are laws to stop them, not that I expect it to work. I don't know if I have the strength, politically, to stop them. De Silva proved that." Looking out at the brilliant night skyline and towering apartment buildings of Valeria, he added, "Just have to hope the Colonials win big, I guess, win big enough that the Federation has to give in, and this whole mess can get over with." And with that said, he went silent for the rest of the trip.
”A Radical is a man with both feet planted firmly in the air.” – Franklin Delano Roosevelt
"No folly is more costly than the folly of intolerant idealism." - Sir Winston L. S. Churchill, Princips Britannia
American Conservatism is about the exercise of personal responsibility without state interference in the lives of the citizenry..... unless, of course, it involves using the bludgeon of state power to suppress things Conservatives do not like.
DONALD J. TRUMP IS A SEDITIOUS TRAITOR AND MUST BE IMPEACHED
Wow, it's a very good chapter. And I have two questions.
1)What's happened on Pacifica?
2)Is Star Wars one of the universes of this Multiverse?
Steve wrote:the Italians had the better army, overran half of France, and almost took Paris.... but the French Marine Militare, being the superior force, tore apart their space empire and the Italian war machine faltered on land from a lack of funds and resources from colonial sources
Excuse me, but the irony of this situation maked me laugh: in WWII, if we exclude the presence of the respective allies, the situation was exactly the opposite. It's a good compensation.
U.C.S. Indefatigable, Gamma Selkis
Colonial Space
6 April 2166 AST
29 October 2380 ST-3 Calendar
The day began as most did for Ben Sisko. The ship clock awoke him at 0530 and presented him with the fleet communications sent over the night. The San Francisco reported a delay in replacing a needed part after the Rub'torak battle and would thus remain in drydock for longer, the McKinley had returned to the fleet, Captain Phillips' task force reported a successful skirmish against the Loyalist 4th Fleet in space near the Phi Sierra System, Captain Keller's squadron being less successful and losing a ship in a similar skirmish in interstellar space near Zeta Sierra.
Sisko finished reading these reports over some much-needed coffee. He went to the shower next, emerging just a few minutes later to put on his uniform. It was now 0600.
Checking for more messages, he found no more fleet communiquès, but there was a private letter from Jake. Unfortunately, the time would not allow Sisko to read it.
He headed to his fleet command immediately. Commander Smythe, always the prim-looking Anglian brunette, greeted him in her surprisingly cheery-sounding English accent as he entered. The first thing he asked, of course, was what had been on his mind since he went to sleep. "How are Kurtz and Durlaris doing?"
Over the time Sisko had slept, at precisely 0130 hours 29 October, the two Colonial fleets on his "flank" had advanced, crashing into what were incomplete and depleted Loyalist formations. This was the first phase of their operation, a blow to further reduce Janeway's position and ensure that her 4th Fleet had nowhere to run when Sisko came for her in another thirty or so hours. Next, of course, would be the advance of 7th Fleet from Pacifican space, scheduled for 1000 hours. Then time to watch the whole thing develop before Sisko decided where to commit the Battle Fleet and the reserve 9th Fleet.
"What are we having for breakfast?" Sisko asked.
"Mess is sending up steak and eggs, Admiral," a yeoman in the room said.
"Hrm... pity....I wanted blueberry waffles again," he said with a slight smile. "If we're not active by dinner time, I think I'll go visit the kitchen and make some crawfish and jambalaya...."
U.S.S. Inaieu, Near Starbase 39, New Myrtle System
Federation Space
The bridge chronometer read 1000 when Admiral Janeway finished getting the latest reports from Starfleet Command. The enemy offensive had started just about eight hours before and already Starbase 46 was capitulating, Admiral Mainz's 15th Fleet caught out of position, while Sector 85 saw the 6th and 8th Fleets, neither at full strength, having lost thirty ships already to a vigorous enemy assault led by Admiral Dularis, whom Janeway knew to be one of the most capable admirals among the defectors.
Her personal display, a newer holotank installed into the bridge, showed the worsening positions, but she was not yet ready to move. She knew Sisko would be coming for her, and she also knew that 1st and 3rd Fleets were still in a position to prevent the fall of further sectors behind the battered fleets on her flanks, not to mention the other Federation fleets, better off, facing off against what were certainly weaker Colonial forces. The situation seemed dangerous, but it was not.
And yet.... why wait? Janeway, if she stayed where she was, could be forced to give battle unfavorably, with Sisko's main fleet prepped and ready for combat and with who knows how much reinforcement available? "Has Starfleet Command reported on the deployment of reserves?" she asked Treila, seated in the bridge command chair.
"Checking now, Admiral," Treila answered. She looked over the list of reports. "Yes, apparently at 0900 Admiral Lopez ordered the 3rd Fleet in our direction."
That clinched it for Janeway. "We're not waiting for the enemy to hit us here," Janeway said abruptly. "Order all ships to move into formation and prepare for warp. Set course for Gamma Selkis, best possible course."
"Admiral?" Treila looked at her. "Our orders are for a strict defense."
"Our orders are to hold Starbase 39 by any means necessary. If we wait until Sisko moves against us, it might only be after the other Colonial forces are moving into this sector as well, and we're grossly outnumbered. We have to hit Sisko now and do maximum damage to his fleet so that by the time 3rd Fleet gets here, the Colonials won't have the strength to attack in this area." Janeway eased into a seat. "And we can always fall back to Starbase 39 if necessary."
"Admiral, all ships report ready," the Inaieu's comm officer reported.
"Engage."
The colossal Inaieu went to warp, surrounded by Federation starships, directed like a arrow at the cream of the Colonial fleet.
”A Radical is a man with both feet planted firmly in the air.” – Franklin Delano Roosevelt
"No folly is more costly than the folly of intolerant idealism." - Sir Winston L. S. Churchill, Princips Britannia
American Conservatism is about the exercise of personal responsibility without state interference in the lives of the citizenry..... unless, of course, it involves using the bludgeon of state power to suppress things Conservatives do not like.
DONALD J. TRUMP IS A SEDITIOUS TRAITOR AND MUST BE IMPEACHED
"Of course, what would really happen is that in Game 7, with the Red Sox winning 20-0 in the 9th inning, with two outs and two strikes on the last Cubs batter, a previously unseen meteor would strike the earth, instantly and forever wiping out all life on the planet, and forever denying the Red Sox a World Series victory..."
Sisko had been about to fulfill his intention to leave the fleet command room and go make dinner when the fleet's pickets confirmed that Janeway was coming into range. It was not entirely unexpected, though Sisko was still a little surprised that she'd come so soon; he'd expected a desperation attack only after she knew more of the situation in the nearby sectors.
The Colonial Main Battle Fleet was quickly arranged into formation. It was a mixed formation due to the mix of Starfleet and Alliance-designed vessels, with the Alliance ships taking up a wall of battle formation in the center while the Starfleet vessels, under the commands of Admiral Hastings and Uzuki, formed on the "flanks" with their bow arcs pointed forward, allowing the more maneuverable Starfleet ships to use that maneuverability to full advantage while the less-agile but heavier-armed and armored Alliance ships could pour it on.
From his tactical view Sisko could see Janeway's force in combat formation. She was widely-spread, all ships aimed straight at his center. Her target was clear.
"Give the order to fire when ready," Sisko said to his staff. Sitting in his chair, hands put together under his chin, he waited for Janeway to move into range and begin the battle.
U.S.S. Inaieu
"Approaching weapons range, Admiral," the Lieutenant at tactical said. "Colonial fleet is locking weapons."
"Lock weapons and fire, concentrate on their Alliance-built vessels," Janeway answered, sitting calmly at the chair as her massive flagship moved forward at full impulse, her ancient frame straining slightly to keep up with the newer vessels in Starfleet.
A hail of missiles came first, from the Alliance ships that carried light-second range missile cells, and Janeway's fleet responded with a flurry of phaser fire that wreaked a terrible attrition on an already-small salvo. Only a handful of missiles got through, some missing and a few hitting at the cost of just one smaller cruiser.
Just as they entered optimum torpedo and phaser range the Colonial fleet opened up with particle cannon fire and soon thereafter both fleets were firing everything on each other. Otherwise empty space lit up with the deadly light show of space combat; photon and quantum torpedoes, extrauniversal M/AM torpedoes, phasers and particle beams. Janeway felt Inaieu shake from the hits she took, though she certainly took better than other ships of the fleet, which was now starting to suffer loss as ships fell back in formation, damaged or crippled. Out of the corner of her eye Janeway noticed, out of irritation and out of dread, as the helmsman of an Ambassador-class failed to respond quickly enough to the sudden loss of engine power to another ship, causing the two ships to collide with a cataclysmic effect of warp core failure, creating a small bright star within her fleet for a brief few moments.
Ahead of them the Colonial Fleet was enduring what she was throwing. But not shrugging off. There were too many ships for Janeway to personally track, but she focused on what caught her eye in these early minutes of the engagement; a warp nacelle rupture an a Missouri-class, a magazine explosion that gutted a Juneau....
Her primary target remained ahead. Indefatigable's deflectors were still holding and had not yet allowed hits to bleed through, but Janeway intended to change that. "Target the Indefatigable," she ordered her weapons officer, noting the nonplussed appearance of Captain Treila; technically Treila was supposed to control Inaieu in the combat with Janeway focusing on the main battle. Not, of course, that her fleet needed it; her plan was brutal in its simplicity of straight-forward attack.
U.C.S Indefatigable
The ship's rocking was low and subtle; courtesy of the very sturdy moorings of the deflector generators that absorbed reactive force. Sisko found that he somewhat missed the hard rocking of the Defiant in a hard-fought battle, but it was not something that would interfere with him for the moment.
What concerned him was that if this were a game of chicken, Janeway was clearly not bluffing. Her fleet was still rushing on at full impulse and still maneuvering as if to blast straight through him, at ranges where their weapons might actually be slightly more effective in accuracy given the "strip versus turret" characteristics. Sisko knew this plan well; it was a standard topic in any discussions by Starfleet on a hypothetical conflict with the Alliance.
Would Janeway blink? Would the pure volume of firepower that Sisko's fleet could inflict cause her to turn away and consider the run un-doable? Probably not, Sisko admitted to himself as he watched the distance inevitably tick down. "Send to Uzuki. Prepare to turn to port on my mark and cut through the head of the enemy fleet," Sisko ordered, hoping to break up Janeway's forward momentum by breaking up her formation, given his battle wall could certainly not outmaneuver or easily out-run the lighter, more maneuverable Federation fleet.
U.S.S. Chukap
The Excelsior-class cruiser was one of the lead ships in Janeway's fleet, and while her captain struggled to keep his ship alive in the battle, Dr. Sun Jian-Ye was in sickbay moving from cot to cot as medical teams from across the ships brought in wounded and dying. With surgical instruments in hand he looked over the triage unit, tending to a Tellarite man, a veteran, who had suffered severe radiation burns from one of the missile strikes on the Chukap. A shot of painkillers turned a porcine-like squealing into soft moaning and grunting, and after ten seconds of examination Dr. Sun put a red tag on the man and moved on, declaring him too far gone to save. The next stop, a Human or Betazoid by the look of him, had lost an arm when a damage control team snapped shut a corridor bulkhead as he tried to get through it. Despite his howling, it was clear he would live, and Sun put a green marker on him.
"Doctor!" The shout from one of his nurses forced Sun to turn his attention from the triage work to one of the crew he'd cleared, an Andorian woman who'd suffered severe head trauma when thrown to a bulkhead by a direct hit and then radiation burns when the shielding had failed in that area. "We're losing her!"
"Push AndEpi, Stat!" Sun went to work mentally calling up Andorian anatomy as he joined the team of one doctor and four nurses tending to the young ensign. A shrill tone from the biobed told them her cardiovascular system had ceased to function, and only after twenty tense seconds did he stablize her sufficiently, now thinking maybe he'd made a bad judgement in green-tagging her.
Suddenly there was a sound like a train whistle, which grew into a roar as parts of the bulkhead were blasted away. Sun was thrown to the ground immediately and felt himself being pulled toward the port side of sick bay. He grabbed a biobed and looked, in horror, as a gap had literally been torn through the ship by a blast of some kind so that space was visible about fifty, sixty meters away, one bulkhead in sickbay having been damaged and pulled out to space by the blast. The patients he'd just treated were pulled off their biobeds and drawn straight toward the vacuum, as were orderlies and other doctors that frantically attempted to grab something or to hold patients. He felt a strain on his lungs from the violent decompression and wondered where the fields were.
Suddenly it stopped. Several sections away, an intrepid damage control team rerouted power to the emergency containment fields with portable generators, and with this done they went to work putting physical patches up
Dr. Sun turned back to look at his surviving staff and patients. Even if not all had been sucked into space, patients that were blown into other sections would likely die now before help could get to them; even so, he authorized an enlisted man who'd brought an injured crewmate to sickbay to go find as many as he could.
Sun returned to the Andorian woman, who'd been saved by a big Human orderly holding her to the bed with his strength, and was giving new orders to save her life when another catastrophe happened, but this one was even worse and far more instant. A torpedo struck the hull near the damaged patch, but this time there was no need to worry about being sucked into space again, as the radiation surge, no longer blocked by bulkheads, filled sickbay and killed everyone present.
U.C.S. Collinsworth
Uzuki stared at the orders with some uncertainty. "Are you sure this is it?" he asked his comms officer, seated in the command bridge at the heart of the Sovereign-class ship.
"As sure as I can be, Sir," the woman replied.
Glancing at the orders again, Uzuki muttered, "Sisko, I sure hope you know what you're doing" before giving the order, "All ships, come about, port side, and move at battle speed."
U.C.S. Indefatigable
"Sir, starboard wing is turning to port and moving to cut in front of the enemy fleet!" an aide shouted.
"What?!" Sisko looked to his staff. "He's not supposed to move yet!"
"Sir.... I..." At this point one of the officers spoke up, rather ashen-faced. "When we transmitted, the Monmouth lost main power, and that was a ship in the narrow-beam comm-line we had to the Collinsworth. I... I think our message got cut off and we didn't...."
"Dammit!" Sisko pounded a fist on the table. "Order Hastings, hard to starboard! Prepare to maneuver, bearing zero four five mark two eight four."
U.C.S. Hadrian
The Hadrian was an Akira-class ship, under Capt. Lucien Packwood, that had gone over to the Colonials early in the war given the preponderence of Colonial citizens in its crew. Capt. Packwood was himself a son of Pacifica, though he'd ended up on the wrong side of the Federation to directly defend his home.
Assigned to Uzuki's wing, the Hadrian had been in the middle of the formation, and was now cutting just behind the front tenth or so of the Federation fleet. Phaser and torpedo fire was everywhere and the ship was getting constantly hit by glancing and full blows.
"What idiot ordered that maneuver?!" Packwood muttered as the ship shook again. He couldn't conceive of Sisko doing it, not like that; clearly someone had screwed up, and now he had to keep them all alive. "Maintain evasives, fire on targets of opportunity as maneuvers warrant."
Soon those maneuvers promised them just such a target, a Galaxy-class ship, Flight III clearly, that loomed large on their viewscreen and sensors. Packwood's tactical officer fired a full barrage of quantum torpedoes that battered at the ship's port and ventral shields. As they raced by at full impulse, they strafed the ship with phaser fire, just as another Akira behind them let loose another string of torpedoes that blasted through shields and sent explosions flowering over the other ship's hull.
Their next target was a Galaxy, and as they came up upon it a string of phaser fire lashed out at them, and another Akira that was protecting that ship came at them, phasers and torpedoes blazing. Packwood kept his fire on the Galaxy and endured the bruising, feeling his ship rock violently even as explosions flowered along the Galaxy's hull. There was a sudden violently lurching and a shout from operations. "We've lost the port nacelle! Plasma explosion has damaged the rear sections, evacuations are beginning!"
"Sublight?!"
"Down to sixty percent!"
They'd been slowed, but werent' dead yet, and Packwood gritted his teeth and continued barking maneuver orders as he strived to keep his crew alive through this mess.
U.S.S. Inaieu
Janeway observed the maneuver and wondered what precisely Sisko was doing as his wing flew right in front of her. The front portions of her fleet were forced to maneuver to get around the opposing ships as they ended up at knife range, where every shot was guaranteed to hit someone. Inaieu's fury was still held back, as Janeway wanted to use her first available salvo against one of Sisko's large ships.
Sisko soon obliged her, his maneuver turning his ships a bit toward her's and moving to a lower relative angle. At Janeway's order Inaieu and her nearest ships dipped away from the former course, carrying a hundred or so ships behind her by weight of pure momentum. As they came within 100,000 kilometers, the distance seemed right, and Janeway gave the order to fire.
The result was a literal storm of quantum torpedoes joined by endless streams of phaser fire. At the center of that storm was Inaieu, which unleashed a fury that seemed awesome even by the new standards that the Multiverse had established for the Alpha Quadrant, with dozens of quantum torpedoes rushing out and slamming through the point-defense and shields of the Indefatigable.
The kick was provided by something completely unexpected, though, at least to the Colonials. Janeway's order for full firing had included a new weapon on the Inaieu, a powerful energy blast projected through the navigational deflector. Once an on-the-fly attempt to destroy a Borg Cube by the crew of the Enterprise-D, Starfleet had used the decade since to carefully perfect the method, and this blast alone would not burn out the dish.
Janeway watched the destructive blast slam into the Indefatigable as the quantum torpedoes began striking it, the point-defense of the superdreadnought having only partially attrited the torpedo strike. The shields of the superdreadnought collapsed and explosions of debris erupted from the hull from successful torpedo strikes. Two cruiser-level weapon turrets built into the side of the ship erupted, their crews killed but the protective doors preventing any risk of the blast getting into the Indefatigable's magazine as had happened so famously to her namesake lying on the bottom of the North Sea.
The hit was a good one, and Inaieu was already charging up for another when a few new contacts moved into Janeway's attention. Smaller Starfleet ships under Colonial control, they darted toward her vessel, pelting it with torpedoes and phaser fire. Janeway's eyes went to her display and the automatic ship names for the contacts that popped up.
Her mouth when dry. [i}Voyager[/i] was there, boldly in the lead of the formation of Intrepid and Defiant and Saber-class ships, striking at her massive ship like a bee defiantly flying to sting a monstrous kodiak bear. She knew from reports that the crew was still on it, that even Tuvok was on the crew once more. All of her old acquaintainces, friends, she'd made on that long voyage. Men and women she'd trusted with her life.
To Janeway's mind, it seem as if the order, "Lock on attackers and fire" had been spoken by another person.
U.C.S. Voyager
Chakotay had been focused on keeping his ship and the squadron attached to him alive when he noticed the tremendous outpouring of firepower from the Inaieu. It was far more powerful than he'd anticipated, that any of them had, and Chakotay took the initiative to change targets and focus on Janeway's command ship.
"Shields are down to sixty percent," was the calm emotionless report made by Tuvok from tactical. The Vulcan's aim was always good, always precise, the phaser strips and torpedoes of Voyager lashing out with pinpoint accuracy at her targets. "Slight damage to Deck 3."
"Mister Paris, keep us on target for the Inaieu, Mister Tuvok, lock weapons." Chakotay looked over to the science station. "Mister Kim, give us a quick check on that ship's records and feed the information to tactical, let's give Tuvok the best shot he can get."
A string of confirmations answered him. This was a good crew, a fine crew, and Chakotay enjoyed having it back together again.
The viewscreen showed the vicious battle raging around them as Paris expertly piloted them through the formation toward Inaieu, which soon loomed in Chakotay's view with all of the deadly grace and power that the Kirk-era behemoth held. He saw Tuvok's pinpoint strikes try to focus on shield generators and torpedo turrets, but nothing got through; the shields of the Inaieu were simply too powerful for that single salvo.
"Weapons lock from the [i}Inaieu[/i]!" Kim shouted. "She's targeting us and firing!"
Chakotay saw that storm of torpedoes come out, and saw Paris trying to maneuver around them, but knew it was too late.
U.C.S. Indefatigable
"They kept it classified for a reason," Sisko had mused when his flagship had been battered by Janeway's, as if she were challenging him to a personal fight. He ordered a twisting of the ship to present his undamaged arc to her - an act that turned out unnecessary as the ship's crew was already starting one - when he saw Voyager move into range. He watched Chakotay's ships pound on the behemoth and do no damage.
Then the Inaieu retorted.
Years ago, in Starfleet Academy, Sisko had once watched newly-declassified combat footage from the logs of Kirk's Enterprise showing the Inaieu in action during the Levaeri V Incident. The massive ship had been confronted by a Klingon-built D7 in Romulan service, the Battlequeen. The conflict lasted mere seconds, in which Inaieu reduced the smaller ship to a cloud of plasma and debris.
That was precisely the fate of the Voyager. A mass of quantum torpedoes smashed into her from all sides, overwhelming her shields in an instant and blasting her apart, detonating her own torpedo stores and fuel bunkerages to add to the devastation. One moment the storied Intrepid-class ship was there, the next moment, she was a cloud of gas. Over one hundred crew and officers gone forever, without even bodies or ashes for loved ones to bury.
"Send to ships, concentrate fire on Inaieu, I want our entire division focusing on her," Sisko barked. "Fire when ready!"
U.S.S. Inaieu
The image of Voyager exploding became etched in Janeway's mind immediately. There was a flutter in her heart, a twisting in her stomach, as she fulfilled her earlier promise of loyalty to Kirschbaum and the others in far more extreme fashion than she'd ever thought she would.
The battle blurred around the edges of her consciousness as her mind dealt with the stark consequences of what she'd done. At her order, close comrades had died. Friends, men and women who had saved her life directly and indirectly.
Gone. All gone.
And then it came. Indefatigable and the ships near her unleashed a furious cannonade that focused on Inaieu. Thick particle beams battered at the ship's shielding, the combined firepower of a superdreadnought, a dreadnought, and three battleships at a range that did not lend itself to missing. Blue beams almost seemed to coalesce against the Inaieu's shields for a moment before the onslaught simply battered them down.
And here is where the ship failed. Her hull was old, only barely reinforced due to the restrictions of upgrading a new design. The firepower directed against Inaieu literally began cutting through her, and only her old-style internal design, with balanced division to protect compartments from damage to neighboring ones, kept her together in a way that a Galaxy would not have.
The saucer section of the ship, being the prominent target from the angle of Sisko's ships, took the battering directly. It was literally cut to ribbons, and the blasts from the Colonials set off the torpedo magazines in that section, blowing massive gouges out of the hull. The pain Janeway felt was soon gone, vanished in a haze of white as she and the bridge crew of the ship were atomized by one of the large detonations. When the flashes of explosions were clear the result was the remnants of the saucer looking like an inverted funnel, bent violently outward by the force of the blasts, and all that remained reduced to a blackened, charred skeletal frame in which no life remained.
The drive section fared better; designed long ago to allow saucer seperation in an emergency, the bulkheads that seperated it from the saucer were just thick enough to absorb most of the explosion. Plasma from the saucer destruction had still inflicted significant hull damage, and the drives were barely operable. Within the bowels of the drive section the ship's Chief Engineer, Commander Paula Cameron, did her best to simply keep the ship running, and in defiance of any attempted orders to remain in the battle, she directed the brutally wounded ship to break formation and attempt to flee. Her intent was to get clear of the battle and go to warp, and as the battle raged around her she almost completely ignored that danger, concentrating on simply keeping the ship running.
As Commander Cameron tried to get her ship clear of the fracas, the Federation 4th Fleet finally seemed to contemplate the bind that Janeway's blunt and simple attack had gotten them in. They had inflicted severe damage on the wing that had accidentally turned too early, but Hastings' ships had in turn broken the fleet into three sections, further aggravated by Janeway's sudden maneuver splintering the fleet further. In disarray, with Admirals T'Rya and Fruike contending for seniority, the 4th Fleet seemed to disintegrate, and the Colonials pressed their advantage hard under Sisko's steady, if not graceful, guidance. As it was, the communications error that had prompted Uzuki to attack at the wrong moment had left Sisko unwilling to attempt further timed orders, and he simply issued directives and allowed his subordinates to carry the battle. At this stage, nothing more was needed.
Inaieu had seemingly gotten away, lost in the flotsam of savage battle, when quantum torpedoes from one of [i}Voyager[/i]'s squad-mate ships smashed a warp nacelle and forced the SCRAMming of the warp core. Now unable to make warp, Cameron did the only thing she could given the condition of her ship, and ordered that as soon as they cleared the shooting that the ship be abandoned.
By the time she was getting into an escape pod, the Federation 4th Fleet was in full, unconditional retreat, half of its strength shattered and the survivors demoralized and flying half-functioning ships. The Battle of Gamma Selkis had ended in defeat for the Federation.
Starfleet Command, Earth
United Federation of Planets
Milano could barely believe Admiral Keller as he recounted to his chief Janeway's decision to pre-empt Sisko's attack and the clear failure of that, with the battered remnants of 4th Fleet coming in still. He'd wanted her to remain put, not go haring off for a fight. "I have 3rd Fleet en route, Admiral," Milano said assuringly.
"I hope so, the only reason Sisko isn't here yet is because he's probably busy licking his wounds for a bit."
At that moment another comm was coming in, and Milano said, "Excuse me, Admiral, I have another call."
When Keller disappeared, he was replaced by the ashen, panic-stricken image of Admiral Chester on Starbase 19. "We can't stop them!" he shouted. "The Colonial fleet's everywhere! 10th Fleet is gone, I think Admiral Masters is dead..." A burst of static clouded the image. "....help! They're breaking through!"
"Who is?!" Milano shouted. "Our intel indicated that the Pacificans and their allies wouldn't be attacking for another month!"
"They're he...." Another burst of static. "We're.... power..... jamming..... rrender dema....." He suddenly disappeared.
A young officer at communications looked up. "Sorry, sir, we're being jammed."
Milano slammed a fist on the console and leaned his head against his arm for a moment. "Third Fleet? What is their location?"
"They reported from Starbase 25 an hour ago, sir, they're still on course for Starbase 39."
Milano shook his head at that. "No. Send them new orders, priority, to head for Starbase 12. With 10th Fleet gone we need them to block the Beta Quadrant colonies."
"But...." An aide raised her voice here. "Without 3rd Fleet.... sir, we'll lose so many key systems.... threatened systems include a full quarter of our current war material output and one key drydock facility! We can't...."
"We're going to lose those anyway!" Milano thundered. "The 3rd Fleet can't stop Sisko. And if I send them to try, they'll just get hammered while those Pacificans will have nothing between them and Earth but 1st Fleet. No, recall 3rd Fleet." He reached down and brought Keller back. "Bad news for you, Admiral. Evacuate Starbase 39 immediately. Strip it of all valuable equipment, I don't want the rebels getting anything useful. Do the same for every starbase in the region all the way to Sector 50."
"Admiral?"
"We can't send 3rd Fleet to you, Keller, and we have nobody else. I'm pulling us back to a defensive frontier at the 50 block. If you don't want to end up in some brig of the Colonies for God knows how long, I suggest you evacuate as well. Starfleet Command out."
Keller disappeared before he could protest. Sighing, Milano slumped into a chair and remained silent for several moments, pondering this bad turn of events. But even as he looked at that holomap, he could still see opportunity. There were still good, standing fleet elements of Starfleet to be used, and now their supply difficulties would be non-existant while his orders would strip many of those lost systems of any logistics use for the Colonies. Let them come forward.... if they advanced too far, there'd be overstretch, and with that came opportunity.
Now he just needed the admirals to exploit that opportunity.
”A Radical is a man with both feet planted firmly in the air.” – Franklin Delano Roosevelt
"No folly is more costly than the folly of intolerant idealism." - Sir Winston L. S. Churchill, Princips Britannia
American Conservatism is about the exercise of personal responsibility without state interference in the lives of the citizenry..... unless, of course, it involves using the bludgeon of state power to suppress things Conservatives do not like.
DONALD J. TRUMP IS A SEDITIOUS TRAITOR AND MUST BE IMPEACHED
Nice battle. I'm sorry for the Voyager, but at least they won. Two questions:
1)will the Inaieu be repaired by the Colonials?
2)was 7 of 9 onboard the Voyager? If yes, with what job?
Nice, liked how a tightly controlled battle plan turned into the bar room brawl in a matter of seconds
As for Janeway........ she got off too easy
Milano seems to be planning on what he hopes the enemy does -- thats a losing naval strategy if I ever heard one. Only gonna get worse.
More please
"Of course, what would really happen is that in Game 7, with the Red Sox winning 20-0 in the 9th inning, with two outs and two strikes on the last Cubs batter, a previously unseen meteor would strike the earth, instantly and forever wiping out all life on the planet, and forever denying the Red Sox a World Series victory..."
Attack! Attack! General Lee gives command
They're overwhelmed, the situation demands
The Federals retreat and rush out of town
But they have fortified and saved the high ground
The day ends, victory for the South!
Lee's as convinced as God's Will is profound!
They are invincible and their cause is Just!
But Longstreet is cautious
and lacking in trust
Across the way, the Union digs in
The Round Tops, Cemetary Ridge
And out to Culp's Hill
Their lines are strong, no denying they'll stay!
When the Confederates strike
there'll be the DEVIL TO PAY!
"The Devil to Pay; Gettysburg Day 1" by Iced Earth
Epilogue
Paris, Earth
United Federation of Planets
7 April 2166 AST
30 October 2380 ST-3 Calendar
Ovnork was silent as Milano finishing briefing him and Wilmington on the situation. Starbase 39 was under the final stages of abandonment and was already coming under attack by Sisko's fleet. Across the entire Sector 80 block the Federation position was crumbling, and Colonial ship movements on both Alpha and Beta sides had forced a redeployment of assets out of what had become known as the "Sector 95 Salient", a broad mushroom-shaped area of space that the Federation was now having to abandon as Colonial forces threatened to cut across the "stem".
Given losses of ships and material, Milano was falling back further, so far that if he stablized where he wanted, only one third of Federation space would be secure. It could very well be a fatal maneuver, though there seemed to be little choice.
"All starbases outside the zone I've established are being stripped of useful material," Milano said. "I'm having Starfleet and the Federation Militia gather up anyone of skill in ship construction, weapons development, anything that we don't want falling into rebel hands. Things that are too valuable to leave behind but can't be taken will be destroyed or otherwise made unusable."
"That's a lot of devastation you're going to cause," Ovnork remarked.
"We have no choice, Mister President," Milano remarked. He haded Ovnork a PADD. "I've drawn up the Emergency Order for you to authorize."
Ovnork picked it up and looked at it, but didn't fully read it. In the end, it truly mattered little to him. He signed it mostly to get it out of his face.
"I'll keep you gentlemen appraised," Milano promised. "May I go?"
"Of course, Admiral," Ovnork remarked, and Milano left. He looked to Wilmington, who remained silent so far. "I see you want me to make General Virshk the new Commissioner of Starfleet Operations."
"He was a Starfleet officer, and he's willing to resign his post in the Andorian Army if it means serving the Federation as a whole," Wilmington said. "Having Virshk in the senior civilian post of the Security Council would be reassuring to the voters..."
"You mean reassuring to the AFU rank and file that they're not being sold out," Ovnork replied wistfully. "I'll... present his name to the Council in a few days."
"Have you signed off on the Taloran admiral? Countess Slyperia? Her expertise could..."
"The current crop of admirals aren't good enough? What happened to all of those skilled admirals that won the Dominion War? Oh, that's right... They sided with the Colonials." Ovnork's sarcasm was biting as he saw Wilmington's face turn a little red. "Yes, I signed the official order granting her a Starfleet commission, don't worry."
"Thank you, Mister President, now, if you'll excuse me, I must be going...."
As soon as Wilmington was gone, Ovnork sighed and returned to his work, pondering just what he could do.
Starbase 67, Reynolds System
Colonial Territory (New Gdansk-R'Toak Confederacy)
8 April 2166 AST
31 October 2380 ST-3 Calendar
The image of Sisko was clear and solid on the viewscreen, with Spock, Scotty, and Ross standing among the Colonial Congress members that were attending. "The Federation has withdrawl from Sector 95 and they appear to be falling back upon the Core," Ross said to all present. "You did good, Ben."
"It's not over yet." Sisko had his hands together. "Starfleet still has the necessary force to strike back if giveni the chance. And reports show that they're stripping the sectors they pull out of, removing or destroying anything of value to us. I'm not sure we should do more than place a light presence in those areas. Anything more and we risk overextending our fleet."
"There are dozens of charter colony worlds in those regions where the Federation has imposed forced labor, property confiscation, where there are populations that are living in camps now that the Federation has seized their homes. Ready recruits for the Colonial cause." The voice of dissension was coming from Don Valman, the Representative of the Plegman Worlds who had been appointed to head the Colonial Congress' war committee. "Admiral Sisko, I understand your concerns on military grounds, but it could do us harm if we don't help these people."
"Liberating worlds will be useless if we open them up to being retaken by the Federation," Sisko countered. "I'd suggest a slower advance while we continue the fleet buildup."
"A slower advance gives the Federation more time to remove assets from those systems," Ross remarked. "As it is, if we move fast we can get the shipyards at Doxalis, and before the Federation could sabotage them."
For most of the meeting, Spock had remained quiet. His powers as President were not as wide as some might believe; the Allied Colonies didn't want to commit to a strong central government, politically, so soon after throwing off one. He believed this an error, but there was nothing he could do for the moment about it or about the Congress' overwhelming desire to strike as fast and as hard as possible to "shock" the Federation into submission. It was a widely-held belief that with the war having such a course the anti-war movement in the Core, and the general behavior of the homeworlders, would place enormous political pressure on the Federation to throw the towel in.
Such hopes were illogical, but Spock needed more time to persuade more Colony Representatives of this. Therefore, at the moment, he needed a compromise. "Admiral Ross, Admiral Sisko, perhaps we could advance part of the way, and then we will decide later on whether to maintain the pace or perhaps stop and consolidate? Light elements of the Colonial Starfleet supported by small troop units can easily claim charter colonies that Starfleet is not actively protecting, and only homeworlds or Idealogue-majority worlds would require any heavy troop presence."
"That is doable, Mister President," Ross said, looking to Valman. "Representative Valman?"
The diehard secessionist, a hotheaded man of middle age who had already seen four out of five of his children join the war effort on the Colonial side with one injured on his ship during the earlier Rub'torak fight, nodded firmly. "Yes, Admiral Ross. I will support such a plan."
"Ben, advance ten sectors in as fast as you can, then we'll re-evaluate at that time," Ross replied.
"Very well. Sisko out."
Souchon Falls, Pawtley
United Federation of Planets
The people of the small town of Souchon Falls were in quieted celebration as rumors spread of the approaching Colonial fleet and the pullout of Starfleet security and their AFU paramilitary support. Nobody was willing to actually celebrate openly yet and end up being dragged offworld to a labor camp or what have you, and it was known that the Cornell Public Service Facility - the euphemism for the forced labor camps being set up on charter colonies by the Federation - was being evacuated and the laborers shipped offworld to other facilities. Some, in fact, did not celebrate, but nervously waited to hear if their loved ones had been released from the facility or were being taken off-world.
Clark Sharp was nervous for a loved one, the loved one of his life, but for an entirely different purpose. He was seated at the bed of his beloved Emma, his wife for forty-one years, who was in the final stages of Iverson's Disease. This was literally her deathbed, as the attending physician, Doctor Caldwell, didn't expect her to live longer than the next day. The Sharp family was entirely present; Clark's brother, Emma's two siblings and their spouses, the three children of the Sharp family, the oldest with her husband and their ten year old grandson present, weeping in the corner as he saw his Nana Emma stare blindly upward, the motor functions of her body long shot. A catheter and a diaper allowed her to relieve herself and she was dressed in what some would call "Sunday best". She couldn't move any of her limbs, and barely her neck, and couldn't even feel as her husband tenderly held her hand, tears around his eyes as he waited for the end.
There was a sharp rapping at the door. Clark's brother, Joshua, went to it. Everyone's attention went to the raised voices.
When Joshua returned, he was joined by a man in a Starfleet Security uniform and two men in Federation Militia uniforms, with the blue insignia of the AFU prominent on their chests. The Starfleet officer, a Lieutenant by his rank pips, asked, "Sir, are you Clark Sharp?"
Clark nodded gingerly. "I am," he said gruffly. "What's this about?"
"To confirm, Mister Sharp, did you work for thirty years at the Antares shipyard as a team manager and then dockmaster?" the Lieutenant asked matter-of-factly.
"I did," Clark replied. "I don't see the point in this, my wife is dying."
"Sir, by order of the office of the President of the Federation Council, you are to report immediately to assignment to a Starfleet construction yard. I am empowered, due to the imminent arrival of rebel forces, to take you immediately and without delay."
"You're not taking me from my wife," Clark said defiantly. "I know my rights."
"Under the Emergency War Powers of the President, the Federation Charter is considered suspended on suspect worlds like Pawtley," the Lieutenant answered. "If you don't come I am authorized to remove you by force."
"My sister is dying, for God's sake!" Clark's sister-in-law, Bethany, cried out. "Clark's in his sixties, he's...."
"Mister Sharp is physically incapable of manual labor," Doctor Caldwell told them. "I don't know why you want him, but he can't work in spaceyards, space suit oxygen would be too damaging to his lungs and he's showing the onset of a nerve disorder that prevents hard labor."
"He's still subject to the order and he's still coming," the Lieutenant replied matter-of-factly.
"Go to Hell," Clark muttered. "I'm not leaving my wife!"
The two men with the Lieutenant stepped forward and went to grab Clark. His brother and his two sons got between them and began wrestling with the two men. Caldwell and the others present began shouting for the fighting to stop. Clark was forced to catch his fifteen year old son William as the larger AFU man tossed him to the floor.
Then that same man pulled a phaser pistol from his pocket and fired, striking William square in the chest. He turned and fired it again, point-blank, striking down Clark's brother and other son Zachary in quick succession.
"She's seizing!" Caldwell shouted, and tried to move toward the bed, where Emma was convulsing violently. Unfortunately, as the AFU men stood between him and the bed, the man with the drawn phaser seemed to mistake the movement as an attack, and fired a phaser blast point-blank into the doctor's chest. He collapsed in front of them, the point-blank stun blast a mortal wound almost as deadly as the three already dealt.
"Cease fire! Cease fire!" The frantic shouts of the Starfleet Lieutenant were now finally getting over the cacophony of screaming, crying, and shouting while Emma's grandson and family tried to hold her still. "What did you think you were..."
Before he completed the demand to the AFU men, one of them put a strong hand on Clark's shoulder, grasping so hard it made him cry out, while the other pulled away his unconscious son. "Emergency beamout!" one cried into a comm, and the poor young Lieutenant was unable to get control of the situation before being whisked away from the scene.
Emma's sister went to the comm-unit to call for emergency medical aid. But it would come too late. Emma Sharp died as had been expected, but she did not go alone. Doctor Caldwell had died almost immediately from the damage to his heart and lungs from the point-blank phaser blast. By the end of the day, Joshua Sharp was also dead from the similar wounding he'd taken, and the two sons of the Sharp family were fighting for their lives.
”A Radical is a man with both feet planted firmly in the air.” – Franklin Delano Roosevelt
"No folly is more costly than the folly of intolerant idealism." - Sir Winston L. S. Churchill, Princips Britannia
American Conservatism is about the exercise of personal responsibility without state interference in the lives of the citizenry..... unless, of course, it involves using the bludgeon of state power to suppress things Conservatives do not like.
DONALD J. TRUMP IS A SEDITIOUS TRAITOR AND MUST BE IMPEACHED
New York City, Earth
Alliance of Democratic Nations
Universe Designate SE-1
9 April 2166 AST
1 November 2380 ST-3 Calendar
The bar in Queens was one of the usual neighborhood kind, akin to the stereotypical bar in the "Cheers" sitcom. Paul Greeley was the owner and operator, a 120 year old man who was well into middle-age and on the stout side. The usuals were present. A taxi driver named Sam, a couple of cops from the nearby precinct, other locals.... and of course a pretty nurse from a nearby dentist's office who always got phone numbers and long looks from married and unmarried men alike.
Over the centuries Queens, and New York City, had seen the usual rotation of population. In the early 21st Century it was Hispanics, West Asians, some Africans and East Asians.... then more Hispanics, Chinese, Indonesians, Dutch, Russians again... and now more recently a "recurrence" of Irish in Queens especially, mostly people moving back from the grown-up colonies near Earth looking for better opportunities on the human homeworld. In recent years, with the opening of the Multiverse, Russians and anti-Royalist New Englanders from FHI-8 had starting coming in, and SE-1 Earth tended to be the favored spot for a lot of immigrants due to the economy of the area and the plentiful, cheap travel thanks to the closer IU gate - Lunar orbit instead of Io or Mars or Europa like other Earths. And when one moves into the mainland United States.... one often thinks of New York. New York City was one of the most visible cities in the United States, culturally and economically, after all.
The communities of Queens were especially diverse, a small pocket of Andorians here, some Narn there, and a thriving Bajoran community that dated back to the first Bajoran refugees moving into Alliance territory. Sometimes a couple Bajorans would swing in and most of the locals took well to them; they looked Human enough, after all, and they weren't quite so alien in manners either.
There was a sound at the door and the denizens looked up to see Paul Greeley's son Max enter. The short, stocky thirty-two year old was hoisting a duffel-bag over his shoulder, but instead of wearing his old Army uniform he had on one that was a bit more brown and which had an outline of a man's profile as the main insignia, as well as a flag of red, white, blue, and orange horizontal stripes - the insignia of the International Volunteers Corps that had been established by Colonial sympathizers to organize volunteers going to fight for the Colonies trying to break from the Federation.
The bar patrons applauded at the uniform, and Paul stepped around the bar to embrace his son. "Going so soon, Max?" he asked. "Thought you had enough of the war?"
"I did, Pa, but hey, it's for a good enough cause." Max went to the bar. "Mind if I get a drink?" He offered a greenback on the table; the Greeleys accepted Alliance paper money as much as anyone, but most people liked to deal in good old fashioned American green.
"Hey, this kid ain't payin' for his drink," one of the cops blurted out, still wearing his NYPD blue. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a Lincoln of his own. "I'm payin'."
"Sure about that, George? You lost a lotta money on last night's game."
"Hey, he's goin' to beat on the Feddies, they need it," the man replied. He looked to Max. "You were in the 18th New York, right? Durin' the war? Put in the 287th Division, CIII Corps?"
"Yeah, I was, then I nearly got crippled by a Jemmie midway through '61. After I got better I was transferred to the 20th Infantry, 74th Division. Cardie occupation duty, not nearly as excitin'. But I met some nice Colonial folk, so now I've figured they deserved me helpin' 'em out."
George took a clear interest in that. "You were in that company from 64th Battalion that the Jemmies pounded on Bloody Nose Ridge? On Alpha Culowhateva?"
"Yeah."
"Well, holy shit man." George nudged his partner, an older man with graying hair. "Hey, Lou, this kid was in some of the hardest fightin' in the Gamma Quad. His company? They wiped out...'" He looked back to Max. "What was it, kid, a whole division almost of Jemmies? I mean, you were outnumbered what, seventy to one?" When Max nodded he added, "I was in the 18th too. 34th Battalion, we had it easy on Alpha Cu. Bitch of a time on Kul, though."
"So I heard, Kul was tough. Wish I'd have made it," Max answered.
"Where've you been all this time, kid?" George asked. "Your dad never said his son was a vet."
"Dad don't like relivin' some things," Max admitted. "I've been livin' out on the Island, doin' landscapin'. Had a girl for awhile, but she headed off. And then this war began and I headed Upstate to the trainin' camp for the Volunteers. They're callin' the New York volunteers the Theodore Roosevelt Battalion. They're gonna make me a Sergeant, maybe even give me bars if I do good enough."
"That's great kid. Those rat bastard Feddies need a good whoppin'. Hope you get a piece of 'em before they cave in like pussies now that they've gotten beaten."
"Hey, Max." Paul extended his arm and put his hand on his son's shoulder. "I'm proud of ya, but.... come back alive, okay? Your mom... she couldn't take it if you died."
"Don't worry, Pa, I'll be fine. Reggie an' Tom, they're signin' up too. They'll look out for me." Finishing his drink, Max found another bar patron offering him another, and he accepted it without a word, spending the rest of the night talking with his dad's patrons and watching the news with them.
Starfleet Command, Earth
United Federation of Planets
Universe Designate ST-3
10 April 2166 AST
2 November 2380 ST-3 Calendar
In the days since Gamma Selkis, Ovnork had remained mostly to himself, pining in private even as he continued to rubber stamp anything Wilmington and Milano handed to him. At times he didn't want to lose the war, at others he did or simply didn't care either way, but to hear about all of the people dying in battle was a tremendous drain on him emotionally. When he was asked to come to Starfleet Command, he - as always - meekly acquiesced.
At Starfleet Command he was joined by Wilmington - as usual - and the two were escorted to Hector Milano's office. The Starfleet C-in-C looked tired, as he had taken a personal hand in the past days prodding commanders of drydocks to get ships ready and commanders of abandoned systems to destroy anything of value they couldn't take with them. He stood for the arrival of Ovnork and Wilmington and said, "Mister President, thank you for coming. I have someone for you to meet."
He indicated to a chair nearby, in which the Taloran Slyperia was seated.
"Your Excellency, Admiral," Slyperia rose, though she didn't bow. She was dressed in a rather archaic uniform style, a red wraparound tunic of centuries old design with the Starfleet badge set at off-angle, a gold high collar, pinstripes, and central button line, reminiscent of the Kirk era dress uniform, and a green sash, with dark navy blue pants. The style had been designed from old Starfleet regulation manuals by her dhrima rather seamlessly, taking advantage of explicit starfleet regulations which allowed variation in uniforms based on 'alien racial cultural dictates'. She wore very high black boots, her legs having been comfortably crossed until the moment she stood to tower over them all, however respectfully. With her knee-length brilliant mauve hair starting to show hints of turning bright silver and deep, attentive amber eyes balanced against translucent, nauseatingly gray-green skin, and high, prehensile ears flicking downward in respect, she was a very good representative of the Taloran species. But more importantly she was a combat-experienced Vice Admiral who had trained under, and served as the Chief of Staff for, the most brilliant naval commander her species had likely ever produced.
"This is Admiral Slyperia Mhanahkiu, Mister President," Milano replied. "As I may have told you before, she was recruited by our embassy on Talora Prime for service in Starfleet. I'm granting her command of the 1st Fleet."
"Ah." Ovnork extended a hand out of formality. "Admiral, hello."
Slyperia took the President's hand, surprised with the informality, but only her ears would reveal that. "I'm pleased to serve your nation in its hour of need, Your Excellency. I fear that Admiral Milano was just explaining the urgency of the situation to me, so I am not fully up to date on operational matters."
"I see. If I may, this is Jacob Wilmington, Clerk of the Party Central Committee," Ovnork said, introducing the other man. "Mister Wilmington and Admiral Milano handle the day-to-day affairs of the government in the domestic and military areas, so you'll mostly be working with them."
"Admiral, a pleasure," Wilmington said with some not-completely-genuine hospitality. Though Milano had long convinced him on this necessity, Wilmington was aware of the damage it could do to the prestige of the AFU if their victory was clearly reliant upon foreign aid and so he disliked having to give such a prestigious posting to an outsider.
"The pleasure is mine, Mister Wilmington," Slyperia answered with formal politeness. She did not, of course, expect the Federation's government to much like her; but she was here to fight their war, and that was enough. As for her own reaction, that was impossible to tell. Absent the movement of her ears, it was very easy for her as a Taloran to keep her face stoic enough to tempt a Vulcan to envy.
"In addition to commanding 1st Fleet, Admiral Mhanahkiu has agreed to overseeing the advisor-hiring process in regards to other Taloran officers seeking employment by the Federation," Milano informed them. "I hope to put her expertise in both that and the field to use."
"I see. Admiral, if I may," Ovnork looked at her. "Why did you accept our offer? Given your background I don't think money was the issue, and you do seem to have had your share of experience."
"Internal politics in the Empire have sidelined me from any sort of posting for a considerable length of time, and I'm a naval officer to the bone. There's really... Nothing else for me to do, Your Excellency. So I decided to head somewhere that my talents would be better employed," she concluded rather nonchalantly: "It is a bit rare for someone of rank, but I had no expectation of ever being returned to an active duty posting. Under those circumstances, I simply couldn't refuse."
"I see, I am sorry to hear that and grateful you chose us to serve with," Ovnork replied diplomatically.
"Mister President..." Milano cut in here and prompted the turning of Ovnork's attention. The C-in-C sat at his desk, hands on a PADD that he had been looking over. "Admiral Mhanahkiu is key to our turning this war around. I also hope that through her advice we can keep the Alliance out of this. They're neutral now...."
"Let us hope they remain that way. Their covert hostility we can handle..." Slyperia glanced around at the two other Admirals. "Though not holding classified material, I am, from time to time, privy to what friends in the Starfleet tell me about the current wargames and so on. I warn you that short of a major war in CON-5 to distract them, where the regional powers have the strongest fleets of most of the secondary powers in the multiverse, our Starfleet holds little prospect of more than futilely dying should the Alliance intervene. A consideration in the management of the suppression of the rebels must be to avoid attracting the ire of the uncertain political processes in the Alliance, which are prone to sudden and irrational bursts of violence. We should, I respectfully submit, always keep in mind that we must win the propaganda war in the Alliance to suppress the rebellion as much as we must materially defeat it on the field."
"That's easier said than done, Admiral," Wilmington said. "The Alliance has had unremitting hostility toward the Federation from almost its first entry into this universe. It's been our belief that only President Dale's desire to ensure the signing of the new treaty with your people has kept the Alliance from being more supportive of the rebels. Now that he has his treaty, I admit that we're quite worried. Do you have any connections in the Taloran government that could help us restrain the Alliance?"
"Half the Starfleet thinks I saved the Empire from total destruction at the very incident which saw me sacked from the service," Slyperia answered. "So I can influence internal Starfleet politics, to some extent. The first thing you must do, however, is close the rebel ports. You need to draft, and get His Excellency the President to sign, an order instructing that every single commercial shipping port in the rebel territories be immediately shut down 'due to safety concerns' for all cargo. This is a powerful legal argument which, though it will have the downside of being not enforceable, will attract the attention not merely of my government but of a government you seem less inclined to think a friend against the Alliance, and yet I will freely advise to you is more likely to be involved, because unlike us, they have their own interuniversal technology, even though they deny it. I am, of course, referring to the Habsburg Empire."
"We have had some connections with them broaden during the war," Wilmington admitted, looking at Ovnork, who had attained some personal, amicable business relations with the Japanese businessman who served as consul for the Habsburg Empire.
"Then that will suffice for the moment, I suppose," Slyperia answered. "Unfortunately for you in regard to staffing, my situation is a rather rare one among high Taloran officers, but among junior officers, the desire for personal achievement in military service is quite considerable, and my government sees nothing wrong with them going off for a while to achieve it elsewhere when we are at peace as a nation, as we have thankfully been for quite some time. This means that for all branches of your military service I can certainly recruit tens of thousands of trained officers who can, in turn, train your military units and lead them into battle. I would estimate some twenty or thirty thousand in all might ultimately serve in your ranks, and the first could arrive in numbers in as little as seven weeks."
"It was a pleasure meeting you, Admiral," Ovnork said, cutting in, "but my time is short and I'm due for a Council meeting."
"Mister President, before you go, a final matter..." Wilmington nodded to Milano, who handed him a PADD. "Admiral Milano and I have discussed the leadership of Starfleet in the field, and with the apporoval of the Central Committee we've found a good candidate. We need you to sign for him."
Ovnork accepted the PADD as Milano called for his aide to bring in the person in question. Ovnork's eyes moved along the digital readout and prompted an annoyed, almost disgusted grunt. "You want him?"
"Yes, sir."
At that moment, the door swished open and a male human entered, wearing an immaculately pressed Starfleet uniform with Admiral rank pips on the collar and wristcuffs with gray hair and beard well-cut and well-kept. Ovnork could not restrain his distaste at the man, and his name came out rather roughly.
"Admiral Leyton?"
"Mister President." Admiral James Leyton - the man who had once come so close to overthrowing the Federation government on Earth and imposing a Starfleet-led dictatorship - stepped forward, extending a hand. "I look forward to serving the Federation again."
End Segment 1
To be Continued in Segment 2 of the Federation Civil War, "Hold At All Costs"....
”A Radical is a man with both feet planted firmly in the air.” – Franklin Delano Roosevelt
"No folly is more costly than the folly of intolerant idealism." - Sir Winston L. S. Churchill, Princips Britannia
American Conservatism is about the exercise of personal responsibility without state interference in the lives of the citizenry..... unless, of course, it involves using the bludgeon of state power to suppress things Conservatives do not like.
DONALD J. TRUMP IS A SEDITIOUS TRAITOR AND MUST BE IMPEACHED
Why do I get the feeling, win or lose, the Federation will not like the outcome (I know, Sandoval and her Red Guards are coming...speaking of which, what are they doing during all this? Something tells me it's not supporting the Federation). Either way, they have two people running their war effort who have no reason to suport the system they have been asked to fight for.
One wonders what might have occured had Leyton's coup succeeded?
