Surefoot 52: ...This Means War Pt. 02

USS Surefoot, Deck 1 Fore -- Bridge:

Hrelle swallowed, his stomach plummeting into some hidden vortex as he stared at the viewscreen. The basic attack pattern of the enemy was the same as what the probe data had suggested: a main Dominion ship with a swarm of smaller Scarabs trailing behind like schoolcubs, and Cardassian Galor vessels surrounding the main vessel in a support sphere.

But the Dominion Battleship here was more than twice the size expected -- Seven Hells, it must have been almost two thousand metres in length! -- as was the number of Scarabs.

The Bridge had gone silent, apart from the Red Alert klaxon. "Shut off that noise." He stood by his chair as the sound ended, his voice affecting a confidence he didn't feel in the slightest. "Okay, we follow our original orders: Hold back with the Triton and Samaritan, scan the field ahead, watch for signs when we need to step in and help, unless and until we hear otherwise. Short range communications should be clear now, in case new orders come in."

*

USS Triton Deck 1 Fore -- Bridge:

Tattok was through studying the Tactical display. "Contact the Oregon and Philadelphia, have them join the Pollux, Argonaut, Vancouver and Tereshkova task force in the assault on that battleship, with the Pollux remaining in charge. The Ajax, Featherwind, Revere and Thunderbolt will support the Peregrine fighters from the carriers Puget Sound and Bannockburn to hold back the Scarabs. The Cooper will continue on its Intelligence mission, and the Surefoot will remain with the Samaritan and Triton in the rear. Everyone else: pick a Cardassian ship and teach them the folly of choosing the wrong side in this War." He breathed out as his orders were followed. Okay, it was going to be tougher than anticipated, but it was nothing they couldn't handle.

And they had to handle it. Khavak couldn't fall to the Dominion, it left too many neighbouring systems -- Zalkon, Gault, Sigma Draconis, Zalda IV -- vulnerable.

And there had been far too many losses in this War already.

*

Like the petals of a flower, the ships of the Thirteenth Fleet spread outward, even as the shovel-shaped Cardassian Galor-class vessels surrounding the Battleship performed a similar manoeuvre, waiting until the distances were closed before the storm of phasers, torpedoes and disruptor fire lit up the dark corners at the edge of the system.

The image of the raptor-shaped Battleship dominated the sky, hovering at the edge of the system's Oort cloud, seemingly ignoring the light and heavy cruisers moving directly towards it... as scores of tiny Scarab ships swarmed out to contribute to the chaos, met by the Peregrines and the escort vessels.

*

USS Ajax, Deck 3 Mid -- Science Lab:

Sasha was plunging into darkness, tumbling, out of control, aware of without seeing the presence of Shanek, reaching deeper and deeper into her consciousness. My mind to your mind... my thoughts to your thoughts... you cannot resist... you will tell me everything I need to know...

She was reaching out blindly, grasping at the darkness, touching things that seemed to trigger flashes of memory: fighting the Ferasans, visiting her mother's grave, laughing with her little brother, holding onto Dad for dear life when she was dying GET OUT OF MY HEAD YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO BE IN HERE

I am genuinely sorry, Lieutenant, but I have orders to obtain everything about your Grandmother... think of her... recall every conversation, every mention of the Mother's Claws... base locations, projects, contacts...

More flashes of memory- the Clan, Grandpa Mi'Tree, Sreen, the Kaetini, C'Rash, Vulcan, Giles, Alpha Squad, her Mom, the Vlathi, Madison, Madison, Madison, reaching into his mind, giving him orders- no, that wasn't her she never did that that was-

You are correct, Lieutenant. I used the hapless Mr Madison, implanting suggestions and false memories, making him my unknowing assistant, acquiring intelligence from you, delivering it to my superior... unfortunately for him, he ran into your stepfather, triggering the investigation...

I SAID GET OUT OF MY HEAD

She felt herself slam into something behind/beneath/above her, as Shanek's mental image was upon her, filling up her mind, like heat burning into her flesh, her bones. You have a formidable psychic presence, Lieutenant, but in the end, you are merely human, alone with me-

A hand that didn't belong to Sasha shot out from the darkness, grasping Shanek by the arm and drawing him back.

He looked up, startled. Another presence here- this is impossible-

The image of an older Vulcan female in a Starfleet uniform stepped into view of Sasha's mind's eye, tightening her grip on Shanek, declaring to him, Your logic is flawed.

Who are you?

Sasha gathered her mental reserves, rising up on what approximated her legs. This is an avatar of my former First Officer, Commander T'Varik. Years ago, I was the victim of a telepathic assault, and she helped heal me... and helped set traps for the next prick that tried to invade my mind.

She watched Shanek struggle to free himself from the avatar of T'Varik. A psychogenic sentry... unexpected, but she will not defeat me...

She's not meant to defeat you, Bubulah...

Just distract you...

Until my Clan arrives.

From the shadows, mental images of her Dad, of Kami and Grandma and her Grandpas, of her aunts and uncles and cousins, emerged, surrounding, closing in, growling.

They're my Strength, Shanek, she informed him. My Spirit, my Rock and my Fire.

The image of her Dad roared and struck the first blow, sending Shanek sprawling, as the others pounced, clawing and biting.

You're not strong enough to defeat them all.

NOW... FOR THE LAST TIME... GET THE HELL OUT OF MY HEAD!!

*

USS Dragonheart, Deck 5 Mid -- Engineering:

Jonas strode quickly along the walkway, slipping easily around his crewmates, content that all of them were too focused on their specific tasks to acknowledge him. It had been one of the initial issues he had on his promotion to one of the ship's Assistant Chief Engineers, where older, more experienced crewmen were suddenly offering him a respect, a deference, he wasn't certain he deserved. He hadn't been onboard long, before Commander Dubois and Captain Nguyen decided that his work in getting the new warp core online in record time meant he needed more responsibility. Thanks for that, guys.

The Red Alert signals continued to flash overhead, though the sounds were switched off long ago, leaving only the occasional intercom message -- or the sharp, unexpected banking of their vessel -- to clue in the Engineering crew as to what was happening outside. "Damage control parties to starboard nacelle strut- we're losing shield strength, reinforce-"

Jonas paused near the Structural Integrity Field Generator Status Station, where Crewman Ashton Knight, a freckled Australian kid only a couple of years older than Jonas, was gripping the sides of the station, his whole body frozen in place. Petrified.

He drew up to him, keeping his voice low but audible as he patted him on the forearm. "Unclench, Buddy. You're not going to be more alert if you get a leg cramp or snap a spine."

Knight looked up at him, eyes wide in disbelief. "Lieutenant! Why aren't you- We're in the middle of a fight!"

"No, we're not," Jonas replied, trying to sound as calm and confident as possible. "We're in the middle of Engineering, doing our jobs. What happens beyond our little corner of the Universe is out of our control."

"B-But-"

"Everyone else is counting on us to keep things running, so they can do their job... and keep us alive." He smiled. "Okay?"

Knight managed a smile back. "Aye, Sir."

Jonas slapped him on the back and moved on. Captain Hrelle's words had given him comfort all the way back to when he was still a cadet, performing as a Strategic Engineering Officer on the Surefoot... and not even yet seeing Neraxis as anything other than a friend. A loud, brash, raucous, gluttonous-

The Red Alert klaxon returned. "Intruder Alert! Intruder Alert!"

He stopped near the warp core column, glancing up at the ceiling -- before immediately moving to the Security Station. Around him, other crewmen looked to each other in confusion, questions and statements flung at each other. "The shields are still up!" "Transporters can't get through shields! How can there be intruders?" "It's not possible!"

Jonas knew better than to waste time asking such questions; he made sure the force fields were up at the critical junctures, and key systems had restricted access. He looked across at the others, some of them having moved away from their posts. "Stay focused! Rurahn! Winslow! Get back to your stations!"

Then his combadge chirped, and Neraxis' voice reached him, laced with urgency. "Jonas, it's Neraxis! Tell me you got force fields in place!"

He stopped and tapped it in acknowledgement. "They're up! What's happening?"

"Jem'Hadar troops are beaming in! Their transporters aren't blocked by our shields! We have intruders on Decks 4, 5, 6- get yourself armed! We're fighting our way down to-"

The communications screeched.

He tried re-establishing communications, failing. His heart raced, and memories of the invasion of the Surefoot by the serpentine Vlathi years ago returned- but only as a cold recollection, rather than some sort of traumatic flashback. His authority opened the locker, and he lifted up a phaser. "Winslow! Knight! Get over here! We'll have to hold the fort until Security gets down!"

The crewmen started in his direction- until both of them were struck with energy bolts, making them spin, and fall, and lie still.

Jonas grabbed a phaser in each hand and stepped back into an alcove, raising one arm towards the doorway but resisting the urge to fire until- until-

Two tall reptoids with mottled, horned faces and clad in grey-black body armour raced in, wielding large, black, bulky-looking rifles, beady eyes glancing around-

He struck one with a beam on heavy stun, even as he raised the other arm and fired at the second, keeping both beams on, giving him an idea of the duration and intensity required. Both went down, even as he remembered his wife's advice -- don't stay in one place too long if you can help it, they'll pinpoint your location quickly -- and slipped out, keeping low and fast. He could hear phaser and disruptor fire out of view, shouts, curses-

A horrible roar competed with the sirens.

Jonas recognised the roar immediately: a breach in a plasma conduit! Sabotage on the part of the enemy, or an accident- either way, he had to get everyone out of the area-

He made it to another alcove, now able to see down the main corridor past the warp core, watching as the force field over the far doorway stopped the Jem'Hadar in their tracks.

Until it no longer did. They touched something on their uniforms... and then passed through the field, like wading through water.

He fired in their direction, glancing over at more of his people hiding just around the nearest corner. "Rayleigh! Farrell! Get that Jefferies Tube panel open behind you! We've got to-"

More alarms sounded, as the lights flickered, and then went out, except for the weapons fire between himself and the Jem'Hadar he was trying to keep at bay.

Then the computer announced, "Warning: Polaron contamination in antimatter pod containment fields... 72% strength and decreasing... critical degradation will be reached in 8.9 minutes..."

*

USS Surefoot, Deck 1 Fore -- Bridge:

"Fleet vessels engaging the enemy," T'Varik reported, her voice offering a composure that her news did not share. "The carriers have deployed their fighters against the Scarab swarm, assisted by the escort ships. The task force of cruisers are continuing their assault on the Battleship; minimal effect against their shielding at present, vessels taking damage from polaron-based disruptor fire."

Hrelle nodded, but otherwise said nothing, not now. The moment would come. It was inevitable-

"Dragonheart reports boarders," his First Officer continued. "Damage to port nacelle- Captain!"

He was already up and out of his chair at the mention of the Dragonheart -- Jonas and Neraxis' ship -- while she continued. "Dragonheart's reporting polaron contamination in their antimatter containment field, unable to compensate-"

He knew what that meant. "Mr Neheru, inform the Triton we're rendezvousing with the Dragonheart, they'll be abandoning ship! Helm, set a course, one-quarter impulse, keep us out of the line of fire! Attention all hands: prepare for incoming wounded!" Inside, he asked the Great Mother to keep his former cadets... his cubs... safe.

*

USS Ajax, Deck 1 Fore -- Bridge:

Weynik clutched the arms of his chair as they banked sharply yet again, not wanting to fly out of his seat. No, that definitely wouldn't be dignified, looking like a rag doll in the back of a runaway autotaxi.

The viewscreen was a snowstorm of Jem'Hadar Scarab ships, swarming chaotically, firing at the Ajax and the other Starfleet vessels trying to keep them at bay while the rest of the fleet engaged with the Dominion Battleship and the Galors. Frequently, the Ajax fired its phaser pulse cannons, the volleys striking out, occasionally even hitting targets and sending them to meet their makers- well, technically their makers were the Founders.

Sending them to Oblivion, then. The important part of all of that is 'away'.

He watched the attack patterns generated by his Tactical Officer, made a decision, and took over. "Stand down, Mr Bump; focus on keeping the torpedo bays loaded and working, I want to have some fun."

"Uh... aye, Sir."

At Sasha's station, Kohanim looked over. "Captain?"

Weynik ignored him. The man will have realised that Weynik wasn't being bloodthirsty, but recognised that the younger officer, as good as he was, wasn't up to the task of keeping up with so many hostiles, even with computer assistance.

They began making more and more hits.

And the other Scarabs began swarming around them.

*

Elsewhere on the field of fire, the Battleship began opening up volleys of heavy disruptor fire, more powerful than anyone in the Fleet expected, battering shields as if they were made of paper. One blast burst through the starboard saucer hull of the Philadelphia, sending cascade explosions through to the struts connecting it to the secondary hull.

Another blast finished her completely.

*

"We've lost the Philadelphia!" Tattok's First Officer shouted. "No escape pods detected!"

Tattok knew, having witnessed the loss himself. Four hundred lives... "Alert the others! Tell them not to give the Battleship time to focus their weapons on any one target!"

*

"The Philadelphia has been destroyed," T'Varik reported soberly.

Hrelle focused on the path their own ship was taking through the battle to get to the Dragonheart. Velkovsky was doing her usual fine job, acting like she was back in the Delos Races. "Survivors?"

"None. The other vessels attacking the Battleship are taking evasive action. Reports of minor damage to vessels facing the Cardassians: the Iberia, the Cochise, the Trial-"

He nodded. "Keep track of them, they may need help after we're done with ferrying the Dragonheart crew to safety."

*

Deck 4 Fore -- Shuttlebay:

Stalac remained at his specially-designed station, checking and rechecking his interfaces, as his Carb crewmates rushed around, preparing medical kits, floor mats, antigrav gurneys and other equipment; with the shuttles all stacked against the far walls, and the cargo transporter pads clear, they now had the maximum amount of space available.

And everyone would be depending on him to coordinate matters, the young Horta reminded himself. And it wouldn't be another exercise this time. It would be the real thing.

"Stal?"

He rumbled as he rotated in place. "Zir? What are you doing here?"

The Orion girl approached, clad in energy weapon-resistant body armour, dropping to one knee. "Can't stay, they're expecting me in Engineering with Urad and Tori." She rested a hand on his bumpy fibrous surface. "I just wanted to remind you."

"Zir, I have a brain five times the size of yours. What would I need to be reminded of?"

She smiled. "That you're brilliant. That you can do this, despite your fears and doubts. And that you're my best friend, and I love you." Then she bent down and kissed him... wrinkling her nose as she drew back. "Eeeuww."

"Sorry, I guess this means we can't be Friends With Benefits," he quipped, but more tenderly added, "You take care of yourself, Zir. And take care of the others, too."

"I will." She rose again, adjusting the phaser at her side. "You know, when this is over, I'll get you some Carerra marble cake and we'll watch some old Terran musicals and try to figure out what the hell is going on in them-"

"Dassene!"

Zir turned in place, straightening up at the approach of the young Andorian Ensign Atiaro Thykrill. "Ma'am, Cadet Dassene reporting as ordered-"

"Cut that out; there are no cadets today. We're all Starfleet. Report to Engineering, your team's waiting for you."

Zir blinked, before nodding quickly. "Yes. Yes, of course." She spared a final look at Stalac, before departing the Shuttlebay.

Stalac watched her go, as Dr Belaxi, heading the Triage Team, approached him. "Cadet Stalac, I trust you're ready to do some work for a change?"

"Mmm? Yes, Doctor, of course."

The Bolian nodded. "I've never met a silicon-based sentient lifeform before. Perhaps when this over, we could collaborate on a medical paper?"

Inwardly he gave himself a mental grimace; others had approached him with such offers over the years, wanting to use him more as a subject than a collaborator. "Uh... perhaps, Doctor."

"A treatise on the psychology of a being made of stone shouldn't be taken for granite." Belaxi smirked. "A little mineral joke there."

"Yes, Doctor," Stalac replied politely. Very little, and one heard for about the hundredth time since leaving Janus IV to live among you Carbs. "If you'll excuse me, Sir, I need to interface with the Triage Computer." He moved without preamble back to his station and hooked up, focusing on the incoming data: USS Dragonheart, Cheyenne-class heavy cruiser, crew complement 235. He studied the racial demographics of the crew, anticipating proportional medical and pharmaceutical requirements, statistical probabilities of types of injuries expected... he let himself sink into the data like a soothing lava bath.

There are no cadets today, Thykrill had said. We're all Starfleet.

He guessed that was going to be proved.

*

USS James Fenimore Cooper, Deck 1 Fore -- Bridge:

"Launch torpedo probes," Sakuth ordered, never looking up from the updates she was receiving on her PADD. Her organisation's agent on the Ajax had not sent an update yet, corroborating the report she had received from Trenagen about the agent being compromised. She transmitted the contingency commands, and focused on the other ongoing activities within the Fleet: accessing the restricted data on Tattok from the Triton without the Roylan's knowledge; collecting the new Caitian recruit from the Samaritan; obtaining tissue samples of a Jem'Hadar soldier; implanting the Judas Press in Hrelle-