Surefoot 73: The Longest Day

"Granny Tallus!"

The archaeologist moved to her granddaughter, smiling as the girl held up a huge, shiny coin in the bright sunlight. "Very good, my dear! Very good!"

She showed it to her young brother Jaxan, who was more interested in flinging dirt around with his plastic shovel, before Naida dropped it into her own bucket to join the others already gathered. "I'm getting all the coins for Poppy! I buy him a dragon!"

"Yes, my dear. A great big dragon." Tallus swallowed, unable to keep from thinking about what was going on beyond these walls, beyond this ship. Her grandchildren's father Weynik was out there, somewhere, commanding his own ship, as his father Tattok commanded the Triton, several decks above them.

Weynik might be dead right now, and she wouldn't know it.

She looked away, casting aside such thoughts as best she could, as her black eyestalks focused on the dirt, wishing she was back on a real site. It had been far too long since she had been engaged in a true archaeological mystery, the War, and the need to care for Weynik's children, having taking precedence. It would be good to get back to that.

If they made it past today.

*

Hrelle let T'Varik manage the Surefoot, while he stayed at the Tactical Display Board at the rear of the Bridge, focusing on the next task Tattok sent them. He hadn't been too enthusiastic at first; while he had every faith in the capabilities of his own ship and the Ajax, the December and Grappler were far less combat capable, though they had their own skills. And their initial success against the Breen was a confidence boost, at least among those within ear- and noseshot.

But the day wasn't over yet. Over his shoulder he barked, "Helm! 113-Mark-089!" He pressed the transceiver embedded in his right ear and relayed the same message to the other three ships, his Caitian hearing allowing him to keep track of their statuses, and his own, even as he looked ahead to their next objective: a Dominion missile carrier, attempting to penetrate deep into the Armada's lines and strike from within.

And as the studded brick-shaped vessel came into view, he delivered his orders. "Ajax! Keep their weapons pod focused on your attack! Grappler! Latch onto their main impulse drive and make a meal of it! December! Wide arc approach pattern! Open your aft plasma vents, flood local space to disrupt their sensors-"

He froze as his display indicated the December's starboard nacelle was blown away by a stray disruptor bolt. The Nova-class ship spun, its formerly smooth dive towards the carrier now a painful corkscrew descent, even as Hrelle watched it struggle in vain to regain control... before it slammed into the carrier. "Giles! Pull back! Ajax, Grappler, join up!"

Hrelle pushed aside the thoughts about the lost ship and its crew -- enough time for that later if they lived -- as he monitored the damage to the carrier, seeing it wounded but still alive.

Until a final volley from him finished them off. But he had no time to enjoy the next victory before... Mother's Cubs- "We have Scarabs on our tails now! Tighten formation, protect the Grappler if we can-"

They couldn't. Twelve Jem'Hadar attack ships easily caught up with the slower tug, sending it soaring away, damaged but at least alive, while focusing on better targets.

They had temporarily lost contact with Command; Chaos Reigned, at least for now, with ships fighting ships all around them, a Free For All.

Survival was the standing order. But they wouldn't survive against twelve Scarabs.

Not alone anyway. He turned to face the rest of the Bridge. "Evasive Pattern Nine-Alpha! Tighten our shields!" Then he tapped his transceiver again. "AJAX! BOLERO!"

*

On the Ajax Bridge, Sasha looked up from her board. "'Bolero'?"

Weynik leaned forward in instant comprehension. "Mr Silik, get us up and under the Surefoot, ventral sides facing each other, lock tractor clamps and match their speed and shield frequencies! Let's Dance!"

*

The Ajax spun down and over, her ventral hull mirroring the Surefoot's, quickly drawing closer until the hulls touched and the tractor clamps from each ship held the other in an unbreakable embrace, spinning as they travelled together.

Their combined shield strength and their rotation withstood the attack from the Scarabs still pursuing them, still firing at them, even as aft torpedoes from both Starfleet vessels flew out- targeting not the Scarabs, but other enemy ships unprepared for the attack, their destruction catching the Scarabs by surprise, destroying or making them scatter.

*

On the Surefoot, C'Rash gripped her station for dear life as the conjoined ships swooped around the battlefield, barely avoiding other craft and debris. "Fuck this!"

Hrelle let her curse, focusing on keeping them alive. More and more Scarabs were swarming behind them, relentlessly increasing their assault, as if aware that he had been leading the task force. Where were they all coming from? "Helm! Evasive! I'm arming-"

But then he stopped as he saw pursuing Scarabs blow up, one after the other, struck by torpedoes and phaser beams from behind, before the source of the firepower -- a Steamrunner-class starship, the USS Redemption -- sent the rest scurrying away.

Then the voice of the Redemption's Captain came through his transceiver. "Surefoot, we're assigned to you now. What are your orders?"

Hrelle smiled to himself. "Follow us in, Lucille. Glad you're with us."

*

On the Bridge of the Redemption, Captain Lucille Arrington stared in naked astonishment at the Surefoot and Ajax, joined together at the belly, doubling their shield strength and firepower to make their escape. Who the Hell thinks up a stunt like that?

Someone with the skills to free his entire planet with just a handful of followers. Someone whose influence inspires cadets... including your own nephew... to be extraordinary.

Someone you once tormented, decades ago at the Academy, at the behest of your racist fool of a grandfather. Someone you continued to judge as a coward and a traitor, at the behest of your idiot brothers. Someone you directly threatened, at the behest of secret biochemical influence from a criminal organisation looking to have you replaced with one of their own.

Someone who, despite all you've done to him, still not only forgave you, but supported your return to Starfleet, and respectability.

You're going home to your wife and cubs when this is over, Esek Hrelle.

*

Hrelle focused once more as new orders finally arrived. "Giles! 118-Mark-089! We have a new target!" Into his transceiver he ordered, "Ajax! Now! Release and focus on their shield generators!"

"On whose shield generators?" C'Rash demanded.

Then she got her answer on the viewscreen.

Ahead of them, dwarfing everything else around it, a Dominion Battleship quickly dominated: raptor-shaped, slate-grey with illuminated lavender nacelles, impulse engines and weapons pods, several times the size of a Galaxy-class -- many many times the size of a Sabre- or Defiant-class -- it swept its wings out wide as if to encompass the field of battle, it filled the sky around it with cascades of polaron pulses, as the Surefoot, the Ajax and the Redemption joined a dozen other Starfleet and Klingon vessels in the attack upon it, a swarm of angry wasps assaulting a leviathan.

"Ajax detached from us and flying free!" T'Varik reported.

"Helm," Hrelle barked over the chaos, "Evasive Pattern Beta-One, but keep an eye out for other ships! Tactical, arm the quantum torpedoes!"

He blinked as he, and the rest of them, saw a polaron beam connect with a Starfleet vessel -- some old Miranda-class ship, unidentified, and unidentifiable now -- as it split in two.

He targeted one of the polaron beam emitters and fired back.

*

Weynik watched them bank towards the Battleship, running along a Klingon Bird of Prey spitting at the enemy. "Well, Lieutenant?"

Sasha responded with letting loose a volley of phaser pulses, taking out another beam emitter, before sending forth another quantum torpedo, to take advantage of the temporary shield loss, further damaging it.

There was still so much more of the damn ship, Weynik thought. Still, the bigger they are... "Helm! Evasive Pattern Gamma Three! How are we holding up, Mr Kohanim?"

The Zakdorn was holding onto his station for dear life, hunched close. "Chief Maryk's inventing new profanity for what we're doing to her engines, but otherwise better than-"

A stray bolt struck the Ajax, sending it spinning and feedback travelling through the infrastructure. The gravity failed temporarily, but experience taught Weynik to be ready for it, recovering quickly as light and heat flashed like ball lightning through the Bridge. "Linik! Pull us back! Kohanim! Divert power to the shields!" With no response, he repeated, "Kohanim?"

"Sir..." It was Sasha who responded.

He rose and turned, finding Sasha and Lt Mori kneeling beside the body of Lt Cmdr Kit Kohanim. Even a cursory glance confirmed for Weynik that his First Officer was dead.

But there was no time for mourning. "Move him away from the console, you'll be First Officer now as well as Tactical, Sash; Mr Mori, you're Second. Let's get back to work!"

*

"Keep hitting them!" Hrelle ordered into his transceiver. "Rotate the shields if you can-" He looked to one ship, the Intrepid-class Cherenkov, now spinning madly away. "Cherenkov, what's happening over there?"

The response was screams, weapons fire, and one gravelly voice declaring, "Victory is Life-" And then an explosion from within.

On his monitor, he saw the Bridge of the Cherenkov erupt outwards, before the ship slammed blindly into a Romulan Valdore, both burning in hellfire.

"Multiple incoming transporter beams detected!" Bellator shouted. "Punching through our shields!"

"ALL HANDS!" Hrelle, opening a shipwide channel, roared to his own crew as he drew his phaser, setting it to Maximum. "INTRUDER ALERT! PREPARE FOR JEM'HADAR! SHOOT TO KILL!"

*

In Sickbay 1, Eydiir responded to the Captain's warning by drawing out a phaser in one hand, and one of her Capellan kleegat crescent throwing blades. Beside her, their new Counselor Alexander Auger stood with his phaser drawn as well. "Is he serious? Giving us orders to kill?"

She tensed, raising the setting on her phaser to Level 7. Since his arrival onboard, Auger had been like some irritant rash on her skin that she couldn't treat. She had heard that he had been dismissive and disrespectful to Captain Hrelle and Commander T'Varik, and though that was apparently subsequently resolved, her own interactions with him since confirmed that he was smug, insufferable, opinionated, unsympathetic. "He is."

"And no one has a problem with that?"

"We don't. If you do, holster your weapon and find someplace to hide while we protect you."

"Excuse me, Nurse?"

"Dude," said Masterson, standing near the Isochamber, his own phaser in hand, his face red with anxiety. "Shut your damn mouth and leave her be. We've all fought these Sidewinders before-"

Then Eydiir's eyes flared, her Capellan vision seeing the ripple in the air preceding a Dominion transporter. "Centre of the room! Watch where you aim!"

A triad of energy columns quickly coalesced milliseconds later. Before the figures within fully formed, however, Eydiir drew back and flung her kleegat, the scalpel-sharp blade whistling as it cut through the air, striking the temple of the first Jem'Hadar, catching him off-guard and letting her kill him with her phaser.

Masterson and Nurse Scarlo brought down the third with two beams of their own, even as Eydiir was rushing up to the bodies, kneeling and checking to confirm they were dead, noting their typical firearms... and untypical padded harnesses, resembling Starfleet combat vests, something she wouldn't have expected to see sported by the likes of them. "Tricorder!"

Scarlo rushed up, providing one as Eydiir examined the harness, trusting the medical priorities on the device would suffice for what she was seeking to know -- they did -- before tensing again, tapping her combadge. "Bridge! The Jem'Hadar who beamed into Sickbay 1 have explosive devices strapped to them! They may have timers, or even dead man triggers!" She moved to the Sickbay's Remote Transporter Unit, used to coordinate emergency medical transport, and activated it.

Seconds later, the three fallen Jem'Hadar disappeared in the more familiar energy patterns of a Starfleet transporter.

"What'd you do?" Scarlo asked as the others approached Eydiir. "Send them to the Brig?"

"Into space." She looked to them. "Take cover, they may return."

Masterson looked to the others. "You heard her, move it!"

*

"All Hands: the Jem'Hadar are equipped with explosive vests! Set your phasers to Level 10, but be careful where you aim!"

"VICTORY IS-"

The Jem'Hadar uttering his declaration never had a chance to finish, as a beam from Zir's phaser turned him into quantum mist, before she crouched and spun, aiming and taking out another, while keeping track of her team. The Vaporisation setting was one she had been taught was to be used only as a last result, because of the potential dangers of a stray striking a vulnerable section of one's ship, or even a collateral target, and because it used much of the weapon's power cell. But now, Needs Must.

Her team stayed low, in pairs, at key strategic points, alternating fire to give each time to change power cells, if necessary.

Zir, on the other hand, was alone, supervising her people. Watching out for them as much as she was watching out for the Enemy- "Vahn! Wilson! On your right!"

Jem'Hadar appeared, firing at the Security crewmen, catching the corner of the shuttle where they were shielded with disruptor fire. Shards of burning metal from the hull splattered onto the crewmen, into their faces and clothes, making them scream and stumble backwards.

NO! Zir rose and roared to get the Enemy's attention, making them turn and take a set of phaser blasts, disintegrating them and exhausting her phaser.

She tossed it aside and rushed up to the wounded personnel, trying to keep them from hurting themselves further as she slapped her combadge. "Sickbay, Medical Emergency in the Shuttlebay! Crewman Vahn and Wilson!" To the stricken crewmen, she added, "Stand still! You'll be alright!"

They seemed to listen... leaving Zir to take their phasers as they were beamed away. I'm sorry. I should have protected you better.

She turned, brandishing a phaser in each hand. And I'll make them all pay for it.

*

At the Deck 3 Junction, Gyver responded first to the announcement from the Captain, suddenly stepping forward. "In the centre! Quickly! Back to back!"

Valentin glanced at the others, confused. "Huh? Why-"

"DO IT!" the equinoid barked. "Face down each corridor! Hylore, Valentin, drop to one knee, offer different levels of arms fire! Remember, employ two-second bursts at Level Ten to conserve power, aim for the sternum first, but draw the beam upwards to the head!"

The Argoan female and the Terran male complied to his instructions to them, as Malala asked, her curiosity eclipsing her fear, "When did you get so knowledgeable about combat, Gyver?"

"Yeah," Kevin hissed, "You alwayss ssseemed like you wouldn't sssay Boo to a tribble."

Gyver breathed in once, then twice, before replying, "I am a Knight of the Order of Paladel."

Kevin turned slightly to minimise his profile, the Gorn keeping his weapon arm high. "Excusse me, mate? You're a bloody knight?"

"A knight?" Alison echoed. "Seriously?"

"What's a knight?" Hylore asked.

"A title held by a warrior, or by nobility," Valentin replied.

"It is more than that, my friend, at least among my people," Gyver clarified, sounding grateful to reveal the truth. "It is a calling, to go out into the Universe and serve others, by my heart, by my hands, and by my example."

"Why didn't you bloody well tell uss any of thiss before now?" Kevin demanded.

"Because I am much more than my ability to fight."

Malala swallowed. "Well, maybe at the moment you could focus on the fighting part right now?"

Jem'Hadar appeared in the corridor before Gyver, who fired without hesitation, offering a prayer within him for the souls he had just released, and to ask forgiveness for doing so.

Around him, he heard more phaser fire from the rest.

*

On the Bridge, C'Rash reported, "Multiple beamings! Shuttlebay, Main Engineering, Sickbays 1 and 2, Cargo Bay 1, Deck 4, Deck 5-"

"Raise force fields in those areas without crew!" Hrelle turned to Crewman Dylan Lee at Engineering. "Dylan! Power up the warp core! Take it to 110%, and generate a static warp field!"

T'Varik turned to him incredulously. "We are leaving?"

"No!" Hrelle never took his eyes off the young human. "Generate the field, but also take the warp field phase adjusters offline!" Now he looked to his First Officer. "Without phase adjusters to compensate, warp fields-"

"-Generate subspace interference strong enough to affect transporter beams," the Vulcan finished, nodding in comprehension as she looked to Bellator. "Subspace communications will also be affected."

It was the Nova Roman's turn to nod now. "I can deal with that, Commander."

Hrelle grunted with satisfaction at how quickly his crew responded- then felt the fur on his neck rise.

He drew his phaser and turned as he heard and felt the transporter beams, near the space between the Auxiliary Engineering station and the main viewscreen. Without hesitation he fired, striking the Jem'Hadar before they could fully coalesce, atomising them... and part of the panelling beyond them.

Around him, the crew reacted. "Concenrate on your jobs! Helm, Attack Pattern Alpha-Five! Tactical, focus on the Battleship's damaged sections! Ops, send a signal to the rest of the ships attacking the Battleship to do the same!"

*

In Engineering, as disruptor bolts flew about him, Chief Sakai crouched at the open doorway to his office and realised one important thing: he worked in a part of the ship very, very inappropriate to have energy flying about willy nilly.

The Jem'Hadar had beamed into a prime area of Main Engineering, adjacent to the warp core tower. And from where the rest of Sakai's crew were positioned, in alcoves, doorways and behind workstations, they couldn't shoot the Enemy without possibly hitting the tower, and doing the Jem'Hadar's job for them.

And how long would it be before the Jem'Haar tired of this stand-off, and just blew themselves up?

He turned in place, looking inside his office, some of it damaged from stray weapons fire. Then he saw his collection of vintage practical jokes, which had annoyed and amused -- well, annoyed mostly -- his crew since his arrival. They knew them all by now.

Which would work in his favour, as he set down his phaser and reached for one of his favourites: Groucho, a robot duck with a bow tie, moustache and round-rimmed glasses in front of its huge cartoonish eyes, an obscure reference to a forgotten Terran game from four centuries ago, hosted by a revered comedian. He activated it, holding it in both hands as he crouched back to the doorway. "Hey, guys!"

Tori Emoto, Logan Gentry and Nalack, protected by the Main Status Table, looked over at him, Tori emitting the most foul-mouthed exclamation of confusion on seeing the duck.