Star Trek: The Quadratic War

[Lys]

Khanjar's shields contemptuously brushed aside the sphere's desperate attempt to return fire. Then soft cheers erupted amongst the crew as the Borg exploded into fiery gas, dust, and debris. Riov Charvanek subtly encouraged the celebration of any victory against the Borg, no matter how small, as a way of keeping despair far from her people's minds. She knew people above all things, and she was keenly aware that it it was her crew who brought her ship to life. It was they who piloted and navigated it, who fought and defended it, who maintained and repaired it. Ishtar commanded nothing without their loyalty and expertise, and so she did her level best to keep their spirits up. Thus even in the face of such apocalyptic loss as wrought by the Borg, she encouraged her crew to gladden their hearts and exult in their victories.

The scanners were clear, with no further contacts of any sort nor any signs of combat. Charvanek imagined the other sphere was presently heading in their direction and due to appear any moment. That would make it conveniently easy to destroy it, but the Borg were not always so obliging. It was just as likely to seek reinforcements instead, which could easily turn their prey into their predators. Caution, as always, was indicated.

"Kill all active scanners and sensors," ordered the Ishtar. "Inform the Riskdah of the Borg sphere designated track alpha, and advice them to also go passive on scanners and sensors. Also suggest that they shield the Federation destroyer from the plasma storm until its crew can repair its own shields, though we will if they cannot, and tell Captain Kadon that Riov Charvanek would speak with him directly."

[rhoenix]

Like a wounded bird, the Gilgamesh limped back the way it had come, shorn of most of its shields and much of its crew. The remaining Borg within were corralled, at least for the present, and the computer locks, combined with the physical remoteness of the penning areas from the vital systems the Borg wished to penetrate, kept the ship under crew control for now. Yet as they flew back in the direction of the rest of the task group, the Gilgamesh suddenly encountered something they did not expect.

The sensors saw it first, indeed the sensors were the only ones to see it, for the Badlands would not allow visual confirmation over anything but close distances, and the scale of this detection rendered that singularly unwise. What it was, the sensors could not resolve, but it was Borg. Big and Borg. So big that it could only have been a massive Borg Cube, or perhaps a multitude of Spheres and Frigates flying in tight proximity to one another. It could even be both.

Whatever the signal was, it was so massive that even the Badlands could not hide it for long, and the Gilgamesh found its ugly splotch splayed all over their sensor readouts. One ray of hope they could find in the massive formation's movement. It was not moving towards the Gilgamesh, and indeed showed no signs that it even knew the Gilgamesh was there. Where it was going, Gilgamesh could not presently determine, but it was plainly going somewhere, moving at roughly Warp 5 through the endless fires of the Badlands, with no sign of what it was expecting to find once it got there.

"Captain," Swift called in a warning voice, as she tapped the maneuvering controls.

Captain Solheim hit the comm, and responded quickly from engineering. "Yeah?"

"A huge contact came into sensor range, but it doesn't look like it's seen us yet," Swift responded. "It's probably a cube with escorts, and they're headed roughly toward the fleet."

Captain Solheim and Commander Inzeti looked at one another, and seemed to have an entire conversation in the span of a few moments. "Keep following it for right now, Swift," Captain Solheim responded, still looking Commander Inzeti in the eyes. "Let me know if it changes, just keep following it for now."

"Ooookay," Swift responded uncertainly.

Captain Solheim tapped his badge to close the comm connection, and spoke again to Commander Inzeti after a moment. "Give me a hand with getting those probes on the floor, and then collect as many personal shielding units as you can."

"Laying bait?" Commander Inzeti asked, even as she helped him get the three probes out of their containers as quickly as they could, and setting them on the floor.

Captain Solheim didn't look up to meet her eyes this time, even as he began to work as quickly as he could with one hand on the controls for the three probes. "We don't have a choice. We're the only ones in a position to do so."

The romulan Commander nodded, even as she began to gather personal shielding units from the small pile she and the others had added to once most of the essential rooms had been cleared. It had been grisly, and even ghoulish work, though necessary.

For his part, Captain Solheim crafted the message he would copy into each of the probes. Using them as broadcast buoys, jury-rigged with personal shielding units added a nice personal touch, he thought wryly. He had to use an image of himself for the message -though for kicks, he made himself appear cardassian, complete with a Cardassian military uniform, and on a Cardassian-looking (and well-lit) bridge. Thankfully, this part was easy - he'd used it before.

He played the message once before he copied it over to the probes, and smirked, glad his acting skills hadn't grown too rusty. He watched a tired, though resolute-looking cardassian deliver a message. "This is Gul Sevanik - I am glad to report that we are ready for the last leg of the journey. Meet me at coordinates attached to this message, and do so as soon as you can!"

The message was simply a set of coordinates, set for a place in the Badlands far away from the fleet, and further away still from the path the fleet would end up taking to Bajor. He nodded to himself after triple-checking both message and message packet for errors, and once they passed, copied them into the probes.

After testing to ensure the jury-rigged personal shielding units would theoretically last at least a few hours in the Badlands, he and the Commander silently loaded each of the three probes into their launch tubes, locking each of them into place for use.

Their gaze meeting once again, Captain Solheim walked up to Commander Inzeti, and gently grabbed her hand before tapping his comm badge. "Swift, bring us into position to get past the Borg without getting noticed if you can, and then punch it to Warp 8. Get us past the Borg, and ahead of them by about a minute at their current speed. We're going to fire probes out along ahead of the Cube's path, and then make our way back to the Riskadh at Warp 6 once we make sure they take the bait."

There was silence from the bridge for a few seconds, but the charts and trajectories were there for Swift to verify, instead of having to punch in. "Fortune favors the brave, Captain," Swift said quietly. "It had better, anyway. Here we go," she said, as the ship began to move.

There was a lurch from where Captain Solheim and Commander Inzeti stood in Engineering as they moved about, and another when the ship sprang to Warp 8. They held one another as the ship suddenly, though smoothly came to a stop, and fired off the three probes in seemingly random directions - making it appear as if these had been the only survivors of a much larger net.

The ship lurched again as it moved back to a safe distance, and then quieted down further as it came to a dead stop, and engaged its cloaking device.

"Now, to see if they took the bait," he said quietly, as they stood together, bathed haphazardly in the few scattered and jury-rigged lights of Engineering.

[Josh]

Yhrea glanced at the corner of his console. A message had been sent through the system for his eyes only, coming from Meru's sickbay.

Two simple words: "Captain status?"

He diverted from his scanner search long enough to type a reply. "Functional. Situation complicated. M'Lara?"

A minute later, a new message popped up. "Stable. Working other casualties. Monitor captain."

Of course, I'm just going to let him pass out on the bridge and then pass command off to Lee while I'm at it, Yhrea thought as he typed in a single affirmative. He glanced back at Shirazi. "No sign of the Gilgamesh, intact or otherwise. She may be operating under cloak."

Shirazi, his face bathed in sweat, hands shaking on his PADD, acknowledged him with a nod before looking to the comm station. "Gleck, still no signals traffic?"

"Nothing."

Shirazi slumped back against his chair. "We keep looking, then."

Yhrea had already returned to his board. This was why coordinated operations in the Badlands were so difficult, and why the Maquis had made them work so well- it took time and familiarity to learn to coordinate in the Badlands environment, and the task force was not making a great showing thus far.

The Borg seem to have mastered it quite well, though.

[White Haven]

The hypothetical ambush party would have come as something of a surprise, given what it would imply about their personal-stealth equipment. Still, it would at least have proven both diverting and quick, one way or another. As for a monster... Leyton's idea of a monster, along with most everyone else left alive and independently-sentient, shuffled along on two legs and whirred a lot. While a Borg infestation would be...intensely inopportune, it would at least be something he was familiar with.

The gloomy, vacant bay was more than a little spooky, however.

With reluctance, Leyton's hand drifted away from his personal sidearm to the bog-standard Federation phaser beside it. Nowhere near as much punch or shock value, but in cloak-and-dagger there were ample opportunities for a stun setting to prove its worth. If nothing else, he felt a bit more comfortable with it in hand. At the sudden voice echoing throughout the darkened bay, the phaser swept around in alignment with Leyton's gaze, sliding back and forth until it finally settled on the vague outline high, high above.

And then the whoever-it-was threw a curveball.

Your sense of timing sucks. I'm going home.

What the hell is wrong with you, bringing up trivia like this now?

This is ridiculous.

Dad was a colossal fuckup and a traitor, and he might well have been right anyway.

A number of possible responses ran through Leyton's mind as the unknown figure mentioned his father. Finally, after a pause that felt a lot longer than it was, he replied with a sharp tone that made no effort at hiding his irritation.

"The fact that you bring this up now tells me you're either a bloody idiot, which I haven't ruled out, or Dad is either alive and causing trouble or was involved in more than he went to prison for. In answer to your question, I know he was a traitor, I know he tried to pull off a coup, and I know that the Federation would have been in a slightly better position vis-a-vis the Borg if he'd succeeded in militarizing it, but that's water under the bridge. Now, there's a Borg flotilla out there somewhere, so whatever you have to say, make it fucking fast."

[LadyTevar]

A volley of two plasma torpedoes flew out of the Frigate's sleek frontal weapons pods, followed seconds later by another two. All four torpedoes accelerated to killing speed as they approached their target, locking on with dogged resolution. Behind them the frigate followed, closing the distance with the intention of employing its disruptors to send this mystery attacker to the same place its wingman had just gone.

USS Spector
Battle Bridge

"Full evasive!" Kirk's voice cut through the cheers as Alpha Target exploded with a spectatular display of colors from ignited plasma. "Keep our distance, Helm, but lead away from the fleet! Torpedos, ripple-fire, then fire for effect. Phasers set for point-defense!" Her hands tightened on her command chair as the crew chorused aye-ayes, the sensors just picking up the four torpedos heading their way.

At least it's just four, Eoife thought absently as phasers fired, trying to destroy them before they hit the Spector. She braced for possible impact, as the phasers were sure to miss at least one. "Angle shields if you can, boys!"

[Comrade Tortoise]

Bridge, USS Humboldt

"Mr. Forsythe, what is our current crew status? Are we combat capable?"

"We have an engineering team back for additional supplies. If we needed a few minutes, we could retain them. Our full tactical compliment is aboard ship. We are combat capable, though I would not want to be boarded."

"Very well. Do it. Communications, inform the command that we will move to support the Spector. General quarters, all non-tactical crew and adult refugees to be armed with melee weapons, tactical crew with TR-116s. Engage pattern scramblers and transport inhibitors, seal all bulkheads. Science, prepare to lock out all critical systems with a fractal encryption in the event of boarding."

...A few moments later...

"All stations report ready captain." Mr. Forsythe reported

"Intercept course on Exterminator, Auxiliary power to Deflector array, set for Phased Polaron. Engage."

And the USS. Humbold went to warp.

[hr]

It emerged from Warp some moments later, as the remaining exterminator opened fire with a volley of plasma torpedoes.

"Target weapon's systems, all weapons." in response, nimble fingers danced over LCARS consoles as computers ran through advanced math, obtained targeting solutions, and triggered the release of vast amounts of directed energy weapons.

The Ion-Cannon turrets opened fire, sending blasts of magnetically contained plasma at the Borg Frigate. The main deflector array unleashed the shield-defeating power for which it was designed, and six fully powered Type XII phaser arrays discharged their deadly payload of exotic particles. All of it targeted on the primary torpedo launch systems of the Exterminator.

[General Havoc]

Having flown away from the Borg formation after firing off its probes, the Gilgamesh had no way of knowing whether or not its mission had been a success. Cloaked and immobile, it could only wait for confirmation that might or might not come.

When it did come, it was in a form that was hard to interpret.

A single contact signal, an Exterminator-class Frigate by the size of it, was flying up the plasma wake the Gilgamesh had left behind when it fled from the Borg. Moving at Warp 4, the Gilgamesh only detected it from the active sensor signals radiating out from the nose of the ship, as the Exterminator sought to discern anything in the maelstrom of the Badlands.

*---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------*

The gloomy figure in the shadows above did not react visibly, staring down at Commander Leyton as he defiantly demanded that the man above get to the point. He did not speak, or shout back, or offer further occluded statements. Instead he simply reached into a pocket, produced a small remote, and keyed it, and the lights came up.

"How about everything at once?" said the man, and then nothing more, for there was no need.

Standing on the catwalk overlooking the cavernous space of the Gas Miner, was Admiral James Leyton himself. Or if not, then it was a perfect replica, the same face, the same vaguely condescending expression, the same posture and the same mannerism. He looked down on his son with a look that could mean anything, saying nothing whatsoever, save finally an offhand comment that understated the matter significantly.

"I think we need to have a talk," said the Admiral, "son."

*---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------*

The Exterminator, fixated on the Akira-class target before it, did not see anything coming off its flank, and had little warning when suddenly a Nova-class vessel materialized in weapons range and opened fire.

Little warning. Not none.

The Exterminator twisted and bucked as phaser and ion cannon fire rained down upon it, its shields buckling with every hit, even as it ducked and dove to avoid the fire of the light cruiser that had suddenly assaulted it. As it swept down, aborting its attack run, the torpedoes it had fired streaked in, but the Akira's gyrations threw the torpedoes for a loop, and all four missed, two of them badly, two by mere meters, flying off into the Badlands in a vain quest for their targets, a barrage of point defense fire seeing them off.

The Exterminator itself dove as quickly as it could, trying to throw off the cruisers that had ambushed it. But as it dove, from its ventral surface came another projectile, a large one, a massive torpedo perhaps, or something else, though it did not seem to be aimed at anyone in particular.

The reasons for this became clear enough shortly, when, a second and a half after launch, the torpedo exploded.

It was a paltry explosion all things considered, barely enough to register on sensors. But what did register was the things that flew out from within it. Microprobes, dozens of them, which flew out in every direction in a starburst pattern. Moments later, the probes accelerated to warp, hurling themselves in every direction, seemingly at random. Quite a number flew towards the fleet, though this seemed to be out of thoroughness more than anything else, as very probe began, at once, to emit a massive barrage of omni-frequency noise, as every one of them sped out from the central point into the deep reaches of the badlands.

And as the probes flew off, the Exterminator came about, aiming at the Nova-class cruiser that had bushwhacked it, intending on reducing it to inert wreckage.

[Cynical Cat]

"The Romulans seem to have much advice to offer," said Kadon out loud. "It's unfortunate that they're reading from the wrong page."

"Arikel, get a tractor on the federazhon ship and stabilize it. Extend shields if, and only if, necessary. Increase active emissions to maximum effective levels. Cut through this murk and get me data."

He paused. "Keep the guns heated, but do not target the Khanjar. Arikel, data on the Khanjir, this Riov Charvanek, and the federazhon ship."

"Working," Arikel replied. "Samuel B. Roberts, Defiant variant. Commissioned shortly before the Borg War, fought in three major engagements that we know about and probably fought in far more. Last known captain was Jess Shepard, who commanded the vessel since its commissioning."

"Communications, offer the Roberts whatever assistance we can lend them. Next."

"The last we know of the Khanjar is that it fought at Earth under the command of General Denkara. Riov Charvanek is . . . data package from Special Communications."

Kadon consulted the data display on his command chair. "Very well. Tell Riov Charvanek that Squadron Leader Kadon zantai Khemera will speak with her."

[rhoenix]

Having flown away from the Borg formation after firing off its probes, the Gilgamesh had no way of knowing whether or not its mission had been a success. Cloaked and immobile, it could only wait for confirmation that might or might not come.

When it did come, it was in a form that was hard to interpret.

A single contact signal, an Exterminator-class Frigate by the size of it, was flying up the plasma wake the Gilgamesh had left behind when it fled from the Borg. Moving at Warp 4, the Gilgamesh only detected it from the active sensor signals radiating out from the nose of the ship, as the Exterminator sought to discern anything in the maelstrom of the Badlands.

"Captain, they're starting to shake the bushes," Swift called over the comm. "I'm drifting us away on maneuvering thrusters, but we have to do something soon."

Captain Solheim nodded at this, though responded immediately. "Drop the cloak, jump us to a random vector at Warp 4 to try to shake them off, and then head to the Riskadh's last known location as fast as you can in one piece."

"Well, good thing to know we're being safety conscious again," Swift replied as the ship shot to warp. "On our way now at Warp 4.5 - I don't want to push it any further than that."

"Good judgement, Swift," Captain Solheim said over the comm, with a tired smile on his face. "Now, to bring the Riskadh a token of our esteem. As soon as you're within comm range of the fleet's network, tell the Riskadh to cloak and wait for a present."

"You got it," Swift said with a sigh as the ship shot to Warp for the second time. "We'll be there soon."

[Lys]

Riskdah is tractoring the Samuel B. Roberts to stabilize her, but they hesitate on any shield extension," reported Fulla Sigrun. "They are also bringing their sensors to full power."

"Interesting, but not unexpected," said Charvanek, "this Klingon is ill inclined to follow the leader. Any other rationale for going full sensors?"

"It is simple," called Fulla, "if they can't safely cloak in the plasma storm they have less to gain from stealth, and much more to lose by blindingly blundering into the Borg. Same tactical manual, different pages."

"Unlike us, they also have company," observed the Riov. "There's that B-12, which did cloak, there may be others scattered across the Badlands. In that case, it makes tactical sense to keep as sharp an eye out as they can. Especially if there are non-combatants. Shall we join them then?"

"No need," said Captain Mirai, shaking her head, "it won't do much good unless we network our scanners with theirs. For now, better to keep emissions to a minimum and surprise the Borg if any vector in."

"Understood, in that case: Helm, take a slow patrol orbit around Riskdah at 200 km. Mirai, Fulla, what do you know about..." a glance at her console, "Kadon zantai Khemera?"

"I believe I know him by reputation," said Captain Mirai. "He's known as a 'Thought Captain' for his keen strategic mind and considerable tactical acumen. He was a rising star in the khomerex, destined for generalship and fleet command if he continued to do well. Good breeding and family background too, but he founded his own break-away House due to a feud with his brother. He is a dangerous man who had friends in high places, keep that in mind."

"I think we served on the same ship briefly in the Dominion War," added Fulla uncertainly," but we were in different departments, and he rose faster in rank. I barely recall him, and doubt he recalls me either. All I have is a strong impression of competence and presence, assuming that was even him."

Charvanek suddenly grinned fiercely, "Oh it was him all right, and I like this Kadon already. Give it even odds he hates my guts before the day is out."

"With the other half on grudging respect?" interjected Nerio.

"Klingons seldom give anything grudgingly, least of all respect. You get the whole boar or you get nothing," said Ishtar. "Now do step outside the view of the comms screen dear, Kadon is calling us back, and it looks crass to have my bodyguard hovering. Captain Mirai, I do wish my first officer besides me... actually hold that thought." She called up the ship's internal comms, "Charvanek to Murugan, I'm having a friendly chat with Squadron Leader Kadon of the Riskdah, thought you might be interested."

"Also giving even odds on whether he takes me up on that," she said offhandedly, followed by a shrill whistle that caused the prowling warshrike to alight on her left shoulder, while her First Officer stood off to her right. "Comms on screen."

Kadon's bridge crew were greeted by the image of a very attractive, auburn-haired, blue-eyed Rihannsu of about 50, with traditional grief markings decorating her upper nose and forehead. She wore an Enriov's - Senior Commander's - uniform, and leaned relaxedly in her command chair with a vicious-looking predatory bird perched on her shoulder. Standing to her right and just behind in a Klingon Captain's uniform, was an orange-haired female Imperial Klingon, with a scarred face and cybernetic left eye. She stood stern-faced and rather less relaxed.

"Greetings Squadron Leader Kadon of the Riskdah. I am Enriov Isthar i-Nalim Charvanek of the warship Khanjar," the Rihannsu woman said in flawless Klingon, with a strange emphasis on the word 'warship' leaving her exact allegiance unclear. "This is my first officer, Captain Mirai zantai Makok. We're alone in the Badlands, but I gather that you are not. May I inquire as to the composition and status of the rest of your unit and its commanding officer?"

[Josh]

"Found the Gilgamesh!" Yhrea announced triumphantly as a new icon flashed to life on the sensors. "Still intact. And... not alone."

Another Exterminator from the endless bucket of them that the Borg had apparently tossed into the Badlands. The salvage operation was starting to look like it would've been a lost cause even if he hadn't personally tossed a flare into a fuel-soaked dry forest.

"Bring us about on a trail position on the Exterminator, ready main gun- disruptor only unless ordered otherwise. Gleck, hail the Gilgamesh for an update. Stand by, as soon as the shooting starts we're dropping cloak long enough to put a shot into the Borg."

He studied the status monitor. In the four minutes since the last shot, the main gun had reaccumulated six percent of charge. Not bad reload time, but it meant that at best he had two shots. The Meh'Ta was simply not set up for extended battles, and soon he was going to be down to an already pathetic secondary battery that had been crippled by the loss of a third of its power.

[White Haven]

Dramatic pauses always feel different from the inside. Leyton--Jason's mind went into overdrive as the familiar face of his father presented itself in the sudden flaring light. The distant echoing had masked the man's voice, and Jason hadn't heard his father's voice since well before the Borg struck. For that matter, he hadn't seen his father's face in that same period.

His hand tensed around the grip of the phaser still aimed more-or-less in the direction of his father. His thumb even twitched, wiggling towards the button that would toggle the standard-make phaser from its family-friendly stun setting to its night-shift job as a distinctively family-unfriendly disintegration beam. Jason forced it to a halt mid-motion; if nothing else, the quiet beeping of the setting updating would carry quite far in the cavernous bay.

There was a rush of air as the younger Leyton let out a breath he'd not even realized he was holding.

"If you were going to break out of prison and come at me out of the darkness, couldn't you have done it fifteen or twenty years ago, back when Starfleet would still be happy about me stunning your sorry ass? Your timing is poor on so many levels."

[Agent Fisher]

USS Samuel B. Roberts
Badlands


There was much to be said about the wisdom of seat restraints on the bridge. It kept Shepard from ending up thrown ass over teakettle into the forward station. As it was, the bridge was filled with the pained groans of her crew,most having slammed their heads into the consoles in front of them. Shepard could feel a jolt and saw the badlands through the view screen stabilize.

"Krieger, we dead?" She asked, looking around.

"No, Skipper. Sphere is dead. We've got two Vor'chas, one's got us tractored."

Shepard looked over to Lee who had a cut on the side of his head, blood seeping out. "Lee, hail them and offer our thanks for saving our ass." The skipper looked down at her display, the shields had been torn away but were already starting to come back up. "And get me a status report on casualties."

The helmsman had already cut the impulse engines, the ship no longer straining against the tractor beam. Guisti's nose was broken, thanks to his station. Shepard looked back to Lee who pointed at her, informing her the line was open.

"Klingon Vor'chas, this is USS Samuel B. Roberts." Shepard said. "Thank you very much for blowing that sphere to hell. We've managed to stabilize our ships, you may disengage tractor beam. We're looking for the USS Immortal and her task force. I'd really apperciate if you could point us in the right direction."

[rhoenix]

Once the Gilgamesh was in range of the comm buoys, a message shot out to the Riskadh and Meh'ta.

It was a short comm message from Swift, the helmsman of the small destroyer, and behind her, one could see the lack of lights on the bridge, as her face was illuminated only by the lights from her console. The hints of blood and parts (both Borg and non) that had not yet been cleared away were barely discernible in the background, as was the lack of other personnel on the bridge.

Her voice was steady, but her wide eyes still showed the stress she was under. "Gilgamesh to friendly forces - we have some important news, but first, we need that leech on our tail to die before it talks, or gets away."

[LadyTevar]

USS Spector
Battle Bridge

"shit shit shit!"
Capt James T. Kirk was never heard to curse on the bridge. Eoife Kirk was not in a position to live up to that role model right now, watching multiple Borg probes start a screaming fit all over her sector, as well as high-tailing it for the Fleet. "Sarin!" her voice was still sharp, with much sarcasm imbedded, "-Thank- the Humboldt for letting the Borg know there were more ships out here, and please *warn* them we're firing. ALL TUBES NOW!! I want that Frigate in pieces. Oh, and if the Humboldt can stop the probes, Sarin, send them that way."

[Josh]

"Send to Gilgamesh, Riskadh, and the... other ship that never talked to us... that we're in trail position, but we're down on punch," Shirazi ordered after Gleck echoed Swift's message to his PADD. He glanced at the capacitor status. Sixty-seven percent overall charge, up four points from the last check. Two good shots and one sputter at that rate. The damned device was so inconsistent on how much drain each shot took, anywhere from thirty to forty-five percent per burst.

That was the price of going to war in an upgunned antique.

"Inform them we'll engage prior to the Exterminator entering weapons envelope on the Gilgamesh but at best we can divert, not destroy. Send. Tactical, target propulsion systems on the Exterminator and stand by for fire order. Main disrupter and one torpedo salvo."

He watched as the stern chase developed, a three-ship chain. Hopefully the full firepower of the Riskadh and the unidentified vessel would render the discussion moot. He added an arbitrary twenty percent to the projected weapons range of the enemy vessel and marked it before echoing the display over to Cratel and Lee's respective stations. "That's our shoot line, once they enter that zone we go live."

"Cloak systems," he said. "Status on secondary cloak?"

"Are you kidding? Are you kidding?!?" tr'Valdran answered a moment later.

"Do you need assistance in restoring secondary cloak function?" Yhrea asked. There was a long pause before tr'Valdran answered.

"Seven minutes to operational on phase cloak," tr'Valdran finally said.

"Acknowledged."

Now it was just a matter of riding the chase and hoping for the best.

[Cynical Cat]

"Hail from the Roberts," said Aaveroke. "They say they don't need the tractor and they're looking for the Immortal. And a very courteous thank you as well."

"Tell them that they've done so and to form up with us and then put the Romulan on screen," replied Kadon. "Tight focus on me."
Kadon leaned back in his chair and assumed an impassive expression as the Romulans appeared on the screen. He paused for a moment to consider her words before responding.

What the Romulans saw was a tall, light skinned Klingon male with jaw length straight black hair. By human standards he appeared around thirty and he had a short, neat beard. He wore the standard uniform of a IKN captain, although his command chair had several nonstandard additions. A klingon dueling saber was sheathed across the back and an archaic, but messily lethal L-14 submachine gun sheathed on the side.

All throughout Charvanek's opening words Kadon moved not at all. Only the dark glitter in his eyes betrayed life. Afterwords he remained still. Then he spoke.

"My squadron is currently engaged in screening operations for a larger task force. You are welcome to join us if you wish, but be advised that there is currently a Borg frigate inbound. You have approximately one minute before it enters sensor range."

[Lys]

The Klingon did not move beyond the bare minimum required to speak, that much the Enriov noticed immediately. It was normal to be careful and guarded under the circumstances - she had kept her own movement subdued and minimal - but still, the way his eyes glittered at her... He wasn't just stonewalling and being careful, he was judging her as much as she was judging him.

Charvanek gaze had immediately fixed itself on the Klingon's eyes and stayed there, but her mind still quickly focused on his sub-machinegun. It was unusual for a non-infantry officer to be so armed in preference a more convenient pistol of some sort, especially a ship's commanding officer. Yet it still seemed so very Klingon; as while General Denkara had favoured a heavy calibre handcannon with fat explosive slugs, and Commander Fulla continued to do so, Captain Mirai standing right there kept an SMG holstered on her hip. In contrast, the Rihannsu officers on the bridge preferred pistols, leaving heavier weapons to the crew and the Reman shock troops who impassively stood guard in heavy armour. For her own part, Ishtar had always disdained firearms of any kind, and the only armament she ever wore was an ornamented Tel Shiar assassination dagger. To shoot people, she had people.

Kadon's words registered, yanking her thoughts back to the moment. Charvanek immediately noticed that he had failed to answer her question, and found herself feeling cross. She said she'd deduced that they were part of a larger task force, and though he deigned to confirm that much, he provided no further detail. The Klingon was granting her barely less suspicion than due a pirate, and she'd likely earned that little trust by helping blow up a Borg sphere, no questions asked. But then, would the Federation act any different were she commanding a Sovereign named Enterprise? More importantly, what did this say about the man before her?

The Rihannsu sat up with such fluidity her shrike was not disturbed, and all appearance of relaxation disappeared in the instant of the motion.

"I see," she said softly, her eyes quickly moving to focus on something hovering invisibly off the edge of the screen. They quickly scanned across it while her hand worked a panel on the chair, and further information was fed into her ears via speakers built into the command chair. A few seconds later, her eyes landed back on her counterpart's. "There's a prize beyond price out here," she said quickly as a by-the-way, "it mustn't be assimilated or destroyed. Khanjar will ambush the inbound if Riskdah will feed us the sensor data, standard Klingon comms protocols under cloak. Talk more after, Charvanek out." The comms cut out, 30 seconds to go.

The Enriov had quickly updated herself on the communiques broadcasted by Meh'ta and Gilgamesh in her ship's general direction. Short version was friendlies coming crashing in with important news and an exterminator they needed killed before it could say what it saw. She started barking orders, "Engage cloak! Set max engine power intercept for incoming enemy vector coming out of warp! Comms, Riskdah's sensors might deign to feed us data, talk to them and stay on the ball. Tactical, drop cloak and fire as soon as you have a solution." 10 seconds to go.

Someone on the comms announced, "Meh Tah reports that they've taken a trail position behind the frigate but lack the firepower to take it out." 5 seconds to go.

"erei'Riov t'Keres, please keep our fire out of the enemy's rear quadrant and watch for friendlies," added the Enriov. Time's up.

One of several things was about to happen next. Ideally, Riskdah would use her - currently at full power - sensors grid to find the incoming target and tell Khanjar where to point herself and her guns. Then, between 30 and 90 seconds later, an exterminator would be pasted by point-blank heavy disruptor fire. Less ideally, things would go varying degrees of wrong in any of a large number of increasingly unpleasant way. Ishtar could almost feel herself already regret her sudden recklessness... almost.

[Cynical Cat]

"Communications cut," said Aaveroke.

"Helm, weapons, close and engage the frigate when it comes into sensor range. Free fire, all disruptors. Analysis?"

"She speaks perfect tlhIngan Hol," said Aaveroke, "which means she practices it regularly. Probably with the Klingons on her crew and it is the most widely spoken of our languages. And she's not dead, so they think she's an acceptable captain."

"Rish."

Arikel replied. "She assumed the existence of a great prize with grossly insufficient evidence. Civilian, heavily damaged ships, or cargo vessels is a far more logical conclusion if she suspected we were protecting a vulnerable prize. Intuitive leap and total commitment. Very Klingon but based on far too little data. She is used to projecting her own assumptions into a situation. This should be considered in all dealings with her." Arikel paused for a moment. "This may be a survival trait from Romulan politics where available information is insufficient and a knowledge of someone's history and reading their actions can be necessary to avoid disaster. You might have been too unreadable. Why would a Klingon practice such self control unless the stakes were so high?"

"Thought Admirals are a strange breed and not truly Klingon," replied Kadon, referencing his nickname. It wasn't the only one the crew used for him, but it was the one they weren't worried about him hearing. Security, of course, knew all. "Her self control is very good, but she isn't as inscrutable as she thinks she is. The weapons on my command chair held her attention. She does speak that barbarous tongue tlhIngan Hol, spoken by slavering, unthinking, Viking raiders who have stumbled into space so they can drink too much in other races' bars and wave sharp pieces of metal around while bragging in an obnoxious manner. Too bad we are sophisticated warrior-philosophers who speak klingonaase and play the komerex zha to decide the fate of the galaxy." The bridge laughed at that one.

"The purpose of the weapons is obvious. The one must know the bridge is one of the primary targets of Borg boarding parties and that their adaptive energy fields are not effective against blades or projectiles. The precaution is obvious, but she is not a Klingon. There is no distinct word in klingonaase for "weapon", not one distinct from "tool". There is no hidden meaning, but the one is Romulan and so she looks for the hidden message in nonstandard weapons mounts and the regulation uniform. She is not Klingon and so she looks for something that is not there. That must be remembered. The one will see threat and treachery where there is none and will not hesitate to act on impulse even if the evidence and logic does not support that course of action and she has a history of fluid loyalties."

"Does that make the one less or more impulsive than our Federation commodore?" Aaveroke asked.

"Kagga's crown, what a question," replied Kadon. "We may get an answer. There is another thing to remember. Whatever lies in a Romulan's liver as the klin does in ours, she possesses in full measure."

[Agent Fisher]

USS Samuel B. Roberts
Bridge


"Riskadh says they're part of the task force and request we form up with them." Lee said looking over at Shepard.


The skipper nodded. "Ok then, you guys know the drill." She said. The sign of a well trained bridge crew, she didn't have to give the roder to Guisti to adjust course and come into formation with the Klingon Vor'cha. She didn't have to tell Kreiger to adjust the sensor board to show the two Klingon ships in friendly blue. Didn't have to tell Shraf to make sure the torpedoes were ready for actions. As the crew went to work, one of the corpsmen assigned to the medical bay arrived with a field aid kit, going to work closing up cuts and ensuring no one had a concussion.

Shepard looked over at Lee again. "Casualty reports?" She requested, her XO nodding and typing on his console. "Mostly minor injuries. Senior Chief reported to med bay with a broken arm but he's already back on his feet." He said, getting a chuckle from the bridge crew. A broken arm wasn't gonna slow down the Chief.

"Good. Let's go hunting with our new Klingon friend."

[General Havoc]

No sooner had the Gilgamesh burst into warp, than her sensors detected a burst of animated activity from off her flank, as sensors stabbed into the badlands and found a target. A warp bubble formed and disappeared as quickly as it had been detected, and there was the residual sign of charging weapons, source indeterminate. And then the Gilgamesh was at warp, and away, and her sensors were blind to everything.

What was following Gilgamesh could not be determined, not at this speed and heading, for the sensor bubble was restricted and swallowed up by the badlands without a trace. Perhaps there was nothing. Or perhaps there was every nightmare the crew of the Gilgamesh had ever had. But not until the Gilgamesh arrived at the approximated location of the other, larger ships, could its sensors detect anything at all.

But when it did...

The Frigate was on the Gilgamesh' tail, that much could be discerned from the Meh'ta's reports, though at this distance, it was still invisible to the Gilgamesh. Not so the Riskadh, whose sensors were those of an undamaged battlecruiser, and peering into the darkness in search of something to kill. And it found it, a small, frigate-sized item, flying in hot pursuit of the Gilgamesh with murder on its mind. Another few moments, and the Riskadh would be in weapons range.

And then it saw something else.

What it was, the Riskadh could not determine, for the signal was fragmentary and coming in from a distance well beyond its normal sensor envelope in this part of the badlands. But enough fixes could be made for the Klingon crew to realize that they were not looking at any sort of sensor ghost or plasma echo. Something was out there, flying up the same course that the Gilgamesh and Frigate and Meh'ta were taking, further back, enough so that neither Gilgamesh nor Meh'ta had seen a thing. Something moving at Warp 5, spinning as it flew, advancing towards the small task force like an arrow fired from a bow.

Something approximately thirty times the mass of every other ship present here combined.

*-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------*

"Perfect timing isn't a luxury we always have," said Admiral Leyton. "And you should know by now how few luxuries we all have left."

Leyton's expression was relaxed and inscrutable, as his eyes jumped from his son to the phaser in his son's hand, all without any indication of what he thought of its presence.

"You could shoot me, Jason," he said, evenly. "You might even be able to find some way to profit by it. Most people in better ships than yours would have died long ago, and yet here you are. But I'd strongly recommend against it at this juncture. I'm not here simply to bring up bad old memories. I'm here because there's more going on here than anyone, even you, can appreciate. And if the fact that I'm standing here, now, on this ship of all ships, talking to you, isn't enough to prove that much to you, then perhaps I can offer you something else."

The catwalk Leyton was standing on quivered and began to lower, taking the Admiral down to the same level as the Captain below, at which point he stepped off onto the deck, seemingly unconcerned about the possibility of being shot.

"Unless you'd like to try and impress Starfleet Command."

*-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------*

The fire of an Akira class cruiser modified for heavy torpedo loadouts firing everything at once was quite a thing, and the Frigate, beset from all sides, had nothing to answer it. It was unable to turn in time to deploy its tractor net against the torpedo barrage, nor to dodge the shots coming its way. It managed to avoid two torpedoes, only for the third to slice a nacelle off, and was immediately crushed under an avalanche of fire from the remaining thirteen, bits and pieces of wreckage flying in every direction as the probes, which had been its last contribution, danced off in every direction.

[Lys]

Limited to passive sensors while under cloak, lest active emissions compromise stealth, the Khanjar could detect neither the incoming exterminator, nor the Gilgamesh. It most certainly could not detect the titanic behemoth that advanced like an avalanche much further behind the both of them. She knew whence the destroyer and frigate were coming from Meh'ta's and Gilgamesh's transmissions, and was much closer to them than Riskdah, having gone on ahead of her at speed. Khanjar expected the target to be entering her weapons range, but she could not see it. Riskdah could, but it was outside her own weapons range. Using tight beam transmissions, the Vor'kang sent the Vor'cha an update on her position and a targeting vector request. If Riskdah cooperated and Khanjar had estimated the intercept area correctly, she would close to point-blank range under cloak, and then vapourize the frigate before it knew what hit it.

[Comrade Tortoise]

"shit shit shit!"
Capt James T. Kirk was never heard to curse on the bridge. Eoife Kirk was not in a position to live up to that role model right now, watching multiple Borg probes start a screaming fit all over her sector, as well as high-tailing it for the Fleet. "Sarin!" her voice was still sharp, with much sarcasm imbedded, "-Thank- the Humboldt for letting the Borg know there were more ships out here, and please *warn* them we're firing. ALL TUBES NOW!! I want that Frigate in pieces. Oh, and if the Humboldt can stop the probes, Sarin, send them that way."

The funny thing was, the Spector fired off torpedoes and completely disintegrated the remaining frigate before Tlorn could even respond. When he did, it was to raise an eyebrow. He cut through the sarcasm like a razor, and returned it with his own.

"You're welcome, it would have been unfortunate if that frigate was able to stay inside your torpedo envelope, and with them destroyed, any information they might have had has increased the entropy in the universe. If you would accompany us to destroy those probes before they pass through the fleet and get picked up on the other side?"

"Helm, intercept course, warp five. Mr Forsythe, launch Danube runabout once we are underway. It can assist in the interception. Engage." and the Humbolt sprang back into warp before the contest in Vulcan sarcasm could continue. The Spector could either follow, or not. As soon as they were up to speed, a little Danube with two crew left the single functioning shuttlebay and shared the Humboldt's warp field until her own engines were up to speed, at which point she was under her own power and diverged on a slightly separate track to intercept another cluster of those abominable probes.

[Cynical Cat]

"Signal all vessels to evade and hide, incoming Borg Cube," Kadon barked in battle language. "Zan Khedira, full evasive and maintain distance at all costs. Kallor, wide spread torpedo salvo from forward launchers to attract their attention."

The ship's deck hummed as power was fed to the engines and the Riskadh surged forward. "Arikel, plot a course to the closest major plasma storm. Weapons, free fire on all Borg escorts that get close enough to hinder us, otherwise silent. Inform-"

Kadon's voice cut out as the tactical display shifted to show the local region of the Badlands, as mapped out by the drone network. At the heart of it was a supermassive storm measured in AU.

"Kahlesste kaase," Kallor said softly. Khaless's hand. The moment that silence reigned was short, but it seemed to be an eternity.

"Zan Aaveroke," said Kadon as he recovered, "inform the rest of the allied ships that they are not to engage the Cube in any way and are to flee. And to prepare for a possible subspace explosion."

"Acting," replied Aaveroke.

"Load tricobalt torpedoes into the aft launchers. Arikel, calculations for triggering a Dying Star event in that plasma storm as the Borg Cube passes close. Feed the data to Kallor."

"Acting."

"Zan Khedira, take us in as if we're going to try to use the bulk of the storm as cover and evade the Borg Cube. Make it so that the optimal intercept course passes close to the storm. Trigonometry is very much their strength."

"Captain," interjected Arikel, "the nature of the abnormalities that generate the Badlands plasma storms leaves a certain degree of uncertainty."

"Then use a full spread of torpedoes."

"Captain," Arikel answered, "the uncertainty means the blast could be considerably larger than normal conditions. Much larger."

"Enhance."

"We might destroy the Badlands."

"Send that information to the fleet. They'll need it. Kallor, try not to use too many torpedoes. It would be embarrassing to send our allies to the Black Fleet as well as the Borg and they will probably want to kill us a thousand times."

"But we will be the ones laughing," said Arikel, finishing off the paraphrased quote, although joking was uncharacteristic of her. "Undefeated."

"All that is done under the naked stars is remembered," said Kallor.

[Josh]

"Break!" Shirazi order. "Vector one-nine-three mark six-one maximum available warp! Gleck, pipe that down to tr'Valdran."

The vessel arced gracefully away from its pursuit, fleeing the vicinity of the target zone as quickly as it could. Yhrea pivoted his seat toward Shirazi. "It seems that Captain Kadon took your previous action as a challenge and now wishes to top it."

"Are you people insane!" tr'Valdran screamed over the comm. "All of you? Do they seriously think they can calibrate this reaction on the go? We're all going to d-" the channel cut suddenly.

"I guess that's what you needed to know," Gleck said.

Shirazi nodded. "Tolbert, we're gonna need more power. Yhrea, monitor weapons status on the Riskadh. When she goes hot, drop cloak and give me everything we can spare on the shields."

"Acknowledged."

A moment passed in silence, the bridge crew working studiously at their tasks. Then Gleck spoke up. "I just wanted to say that this hasn't been an entirely miserable life on this rustbucket. Some of you are tolerable beings possessed of respectable intelligence."

"Thank you for your ringing endorsement, Mr. Gleck. Eyes on your board," Shirazi said.