Dawn Of War

Posted on Nov 08, 2015 @ 10:37pm by Captain Michael Turlogh Kane

Mission: Civil War

"DAWN OF WAR"

(Continued from "Atonement")

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Captain's Log, supplemental - today started out much like any other recently. I was prepared to deal with a pile of admin work regarding the new transfers, and the new embedded journalist had scheduled a meeting with me as soon as I came on duty. The fleet continued its patrols of the Elandipole system, and President P'Trell continued his procrastinating... when we roused ourselves from bed this morning, how were we to know that our lives would all change today?

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Location: USS Phoenix, orbiting Elandipole IV
Stardate: [2.15]1109.0235
Scene: Bridge


It had just passed oh-six-thirty when Michael Turlogh Kane stepped off the turbolift, a bacon sandwich in one hand and a cup of tea in the other. He had slept well the previous night, and a comforting dream of being a child at home still lingered in his mind. He had explored Thomond's nooks and crannies, placed a hand on the ancient stone wall and felt the castle breathe in time with his own heartbeat. When he woke up, he had felt the pangs of something that he had lost, but also refreshed by the memory.

"Good morning, all," he said cheerily, striding down towards his ready room door.

The bridge's night watch crew snapped to attention. There were a couple of alarmed young ensigns at the conn and ops, and a Vulcan SecTac officer watched with a raised eyebrow from the Tactical station, and Kane eyeballed them all as Byte rose from the centre seat.

{{Captain Kane,}} said the android in apparent confusion. {{Delta shift does not end for another eighty-eight minutes. Do you wish to take the conn?}}

Kane shook his head. "I'm getting an early start today, Mister Byte, that's all. Your overnight report, please."

Byte nodded. {{Sickbay reports that the Trimble twins were admitted with chickenpox at oh-four-hundred hours. Engineering is beginning software upgrades to the shuttlepods Babbage and Dalton in thirty minutes. We remain on station-keeping orbit, and all other systems are normal.}}

"Very good, Mister Byte. Carry on until relieved by Commander Jos." Kane smiled at the android and turned for his ready room. As the doors hissed closed behind him, he sat down and activated his desktop terminal, taking a giant bite out of his sandwich. Outside, the Pendragon and Demeter floated by serenely against the backdrop of E-4.

Kane was still chewing when the ready room door chimed. He sighed. "Come."

The doors opened and a man Kane had never seen before stepped into the ready room. He was of average height, a little paunchy around the middle, was wearing a nicely-styled beard, and had a gap between his front teeth. His mop of dark hair hung down over his ears. Kane noted that he was carrying a portable holo-camera that was attached to a mount on his left shoulder, and he frowned with annoyance as he realised who this man must be.

"Captain Kane?" came a thickly-accented voice. The man thrust his hand across the table with a big smile, his fingers dangerously close to Kane's bacon sandwich. "Aleksey Niktin. I'm the journalist that's going to be travelling with you. Vice-President Sardak said you'd be expecting me?"

All of Kane's good humour evaporated as he recalled the scheduled meeting this morning. Journalists were always watching, interpreting, and then blabbing whatever it was they thought they knew to whoever would listen. The press was a necessity in a free society, but a necessary evil. The irritations he'd felt when Sardak had practically ordered him to accept this man on the Phoenix all resurfaced. Kane determined to take a giant shit on him.

He stood up and curtly shook the proferred hand. "Mister Nikitin. Sit down, please, we've got some things to talk about."

Aleksey sat down, still smiling. "This is an amazing ship, Captain, simply amazing! I'm looking forward to the grand tour, I can tell you that! Then, when we strike back against the Neo-Essentialists, I can record the whole thing from the bridge! I'll make you and your crew famous!"

Kane narrowed his eyes. "Let me make some things clear to you, Mister Nikitin," he said coldly, jabbing a finger at the Russian's face. "This meeting, right here and now, is the very last time in your existence that you will be willingly permitted onto the bridge of this ship. Furthermore, there will be no grand tour. There will not even be an informal, casual, hey-check-this-out tour. You will be under the exact same restrictions as any other civilian aboard the Phoenix - that is to say, operational areas are strictly off-limits to you. No bridge, no Engineering. If I hear of you snooping around anywhere, or getting in the way of any of my officers even in the slightest, I'll personally pack you face-first into a torpedo tube. Am I clear?"

Aleksey sat up straight, flabbergasted. "Yes, Captain." He shrugged. "But I'm confused. Why the hostility?"

Kane smiled wolfishly."Because I don't want you on board my ship, Mister Nikitin, no matter what the Vice-President says. You can report to the Operations officer, Lieutenant Byte, who will arrange a place for you to work and live."

"I've been targetted by the Neo-Essentialists too," said Aleksey forcefully, standing up. "They sent one of their assassins after me, the same man that murdered Bonnie Reardon, to stop her telling her story to me. I was on the verge of exposing Edgerton and his whole damn operation before they made me flee my home, so please, Captain, don't act like I'm a greenhorn. I have a feeling you'll need me before the end of all this. Now, since I'm not one of your indoctrinated underlings, I think I'll take my leave of you."

Kane sat back and watched him go. He steepled his fingers together in thought for a moment, then more pressing matters caught his attention. He sighed and got back to work.

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Location: USS CENTURY, at the head of the Neo-Essentialist fleet
Scene: Bridge


Commander Ronald Heydrich, Executive Officer of the USS Century, had been spending a lot of time in the centre seat lately. He'd put in a lot of hours doing both admin and review work, correlating and organising reports from all over the fleet. Eighty-two starships and seventy-nine thousand Starfleet personnel were winging their way to Elandipole for the final battle with the rebel fleet.

The result was a foregone conclusion. The numbers were conclusively on the Neo-Essentialists' side, and with the now-upgraded Century acting as a command and control vessel for the fleet, the rebels would stand no chance. Two Sovereign-class battleships - the USS Imperial and the USS Monarch - headed two different flotillas within the fleet, each one accompanied by its own cruiser, destroyers, and escort wings. Bringing up the rear was the Midway-class carrier, the USS Salamis, and her two-hundred-strong starfighter complement. It was one of the mightiest forces Starfleet had ever assembled in one place.

In a way, the sudden Romulan withdrawal back to their pre-war borders had been something of a boon for the Neo-Essentialist cause. Heydrich knew well the propaganda value of having a foreign outside menace to scare a civilian populace with. All through history the Outsider had been used to manipulate local populations into giving up their freedom through fear - fear of the stranger, fear of the immigrant, fear of the off-worlder - and the Romulans had fulfilled their function well. Bolarus was a smoking ruin, and although its people were rejoicing in victory, swept up in a wave of triumphant nationalism, the departure of the Romulan fleet had enabled Edgerton to divert several starships to join this fleet.

The mooted plan had been simple. The fleet would arrive at Elandipole, drop out of warp, and immediately engage the rebel fleet in combat. Destroyers and starfighters would target the faster ships in the rebel fleet with the aim of preventing them from jumping to warp. Meanwhile, the fleet's capital ships would close to engage with the rebel command vessels, including the Phoenix and any other targets of opportunity. The result would be a cataclysmic defeat for the rebels - if any of them escaped, their numbers would be too pitifully few to ever mount a serious challenge to the new regime now installed on Earth.

The one variable to that whole plan was Subject Red. When he had come out of retirement to lead the fleet against the rebels, it had legitimised Edgerton's rule with one stroke. Nobody in Starfleet was going to question his command pedigree, and with a military man like him leading the fleet, there was no chance of any idealism for civilian authority gaining a foothold amongst the majority of the fleet's personnel.

But the plan was not being followed to Admiral Edgerton's letter. Heydrich had been watching his commander closely, and knew that the old man was chafing under his orders. Edgerton had given him a polite version of "destroy the rebel fleet" as a directive, but there was just enough leeway in the wording that they could be deliberately misinterpreted, which, based on their last conversation, Subject Red was consciously and deliberately doing. He was eschewing a direct attack on the rebel fleet in favour of an ultimatum to surrender, giving up the advantage of surprise in the hopes of a peaceful outcome to the burgeoning civil war. It made no difference in the long-term - the rebel fleet would be destroyed either way, that was certain - but in Heydrich's eyes, it seriously undermined Subject Red's commitment to the cause.

Despite Subject Red's hesitation to attack, it was not difficult to see the future. There would be no surrender. Rebel pridefulness would see to that. If there was any prevarication or an attempt to negotiate, Heydrich would tip the nod to the Century's senior officers, and they would begin the attack over the Admiral's head. Subject Red's bleeding heart would not stop the inevitable. The Elandipole system would be the first and last battlefield of the civil war.

"Ten minutes to Elandipole arrival," reported the Century's Tellarite conn officer.

Heydrich stood up. Ten minutes to glory. "Signal the fleet, Lieutenant. Yellow Alert." He made fists out of his hands, all the tension coursing through his body terminating at the ends of his fingers.

As the tactical officer confirmed that the fleet was answering the alert, Heydrich nodded again before moving to the commander's ready room. Without bothering to announce his presence, he strode through the doors. Subject Red was still standing by his viewport. "It's time for you to lead us against the rebels, Admiral."

Subject Red turned around. "Very well, Commander," he rumbled. "Federation First."

Heydrich was satisfied. The words rang hollow coming from Subject Red, but in a few hours it would hardly matter. "Federation First, Admiral."

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Location: USS Demeter, orbiting E-4
Scene: Office of the President


A marine guard gestured to Selyara, indicating that she could enter the President's office. That was a bit of a misnomer, she thought unhappily - the interior of the Demeter had been drastically altered in the past few weeks, converting the ship into an admin hub. What they called the President's office was in fact an entire deck, remodelled to include meeting rooms, living quarters, work spaces, and the like.

The doors were decorated with the freshly-stencilled sky-blue insignia of the United Federation of Planets, and when they parted Thoris P'Trell was already standing behind his desk to greet her. Selyara advanced warily into the room, but they were alone. There was a desk with a mounted computer terminal, a couple of PADDs in a neat pile, and magnificent viewing port that showed the blue bauble of E-4 rolling on by in the long night.

Thoris came around the side of his desk. He was dressed in his perennial black business suit, and he was smiling broadly while extending his black-gloved hands in greeting. "Welcome, welcome!" He grasped Selyara's hands in his. She felt the softness of perfectly-replicated satin, and caught a fleeting impression of determination behind his smile, before he spoke again. "You had no trouble leaving the Phoenix?"

Selyara shook her head slowly, remembering her conversation with Eve Dalziel, and how the President' message was waiting for her in her new quarters upon her return. "Captain Kane does not keep me under lock and key. I go where I please."

"Good, good!" Thoris gestured to a plush armchair opposite his own. "Sit down, and we can get to business." He returned to his own seat, throwing a glance at the wall chronometer.

Selyara did as she was bid, wondering what was going on. "Mister President, may I ask what this is all about? A private, encoded message, asking me to meet you here aboard the Demeter seems very cloak-and-dagger."

"You may ask," said Thoris, and paused. Then he chuckled. "A Human joke." He picked up a PADD and activated it. "First of all, thank you for coming, and thank you for not telling Captain Kane about our meeting."

"How do you know I didn't?" frowned Selyara.

Thoris glanced at the wall chronometer again, then eyed her sharply. "Come now, Miss Selyara. You mustn't think me foolish. If you had told Captain Kane that I had summoned you for a private audience with me, he would have planned with you how you would behave at this meeting. You would not be so obviously uncomfortable. You would be pretending to be at your ease. I'm correct, aren't I? You didn't tell him." The last part of his speech was a statement, not a question.

Selyara nodded. "You are an excellent politician, sir."

"Believe me, it's been useful over the years," said Thoris wryly, running his eyes down the data stream on the PADD's screen. "Now then. Let's talk about you." He lifted his eyes and stared at her. "Vulcan-Betazoid hybrid. A former Starfleet captain, your career terminated ignominiously when you were duped into handing the USS Patriot over to the Orion Syndicate, compromising the security of the entire Nova-class starship design. You spent eight years in the Jaros stockade for your treason, and while there you were assimilating the secrets of other inmates into your mind through your abilities as a touch telepath. As a result, you know the identities of almost all of the Neo-Essentialist flag officers in Starfleet. You escaped the stockade last year and fled to a space station in the Triangle named Limbo, where you assumed the identity of the melodramatically-named Shadow Master, a dangerous information broker. You were picked up by the Phoenix when she came to Limbo, and you have been whispering in Captain Kane's ear ever since. All accurate so far?"

Selyara was on edge. There was no hostility from Thoris that she could sense, but the flippant tone of his speech and his demeanour in general were ringing alarm bells within her. Something, she realised, was Going On. She decided to play it safe for now. "Yes, sir, that's all pretty much accurate."

"Good." Thoris passed a PADD across the table. "The memory on this data device is blank. I would like you to input everything you know about the Neo-Essentialists, especially the identities of the officers we mentioned. You can begin right now. I'll wait."

Selyara took the PADD in surprise. Not even Michael had asked her for this information yet. He'd probably figured that she'd get around to it in her own time, and she would have, but there was no reason that she could see for the President of the Federation to be asking for it. "Shouldn't I give this information to Captain Kane first? Chain of command and all that, yes?"

Thoris shook his head. "No. As the Commander-in-Chief of Starfleet, I need to know this information so I can authorise a military strategy. I'll pass the information through the fleet later." He looked at her pointedly. "You can consider this an order, Miss Selyara."

Selyara activated the PADD. "Alright." She thought about lying, about writing down a bunch of nonsense names, but quickly discounted the idea. A simple check by Thoris would reveal whether or not these men and women were in Starfleet, and if they weren't, he would know she'd lied to him,and that would open up a whole can of worms she didn't want to deal with.

She started typing out names, her fingers moving quickly while we watched. Names, ranks, assignments, all torn from the minds of inmates of the Jaros stockade over eight long years. But even as she worked in silence, her senses were screaming. This whole thing felt wrong - why was Thoris approaching her directly? He might well have heard on the grapevine about her, about what she supposedly knew, but did that really warrant a personal audience? He could easily have contacted Michael and ordered him to get the Neo-Essentialist information from her.

With sudden shock, she realised that Thoris was doing this exactly because Michael hadn't told him anything about her. He mustn't have even discussed her with Thoris. He couldn't have, or Thoris would have asked Michael to deal with her himself. No, she realised, the only reason that was sitting here was because Thoris felt that he needed to circumvent Michael and get directly to her. There was more going on here than she knew, more than anyone knew - with a shiver, she realised that the Andorian was playing some sort of game, but then again, so perhaps was Michael, and maybe even the rest of them too.

She gritted her teeth. This was exactly why she'd fled to Limbo. She'd sworn to herself that nobody would ever be able to use her like this again. She hardened her heart - that vow was still ongoing, and she was damned if she was going to break it, for Thoris P'Trell or Michael Turlogh Kane or anyone else.

While still typing, she looked up. "I want you to know something, Mister President."

Thoris was looking at the wall chronometer like he was expecting something to happen any second. "What would that be, Miss Selyara?"

"I don't see myself as much of a Starfleet officer, a Federation citizen, a Shadow Master, or much of anything at all. When this is all done with, I'll be going my own way. You need to be clear on that."

Thoris chuckled. "It's not that simple, I'm afraid. Whatever you think you are now, I have to tell you that you're not it."

Selyara stopped typing and looked up. "What do you mean?"

Thoris leaned across the table. "You're a wanted criminal, Miss Selyara. You never served your full sentence at Jaros. Unless you want Starfleet to start hunting you across the quadrant once again, then I suggest you get with the programme and figure out who you're working for."

"I'm not working for anyone - "

"Yes you are." Thoris' voice was so hard he could have driven nails with it. "You're working for us now. For the Federation. And unless you want to end up back in that stockade, with no chance of a Presidential pardon, you'll stop talking and start typing."

The door to Selyara's future slammed itself shut. A wellspring of panic bubbled up in her stomach as she realised what Thoris was saying. Bewildered, she kept working.

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Location: USS Phoenix
Scene: Captain's ready room -> Bridge


Kane had made an impressive dent in both his PADD-mountain and his sandwich, and was feeling quite pleased with himself. Aerdan Jos was in the centre seat, Alpha shift was on duty, Captain Reardon had left the ship (she had stayed overnight, for some reason - Kane stored that nugget away for future reference), the morning had progressed well, and through his viewport he could see the magnificent sight of the sunrise over E-4. The distant yellow sun was cresting the edge of the planet, and all across the world-ocean's surface the canopy of darkness was retreating before the sunlight like a defeated army.

He paused for a moment to enjoy the view, wondering how much prettier it would look over the beaches of the waterworld below. How far Humanity had come to be able to see the sun rise above the horizons of alien worlds, he thought. Yet for all their progress, Humans were still able to commit the basest atrocities, both on each other and on offworlders. In another version of history, the Neo-Essentialist Federation practiced population control of non-Humans, launched wars of aggression against her galactic neighbours, and propagated an authoritarian, nationalistic system of government that oppressed uncounted billions of its own people. In the here and now, that future was dangerously close to coming into existence.

Kane was snapped out of his reverie by the sudden insistent whine of the red alert klaxons. An instant later, Aerdan Jos' voice came over the comm system. [[Red Alert! This is not a drill! Captain Kane, to the bridge!]]

Kane quickly crossed the floor. As soon as the doors to the bridge opened, it was like entering Bedlam itself. A wild cacophony of voices were shouting over the blaring of the klaxons -

" - where did they come from? - "

" - my God, sensors show almost one hundred of them! - "

" - battleships, a carrier, we're totally outgunned here! - "

"Report!" Kane bellowed, silencing the hubbub. He marched up to the Tactical station, where Aerdan and Barton were poring over an incoming data stream.

"A fleet of starships has just dropped out of warp," said Aerdan. His face was grave, but to his credit, his voice was calm. "They're almost a hundred-strong, and they're being led by the USS Century."

Kane's heart sunk. The future, once so far away, was here and now. "The Neo-Essentialist fleet has found us," he said quickly. "Open a channel to the Demeter."

Barton worked fast, but precious seconds ticked by while the connection was made. Eventually he looked up. "The President's office is responding, Captain."

"On screen."

The main viewer winked, and Kane moved forward to stand between Russ and Byte. As the image changed, shock ran through him when he saw both Thoris and Selyara standing in Thoris' office together. He briefly wondered what the hell was going on, how and why Selyara had left the ship, and what they were talking about, before the imperative asserted itself. "Mister President, the Neo-Essentialist fleet is here. You must get the Demeter to safety."

Thoris was nodding. {{The Pendragon is already moving to cover us. In the meantime, Captain Kane, I suggest you prepare for a battle.}}

Kane glanced back at Barton. The tactical officer gave a slight shake of his head. Kane turned back to the screen. "Understood, sir, but be advised that this battle is unwinnable. We are heavily outnumbered and outgunned. All we will be doing is buying you time to escape." His eyes flitted from Thoris to Selyara. Can you hear me, he wondered.

Thoris set his jaw. His antennae were standing straight up on his head. {{Your sacrifice will not be in vain, Captain Kane. On behalf of the peoples of the Federation, thank you.}}

Kane ignored him and looked directly at Selyara. "Goodbye," he said to her.

The screen winked off, being replaced with the exterior view of Elandipole. The Demeter was breaking orbit, closely shadowed by the Pendragon, and several other starships were moving toward the Neo-Essentialist fleet. Kane looked down at Byte in askance.

{{The Neo-Essentialists have begun blanketing the system with EM pulses to jam our transmissions,}} reported the android. {{Communications with the fleet may not be possible.}}

Kane slapped Russ's shoulder. "Break orbit, Lieutenant. Move us toward the enemy."

The image in the main viewer changed - Elandipole, Shanty Town and the beautiful world-ocean fell away, and in their place was the yawning gulf of stars. Between the Phoenix and the starfield lay the enemy fleet, almost one hundred starships, bearing down on them like dogs on fresh meat.

"Battle stations!" snapped Kane, moving back to the centre seat. The old feeling of imminent combat flooded back to him, like his whole life had suddenly coalesced into this critical moment. He would not be himself again until the danger was past.

{{The USS Gandhi and Axanar are moving to support us,}} reported Byte, cornflower eyes flickering right and left as it interpreted the data stream on the Ops monitor.

"It looked like being such a good day," said Aerdan quietly from Kane's right. "This is the first time the Phoenix has entered combat, is it not?"

Kane nodded grimly. The unspoken words - it would also be the last time - hung heavily in the air, clouding the mood. He tapped the centre seat's arm controls, opening a channel throughout the ship.

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Scene: Main Engineering


Jake Crichton's Engineering team were already scrambling to their posts in response to the red alert, but when Kane's voice filtered down through the comms, they all stopped what they were doing and held their breaths.

[[Attention all hands, this is the Captain. The Neo-Essentialist fleet has found us. We are impossibly outnumbered and outgunned, but we must buy enough time for the rightful government of the Federation to escape from Elandipole. We may not survive...]]

Jake looked around at his command team. All of them - Cindy Rochemonte, Chaucer, Jonathan Maynell, and Asta Elgin - were silent, listening to Kane's grim words with a mix of resolve and worry on their faces.

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Scene: Sickbay


Cade Foster had just managed to calm Jimmy Trimble down from a crying fit when Kane's voice came down the comms. He stood motionless, sharing a look with Samantha Perry, as they heard the captain call off their fate like a death knell.

[[... but we must succeed! I know that each of you will do your duty. If we do not make it through this day, let us make sure that history never forgets the starship Phoenix!]]

The transmission was cut, and Cade and Samantha snapped into action. A thousand people on board meant a thousand potential casualties. In the background, Jimmy Trimble started crying again.

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Location: USS Demeter
Scene: Bridge


Selyara had hurriedly accompanied Thoris to the bridge of the Demeter, her heart churning at Michael's transmission. There was hardly any time to think straight. As they arrived on the bridge, she saw that Sardak was waiting, his satanic features the picture of perfect calm. She hung back, near the turbolift doors, to watch the scene play out before her.

"Are we moving?" Thoris asked him.

"Yes," said the Vulcan. "The Zhukov is escorting us. We are about to jump to warp speed."

"No!" said Thoris, moving to the Demeter's young Human helmsman. "Move away under impulse power only, do you understand?" The helmsman nodded and began changing her course plot.

"Why do we not flee at warp speed?" asked Sardak, stepping forward, his brow furrowed in sudden confusion.

Thoris looked at him, a flash of anger on the Andorian's face. "That is not the plan!"

Selyara jumped as the turbolift doors hissed open, depositing a marine colonel onto the bridge. He shot a glance at her before moving towards the two politicians.

Sardak frowned deeply. "What plan, Mister President?"

Thoris ignored him. "I will not run any longer! Remain at impulse power!" he said harshly.

Selyara shared a three-way glance with Sardak and the marine colonel, wondering what was happening.

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Location: USS Phoenix
Scene: Bridge


The main viewer showed nothing but the silvery hulls of the oncoming enemy fleet. No shots had been fired, but the battle maneuvers were underway. Two dozen Neo-Essentialist destroyers had surrounded the Starfleet pickets around the edges of the system, and the capital ships were coming on, lumbering through space at impulse power, led by the two Sovereign-class battleships. The Century was hanging back, but Kane could just see her in the distance, the distinctive outline of her saucer and downward nacelles standing out on the screen.

The odds were fearful. It was conceivable that the Phoenix was capable of destroying both the Monarch and the Imperial, but would no doubt take heavy damage in the process. To make matters worse, both Neo-Essentialist battleships had their accompanying cruisers and escorts to deal with. There was almost no doubt about it. The lives of everyone on the Phoenix would not last much longer. None of them would see the top of the next hour.

"Message from the Zhukov," said Barton. "It's slightly garbled from the interference, but Captain Reardon wishes us good luck, and says to give them a hell of a fight."

"We'll do our best," said Kane. "Time to enemy weapons range?'

{{Two minutes, eight seconds,}} reported Byte.

Kane glanced at Barton and Aerdan. "Tactical analysis. We need to last as long as possible and do as much damage as we can in the meantime. Target their weakest ships first."

Aerdan nodded and moved up to the Tac station. Kane looked again at the Century hanging there against the black cloth of night. Come on, you bastards, he thought fiercely. Come and get it. The Century had been his home for three years, he had used her formidable weapons systems to destroy the Discovery, and he had decloaked the ship in the sky over Paris in order to make a public homecoming a year and a half ago. But the Century was not cloaked now. She was like a spider in the centre of a web, pulling the strings of all her puppets, sending them out to kill everything that the Phoenix was sworn to protect.

He clenched his fists. Starship combat was upon them, once again.

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Location: USS Century
Scene: Bridge


Ronald Heydrich looked up from the Tactical computer. Subject Red was standing in the middle of the bridge now, his huge meaty hands behind his back, looking out at the enemy fleet.

"Admiral, the enemy pickets are being held at gunpoint," Heydrich reported. "The Demeter is moving away from us at impulse power, under escort from the Zhukov."

Subject Red lifted his right hand and pointed at a gunmetal gray, violet-nacelled starship that was making a beeline straight for them. "What is that ship?" he asked.

Heydrich narrowed his eyes. Everyone know what that ship was. "It's the Phoenix, Admiral. It's the rebel command ship."

Subject Red nodded. "Tell the fleet to hold its position. Open a communications channel to the Phoenix."

Heydrich was outraged. Subject Red had said that he would do as much a few hours ago in the ready room, but Heydrich didn't actually think he'd go through with it. "Admiral?"

Subject Red turned around and regarded him dangerously. "Open hailing frequencies to the Phoenix, Commander."

"You cannot be serious, Admiral!" exclaimed Heydrich, abandoning the Tactical computer and coming to stand by Subject Red. "That's the Phoenix! They're the ones who assassinated President Moray! Don't you remember? Kane, Jos, Crichton - all of them! That's their ship! We should open fire on them, not give them a chance to talk!"

"Obey my orders, Commander Heydrich!"snapped Subject Red.

Heydrich looked around. The bridge crew were all staring at him - most of them were Starfleet personnel, unaware that their officers were all Neo-Essentialists. Oh, you'll pay for that, you alien bastard, he thought to Subject Red. I'll kill you for humiliating me. He nodded to the Tellarite tacitcal officer. "Obey the Admiral's order, Lieutenant."

"Channel open," came the reply.

Subject Red drew himself up to his full height. "This is the USS Century calling the USS Phoenix," he said in a stentorian tone. "Are you there, Captain Kane? It's me, it's - "

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Location: USS Phoenix
Scene: Bridge


{{One minute to enemy weapons range,}} reported Byte.

"All hands, stand by for combat!" exclaimed Aerdan.

"Captain!" It was James Barton. "They're hailing us!"

Kane got up and turned to look at him. "Who is?"

"The Century, Captain," said Barton. "Coming on screen now."

Kane turned back to the viewscreen. As the image changed, his jaw dropped in total shock as he recognised the figure standing on the Century's bridge. It had been thirteen years since he'd seen him, and he was much older now, but there was no mistaking that bony, rust-coloured skin, those violet eyes, the swept-back graying hair.

{{Are you there, Captain Kane?}} came the familiar voice of the enemy Admiral.

Aerdan came down from the Tac station to stand behind him, likewise staring at the screen. He frowned and whispered, "Is that... is that a Vegan?"

{{It's me, Captain Kane,}} said the enemy commander. {{It's Dexter Juraj Marxx. You have twenty-four hours to surrender and stand down, or I will blow you out of the stars.}} Then the screen went blank.

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NRPG: Everyone say hello to Marko Sertic, an observer and guest writer for this story. Most of you probably remember Marko - former CO of the Century, active in the game for several years in the 1st edition Furpig between the late 1990s and early 2000s. Please ADD sertic@usa.com to your email strings for the rest of this story.

Dexter Juraj Marxx, the Neo-Essentialist commander, is a Vegan (planet Vega, not his dietary choice!). He has a bony and angular skeletal structure, which can, at first glance, be mistaken for Cardassian. Hiss skin is rust colored, stretched over angular bone protrusions and muscles. Marxx has violet eyes, but near the pupils his eyes turn a vivid color of red. His hair is swept back, flowing, and black. Physically, Marxx moves with great economy; no movement is wasted. Also, his physical form is very intimidating, a feature offset by his kind personality. Marxx resigned from Starfleet fifteen years ago to take up a position with the Vegan military. He has come out of retirement to lead the Neo-Essentialist fleet in its battle against us.

Everyone aboard the Phoenix is at their posts. Selyara is aboard the Demeter with Thoris, Sardak, and Alexander Towers.

No more backposting, please! We're moving forward, and you may well be left in the wake of this story if you don't start cranking out the posts. Consider what your characters' reactions will be to the arrival of the enemy fleet, at the knowledge that a Starfleet legend has come out of retirement to work against us, and how it feels to be staring down the barrel of his guns.


Jerome McKee
the Soul of Captain Michael Turlogh Kane
Commanding Officer
USS PHOENIX


"He speaks an infinite deal of nothing!"
- Shakespeare's "The Merchant of Venice", Act 1, Scene 1.117

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