USS Pétain

“I would take this opportunity to remind you that Pétain is an Oculus-class reconnaissance vessel, not a combat-rated starship,” Lieutenant Sonel offered to his commanding officer in a subdued tone.

He sat next to Lt. Commander Raffaele at the combined Helm/Ops station situated at the front of the scout’s cramped command center.

Raffaele nodded sagely at his XO’s counsel. “I have never been more aware of our ship’s limitations than at this moment, my friend,” he replied soberly.

“Then wouldn’t the logical course of action here be to withdraw from the path of the Cardassian advance and utilize our superior sensor suite to keep Starfleet apprised of their movement and course of deployment, sir?”

“Eminently logical, Mister Sonel. My congratulations to you on your multi-faceted grasp of our present tactical situation.”

That, Sonel knew from long experience, translated to, ‘I’ve heard your argument and I’m going to do what I want anyway.’ Nevertheless, the Vulcan had said his peace.

Raffaele piloted Pétain slowly through the harrowing jumble of asteroids that comprised the Desarn Belt, an accretion disc of proto-planetary debris in the inner regions of the Loval system. This system had been identified as the site of an as-yet unfounded Federation colony, intended to be established on the Class-M fourth planet within the next six months. However, Loval had also been selected by the advancing Cardassian Second Order as an excellent staging area for launching attacks on its neighboring star systems which did support existing Federation colonies.

“We and the other Starfleet ships in the area have seeded the border with sensor drones and Command has doubtless re-tasked the Archimedes Array to surveil this whole region. That makes us largely superfluous. I won’t sit idly by in relative safety while our colonists are crushed under the Cardassian boot. The situation demands we take greater risks in order to slow the assault.”

Raffaele toggled a directed comms-laser to one of the ship’s three work-bees which hovered near the surface of the asteroid Pétain herself was using for concealment. “Chief, how goes your progress?”

Chief Petty Officer Makwetu replied, “It’s coming along, Captain. We’ll have the lifepods joined and anchored in the next hour. We’ll need additional tritanium to shield the fusion reactor from sensors if we want to remain undetected, though.”

“If there isn’t enough in stores, you can strip out whatever interior bulkheads in the ship you need to in order to make it work,” Raffaele directed.

“Aye, sir.”

Raffaele turned to direct his gaze on Sorel. “Please begin preparations for evacuation, Lieutenant. The crew has one hour. Space will be limited, so no personal belongings. Our temporary lodgings may have to suffice for days or weeks.”

“Immediately, Captain.” Sorel paused. “May I inquire as to how your plan is going to be executed, sir?”

“Not quite yet, Lieutenant,” was Raffaele’s patient reply. “Soon, though.”

USS Sagan

“Incoming message from Bluefin, sir. They report they’ve carried out a hit and run attack on the Second Order’s left wing. Two Cardassian cruisers reported damaged, and a troop transport crippled.” The communications officer shot a pointed glance at the captain. “Bluefin’s sustained significant damage to her impulse drive and has had to withdraw for repairs. She’s set course to rendezvous with Thevid.”

“Acknowledged,” Tinubu said, perhaps more brusquely that she’d intended. The others were doing their part, and now it was her turn to take her ship and trainee crew into harm’s way. Contemplating that rash course had been one thing, but as she looked around at the fresh faces of the cadets manning some of the auxiliary stations on the bridge, Tinubu experienced a brief pang of regret. How many of these young people would die under her command? People who might have gone on to have fulfilling careers and long lives, instead sacrificing their futures on the altar of her hubris.

“Relay my compliments to Captain Reninger. That’s one hell of a tally for an old cutter.”

“That’s going to be our group,” Morozov noted from his station. “Their course indicates that they’re heading for the Arandis system. They’ve now passed out of Bluefin’s area of operations.”

“Second Order’s projected ETA to Arandis?” Tinubu asked.

“Fifteen hours if they slow to accommodate their damaged ships, seven hours if they leave them to catch up.”

“We’ll call it seven hours, then,” Tinubu declared. “Now that we’re setting defenses in place, every minute counts. They won’t dally.” She turned to th’Skaar. “What are their numbers?”

“Four Gedik-class cruisers, five Likasa-class destroyers, six frigates and eight personnel transports.”

Tinubu gestured to the communications officer. “Inform McAuliffe that Arandis looks to be the initial thrust for this wing of the attack. We’ll need them to back us up if it looks like Tageta or Maia aren’t priority Cardassian targets.” To th’Skaar she said, “Commander, lay in a course to Nehru Colony at maximum speed. I want to implement your contingency plan for landing additional personnel to assist with the colony’s surface defense.”

She dared not give voice to it, but Tinubu wanted to ensure that even if Sagan were destroyed defending the colony, there would still Starfleet personnel on the surface to augment the colony’s civilian constabulary. Their contribution to the colony’s defense might only be measured in hours, but those hours might make all the difference.

“Yes, sir. I’ll have Lieutenant Wójcik begin making a list of candidates for the surface team.”

“You still awake?”

Lar’ragos lay atop his bunk on the other side of the cabin, staring at the ceiling. After a moment he replied, “Yes. Why?”

“Is being on alert always this dull?” Sandhurst asked.

A chuckle prefaced Lar’ragos’ reply. “No idea.” He turned his head and could just make out the pensive expression on Sandhurst’s youthful face in the dim light. “Hey, it’s my first time, too,” he added. “If I had to guess, though, they’ve stepped us down to yellow alert until we actually make contact with the Cardassians. The next time we go to battle stations, there’ll be shooting.”

“What’s it like? Combat, I mean?”

“Well, I’ve never been in ship-to-ship combat where I was a participant. I’ve been a passenger on ships that were attacked a few times. That’s all about naked terror and helplessness. I would imagine it’s pretty close to the simulations we’ve been running.”

“Okay,” Sandhurst countered. “What about surface combat?”

There was a long pause, followed by the El Aurian’s deep sigh. “Also terror, just a different flavor. On the ground it’s all confusion and chaos, mostly. Regardless of all the technology they weigh you down with, there’s still too much going on to really understand the full picture when you’re in the thick of it. If you’re advancing or defending with a defined front, that’s one thing, but when it all goes sideways, and it always does, it turns into stumbling about and bumping into the enemy. Then when you find them, you try to neutralize them before they do you.”

“Neutralize?” Sandhurst sounded dubious. “You mean kill, don’t you?”

“No, not necessarily. Our phasers wouldn’t come with a stun setting, otherwise.”

“And will the Cardassians also have their weapons set to stun?” The tone of his voice suggested Sandhurst already knew the answer.

“Probably not,” Lar’ragos conceded. “The Federation’s idea of warfare is a bit… unconventional, at least in my experience.”

“You were a soldier,” Sandhurst said. Not a question, but a statement.

“I was. Very long ago, and very far from here.”

Sandhurst turned his head, studying Lar’ragos’ silhouette in the soft glow of a nearby LCARS panel. “Were you any good at it?”

“I’m still here,” Lar’ragos replied laconically.

“Commander Morozov said I’m going down to the surface. He says he needs me to help set up phaser-emplacements, shield emitters, things like that.”

“Yeah, you went and proved yourself useful,” Lar’ragos said with a chuckle. “That was your first mistake.”

“What about you?”

“Me? No need for a junior science cadet down there. I’d guess they’ll find more use for me up here doing damage control or something.”

“But you were a soldier,” Sandhurst protested.

“I was, emphasis on past-tense,” Lar’ragos riposted. “Now I’m a Starfleet cadet. If you’ve been paying attention, you’ll know that comes with a great many rules and behavioral expectations.”

A long silence followed, and just as Lar’ragos began to let his mind wander and drift towards sleep…

“I’m scared,” Sandhurst confessed. It wasn’t a plaintive admission, merely a statement of fact.

“Me too,” Lar’ragos said.