Chapter 10
Briefing Room Delta
Starfleet Command Complex
Ki’Baratan
Romulus
As soon as the briefing room door closed, Ba'el heaved a sigh of relief and collapsed back in his chair. Unfastening the top button of his new uniform, he rubbed at the back of his neck. He'd thought the Ferengi would never leave.
He checked the chrono on the wall. Three hours, the damned troll had kept him here, asking him questions about the Hegemony, quoting his Rules of Acquisition and making lewd suggestions about the cadet who had been charged with bringing them raktojino and SluggoCola. By the end of it, Ba’el had a headache. All he wanted to do was climb into a bunk somewhere and sleep for a couple of weeks.
He settled for standing up from his chair and stretching. A day with Admiral Qwert would be too much. The months or years that they might be assigned to Onyx Station... Ba'el wasn't convinced both of them would survive.
The intercom system buzzed. Ba'el rolled his eyes and reached out to press the button. What now?
"Yes Ensign?"
"Commander Turner is here to see you, sir. She's... She's been waiting for quite a while."
Dammit. He had completely forgotten his appointment with the flight commander. Reaching up, he refastened the collar of his jacket. "Send her in."
He began to move round the table as the fighter pilot walked through the door. A tall, shapely human, Commander Turner wore a modified Starfleet uniform - a form fitting pair of trousers, a sleeveless dark grey t-shirt, and a zip up jacket. Instead of the purple lining of command, the jacket was lined in silver, as was the pin on the breast of her jacket, a pin that seemed to represent an exploding star. The whole was complemented by a leather cap pulled low over her black hair.
She met Ba’el half way, stopping short and saluting.
"Commander Gemma Turner, Starburst Squadron, reporting for duty, sir!"
"Relax, Commander," Ba’el said with a smile. He held out his hand. "Nice to meet you."
Turner grinned and grabbed Ba'el's hand in hers. "Sorry, sir. Never know if one of you fleeters is gonna be the stiff upper lip type."
Her smile was charming, and so infectious that Ba'el found himself smiling back. "Well, if I can set your mind at ease, I haven't been a fleeter for more than a day myself, and my lip is as loose as they come."
Turner laughed merrily. "I think I'm gonna like working with you, sir."
"Well, that’s what we’re here to discuss, isn’t it Commander?"
His words seemed to bring her back to the reality of her situation. She straightened. "Aye, sir."
He indicated she should take a seat. "Why don’t you sit down and tell me why you volunteered for this assignment?"
The captain studied her as he returned back to his own seat and sat down. She sat with her back straight, but obviously comfortable, her hands clasped in front of her, body angled towards him, her smile engaging. She's confident, I'll give her that.
She waited until he had sat down before speaking. "To tell you the truth, sir, I volunteered for this mission because this is it. The first real mission of the Federation. And I want to be a part of it."
Though he thought he knew what she meant, he frowned. "The first real mission? Why do you say that?"
"My family have quite a long history in Starfleet, sir. I grew up hearing my dad telling stories of my ancestors, especially of my great-great-great-great, well I’ll save you all of the greats, but suffice to say my grandmother’s uncle, Admiral Picard."
"Quite an illustrious predecessor."
Smiling again, she said, "I grew up on stories of the glory days of the old Federation, sir, stories of Picard. And Kirk. Pike and Janeway. Sulu and Calhoun. Var'tol and Jrenim. Dax and..."
Ba'el held up his hands, laughing. "Alright Commander, I think I get it. And you hope that if you join Redemption, you’ll get a chance to join that hallowed list?"
To his surprise, she shook her head. "No, sir. I hope that you will."
When she saw the expression on his face, she laughed. "You're the captain, Captain. I'll just be along for the ride." Her face grew serious. "Sir, to be honest, ever since the war ended and the Federation Charter was signed, I've been waiting for this. Waited for Starfleet to launch a real exploratory vessel on a mission of peace, of discovery. Instead, there've been more military frigates and transport ships. Don't get me wrong, I know how important all of that is and my squadron and I have gone where we were ordered and we've done our duty."
"Very well, from what I see here," Ba'el cut in, looking down at the padd that held her Starfleet file.
"Thank you, sir. I've got a good squad of people, with good ships. We get the job done. But this mission... This is the reason I enlisted in Starfleet, sir. New worlds and new civilisations, and all that. I have to be a part of that."
She seemed so earnest that Ba'el wanted to welcome her onboard straight away and put her out of her misery. Instead, he forced himself to nod gravely. "You do realise that the main objective is not exploration, don't you Commander? The Hegemony would be a formidable ally and bringing them into an alliance with us is our primary goal. If that doesn't happen... Well, we may need you to fight more than explore."
"I know that sir. I understand that things could go wrong, and I also understand that my primary role aboard ship is as a fighter pilot." She placed the emphasis on the fight part of the word fighter. "But just to be part of such a mission... It will be a dream come true."
Ba'el finally allowed himself a smile. "Well, I suppose I only have one more question - how soon can you and your people be onboard?"
She let out a wild peal of laughter, which she quickly smothered. "Sorry, sir."
"That's alright, Commander, I think you've..."
Before he could finish his sentence, an alert siren began to wail through the Command centre. Ba’el froze for a moment, then he reached for the intercom, but it buzzed before he could press the button. He answered quickly.
"What's going on, Ensign?"
"It's… It’s Klingons, sir. They're attacking the construction yards."
Ba'el and Turner shared a shocked glance. Turner spoke first, giving voice to what they were both thinking.
"Redemption."
Bridge
USS Redemption
First out onto the bridge, Kalara accepted a headset from one of the ensign's stationed outside the briefing room, slipping it over head and settling the rectangular viewfinder over her right eye.
"Status," she barked as her vision expanded to a forward view from the Redemption's saucer section. She moved to the rear of the bridge, taking up station behind the railing so that she would better be able to see and be seen by her crew.
Lieutenant L'wynd had descended into the Pit, the sunken central section of the bridge delimitated by the railing that ran all the way round it. She relieved the on-shift officer at the Tactical station, settling her own headset over her skull as her fingers danced over the holographic readout that floated in the air in front of her.
"It looks like we have fifteen enemy ships, Commander. Ten Kor-class birds of prey, two D'thar class cruisers, two Martok-class cruisers and..." She paused, then turned to look up at her commanding officer. "Commander, they have a Dominion Battlecruiser with them."
Kalara gritted her teeth. "General K’mpak."
"Commander, we're being hailed by the cruiser," Dax said from Ops.
"Don't answer yet," Kalara snapped, thinking furiously. K’mpak was a loyalist, he wouldn’t have launched this attack without at least tacit approval from the Empress herself. How did they get this far without being detected, though? She shook her head. Later. "Lieutenant, what are the ships doing?"
The tactical officer’s eyes seemed to glaze over as she called up the information on her headset display. "They launched an initial attack on one of the planet's defence platforms, destroying it. Now they just seem to be holding station."
Kalara nodded. K’mpak wants up to know that he can get through our defences. "Very well, Lieutenant Dax, open a channel."
The view outside the Redemption was replaced almost immediately by the scarred face of General K’mpak. Behind him she could make out the dimly lit bridge of a D’thar cruiser. Of course, he would not stoop to commanding an alien’s vessel, even one that he captured himself. Kalara knew the general by reputation only - he had a singular hatred for any Klingon who 'abandoned' the Empire. He had claimed responsibility for any number of brutal attacks on planets, shipping routes and colony worlds. K’mpak's father was also the leader of the House of Martok, an influential member of the Council and one of the key proponents of the Empire's withdrawal from the Alliance after the end of the Occupation.
The general wore a self-satisfied smile on his face, but it vanished when he saw Kalara.
"You!"
Kalara frowned. "I don't believe we've met, General. However, maybe you'd like to tell me what the hell you are doing in Federation space?"
K’mpak glared at her and even across the coldness of space, she could feel his hatred. She would have expected it considering how he felt about her people, but this seemed somehow... personal.
Before she could push the general any further, K’mpak vanished with a snarled command.
"They've broken communications, sir," Dax said, at the same time as L'wynd warned, "They're moving into an attack formation, Commander. Powering weapons."
Ianto had remained on the bridge, and now he stepped over beside Kalara, his voice pitched low. "We're no match for that cruiser, Commander."
Kalara nodded. "Agreed. But if we stay in here we're targ meat."
The android looked at her for a moment, then nodded. "I'll be down in engineering."
As he moved off towards the turbolift, Kalara gripped the railing and looked down into the Pit.
"Lieutenant L'wynd."
The Crystat officer turned her beautiful carved face up to Kalara. "Commander."
Last chance, Kalara thought. You can still decide to turn tail and run. The very thought was laughable, though, and she knew it. Even if the ship were not in danger, there was no way she could abandon the construction yards, space station and planet to the mercy of these p’tagh.
Fighting back a sigh, she gave the order. "Bring weapons on line. Raise shields."
The lieutenant didn't even hesitate, pressing her palm to the holographic readouts and spinning them around to face her. "Aye, sir."
Kalara moved her eyes, instructing the headset to tap into Starbase 2's sensor grid. The images unfurled before her - she watched as the Klingon ships separated into multiple attack wings, going after their individual targets, phaser banks dealing death and destruction with every hateful volley. Kalara wondered coldly whether this was how war started - in fire and anger and fear.
"Defence systems on line," L'wynd reported, slicing through Kalara's thoughts.
The bridge seemed to freeze as every officer held their breath in anticipation of her next order. Kalara said a silent prayer to the gods. Then she smiled.
"Helm. Take us out."
Tunnels beneath Starfleet Command
Ki’Baratan
Romulus
Ba’el followed Turner through the underground tunnels towards the docking bay buried deep beneath Ki’Baratan. Her cap had fallen off in their flight from the briefing room and she clutched it in her hands, her dark hair bouncing as she ran. They had left almost the moment that the ensign had announced the Klingons’ arrival in orbit, just as the green death of Klingon phaser beams had begun to illuminate the planetary shield above them. Turner had led her new commanding officer to a high clearance turbolift that carried them down to these tunnels, explaining they were the quickest way to reach the docking bay where her fighters were waiting.
The ceiling above them shook, plaster crumbling and raining around them, as the sounds of multiple explosions echoed through the tight enclosed space. They both paused for a moment as the lights flickered off and on, Ba’el reaching out to place his palm against the reassuring stone of the tunnel walls.
“A lucky shot,” Turner said uneasily, as they set off again, turning left at an intersection.
“How are they getting through the planet’s defences so easily?” Ba’el wondered out loud.
Turner shrugged. “It doesn’t matter, the fact is they’re doing it.”
Ba’el nodded, but he knew that once this was all over, he was going to be asking the question again. If we get out of this, he told himself.
Minutes later, the two officers burst through a double door and into the docking bay. Chaos greeted them, a cacophony of shouted orders, throbbing machinery and yowling engines. Men and women in the black jumpsuits of Starfleet NCO’s, mechanics for the most part, ran every which way, carrying tools and spare parts, faces fearful but determined. The strong smell of repulsordrive fuel and burning ozone fired Ba’el’s memory, sending him back to countless other docking bays on more planets and starships than he could number. The memories were almost overwhelming.
He forced them away anyway, following Turner across the vast, cavernous space to a dozen or so pilots who stood patiently by a similar number of Hornet-class starfighters. The grey and white vessels resembled the old Starfleet Valkyrie fighters, right down to the bat-like wings that surmounted the cockpit. Each and every pilot was already decked out in their flight gear and they all stood to attention as Turner and Ba’el arrived.
“All pilots present and accounted for, sir,” a short Bolian barked.
Turner nodded to the man, obviously her XO, then turned to her pilots. “Mount up, Starburst Squadron.”
“Yes sir,” they all said in a chorus.
As they watched the pilots scramble for their fighters, Ba’el saw conflicting expressions of pride and concern warring on Turner’s face. I definitely made the right choice, he thought.
“Don’t worry, Commander,” he said gently, reminded of how he had felt every time he led his men out to risk their lives. “You said it yourself, they’re a good group of men and women.”
“I know sir.” She turned and looked at them. “I could say the same to you, sir. We’ll take care of your ship. You just sit tight.”
He shook his head. “You may not know this, Commander, but I spent the first eleven years in the Resistance piloting old J-class fighters against Dominion Battlecruisers. There is no way I’m staying planetside.”
“If I was a fleeter, I’d be telling you that you’re the Captain and you can’t be risked,” Turner reminded him.
“But you’re not a fleeter, are you?”
“No sir.” She grinned, then she craned her neck, whipping her head around looking for something. Finally she found what she had been searching for. Or rather who. “Cable. Get your butt over here.”
A short Ferengi in mechanic’s fatigues, face smeared with grease and oil, stopped his mad dash towards one of the Hornet’s and began to jog towards them instead. The NCO was a little overweight, and he was breathing heavily by the time he arrived.
“What can I do for you, Commander Turner, ma’am?”
“Get Garibaldi’s Hornet prepped for flight.” She pointed at Ba’el. “Captain Sarine is flying out with us.”
The Ferengi gave Ba’el the once over. He didn’t look impressed. “You sure he’s up to it?”
“You questioning me, mister?”
“No sir, ma’am. My moogie always told me, never question a lady in uniform,” Cable said with a grin. He turned to Ba’el. “Well, come on then.”
Ba’el saluted Turner, then jogged after Cable. The Ferengi darted in and out of the crazed service crew, leading him over to another of the starfighters that was sitting on its own in a corner of the bay. The moment they arrived, Ba’el began to peel off his Starfleet uniform, while Cable started to fuel up the fighter.
“So why’s this one on its own?” Ba’el asked, throwing his jacket on a nearby chair and beginning to unbutton his trousers.
“Refit. It got banged up pretty good when Lieutenant Garibaldi bit the bullet.”
“Bit the bullet?”
“Hey, you spent time around enough hu-mons, you start to pick up the lingo.”
“I guess so.”
While Cable finished prepping the Hornet, two or three other NCOs hurried over, carrying a flightsuit, headset and helmet. Ba’el threw his trousers on a nearby chair, then began to shimmy into the protective flightsuit. He accepted the comm device to stick in his ear and a headset with viewscreen which he snapped over his eye. It flashed to life immediately, providing him with a scrolling description of his fighter’s specifications. He blinked rapidly, turning the damn thing off. He’d only turn it on when he needed it.
He allowed the NCOs to fit the helmet over his head and seal it carefully. By the time they had finished, Cable had completed work on the Hornet. He saluted awkwardly. “She’s all yours, Cap’n.”
“Thank you, Cable.”
Climbing up the staircase, he settled into the cockpit, strapping himself in. Once he was in, a crackle came over the comm. line.
“You alright in there, Captain?”
He looked over to the other fighters and could just make out Turner in her own cockpit. “I tell you what Commander. How about for the duration of this mission, you call me Joker.”
“Joker?”
“My old Resistance call-sign.”
“You got it, Cap- I mean Joker. You can call me Scarlet.”
“Scarlet?”
“Yeah. That sound funny?” Her tone was playful.
“No, Commander Scarlet. Not at all.”
“Good.” Her voice grew serious. “You sure you know how to fly that thing?”
He glanced down at the controls. One thing he had learned in the Resistance, where he had been forced to grow familiar with human, Klingon, Romulan and even Dominion small-ranger fighters, was that the majority of them were remarkably similar when it came down to the basic controls. “I should be able to work it out.”
“Alright then.” Another crackle, then he heard Turner’s voice again. “You with me Starburst Squadron? Check in.”
“Starburst 2, checking in.”
“Starburst 3, present.”
He listened as all of the pilots confirmed their presence one after another, each one using a slightly different wording. When they had all finished, he spoke up. The feeling of nostalgia was almost a tangible presence beside him.
“Joker 1, loud and clear.”
“Okay Starburst Squadron. We’ve got Klingons bombarding us from orbit, so watch your six on your way up. Once we break orbit, you follow my lead and Captain Sarine’s, you got me? And watch for friendly fire, hopefully Starbase 2 will have scrambled her defences by now.”
Ba’el was amazed at the change in the flight commander. The friendly, engaging young woman was gone, replaced by a consummate professional. Ba’el had flown with men and women like that throughout his career. He just hoped he had been half as good a commander as Turner seemed to be. And that you’ll be half as good a starship captain.
“Alright then,” she said once everyone had confirmed her orders. “Fire ‘em up and let’s get up there.”
With a slight tremor in his hand, Ba’el flipped the switch, activating the repulsor drive. He felt the Hornet spring to life, filling his ears with a familiar dull, trembling, throb. Closing his eyes, he said a silent prayer to his ancestors to watch over him. You see, Father, you did teach me one thing. Then he opened his eyes, engaged the repulsors and followed the other starfighters out of the bay.