Join Date: Oct 2013
Posts: 1,573
Hello and welcome to another edition of our writers' challenges!

Today we start the two-week run of the sixty-first Literary Challenge: The Final Battle with a special shout out for this topic to 'moonshadowdark' for posting this idea from our Player Suggested Topics thread.
The Final Battle

This is it. Everything has brought you to this moment. Repelling the Borg Collective, taking the Dyson Sphere, fighting the True Way and New Dominion. All of it has led you here, to this empty space. The Iconians have sent a message. They are ending this. You and your crew have been chosen to lead the forces of the Klingons, Romulans and Federation. The Iconians, Undine, Solonae will be coming through soon enough. This is the final battle captains. Write a log about your feelings of leading the charge or write how the battle turns out. Who wins? Who survives? Who do you lose in the process? It's time, Captains. Prepare for the Battle of STO!
This is the writer's thread -- only entries should be made here.
The Discussion Thread can be found HERE.
We also have an Index of previous challenges HERE.

The rules may change from one challenge to another, but I'd like to remind everyone what the base rules are. These may grow as we move on, so also feel free to give feedback!
  • Each Challenge will run for two weeks. For 2 weeks we will sticky the challenge and let you make your entry.
  • There are no right or wrong entry.
  • The background story, questions I ask, and format requested are only to serve as a platform that you can start your writing from. Feel free to change up the back-story or the way you deliver, as long as the entry stays on topic of the original challenge.
  • Write as little or as much as you would like.
  • Please keep discussion about the entries in the appropriate Discussion Thread.
  • In the Discussion Thread, feel free to write what inspired you and what your thoughts on the topic are.
  • A few other important reminders:
    • Please heed the rest of the forum's rules when submitting your entry! All of them apply to these posts.
    • Each poster can have one entry. Feel free to edit your post to fix typos or add/ remove content as you see fit during the next two weeks.
    • After two weeks time, the thread will be locked and unstickied, as we move on to the next challenge.
    • We'll have two threads: One to post the entries in and one to discuss the entries. **Cross-linking between these two threads is acceptable for these challenges ONLY!!**

Last edited by pwecaptainsmirk; 03-18-2014 at 07:19 PM.
Survivor of Romulus
Join Date: Aug 2013
Posts: 9,380
# 2
03-18-2014, 08:33 PM
This is something of a humorous story. Mad props to moonshadowdark, who came up with part of the Admiral Quinn/Lieutenant Davis dialogue.

This is NOT coterminious with my other stories. A sort of funny side-story, if you will, not meant to be taken seriously and not effecting the main timeline of my stories.
USS George Takei (Avenger-class battlecruiser). Location: Earth spacedock. Sol system.

Captain Nemesis unit designation Three looked at the viewscreen, and the gargantuan Elachi/Iconian attack fleet pictured on it. And smiled.

"Sir?" asked Commander Azip Shran, first officer and ex-MACO trooper. "Reinforcements are thirty minutes away. It's just us, the Goliath, and the Iliad. Orders are to prevent the Iconians from taking Earth."



"That Iconian command cruiser, the flagship. It's marked Glorious vengeance of the invincible glory of the inevitably victorious might of the Inevitable wrath of the invincible sword of Supreme High Lord Inevitably-Fated-for-Greatness. It's SHLIFFG and his guys again. I owe that guy a painful death."

"Sir, that command cruiser is three times the size of the Goliath, and that's a Voth Bulwark-class! There's a fleet of...five thousand Elachi ships, including sixty dreadnoughts, with battleship and escort support craft, and six hundred Iconian ships--mostly dreadnoughts, too. We can take some of the Elachi ships, especially with Goliath, and Iliad can use the Shohl Maneuver to cut a trail through that fleet, but that Iconian command ship is easily the size of Earth Spacedock if not larger!"

"Can you locate its Omega Core?"

"...yes, sir."

"And if we ram right through it, releasing a pulse of Omega antiparticles, can we prevent them from detonating?"

"...yes, sir, but even if we could do that, the breach and the matter-antimatter reaction would rip that ship apart with us inside."

"Awesome. Ready the anti-Omega device, detonate it on my command. Computer, transfer helm controls to manual, play music selection Three pi alpha, and turn lights to red."

"Sir! Are you insane?!"

Three turned and grinned at the Andorian woman. It was altogether too cheery.

"Yeah. We've established that, with me doing stunts like the living grenade and the unit cannonball. Gamat'Elon, hail the Iconian flagship GVOTIGOTIVMOTIWOTISOSHLIFFG."

"...on screen, sir."

"Awesome." Three grabbed the joystick. "Hey, Supreme Idiot Lord Your-mom-f***s-algae! You there?"

The slender, mustachioed face of the Iconian SHLIFFG (abbreviated for convenience) appeared on the viewscreen with an evil sneer.

"You! Pathetic, inferior servitor being! How could you possibly survive the glorious might of my telekinesis?"

"Well, ***hat, it's because Pure Awesomeness knows no bounds, and I owe you a painful death or seven." Three rammed the joystick forwards. The George Takei sped for the Iconian command ship like a bat out of hell. "Oh, and one thing you didn't account for?"

"What?" asked the Iconian, clearly confused.


George Takei launched a tachyon pulse, momentarily dropping the behemoth cruiser's shields. Three struck a pose and shrieked with glee. A torpedo volley up the tubes of the ship's planet killer caused a rather dramatic explosion, ripping open the front of the hull. Commander Azip Shran held her breath, closed her eyes, and pressed the "release" button as the battlecruiser sped for the Omega core.
Three days later. Starfleet Command.

Fleet Admiral Jorel Quinn was having a rather bad day, which was interesting considering that the universe was freshly saved from Iconian domination.

"Okay so, explain this again, lieutenant. She actually put the ship under manual control and RAMMED the Iconian flagship?"

"Yes, Admiral."

"She RAMMED it."

"Yes, Admiral."

"And for some strange reason, she managed to cut through it like it was soft cheese and the Iconian ship was destroyed while her ship was unscathed."

"Yes, Admiral."

"That doesn't seem physically possible."

"We actually have a recording from her Engineering staff who said the exact same thing."

Lieutenant Thomas W. Davis pressed a button on his PADD. The voice of the Tellarite Commander Belkrab (chief engineer, USS George Takei) was clearly audible.


Davis tapped his PADD again. Fleet Admiral Jorel Quinn rested his head in his hands.

"Oh, my god..."

"Sorry, sir."

"Why the hell couldn't a SANE captain save us? I mean, she's great, and obeys my orders to the letter, and all, but...damn it, man, she's completely insane!"

"Yes, sir."

"Damn it. Any casualties?"

Davis consulted his PADD. "None, sir."

"No way."

"Two men injured on USS Ragnarok, one broken leg on the Iliad. Otherwise, only enemy casualties."


"She said something about a Captain Picard Nature Of Humanity speech. Said she wasn't sure if it had worked until about halfway through the fight."

"I think my head is going to explode."

"Sorry, sir."

"Well, at least there's only one of her. Heh, probably always will be, too. What are the odds that another woman will appear in a beam of blue light out of the sky and break a hole in the floor of a shuttlebay?"

Davis watched in horror over the Admiral's shoulder and through his soundproof window as a hulking, dark-haired woman in a black bodysuit with a strange symbol--like a wheel with a slice removed from it--appeared in a blue beam of light that seemed to come out of nowhere, crashed into the floor of Starfleet Command's shuttlebay, and caused a rather large crater.


"I know, right? The chances are about as good as my window exploding for no reason right about now..."

The window exploded and Davis ducked for cover as some trigger-happy idiot shot off a shuttle's phaser, causing an explosion that blew the woman up and through the window. When the dust cleared, Davis peeked up hesitantly to see the huge woman raising a struggling Fleet Admiral Quinn into the air with an easy hand.

"I am Nemesis," said the woman in a voice as cold as Andoria's poles. "Where the hell is my clone?"

Even through her iron grip, Admiral Quinn managed a scream of...well, something.
Here's another one. Again, has no effect on the continuity of my other fics, but this one's more serious than the other one.
Hate could scream.

Odd, that. Apparently most people's hatred didn't have an actual voice.

Vice Admiral D'trel ir'Aehallah tr'Rihannsu clutched the arms of her chair with a white-knuckled grip as her hate screamed in the voice of her lost love. On the Vengeance's viewscreen, the assembled fleet of the Elachi and the Iconian Empire waited before Mol'Rihan.

"First Omek'ti'kallan?"


"How about you lead us in a Jem'Hadar war chant? Zel, call Engineering and tell them to prepare the Armageddon Device."

"Yes, sir," said the Breen with some trepidation. D'trel looked at Omek.

"I am First Omek'ti'kallan, and I am dead. We are all dead. We go into battle to reclaim our lives! Praise Odo'ital! Praise His glory! Victory is life!"

"Hail the fleet."

"Channel open," said Chief Science Officer Nelen Exil.

"Attention all ships. This is Vice Admiral D'trel ir'Aehallah tr'Rihannsu, commanding officer IRW Vengeance. We're going to use the antimatter singularity on the Iconian fleet in a suicide run. The subspace blast should take out their fleet without serious damage to Mol'Rihan. Goodbye. Exil, shut that off. Zel, full speed ahead."

Kill them, screamed her hate in Adani's voice. Kill them all!

Vengeance surged forwards, Omek quietly singing the Hymn of Glorious Odo'ital's Victorious Wrath.
Iconian flagship.

Indomitable Grand Supreme High Emperor Invincibly-Wrathful-one-who-is-Inevitably-Fated-for-Unforgettable-Glory-and-Might threw back his mustachioed head and laughed maniacally as the little warbird streaked out of formation.

"High Lord Fated-for-a-Glorious-Life, lock all weapons on that Romulan ship. Prepare transphasic chroniton torpedoes. Eliminate the servitor scum!"

"Yes, O Indomitable Grand Supreme--what the???"

"What? What happened?"

"They disappeared from sensors! Why, in the name of the Ten Fates whose inevitable fingers turn the Thuribles of Destiny, would they cloak now?"

"Flanking maneuver?"

"No, that ship isn't powerful enough to do that alone, and more cloaked ships would cause interference we could detect."


"No, O exalted one. I have no idea."

"Ready all weapons. Antiproton turrets, tetryon pulse cannons, nanite disruptor beams, transphasic chroniton torpedoes--EVERYTHING! As soon as they decloak, fire! Annihilate them!"
The Vengeance. Bridge.

"Alright," said D'trel quietly. "We've only got one shot at this. As soon as we decloak, they'll kill us. Is the device ready?"

"Daysnur here," came a voice over the intercom. "It's ready. We sure this'll work?"

"The scientists say so. And we're pretty sure the Iconians don't know about it, either; we took all of our most paranoid precautions with this. Alright, load the device into one of the torpedo tubes."

"All done, sir. We're ready to fire on your command."

"Excellent. Omek?"


"Transfer weapons controls to my console. I'm going to ram this thing down their throats."

As the Armageddon device left the torpedo tube, the Vengeance was forced to decloak for only a couple of seconds. It was, however, enough.

So this is how I go, thought Vice Admiral D'trel ir'Aehallah tr'Rihannsu as the Iconian flagship lit up with weapons fire. She wasn't scared, for some reason. No, she peace. Funny, that.

As the first Iconian torpedo, fired a little early, impacted with the Armageddon device, causing it to detonate instantly, D'trel realized that, for the first time in over sixty years, the hate was gone.

The detonation ripped through the Iconian flasghip, tearing it apart and pulling the pieces into the singularity's gravity well. Elachi ships fired subspace waves at the Vengeance. Jak screamed something from Engineering.

Never thought I'd go out this way, thought D'trel. But damn it, this is a good way to die.

Then the shockwave from the antimatter singularity's explosion hit the little warbird at the same time as the Elachi weapons and the Iconian torpedoes, and everything went black.
First Omek'ti'kallan awoke. This alone was unusual enough.

Even more unusual was the faint electric shocks to his legs. He looked down (painfully) and saw that this was because his legs were embedded in a bridge console.

Omek moaned, whispered a prayer of thanks to Odo'ital, and hauled himself from the console. A computer-scrambled whimper and a slight shift of motion announced the awakening of Subcommander Zel, who was embedded in the remains of the viewscreen.

"Praise to Odo'ital. Praise His blessings, praise His might." Omek tried to stand, but found himself unable to do so.

A clanking sound came from a Jefferies tube, and a grate hit the floor with a loud clang. Second Daysnur rolled out and hit the floor with a crash and a curse.

"Second. We are alive."

"Yeah. Not sure how the hell that happened, but Jak has a few theories." Zel peeled xirself from the viewscreen and slipped to the ground with a crash and a groan. "You check the Admiral, I'll see if I can get that debris off of Nelen Exil."

"Good idea, Second. Casualties?"

"Uhlan D'vax was hit by a plasma leak, killed instantly. Lieutenant Korath was thrown across Engineering and broke his neck. We're searching the ship now. Last I checked the guys in Sickbay were still out cold."

"Praise Odo'ital," said Omek. "May He light the way to glory for our dead with His glorious light. May His will come to pass and His name be praised!"

The Admiral's body was tangled with the remains of her chair. Omek used a laser saw that Daysnur had brought with him to very, very carefully cut apart the twisted metal to get at her.

She was alive.

Omek nearly wept right then and there, cradling her lithe body. Her heart was beating, she was breathing; despite the blood and bruising, she was alive.

Her legs were twisted the wrong way, though. And her back looked...bent, perhaps a little farther than was healthy.

"I am taking the Admiral to Sickbay. How is Third Exil?"

"He's fine. Banged up, broken ribs, but alive. How's...oh, no."

"Stay here! Get the bridge crew awake, keep sending out search parties. I will take her to Sickbay!"

Daysnur took a step for Omek, tears in his eyes. Then he shook himself and nodded, turning back to the wheezing Voth.

"Be quick, Jem'Hadar."

The turbolift was working, barely. It seemed that emergency power and life support were online. First Omek'ti'kallan sang a hymn of praise to Odo'ital as the turbolift lurched slowly down.

Subcommander Jak was fiddling with some rather disturbing glowing batteries and an EPS conduit when Omek walked into Sickbay.

"OK, try it now!"

There was a slow hum, and the ship flickered to life.

"Yeah, baby! Work with that, get the core back online ASAP! Oh, hey, Omek, how's the--oh, no."

"I believe that her legs are broken, but she is alive. Subcommander Viasa!"

"Yeah?" The Reman doctor took one look at the Admiral and swore. "On the biobed, now. Her legs are broken, looks like her back, too. Omek, back to the bridge; Jak, engine room. I need to focus to have a chance of fixing this."
D'trel woke up.

Odd. She'd been ready to die. Hell, everything had gone black.

"Lie still, sir," said Viasa as D'trel tried to rise. It hurt. A lot. But not below the waist, which was odd. "You broke both your legs and severed your spine."

"The crew?"

"Ten confirmed deaths. A bunch of injuries, but none as serious as yours, sir. Whatever threw us for a loop, it hit us hard. We're damn lucky we came out as well as we did."

"We were within the blast radius. Elachi subspace waves were about to hit us. There were Iconian transphasic chroniton torpedoes closing in. How are we still alive?"

"No clue, sir. Don't try to sit up."

"How bad is it?"

Viasa sighed.

"Your legs should heal, sir, broke your back. You'll be extremely lucky if you ever walk again."

"Fine. What about the fleet? Mol'Rihan?"

"No idea. Astrometrics is working on finding out where we are. Omek has the Bridge."

"Good. Elements, I hope we won!"

And for the first time in decades, D'trel ir'Aehallah tr'Rihannsu grinned and chuckled.

"I wouldn't worry about that, sir. The last video we have from the viewscreen shows the Iconian fleet being torn apart and sucked in by the device. You did it, sir."

The Rihannsu woman lay back, smiling faintly.

"Yeah. I guess I did."
IRW Vengeance bridge.

First Omek'ti'kallan was admiring the freshly-repaired viewscreen when five D'deridex-class warbirds and a Scimitar-class dreadnought dropped out of warp and powered weapons.

"By the grace of Odo'ital, may His name be praised! Is the cloak online?"

"No, sir!" shouted Daysnur. "We need another hour, at least!"

"Subcommander," said Zel nervously. "We are being hailed by the dreadnought!"

"On screen. Praise be to Odo'ital, may His light shine upon all."

A Rihannsu face, hawklike and brown-eyed, with pale brown hair and faint forehead ridges, appeared on the viewscreen in a Republic military uniform.

"Unidentified warbird, this is RRW Vindication. You are violating the space of the Rihannsu Republic. Please identify yourself immediately or we will open fire!"

Omek shot a look at Daysnur, who mouthed Alias.

"I am First Omek'ti'kallan, and I serve Admiral Do'eth ir'Virinat at the orders of glorious Odo'ital, may His name be praised and His will come to pass. The Admiral broke her legs and is in Sickbay at the moment. What of Mol'Rihan? How fared the battle against the Iconians?"

"Liar. Your ship's transponder codes match none in my registry, and your commander apparently doesn't exist. You have ten seconds to give me a reason to not shoot you."

Daysnur was making frantic gestures. Omek'ti'kallan tried his best to interpret them.

"We surrender."


"We surrender. Please prepare to beam us aboard. The Admiral is in sickbay, please be careful with her."

"Give me one reason why I should trust you to not try to take my ship when I beam you aboard."

"That is a Scimitar-class dreadnought warbird. You have more than five times the crew of our ship, and we have many injuries."

The Romulan woman sighed.

"Point, that. Alright. First Omek'ti'kallan, I, Adani ir'Aethra tr'Harvannsu, do hereby accept your unconditional surrender, and do hereby promise to treat you and your men as directed by Republic prisoner guidelines. Please prepare to be beamed aboard."

Daysnur, wide-eyed with shock for somne reason, opened his mouth to say something, but then he and everyone else on the ship disintegrated and was beamed out.

Omek, Zel, and Nelen Exil materialized on a transporter pad on the bridge of the dreadnought. Adani ir'Aethra was standing in front of them with her arms crossed.

"Alright. Down to business. What the hell are a Voth, a Breen, a Jem'Hadar, a bunch of Klingons, a Nausicaan, and a Lethean doing on a purported Republic ship?"

"The Admiral is a Republic liason to the KDF. As for myself, I am under orders from Glorious Odo'ital, may His glorious light guide us through our troubles, to serve the Admiral. Zel...respects the Admiral. Xe will not say why xe joined up with us, not even to settle Daysnur's betting pools. Subcommander Exil is a Voth defector, stationed on the Vengeance both for relative safety and to put his expertise to use."

"Huh. Sounds--oh, hang on." Her communicator buzzed. "Yeah?"

"Satra here, Vice Admiral. The injured Rihannsu has a broken back, but she's awake. You'd better come on down and talk to her, sir. The Lethean insists that you do so, quickly. He's rather agitated."

"On my way. Security, send a team to Sickbay just in case. You three, follow me."

They entered the turbolift, and the doors hissed shut.

"Oh, and Satra? Can you double-check the woman's name? She's coming up as a total blank on our databases."

"She told me when we beamed her aboard, sir. It's D'trel ir'Aehallah tr'Rihannsu."

"Satra? Tell me something."

"Yes, sir?"

"Do you want me to space you?"


The Romulan's voice was frigid and her teeth were grinding.

"Do you want me to space you? Or are you just stupid, to think that I'll believe that that's her name."

"Sir? She told me herself, that's her name!"

The Romulan snarled. "In that case, I'm going to kill her. D'trel ir'Aehallah tr'Rihannsu has been dead for over sixty years."

The doors hissed open, and she stormed out. Omek followed, the Voth and the Breen stumbling after him.

"Commander, I can assure you that that really is the Admiral's name. She used it before we flew the Armageddon device into the Iconian fleet, and half the Republic must know that "Do'eth ir'Virinat" is an alias by now..."

"You flew--epohh dung! The Proconsul vetoed that idea when I suggested it! Let me guess, you say that you one-shot the entire Iconian fleet?"

"Well...that is what I saw, before the explosion..."

"Heh. It might've worked that way, you know, if someone had done a suicide run. As it was, we were lucky your Odo'ital showed up with a Dominion battle fleet in a flanking position on the Iconian command ship about halfway through the fight. Satra, what the hell is...oh, Elements."

She stopped so fast that Omek, trotting right behind her, tripped over her foot and crashed to the floor.

Which gave him a perfect view of the most singular mix of expressions on the woman's face as she saw the Admiral.
"It's certain," said the other Nelen Exil, to the conference room, Vengeance crew on one side and their doubles on the other. "They are from another universe. Quantum resonance scans show that they and their starship are from a slightly parallel universe, mostly the same as our own."

"Except in our universe," said the Nelen Exil who Omek knew, "Admiral D'trel was the one who escaped Hakeev's guys in that raid. In this universe, she kept her balance, overpowered Admiral Adani, and forced her down the escape shute, then was captured and tortured to death by Hakeev and his goons. Due to Admiral D'trel's inherently more fiery personality, she was more willing to disobey Proconsul D'tan's orders in the recent battle. As near as we can figure, the combination of random subspace-warping and chroniton effects moved the Vengeance into this parallel plane of existence."

"Which is great for the Admirals," said the other Voth, "who get to have each other again and get a vacation on Qo'noS, because the Klingons see the doomsday suicide run as a glorious act. We get a vacation on Risa, the Republic gets a mild headache because of the whole timeline-twin thing, and D'tan gets a bunch of help fixing what little damage was done to Mol'Rihan. D'tan said that he didn't want to see ANY of us on Mol'Rihan for a month. Other Omek, Odo says congratulations, orders you to enjoy yourself, and says that he'll congratulate you in person when the month's up. Any questions?"

The various aliens looked at each other. Then the Vengeance's Daysnur spoke up.

"Nah. Let's leave the questions until after Risa."

And with various cheers, laughs, and shouts of "Damn straight!", they all surged out of the room in a scrum.

Last edited by worffan101; 03-20-2014 at 07:52 PM. Reason: Hopefully final edits.
Career Officer
Join Date: Mar 2014
Posts: 4
# 3
03-18-2014, 10:05 PM
This is my first literary challenge entry - and first post in these forums! It was written as free-association writing to capture, as realistically as possible, the brief log entry of a burdened captain. I post it here without edits:
__________________________________________________ ________________________________

Captain’s Personal Log

Who knew space could be so empty. Once can escape one’s home world and explore the unknown but time and again the problems we seem to escape always return. Poverty, disease, hatred, war.

Above all, it is always war.

We fought back the Borg at long last and never had I felt so relieved. Then battle after battle with the True Way and New Dominion saw silence once more resonate throughout this space. We were prepared for peace yet here we wait: Federation, Klingon and Romulan fleets, depleted, exhausted and side by side. We started with thousands but are left as battered dregs. Who knows how many are on their way to face us. Or if our reserves will arrive on time.

Perhaps my teachers were right for scolding me reading those old Earth tomes as a child; reading about great wars that levelled cities and brought nations to their knees. That left both men and machine in ruins over and over again. There are no nations here, only worlds. No treaties this time, only one bargain: billions of lives for thousands of lives.

No one wins a war.

I wish I could find words to tell the crew to somehow make it easy for them, but it should never be easy. If war was easy people would not die. Our enemies have the advantage of us. They can retreat but we cannot afford to. We cannot go down fighting because our peace depends on this final victory. The Iconians refuse to listen to our words. There is nothing left to say when they wish to conquer us.

The burden of hundreds of ships and their crews weigh heavily even in space. War in this pitch darkness is no different to the centuries of war on Earth. I feel sick to my stomach. Perhaps it is fear or accepting my fate. There will be blood on my hands no matter what I do. I will lose men and women no matter what actions I take. I have to laugh at my fate: Only defeat could relieve me of the burden.

I must be strong.

I have to lead them as willingly as they follow me. I must trust them as much as they believe in me. In a matter of hours the fate of more than one species will be decided. Sitting here, gazing across at my uniform I realise it seems worn and faded. The colour has faded a little through so many years of wear and tear. My mind and body sympathises. What would the crew think seeing their leader in rags?

How strange I could be so vain at a time like this.

Let me take one more look at the trivial and insignificant before it all ceases to matter. I may not have another chance again. I have to remember what we fight for.

Red Alert.

Here they come.
Join Date: Aug 2013
Posts: 32
# 4 The Final Battle
03-18-2014, 10:22 PM
Captains Log;

I have received news from New Romulus informing me of a dire situation, though their understatement of the situation cannot be explained by mere words alone.

We are proceeding to the coordinates provided by Joint Command at maximum warp, which we will reach in nine days, and are to join, and lead, the armada made up of thousands of ships loyal to the Romulans, Federation, Klingons, Cardassians, and even our allies in the Gamma Quadrant have send their forces to fight with us. Wee all know what the cost of victory is, and it is a mere sacrifice compared to defeat.

I have enjoyed my time with the Klingons as they think much the same as I...duty, honor, loyalty.....I have spent much time pondering if I was meant to be born a Klingon as my heart lusts for battle, yet upholds the words of Kahless and the Heart of Virtue, as it had long before the alliance.

To this day, I have forged bonds with many species I never thought possible, Klingons, Remans, Orions, Nausicaans....All of which serve my ship, serve me. But why? Why an unknown Romulan? Better yet, why has Joint Command found it in the best interest of all species, known and unknown to us, for me to lead a task force into this battle?

I doubt I will ever understand, and I personally don't think that I really want to know. To my crew, my name is like the sword of Kahless, powerless in reality, but has more power over the heart and mind then one can even begin to comprehend. I know this to be true for as I was making my rounds before what could possibly be the end of our lives, I overheard the crew sharing a toast in my name.

"To Honor! To victory! To Angelus! To death!" They all chanted, but why me? What could possibly make them respect me so much? I have brought my crew great honor, yes, but I have also condemned so many of them to their deaths in the name of science, conquest, expansion....yet this is just an emotion which my Vulcan brothers have cast aside, and which now gives me a new respect for them and their ways. Now I too must shield my mind away from these feelings of doubt, or life as we all know it may quickly come to and end.

My first officer has informed me that when we arrive at our destination, we will be hosting a meeting with the ambassadors from New Romulus, the Klingon Empire, and New Romulus. I have ordered my chief of security to move all nonessential personnel to the lower and aft decks, so that scuffles or assassination attempts on Federation personnel do not occur on my ship. The last thing needed right now is for them to walk upon my ship, but it is for the greater good.

A young warrior approached me the other day asking if it was possible that the Preservers would have knowledge of the Iconians, so I have tasked him with contacting Defera, and requesting their help. They had quickly agreed to study the archives left for them, and talk to the Preservers who have remained awake, about the Iconians. As of 02:00 hours today we received a message back from Defera, the Preservers know much about the Iconians and are willing to share the knowledge with us. They have asked for me to see them personally and I have agreed that once this meeting is over I will attend to them.

I hope for the safety of all races involved, the Preservers will have the information we need to defeat the Iconians once and for all.
So, just wondering...But do you guys sit there and toss ideas around about what'll pi$$ off the players most, or just wing it?
Career Officer
Join Date: Jul 2012
Posts: 656
# 5
03-19-2014, 12:28 AM
Admiral Brendan Stevens was left agape when he read the report from Qo’noS.

“I had a suspisicion when we encountered that previous Planet Killer at Imaga,” he said. “Neutronium hull, antiproton weaponry, incredibly difficult to take down. All signs of Iconian creation.”

“Well the Klingons did take it out,” replied First Officer and Chief Engineer Kikyo Miyazaki. “If a few minutes too late. Wish we had some of those Har'Pengs right now.”

The destruction of Qo’noS was not something the crew was taking lightly. The Iconians didn’t need a doomsday machine to wipe them all out. It merely meant it went from being done quickly to be done the long way.

“ I still don’t know why Starfleet didn’t send us out to face them,” Stevens reacted.

“I can answer that,” said a familiar voice from the turbolift.

Admiral Jorel Quinn walked solemnly onto the bridge.

“Admiral on deck!”

“At ease, Miss Miyazaki,” Quinn responded. “Right now, I don’t think anyone needs to be more stressed out.”

“Sir, you wouldn’t have come aboard for no reason,” Stevens said.

“Your right.” Quinn pushed a PADD into his hands. “Read this.”

Stevens’ eyes were bulged more than ever when he read the bad news.

“… The Federation council… has desolved,” the words choked out of him.
“After Ambassador Worf condemned the Federation for refusing to send assistance, even evacuation ships to Qo’noS, several councilors began to question the reasoning for the refusal.”

“Which was?” Stevens asked nervous, almost knowing what the answer would be.
“Starfleet General Order One.”

“Dammit to hell!” Stevens snapped. “They invoked the Prime Directive on an invasion of Klingon space by the Iconians!?”

“President Okeg cited that involving ourselves in this battle would be interfering in the internal relations between the Klingon Empire and the Iconians,” replied Quinn calmly. “Ever since Megara, he’s been… keen on upholding the directive.”

“The Raptor in the Palais strikes again, eh?” Stevens snarked. “He’s a fool! The Iconians are not just a threat to the Klingons. They’re on their way here to Earth aren’t they?”

“Yes,” said Quinn.

“And the Federation is technically just Earth now.”

“I’m not sure one planet counts.”

“Why did the other member worlds leave? Don’t hold back. I want to know this.”

“Councilor Troi-Riker of Betazed cited our refusal to help the Klingons as a lack of empathy or care about other races. She then asked that if one of the Federation worlds, which all still have independent local government and territories was attacked, if Starfleet would deem that an “internal matter” as well. Needless to say, there were enough angry people on the council floor that they all walked out.”

Stevens collapsed in his captain’s chair. Fear had driven them away. Fear of being left alone, that the Federation couldn’t help them.

“That’s not all,” Quinn continued.

“Of course not…”

“Worf added as he stormed out that the Klingons will not send any ships to assist Earth when it is attacked. Procouncil D’Tan quickly followed suit, citing that if the Federation is incapable of providing humanitarian aid to stop the deaths of an entire planet, then this is not an alliance. The Cardassian Ambassador left after both of them, saying nothing.”

“We really are alone in this,” Stevens solemnly whispered to himself.

“Indeed. And that’s why I came aboard. Lt. M’Rai, please open a shipwide channel.”

“Frequency open, sir,” said M’Rai.

“Attention all personnel of the U.S.S. Misawa: As of this moment, any non-human member of this crew will be permitted to leave the ship and return to their homeworld. No charges of defection or abandoning duty will be considered for any member who wishes to do so. Admiral Quinn, out.”

Quinn looked around the bridge for a moment. No one budged.

“Well?” The Admiral asked sincerely.

“With all due respect, sir,” M’rai responded. “No one is going anywhere. Our loyalty is to Starfleet, and the ideals of the Federation, even if the politicians have turned their backs on it.”

The admiral smiled quietly. He nodded, walked to the transporter pad at the back of the bridge.

“Your crew is to be commended,” he said. “Like many others, they’re not leaving. I hope it is not their doom. Chief, energize.”

After the Admiral had departed, Miyazaki turned to her old friend and CO.

“Admiral… Brendan, what now?” Miyazaki questioned.

“Now, we wait. In a few hours the Iconians, the Elachi and the Solanae will be here with their fleet. I do know one thing, we will be victorious,” replied Stevens.

“How can you say that?”

“Didn’t you ever read up on the Temporal Cold War?” Stevens asked.
Miyazaki shook her head.

“You should already know the answer from those Temporal Vessels that have shown up in this era. Our races will live on, the Iconians will lose. But, I remember something that a certain time traveler told Commander Tucker of the NX-01 Enterprise: ‘Earth is still there… in a manner of speaking.’ Today is the day Earth dies, but Humanity and the races of the Federation live on. Curious though, he spoke of the Federation as it still exists… I wonder how that happens…”

2 weeks later:

Brendan Stevens awoke in his bed alone, his lover having died evacuating civilians from Seattle during the glassing of Earth. The planet, 60% glassed was now no longer a home for over 10 billion humans. While a new team of terraformers were convinced the planet could be restored in a few hundred years, for now Humans had found a new home, and they weren’t alone.

On this beautiful summer morning, Stevens opened the curtains in his new apartment to look upon the streets of Mol’Rihan – New Romulus. He recalled, fresh in his mind, the terror in Va’Kel Shon’s voice when said “Starfleet Command, we have engaged the Iconians,” Stevens’ own shock at the sudden arrival of the joint Romulan-Klingon Fleet, his slight bemusement that Shon had personally kicked Obex off the half destroyed Golden Gate Bridge. He recalled the tears when D’Tan hailed the fleet and said the following speech:

“People of Earth and the Federation, your Romulan friends are saddened by your incalculable loss today, as we are to our brothers of the Klingon Empire. We too, were people without a home. The loss you feel today, the loss of the loved ones and the place to call home will be felt by many for years to come. It is only fitting that we, the only others who understand your pain offer you what you need most. You have spent the last few years helping us build a Mol’Rihan, New Romulus. Today we offer our homes to you, Mol’Rihan will also be a Mol’Qo’noS and a Mol’Terra. We cannot stand by and watch our neighbors wander the galaxy, homeless and dejected as we once were. You helped us build our home, let us share it with you.”

Brendan also remember hearing the next day, that it was Sela of all people who insisted the Romulans and Klingons fight the Iconians at Earth. Her condemnation of the Klingons as cowards who would willingly let another race die because they refused to help them, that the path of honor meant they should do what Starfleet could not. Her rage at D’Tan’s unilateral action, refusal to stop those who had betrayed their people and destroyed their home as they took another race’s. When he saw the recording, Sela, still in a medical gown, furiously condemning the cowardly actions they had just taken, inspiring even people opposed to her as Tovan Khev and Kerekek, was utter stunned by the humanity in her words, whereas before he thought her soulless.

Now, looking out over Mol’Rihan, he thought of the Captain’s Oath and thought how much it applied right now…

Here they were, deep in space, the final frontier, continuing to exist and voyage among the stars, exploring this strange new world they had settled on, seeking a new life and creating a new civilization. And most definitely, boldly going where none of them had gone before: being united in search for a future.

Screw Hydra! Hail Janeway!
Survivor of Romulus
Join Date: Aug 2013
Posts: 9,380
# 6
03-19-2014, 07:37 AM
EDIT: Please ignore this post. Forgot that only reduxes allow multiple separate posts.

Last edited by worffan101; 03-19-2014 at 07:43 AM. Reason: Dunce cap for me...
Join Date: Jul 2012
Posts: 4,406
# 7
03-19-2014, 11:52 AM

Starfleet Communication Service
Notice #4783906
Security Classification Secret/Red

From: Fleet Admiral T'Nae, Starfleet Command, Earth

To: Republic Fleet Command, Mol'Rihan
Klingon High Command, Qo'noS
Cardassian-Dominion Joint Command, Deep Space Station Nine
Admiral Grunt, USS Ferenginar
Vice Admiral Jonathan Sills, USS Hans Asperger
Vice Admiral Nniol tr'Keiniadh, RRW Emerald Soul
General Malthit, IKS Ch'Bug

For Fleet dissemination as required

As you are aware, the completion of the Iconian gate disruption network last year by the Republic fleet has prevented either the Iconians or their Undine puppets from opening interspatial gates within the territory controlled by the New Alliance. All approaches to our shared spaces must now be made through standard warp travel.

Long-range sensors have detected a large Iconian-Undine fleet massing at the edge of former Borg space, in the Gamma Orionis sector block. Intelligence indicates that they intend to use the transwarp hub originally constructed to service Task Force Omega to transit their attack fleet directly to Sirius sector block, from there to attack the core worlds of the United Federation of Planets, most probably Vulcan and/or Earth. Accordingly, we are hereby invoking the terms of the Khitomer Treaty of 2434 to request and require the assistance of all available craft from UFP Starfleet, the Klingon Defense Force, and the Fleet of the Rihannsu Republic to defend against our shared enemy.

Ships responding will be detailed to newly created Task Force Iconia. All Starfleet craft will be under the direct command of Vice Admiral Sills. All Republic craft will be under the direct command of Vice Admiral tr'Keiniadh. All Imperial craft will be under the direct command of General Malthit. Overall command of Task Force Iconia, and command of any responding craft not subject to Federation, Empire, or Republic, will fall to Admiral Grunt. Rally point for Task Force Iconia will be Wolf 359, due to its proximity to Federation core worlds.

Iconian-Undine insertion into Federation space is expected approximately Stardate 99574.6. All responding craft are requested and required to assemble at Wolf 359 on or before that stardate.

May fortune favor our Fleet.




FROM: Fleet Admiral T'Nae, Starfleet Command, Earth

TO: Admiral Grunt, USS Ferenginar

Admiral, it would be illogical to deny our mutual antagonism. For myself, I have always found your demeanor to be insufficiently respectful and unsuited to a military heirarchy such as that of Starfleet. Were we not in constant turmoil since the events of 2401, it is doubtful you would have been accepted to Starfleet Academy, and certain that even if you had, you would never have risen above the rank of Commander.

However, it would be equally illogical to ignore the fact that despite all this, when situations have been desperate, you and your command crew have always found some way to turn matters in your favor. It would be sensible, then, to employ your talents in defense of the Federation, given the level of desperation indicated by the approach of the previously-referenced attack fleet.

Know therefore that while we may not like each other, I know that I can trust you to carry out your orders, and to interpret them... creatively in order to stop your opponents. This is why you are being placed in ultimate command of Task Force Iconia, and hereby ordered to prevent the enemy from destroying Earth and the other Federation core worlds. I recommend that you employ the talents of Mycroft and Twelve of Fifteen, formerly Captain Shelana, to coordinate your forces to greatest effectiveness.

Remember that without victory, there can be no profit.

"Science teaches us to expect -- demand -- more than just eerie mysteries. What use is a puzzle that can't be solved? Patience is fine, but I'm not going to stop asking the universe to make sense!" - David Brin, "Those Eyes"
Career Officer
Join Date: Aug 2013
Posts: 110
# 8
03-19-2014, 05:50 PM
(Pretend this was a stray transmission intercepted from a temporal anomaly)

Vice-Admiral's Personal Log, Stardate: [DATA EXPUNGED]

It is hard for me to describe the storm of emotions trying burst out as I record this log. It seemed that the lives of so many, and the fate of this Galaxy will be decided in mere hours. If this is my final chapter, let it be said, that the U.S.S. Canada and the members of Foxtrot Squadron, Canadian Starfleet Regiment have performed with excellence, professionalism, and served to defend the Core Principles that the Federation was founded upon. And whether we succeed or fail, I intend to have the Iconians, Solonae, and Undine feel the wrath of this alliance, and that they will take so many losses that they may falter and stumble.

All civilian personnel and non-critical officers and enlisted remain at Spacedock, working with the Sol Defence Force in case this battle does not end well. My children and my wife are now with family in Vancouver, Canada; I hope to see them once more.

It moves me to see the Klingon Empire and the Romulan Republic decided to work with us once more to face this common enemy. No matter our tumultuous pasts, it is time to take the fight to the enemy, who have become desperate, after we had turned the tide.

To quote a verse from the Good Book "Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me."

End log.


Vice-Admiral Lee walked onto the bridge, as Captain(N) Tarah Ovlam bellowed, "Atten-tion!"
All crew members and officers stood at attention and saluted, with the Vice-Admiral returning the salute. Along the ceiling, the Canadian Flag hung proudly, along with the flags of the Canadian Forces that existed centuries ago. Many members of the crew now wore the service dress uniforms of the Royal Canadian Navy and Royal Canadian Air Force, with MACO and Security officers dressed in the uniform of the Canadian Army. While stretching Starfleet uniform regulations, the crew felt that with a good chance that this may be their last battle, lets go out with a bang, regulations be damned! Lee himself was donned in the Uniform of the Royal Canadian Air Force, which bore the rank of Air Marshal.

On the viewscreen, he could see the various starships forming up around the Canada. Every ship assigned to Foxtrot Squadron, from the giant Galaxy-X-Class Dreadnought U.S.S. Valiant to the ancient Constitution-class U.S.S. Vancouver, from the ginormous Jem'Hadar Dreadnought Carrier HMCS Bonaventure to the Akira-class U.S.S Vimy Ridge, and from the Jem'Hadar Attack Ship HMCS Haida to the Odyssey-class U.S.S. Kanata (his alternate Flagship), were here. Fitted with a variety of weapon and engineering systems, Captained by many officers that had served under him, they were poised for this battle to end all battles.

Alongside the Canada were RRW Lleiset and the IKS Bortasqu, with the U.S.S. Enterprise also present. The three Captains had rather stormy relations with one another, but all were able work with Lee. Commander Tiaru Jarok was a close friend of Lee, working together on several occasions. Captain Shon was also an old friend, with Shon helping the Canada when it retook Deep Space Nine. While Captain Koren had a rougher history with Lee, it was through Ambassador Worf that they were able to work together.

The war between the Alpha Quadrant and the Iconians (plus servitor races) had been costly, with many outlying worlds turned into warzones. Deep Space K-7 was badly damaged during one battle, and Drozana Station was abandoned. Hundreds of ships on both sides were destroyed in this galactic scale siege. The Romulan Star Empire had split again between Iconian collaborators and isolationists, and many of their worlds were destroyed. The Romulan Republic lost many ships during a surprise raid on their Flotilla, but the flottila flagship survived, but badly damaged.

The Federation lost several worlds, though by fortune, non of the core systems were attacked. The worse hit was the attack on New Washington, where the Iconians revealed the long-suspected connection to the Planet Killers. Billions perished when that system was destroyed, though soon after, a covert operation managed to find and destroy the Iconian facilities making new planet killers for the War.

The tide had turned at the Battle of New Amsterdam and the Battle of New Toronto, where several Iconian fleets were defeated after weeks of constant battle. After that, many of the worlds still intact were retaken, and the allies pushed the Iconians back, back to their staging areas. From what Lee had heard, Section 31 and allied intelligence organizations had found some way, likely morally questionable, to cripple the Iconians, turning their own viruses, their own devices, against them.

It was thus that the Iconians apparently were making one last attempt to defeat the Alpha Quadrant and enslave all.

As Vice-Admiral Lee sat in the Captain's chair, Commander Phall'mon Ovlam, Canada's Tactical Officer and Tarah's twin sister, reported that all ships were checking in.

Several ships of the allied forces warped in, including a small Squadron of Federation and Romulan starships, led by Commander Rena Shyk, also part of the Canadian Starfleet Regiment.

Half-an hour before the Iconians were expected to arrive. Lee opened a channel across the ship and his squadron.

"Attention all ships, this is Vice-Admiral Lee. I want to say it has been an honour and a privilege to have served with all of you. Whatever the outcome, whether we survive or fall, let no one forget our actions today, let no one forget Foxtrot Squadron."

He ordered the channel to change to just the Canada. "Ladies and Gentlemen, General Quarters, all hands report to your battle stations. Yellow Alert."

Soon, across the ship, the remaining crew moved towards their stations, with the torpedo launchers loaded up, all beam array banks ready to be energized, all MACO and security personnel armed and ready.

Then it began. Someone then caused all displays across the ship to show a Canadian flag flying in the wind. No one knew who started it, but throughout the ship, the crew,
no matter their species, no matter how they came onto this ship, began to sing. From Engineering to the armoury, to the sickbays up to the bridge, people began to sing. It was not the anthem of the Federation, nor some of the songs popular on the Subspace network. It was a bilingual song that in 1980 officially became the National Anthem of Canada.

O Canada!
Our home and native land!
True patriot love in all thy sons command.
With glowing hearts we see thee rise,
The True North strong and free!
From far and wide,
O Canada, we stand on guard for thee.

Ô Canada!
Terre de nos aïeux,
Ton front est ceint de fleurons glorieux!
Car ton bras sait porter l'épée,
Il sait porter la croix!
Ton histoire est une épopée
Des plus brillants exploits.

God keep our land glorious and free!
O Canada, we stand on guard for thee.
O Canada, we stand on guard for thee.
USS Canada
N.C.C. 171867
Sovereign Class
Saint John Fleet Yard
"A Mari Usque Ad Mare"
Join Date: Jul 2013
Posts: 18
# 9
03-19-2014, 08:23 PM
Dyson Spire 1138
Task Force 42 ‘Spacebattles Fleet’ Fleet Holding

“So they put you in charge of this mess?”

“Apparently so.”

“By the Spirits, why?”

“In my career, I have made many enemies, from shapeshifters to megalomaniacs, to alien gods, to extradimensional entities, to very short men with really big guns. I think they have had enough, and are conspiring against me.”

“By somehow convincing their enemies that you are the one best suited to get everyone killed.”

“Exactly. I imagine large amounts of Romulan Ale were involved.”

“Not Aldebaran Whiskey?”

“No, it can’t be involved.”

“And why not?”

“Because it is green.”

KDF Lieutenant General Nasaera Olaraen looked askance at her companion. The Orion woman quirked an eyebrow. “You’re joking.”

“I never joke about whiskey. Ever.” Starfleet Acting Vice Admiral Kelvena Hasegawa replied in a deadpan. The two of them stood on the spires balcony, overlooking the assortment of ships gathering below. The four massive bulks of an Obelisk carrier, two slightly smaller Vo’Quv carriers, and the imposing form of a Bortasqu’ tactical cruiser. Among them also sat two Ambassador class cruisers, a Nebula class cruiser and two Haakona warbirds. A number of shuttles, transports, tugs, fighters, drones, and birds of prey flitted between them all.

“So you’ll be commanding from the Exodia then?” Nasaera asked, indicating the alien looking Obelisk.

“Ah, no. I’ve put my…abnormals in command of it.”

Nasaera blinked. “…Ab…normals?”

“Amman’Zun is in command. I think the Dominion bred him for command; he takes to it easily enough. His first officer is Tran. Nelen Exil is the chief science officer aboard; I believe he’ll have fun figuring out how everything works without large, angry, heavily armed Paleolithic religious fanatic breathing down his neck. Assisting him is McMoy and One of Zero.” Kelvena looked at her old friend. “Don’t ask about that one.”

Nasaera shook her head and pinched the bridge of her nose with her free hand. With her other, she downed half the glass of cognac she held. A Jem’Hadar émigré, Breen and a Voth renegade, the somewhat mad hologram she’d once encountered and a rogue Borg. “You know that conspiracy against you? With the crew you’ve gathered, and the friends you have, thank you for that intel on the Undine by the way, Intelligence just loved hearing about one of them infiltrating the Tal Shiar, I can see why people want you dead. So what’ll you be commanding from then, if not the enormous target?”

“I will face the enemy has a true representative of Starfleet: Inside Ben Sisko’s Pimp Hand.”

Nasaera wasn’t able to keep herself from spitting a spray of her cognac out into the gusty atmosphere of the spire. “The what?”

Kelvena had the gall to shrug nonchalantly. “I work with crazy people. It’s the Nephilim, my Defiant.”

“Oh yes, that makes much more sense.” She turned away from the balcony and walked towards the center of the chamber. “Just show me the plan woman.”

At the controls, Kelvena changed the central hologram over to a tactical map. A large number of warships were represented by factional colors and icons indicating assault groups and task forces. “Basically, the Iconians chose this place here,” the map showed a spot somewhere beyond both Voth and Allied controlled areas of the Solanae Sphere, “as the place of the final showdown. It’s obviously a trap.”

“Obviously,” Nasaera agreed.

“So I tasked Captain Shon and the Enterprise to be at the forefront.”

“That’s an interesting choice. I thought you hated him?”

“Hate is a strong word. I do not hate him. I just want to slam his head into a bulkhead every time he talks about war and warlike features. Anyway, in this role I figure he’ll either do brilliantly, or the high position will swell his ego to such immense proportions that it’ll collapse in upon itself, thus creating a black hole that will just solve all our problems by sucking them into oblivion.”

Nasaera couldn’t help but smirk. “I like it. Whose second down the line from him?”


“Oh she’ll just love that.”

“I figure the two of them will keep each other in line.”

“Or kill each other.”

“Which is one way of keeping each other in line. At which point Commander Jarok takes command and sanity comes to the universe.”

“And where will you be, oh fearless leader of mine?”

Kelvena tapped another command into the hologram, which shifted a great distance away from the battle. “Here. Sipping tea.” Nasaera simply stared at her. “I’m serious,” she said, feigning innocence, “it’s a perfect plan. If it makes you feel any better you and the others outside will all be there with me.” Nasaera still stared, though it was now turning into glare. “Oh fine. We’re here away from the fight because of this.” The image zoomed out, showing exactly where within the sphere they’d be.

“Ah. Aha,” the Orion general replied as realization dawned on her. “Clever. So you think this is the real target?”

“Most likely. If I’m wrong I’ll probably be tried for treason and cowardice in the face of the enemy, but hey at least there’s one thing to keep me warm at night.”

“We’ll all be hanging there next you.”

Kelvena beamed at her old friend. “So you do understand!”

Nasaera point at her and shook it with slightly-mock rage. “One of these days…why am I even friends with you…fonging…a great fonging…”

Several Hours Later

The same ships that had once stationed themselves outside of an allied spire once more sat in formation, this time above yet another spire, one of the largest within the sphere itself. This time, sitting at the van, almost insignificant due to its companion ships, was the small Defiant class warship, the U.S.S. Nephilim, that served as the flag of the fleet.

“What do you think Omery?” Kelvena asked her first officer. The Trill woman, who also served as the ships chief medical officer, merely shrugged. “Your confidence is refreshing. Really.”

“It’s as decent a plan as any I suppose,” she said in reply.

“Aren’t you supposed to bring some wisdom of many weighted years out in times like this?”

“Pride goeth before a fall?” She shrugged again. “You want a war council, find a Dax host. I lived more erudite lives before this one.”

“Ships approaching at high speed,” T’Par, chief tactical officer, interrupted. “Classes currently unknown, but they’re big. Dreadnoughts.”

“Red Alert. Tell the carriers to launch, and get the Nerim siblings to separate their ships, but remember to keep everyone from attacking first. Who knows, maybe they want to parlay.” She got looks that said nobody believed that was going to happen, and really, she thought so herself.

And then they arrived. Elachi Sheshar dreadnoughts, Solanae Obelisk carriers, even Undine Tethys dreadnoughts and what looked suspiciously like Fek’Ihri Drek’Hi dreadnoughts. And at their center… “It’s the Obex,” Omery said, in a small, awe-filled whisper. They’d encountered the massive Iconian dreadnought on several occasions, and none of them were good memories.

Look Upon Us And Tremble The words appeared on the Nephilim’s main screen, in addition to being spoken through the ships communicator, the universal translator first catching what sounded like waves crashing against rocks before translating it.

“Sure, okay,” she said in the most ambivalent tone possible. If she was expecting a reply, she didn’t get it. If they were expecting a reply, she was certain that wasn’t it. “The channels still open, yes?” When she got an affirmative, she went on. “Now, it’s not like I’m not terrified or anything. I am. But you see, I’m in a rather precarious position, in point of fact, we on this side all are. A technologically and most likely numerically superior force tells us that we are going to end this, right here, right now, and we know we’re in trouble. When faced with the inevitable, our choices are few: Fight, die, or surrender, and they’re not exactly mutually exclusive. So, clearly, we can be terrified but still not really give two figs about your threats.” She looked at a secondary monitor. The Iconians and their allies hadn’t made a move yet. Strange. Maybe they were listening to the idiot human talk for the fun of it.

“And so we come down to this,” she continued. “I can’t really speak for the Klingon Empire, or the Romulan Republic, or even the rest of Starfleet. I can, at the least, speak for the rest of my fleet, and not just the paltry few gathered here. We are the 42nd Task Force of Starfleet’s Joint Special Operations Command, in alliance with the roguish and somewhat impoverished House of Kier. We are otherwise known as the Spacebattles Fleet because we can most often be seen causing numerous enemy explosions without a care in the world. We have faced off against the Borg, and the Tholians, and the Mirror Universe. We have taken on the New Link, Cardassian warlords, and even a time-lost fleet of Dominion ships. We have fought off the Elachi and the Undine and the Voth, and even you on occasion. On some primitive worlds, we might even be considered gods.

“Contrary to popular belief, we do not, in fact, consider ourselves gods. We did, however, borrow their smite button.” She touched the screen attached her to command chair. Immediately, alarm klaxons began blaring across the bridge in a more desperate tone than simply Red Alert. On all screens but two, omega symbols appeared. She knew that this was being repeated across the ships in her small fleet. And maybe even on the ships facing off against them.

What Is It You Do

She smiled. So they were paying attention. “You know, there’s a bunch of crazy folks in my task force. Insane asylum escapees the lot of them. We don’t really have a fleet motto, but we do have a few tenets we follow. First among them: Explosions fix everything. Second: Ram them until they give up. Third: There is no such thing as overkill. Fourth: If it’s not moving at c-fractional speeds, it’s not dangerous enough to warrant discussion. I like to consider myself to be the sanest among them but…that’s really not the case. At all. I just happen to have a better handle on my insanity.

“What I do, Oh Terrifying Galactic Overlords, is set my insanity free. A Voth scientist once told me he believed that no one should have control of the power this sphere is capable of. I whole-heartedly agreed. So I tasked three rather capable officers who have an obsession with this sort of thing to figure out how to end this whole dire situation in the way that most represents what it is we stand for. They’ve had a long time to figure out how this sphere works, and with the research that same Voth brought back with him, we have ourselves quite a bit of knowledge. Including how this things power systems work. And what they’re tied to. The star at the center of the sphere is kept in check by a rather sophisticated and infinitely fragile system of checks and balances. One wrong calculation and the whole thing goes nova. Additionally, there just so happens to be a rather large Omega reactor right below us, most likely the same one that keeps the aforementioned star from going boom. Thirdly...thirdly we’ve had enough experience with your very own gateways that we can, with a little work, make them all react at the same time. For instance, setting one particular gateway to send a burst of energy to all the other ones. Work that was completed a short time before this whole mess started. And with one, simple, press of a button, we can set this whole catastrophic chain of events into motion. A button I just pushed.”

We Have Studied Your Kind For Longer Than You Have Lived. You Are Weak. You Are Incapable Of Such Actions

“Ah, but you see, you’ve studied normal people. I’m not normal. I’m insane. You see, you don’t know the fifth tenet of my fleet: Mutually Assured Destruction is always a viable solution.” Kelvena smiled. “Your move.

Last edited by duneczan3; 03-19-2014 at 10:28 PM.
Career Officer
Join Date: Mar 2014
Posts: 4
# 10
03-20-2014, 05:03 AM
Sorry, didn't mean to post this here. Ignore and carry on with your regular scheduled reading...

Last edited by lorelei5; 03-20-2014 at 05:06 AM.

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