Join Date: Jun 2013
Posts: 2,516
# 11
03-20-2014, 08:21 AM
Above New Romulus, 5 years after the sacking of Virinat

A small fleet of ships flagged Romulan Republic orbited the planet, waiting for a signal from the outer reaches of the system to tell them the final battle will commence in the Romulan civil war. Cmdr Awnya sat in the captain's chair of the RRW Antonina, a refitted Defiant class that was gifted to the Republic from the Federation before the coming of the Iconians. She sat in her chair, reminiscing when Flotilla gave her and her crew the Antonina. Half the crew was elated, the other half wanted to throw up, still they did all they could to make the Antonina the most feared ship in the Flotilla, even more the Lleiset. And now, the Antonina would do the final measure of courage and sacrifice. 5 years earlier, She and Toven took off from Virinat in a barely warp capable T'Liss warbird, protecting the refugees from a Tal Shiar attack. Now it came full circle for her. All she wanted was to find the peace of innocence lost on Virinat. For her, the peace long sought was found as the signal came in.

"Lleiset on the line, Commander." Said Satra.

"On screen"

The view screen showed a weathered face of Tiaru, captain of the Lleiset, and rival to Awnya. "Looks like the Tal Shiar got marching orders to finish us. Picking up Iconian, Elachi, and Tholians inbound as well. 2 thousand ships, looks like they have no clue. "

"Our first intelligence victory in this fight, and it will be our last." She laughed a little and shook her head. "Let Toven know to times up. Shut down the gate, our time is up."

"It seems that the Emperor wants to this personally. I am surprised that the Iconians didn't do what they did to Sol and Qo'noS." said Tiaru.

"Good, I'd hate to think that this party would happen without the guest of honor. Meet you on the other side, Captain." saluted Awnya.

"May the elements watch over us." As Tiaru closed the channel.

"The task force has slowed to impulse, Awnya. I hope this will works."

"We will know soon enough, Satra. "

"Its Hakeev."

"Put him thru." As Awnya sat down. She the put in a command in her command PADD.

"Admiral, stand down and accept the Iconians regime, and your death will be swift."

"Tired of the dance, Hakeev? Because I am." She then pushed a button and every sensor on every ship lit up. Subspace collapsed around Tau Dewa solar system.

"You idiot, we can beat you without subspace. "

"Sir, large pulse of high energy neutrinos are being detected."

"From why??" Asked an irritated Hakeev.

"Tau Dewa, Hakeev." Deadpanned Awnya.

Tau Dewa was now growing significantly brighter and larger as it dawned on the Invasion fleet that the central star was detonated into a supernova, and they were dead.

As the energy of the star collapse got closer, Awnya smiled one last time. "You never understood, Hakeev. We do not bend knee to ANYONE ANYMORE. We sent refugees to 2 planets, one somewhere, the other to an alternate universe that you will never know of. The Republic shall not die here, just you."

As the energy blast engulfed the view screen, Awnya prayed to the Elements that It all would work and that Toven knew she loved him.

Awnya woke up from the dream, panting excessively. She then looked around her cabin, and assured it was the Antonina cabin. She got up and looked her computer, the time stamp was 2 years from Virinat. She slumped on the floor and sobbed. From relief as much as sorrow, it was all a dream. She hoped it was all a dream. She then heard a beep from her miniPADD on the nightstand. She went over and grabbed it. It said it had some mail sent from an unknown sender. She wondered who is was from, so she opened it. It was a video file. Playing it, she saw a balding human male standing with a old microphone in his hand. He was somewhere with alot of people standing around waiting for something to happen. The man steeped forward and said these words.

"It's going to be cold. It's going to be grey. And it's going to last you for the rest of your life."

Fixed errors

Last edited by icerose20; 03-20-2014 at 09:36 PM.
Join Date: Jul 2012
Posts: 3,775
# 12
03-20-2014, 08:46 PM

Even before she reached the plasma relay room on deck twelve, Cadet Daniella Vorkuta could see the telltale cerulean glow of active holographics.

"What did you do to get yourself stuck down here?" she asked, poking her head into the work area, which was little more than a nook composed of a series of relays and control consoles nestled against the gentle upward curve of the ventral hull.

Looking away from the massive holographic projection which duplicated the feed from the main viewscreen, Cadet I'K'rR'r c'r'nai stopped idly flipping her tongue from the tip of her nose to her chin, reached out for the PADD her roommate held out, made the required power transfer, then looked back to Daniella.

"Remember how there was the red alert drill at oh one hundred? And I was already gone before you woke up?"

Daniella thought back. She had been roused from a deep sleep by the claxon of a red alert, and nodded, remembering how her roommate had been already gone from their quarters.

I'K'rR'r sighed.

"Well, I cut a few corners in reporting for duty," she admitted.


"Captain on the bridge!" I'K'rR'r shouted from her station as the turbolift doors opened, and Captain Ael t'Kazanak strode onto the bridge.

Seemingly unpurturbed by the red alert, the Romulan gave her a scathing glance with a raised eyebrow, before continuing toward the main command area.

"Report?" she enquired, making her way towards the command chair, which was swiftly vacated by her Bolian tactical officer.

"Time elapased ninety seconds, Captain," Chanos replied calmly, his hands clasped loosely behind his back.

Ael smiled and nodded.

"Excellent, Commander," she said appraisingly. "Stand down from red alert, and resume patrol course."

Glancing around the bridge, Ael's gaze returned to I'K'rR'r, who stood operating an open console to port, clad only in a white sports vest and briefs and her uniform boots.

"Cadet, please join me in my ready room," she said evenly, before leading the way to her sanctum.

Ael leaned back in her chair as the doors sighed closed behind I'K'rR'r. Her lips pursed as she read something on her desk monitor.

"I admire your earnestness in reporting for duty with all haste, Cadet," Ael said. "According to the performance log, you were the first off-duty officer to report to their post by forty seven seconds, so I will be entering a commendation for original thinking onto your record," she paused, sighing wearily. "However, regulations do state that an officer report for duty properly presented in correct uniform."

"I'm sorry, Captain," I'K'rR'r said, holding herself at attention.

"General Order thirty four insists that I display extreme tolerance to cultural practices which do not endanger the ship, and while I am aware that your people have no social compunctions against appearing in a state of undress," she paused, before glancing her desk monitor, and raising an eyebrow. "Claire has already had to delete nine unauthorized holocaps of you from personal allocations on her mainframe."

I'K'rR'r's face and upper chest flushed a deep magenta, and her face wrinkled in mortification.

"People took pictures of me?"

Ael nodded.

"And I can assure you that they will be spoken to about that," she said sternly. "However, even though SH/ARP policies have existed for over three hundred years in Earth's militaries, as much as it loathes me to admit it, abuses still can and do occur. Sexual assault is a criminal offense that has no place in Starfleet. It degrades mission readiness by devastating the crew's ability to work effectively as a team."

I'K'rR'r frowned in confusion.

"But no one's touched me, Captain," she said. "No one's done anything, well, other than sneaking pics, that is..."

"That may be so," Ael replied tensely. "But as the Humans say, all it takes is one rotten apple to upset the cart... Your current -- comportment -- as well intentioned as it was, is a failure to follow a standing regulation, could be considered a provocative gesture, and is generally conduct prejudicial to Good Order and Discipline and service discrediting. Another captain might even choose to have you court martialed for reporting for duty thus!"

I'K'rR'r's face fell, and for a moment, Ael thought the young Pentaxian was going to cry.

"However," she continued, her tone softening. "I appreciate that your actions were inspired by the genuine desire to excell at your duty, not merely engaging in some anarchic fit of clothedlessness. This the first time you have been woken up by a red alert call to battle stations?"

I'K'rR'r nodded.

"Yes, ma'am, it is,"

Ael reached out and tweaked the Verticoli hairbrush on her desk, watching the ivory-colored ovoid spinning like an off-axis moebius strip as she weighed her options. Looking up, she cooly met the girl's worried eyes with her own.

"It is for that reason alone, that I am not going to impose a court martial, nor the fourteen days extra duty that a non-judicial disciplinary would ordinarily impose for such a breach of regulations."

"Aye, Captain," I'K'rR'r replied. "Will that be all, Captain?"

Ael slowly shook her head.

"No," she said. "For the remainder of your duty shift, you will report to the plasma relay room, and will stand the shift in full EVA suit. The time required to be fitted into the suit prior to reporting for duty, as well as seeing it properly stowed after your shift, will serve as a reminder to take the time to be properly attired in future. Dismissed."


Daniella stared open-mouthed at I'K'rR'r, trying not to laugh.

"Well that -- explains a lot," she remarked, looking about the relay room, and the gloves and helmet of the EVA suit which sat on the deck, creating the holographic display via a modification of its HUD projector. "Shouldn't you have them on?"

I'K'rR'r's shrug was almost entirely concealed by the upper section of her suit.

"Regulations prohibit the use of sealed EVA suits on board a Federation vessel except in the event, or imminent danger of, decompression or similar failure of the lifesupport. Something to do with wastage of a consumable commodity, I think."

"Well, I'd better get back to engineering before Commander Bowen reports me AW-,"

"Attention all hands, this is the Captain," intoned the voice from the intercom. "We have been ordered to Wolf 359 to engage the Iconian forces which have encroached there from transdimensional barriers. All hands to battle stations, I repeat, all hands to battle stations!


There were no more hand-delivered PADDs, just direct demands via console, which took almost all I'K'rR'r's attention just to keep on top of, redistributing power to maximise the efficiency of the Federation warship.

As they arrived at Wolf 359 and rendezvoused with the fleet, a momentary glimpse out of the porthole beside her had shown the battlespace filled with representations of all the Iconian's underling races: Elachi, Solanae, Undine and even Fek’Ihri dreadnoughts. An elemental fear had chilled her at the sight of the amassed ships, then, the view was blotted out by indigo hexagons as the ablative generators were activated, wrapping the ship in an indestructible shell.

Soon, tremors could be felt through the deck, impacts and assults by all manner of energy weapons, and it was all I'K'rR'r could do to keep power suitably channelled. With the ablative generators engaged, there was no need in transferring energy to the shields, instead, that was shared between the phaser banks and the ablative generators.

A massive concussion barely inches from the cadet's head made the relay room ring like a bell, and I'K'rR'r was violently thrown sideways as the ship lurched beneath her, cracking her head against a structural bulkhead hard enough to make lights dance in her peripheral vision, but fortunately not breaking the skin. Reacting on instinct, I'K'rR'r scrambled for the helmet and gloves of her EVA suit, wondering if something had physically collided with the ship. Intellectually, she knew the ablative shell was essentially indestructible, but that did nothing to change the very real knowledge that there was less than three meters of material between her and the vacuum of space should the ablative generators fail, and as she locked the helmet into place, her visor momentarily fogged, before the atmospheric recyclers could compensate for the warmth of her breath.

As her vision cleared, the ship was stuck again, this time slamming I'K'rR'r against the low ceiling as the artificial gravity went off-line, and it was then, that she heard the telepathic cries of the enemy in her mind, terrifying her to her core.


I'K'rR'r had hated the zero g training at the academy, but refusing to vomit in her suit, she activated the maglocks of her suit's boots, feeling herself pulled firmly back to the deck and her master console.

Ignoring the feelings of nausea which churned in her stomach, the young Pentaxian called up damage control feeds, and saw that the loss of gravity was due to a disruption of the EPS grid feeding the gravplating, nothing which she could actively repair, other than rerouting power away from the damaged conduits, so they could be safely repaired.

With trembling fingers, she called up live sensor log feeds on her auxilliary monitors, and yes, those had been collisions -- Fek'Ihri fighters had rammed the Vanguard, detonating harmlessly against the ablative shell, which had absorbed the impacts with no more than transfers of momentum, which had shifted the Starfleet ship beyond the inertial dampening field's ability to compensate for.

Looking to her holographic viewscreen, I'K'rR'r saw the dizzying vectors of attack pattern tau, as Lieutenant T'Natra pitched and rolled the ship as if were a single-person fighter, keeping as many targets in active range as possible, while presenting a minimal profile to attack.

On a secondary monitor, I'K'rR'r read the transponder IDs of other ships within range, Athena, Ferenginar, Solaris, Endeavour, Enterprise and Tamurlaine, and allowed the names to reassure her -- good ships, with capable captains and skilled crews, and the cadet felt the fear in her subside, replaced by an optimistic confidence. Maybe they would live through this afterall.

Last edited by marcusdkane; 03-20-2014 at 09:07 PM.
Join Date: Jan 2013
Posts: 27
# 13
03-20-2014, 09:11 PM

Last edited by destroyer831642; 03-20-2014 at 09:14 PM.
Join Date: Jun 2012
Posts: 1,105
# 14
03-21-2014, 11:50 AM
The Viper passed through the Jouret Gateway, entering the Solonae sphere. A fleet of hundreds of Starfleet, Klingon and Romulan ships were present, with more passing through the gate. Recon posts indicated a massive fleet was heading towards the sphere at high warp. Even the Voth had promised to send ships to help defend 'their' sphere. The Enterprise, Bortasqu and Lleiset were present, each one in command of their respective faction fleets. Admiral Walker had promised reinforcements, but they were still some time away. They were to hold off the enemy fleet here. The plan was to bottleneck them in the Sphere's doorway, with a last minute defence of blowing up the Jouret gateway if needed. It was pure desperation, but that was what it had come to.

Talaina was anxious as she saw the fleets on the viewscreen. There hadn't been a military buildup of this scale since the Battle of Cardassia at the end of the Dominion War. She hoped there wouldn't be the same level of casualties, but that was a hope for the foolish. The Bridge was unusually quiet, everyone was on edge. Ttorkkinn was monitoring his sensors, Xui Li was checking ship readiness, T'Fon was scanning for anything unusual and Jenna was checking the impulse engines were beyond peak efficiency. She was only twenty three. Her entire life was ahead of her. Talaina hoped she would get to live it. Jenna turned from her console. "Incoming message from the Enterprise."
"On screen."

Captain Shon appeared. "Ok everyone, we all know why we're here. Long range sensors indicate Iconian power signatures. That means highly advanced technology. We have to hold the line here. For the sake of not just our homes, but for every home in the galaxy. You all have your orders. Watch each other's backs. Keep your targets concise and focused. And we will get through this. Good hunting."

Talaina let out a slight grunt. The Viper was assigned to a pack of six Defiant class ships, who were ordered to make surgical strikes in the enemy lines and sow confusion amongst them while the cruisers took advantage of the confusion and sliced them apart. T'Fon's sensor console beeped. "Captain, more ships coming through the gateway."

They watched as another two hundred Romulan vessels emerged of every class. A Romulan female appeared on screen, with the other flagship captains in the other quarters of the screen. The Romulan female spoke first. "This is Commander D'Elon, leading the forces of the Romulan Star Empire. We are here to lend our aid to this battle."

"Commander D'Elon, we welcome your help." Shon commented. "We need all of it we can get."

"Commander Jarok, I see you have taken to the Lleiset well."
"Yes COmmander D'Elon. Perhaps once this is over, the Romulan Republic and the Star Empire can come together in unity."

D'Elon chuckled slightly. "Do not misunderstand Jarok. The Republic is still an illegal government. But you are Romulans. The Star Empire will protect you. But not follow you."

Captain Koren butted in. "Perhaps you PataQ's can discuss politics some other time? We do have a battle to fight."
"Koren's right." Shon replied. "Commander D'Elon, have your ships provide cover for the other fleets. Aid where you can."
"We'll do what we can."
"Today is a good day to die."

With Koren's parting words, the officers all dissapeared off the screen. All they could do was wait. It only took four minutes.

The Dyson Sphere's exterior doors blasted inwards. Thousands of Iconian probes flooded in, firing electrical beams everywhere. The Viper dodged them and returned fire. A singular mothership moved into the door, stopping in the centre, blocking it. Phaser fire and torpedos spammed everywhere. After a few minutes, the fleet was moving into an attack formation, closing in on the Iconian ship. T'Fon shouted over the noise.

"Captain! Detecting a large surge in subspace. A rift is opening behind us."
"On screen!"

A rift opened behind the combined fleet. An Elachi fleet came through, firing crescent cannons at everything in sight.

"Helm, bank us around. Tac, torpedo spread! Disrupt those lines!" The Viper turned sharply and unleashed her full fury at the incoming ships. Two smaller escorts erupted in a fireball as Viper sped through the wreckage, firing again. Another surge in subspace energy indicated more coming through the rift. Jena's eyes widened as she let out a string of curses. Everyone barely holding on as Viper banked shraply right and down, skimming mere metres from the pylon of the Elachi station that had just appeared in front of them. Ttorkkinn fired another spread of torpedos, but they did no damage to the station. As Viper pulled away from the station, they saw there were at least four of them, with more coming through. Talaina knew this was going to be a tough fight.

************************************************** ***************

The battle had raged for an hour. Heavy losses had been inflicted on both sides, but the Elachi were winning. The Iconian ship, still blocking the door, had unleashed more probes that were interfering with ship systems. The Romulans and Shon had called for a retreat back to the gateway, and they were getting through as quickly as they could. The Klingons were fighting to the death in typical style, and seemed to be winning most battles. Viper was on the far side of the Elachi fleet, helping a wing of Bird of Prey's tear through the lines. The ship was trailing plasma from a nacelle, smoke filtered through the Bridge casting a hazy dusk over everyone. Ttorkkinn shouted over the noise. "Enterprise is holding position at the gateway. They are giving cover for those who are still yet to get-"
"CAPTAIN!" T'Fon interrupted. "We're picking up a large Gravametric surge outside the Sphere. Readings are consistant with a Quantumn singularity."
"What?" Talaina was battered from fighting off the boarding parties. She stepped over the dead Elachi at her feet. "More Iconians?"
"Negative sir. Readings suggest-"

He was then cut off as a blanket communication was directed into the minds of everyone. A member of Species 8472 mentally shouted at them. At everyone in the Sphere. "You have invaded our realm for the final time. You have tricked us for the final time. You will ALL PERISH!"

As Talaina held a bloodied hand to her head to help recover, she looked at the screen. The Iconian ship was developing an orange glow from the rear. It spread over the ship, small explosions rippling along the hull. Was it 8472? Had to be. Nothing the Allies had fired at it had caused any damage. A blinding light filled the bridge, cutting through the haze as the vessel was consumed in fire. Before the fireball had even finished, bioships darted through and began exterminating everything. The Elachi ships started to loose focus, becoming disorientated as they attempted to respond to this new threat. Captain Shon's voice came over the conn. "I think we need to withdraw. All ships, get back to the gate. NOW!"

Viper was struck on the port nacelle, sending the ship into a corckscrew and everyone to the deck. An Elachi ship was closing in, firing crescent's at them. A Bird of Prey flew between them, taking the hits. It spiralled around and opened fire with it's disrupters, forcing the Elachi to break off. As they turned towards the station, a bioship incinerated it, flying past and firing at the Klingon ship. They flipped over, barely escaping the blast. The bioship continued on, firing at a Negh'Var. As the cruiser exploded, the bioship turned slowly, joining an attack run on one of the stations. The six bioships caused heavy damage, igniting the power core and seperating out as the station was destroyed. Ttorkkinn had made it to his console. "That Klingon ship saved us. Our shields are gone."
"Can you get them back online?"
"No. I mean they're gone. Our shield generator is missing. Lost in a hull breach."

"Dammit. Get us to the gateway. We need to withdraw."

As Viper limped towards the gateway, the Bird of Prey that had saved them took up a flanking position, escorting them back. Cracks started forming in the shell of the Dyson Sphere. Even at this distance, what appeared to be molten metal seeping through the landmass could be seen. Large eruptions, akin to the most powerful volcano, burst forth, causing chain reactions across the hull of the sphere. Xui Li was aghast. "What is happening?" Both of T'Fon's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "It appears the Undine have fired multiple versions of their planet destroying beam at the sphere. The entire construct will implode in a matter of minutes."

That was all Talaina needed to hear. If they were caught inside when it imploded, they would die. Along with the star. Not to mention the Omega molecules. "Get us to that gate. NOW!"

The ship groaned as her engines were maxed out, inertial dampeners struggling to keep up with the manoeuvres Jenna was forced to pull to avoid the bioship beams. An Elachi cruiser dropped into view, blocking their way. The Federation ship and the Klingon ship both corckscrewed either side of the ship, skimming past it, pushing against hope to outrun the weapons. A crescent clipped the back of Viper, flipping the ship into a dive. Talaina felt her shoulder crack from her impact on the floor. Growling at the pain, she pushed herself up. A fire had broken out on the Bridge and fire supression systems appeared to be offline. It was making it impossible to see. "JENNA!" There was no reply. Struggling to her feet, Talaina staggered towards the helm. Jenna was lying on the floor. Dead? Unconcious? Talaina hoped for the latter, but there was no time to check, as the Elachi ship that struck them was exploding, a bioship darting through. They had Viper dead in it's sights and helm was being sluggish. Try as she might, Talaina couldn't right the ship's spin. The smoke was too thick to see the viewscreen, all she had was the sensors on the navigational array. She watched as a beam was fired at them. She would meet her end with dignity. With honour.

Or not. She watched as the Bird of Prey that had been escorting them flew into the path of the beam, taking the hit directly on their port wing. The sound of Klingon transporters could be dimly heard over the noise as Talaina watched the remaining part of the Klingon ship ram the bioship, destroying both vessels. A gruff male voice spoke from behind her.

"Captain Kazzur. I'm Captain Bravok. My crew will take control now."

Talaina turned to see a crew of mostly scantily clad Orion women, one older Klingon male in a long black coat, bondalier and shoulder pads, an eye patch bolted on his left eye, a fat Gorn and an Andorian woman in a black long coat taking positions on the Bridge. Talaina staggered towards the Klingon as an Orion took the helm.

"Captain Bravok. Thanks for the help. Starfleet has called for a retreat through the gateway."
"Yes Captain, I'm aware of that. N'Nesh is taking us there now."

The Gorn had extinguished the fire and was using his bulky hands to waft away as much of the smoke as he could. The Andorian woman met Talaina's gaze briefly, nodding solomnly before returning to the weapons console. Battered and broken, Viper flew towards the gate, Enterprise launching a volley of torpedoes over them. The shell of the Dyson Sphere began breaking apart, launching land and metal upwards. Structural integrity was lost as the Omega particles detonated, creating a shockwave that spread out quickly. Viper slipped through the gate as Enterprise turned, the blastwave reaching the star and triggering a supernova.

Viper rushed into the Jouret system, Enterprise moments behind. The instant the flagship was through, Shon demanded the gateway be closed and destroyed. Explosions ripped through the gate, some of the shockwave from the supernova reaching through before it was closed. Enterprise took the full brunt of the blast to protect the rest of the fleet, tearing the rear of the ship apart. Trailing smoke, it drifted away, to be locked in a tractor beam from a couple of Romulan ships. Talaina breathed a sigh of relief. It was over. For now. But at what cost? The loss of the Jouret Gateway. The loss of the Solanae sphere. And the destruction of subspace for who knows how far. At least the detonation was in the Delta Quadrant. Talaina collapsed in her chair, exhausted. Bravok asked his crew for status updates, but Talaina wasn't listening. They were getting medical aid to the crew, and that was the only thing she was worried about. N'Nesh spoke up from the helm. "Captains. We're being hailed."

"On screen." both Talaina and Bravok replied. Shon appeared on screen. "Well done everyone. I realise we lost the sphere, and we lost many lives, but we stopped the Iconains and the Elachi from reaching the Alpha Quadrant. We should make our way to New Romulus for repairs."

"Captain, massive subspace surge detected." The Andorian woman said, the tension clear in her voice.

From subspace, a fleet of Solanae carriers appeared and began launching swarmers. But before they were able to launch more than a single wing, a fleet of Galaxy X Dreadnoughts decloaked in a line. Each one fired their lance in unison. The carriers didn't stand a chance, each one igniting. Admiral Walker appeared on screen. "Sorry to be so late. These old things don't exactly move quickly. Get the remains of the fleet to New Romulus, we'll mop up here."

As the remains of three fleets limped towards New Romulus, the Galaxy X's unleashed hell on the Solanae.

************************************************** ************

The air was warm. A little too warm for Talaina, but at least the gentle breeze made it tolerable. She hadn't been to New Romulus since the Sentinel was assigned here as part of the task force to help set up the initial infrastructure. The Romulan Republic had made some impressive advances with the city in that time. She stood on the bridge looking over the river that made it's way from Vastam Peaks. One of those multi legged water creatures was down in the valley, splashing about. Hearing footsteps, Talaina turned and smiled. The Andorian woman from the Klingon ship was approaching. About ten years older and showing it, with her hair arranged in an elaborate yet elegant style, Tallara also smiled as she approached. Her earring caught the sun, prompting a squint from Talaina. This left her unprepared for the tight squeeze Tallara gave her little sister.

"Talaina! It's been too long! How've you been?"

Talaina's shoulder was still a little sore from where the medics had healed the broken bones. But she wasn't going to let that ruin this happy moment. "Sis! I've missed you. Six years is far too long."
"I know, but I've been busy."
"Mum was worried about you. Last anyone had heard, you were just drifting from planet to planet. I heard rumours you were on a Klingon ship, but no one seemed able to confirm it."
"Weird, I know. You'd think someone would remember seeing an Andorian with a bunch of Klingons and Orions. Listen, you have to tell me all about what's happened. Last time we talked, you'd just made LT."
"It's Captain now."

Tallara squeeled in delight. "Eeeeeee! Congrats Sis!" Tallara gave her another squeeze. "That little pocket rocket was your ship?"
"Indeed. Been her Captain for...... about three months now."
"Ack! If I'd known, I'd have thrown you a party."
"I tried to contact your ship. See if I could actually track you down, but comms couldn't get through."
"Three months ago? I think we were deep in Cardassian space then. Probably why you couldn't get through."
"Oh yeah. Some hit and run raid on a Ketracel White facility. You know how it goes."

The voice of Bravok interrupted from behind. "You're not giving up Imperial secrets, are you?" Tallara turned and frowned at her Captain, replying very sarcasticly. "No Sir. OF course not Sir. Never Sir." Bravok just grunted. "We lost the Felkhr's Heart, but we can commission a new one when we get to the Praxus. Until then, we'll hitch a ride on the Imperial Bloodfest. Laska and N'Nesh are just finalising things for transport. We leave in ten minutes."

Tallara nodded, then looked at her sister. "Talaina, your ship was badly beaten. I don't suppose you fancy hanging around for a few weeks? We've got so much catching up to do."

Talaina loved that idea. "We were just going to help with Viper's repairs. But it has to be towed to a Federation starbase first. I can take.... some time off." She grinned at how things were going. Bravok cleared his throat and stepped forward. "Tallara. You are an officer on my ship. You will not fraternise with Federation dogs." Tallara instantly backhanded Bravok and followed it with a palm strike to his face. "That's my sister. No one insults her." Bravok rubbed under his nose, noting the trickle of blood that spread across his finger. "If we were in the KDF, I'd have your commission for that."
"Good job we're just a bunch of rogues then, aint it? I told you when I signed on. I have no loyalty to the Klingon Empire, or the Federation. My loyalty is with you. And before you, my loyalty is with my family."
"Huh. You were the one to convince me to save their ship. Very well Tallara. I'll grant you this leave. You know how to contact me when you need to."

As Bravok turned to leave, Talaina stepped forward. Snapping to attention, she placed a fist over her chest and bowed. "Captain Bravok. My crew and I owe you our lives. We thank you for the rescue. I hope one day we can return the favour."

Bravok returned the salute, then walked away. Tallara looked back to her sister. "So tell me, are you still friends with that nice Stunshock fella?"

A Romulan Strike Team, Missing Farmers and an ancient base on a Klingon Border world. But what connects them? Find out in my First Foundary mission: 'The Jeroan Farmer Escapade'
Survivor of Remus
Join Date: Dec 2012
Posts: 359
# 15 Consuming Fire
03-21-2014, 05:23 PM
Captain's Log - USS Tempest

This will be my last entry. Of nothing am I more certain. I cannot, will not, divulge the details of what will transpire if all goes according to to plan even now, but I will record the last workings of a mind unburdened by frantic necessity.

I leave behind no friends, only beings who's repulsive, cloyingly-scented physiologies and madness-inducing psychologies have merely managed to sully my existence only slightly less then they enriched it. I don't know if these long acquaintances will survive, either, as most of them will be fighting for their lives in only a few hours. To those that do survive, however, know it is my wish that you continue to pursue your idiot fancies and feel as much joy as your translucent, grub-like bodies can contain. I will no longer be around to be sickened by it.

I leave behind no family and, indeed, a race that will almost certainly be indifferent to what I will do here. As they should. I had hoped to end my life as all Arkathian Secondary Male morphs do: eviscerated by the artfully-sculpted maw of a great and powerful Primary female. Alas that this will not be so. No Arkathian juvenile will contain any trace of my spirit, my essence, my genes, or my spite. I will pass from memory as yet another burned-out husk of chitin as so many have before me.

I do take some measure of comfort in knowing that I will likely be consumed by a force far more transcendent and terrible. Life may even spring from what remains. We will find out soon enough.

So, now, I commit my final thoughts to posterity. May they know the uneventful, undisturbed existence Starfleet never bothered to grant me.

"Computer, end of log. Transmit to Starfleet." Khas clattered his mandibles together in disgust. He had almost felt an emotion. It was probably best that he would die before falling any further into that particular madness. Still, that reminded him of something.

"Computer, status on the crew's last messages?" He rasped out, a bit impatiently if he was to be completely honest. Humanoids took forever to get around to acknowledging the harsh reality of mortality and tended to sputter and ooze interminably whenever the subject came up.

"Ninety eight percent." The computer chimed back, as placid and imperturbable as always. Khas nodded to himself. That would do. He carefully lowered his bandoleer over his upper thorax, flag admiral's pins gleaming softly in the dimmed light of his suite. Khas took a moment and slowly blinked each eye in turn and concentrated on the shimmering thought contained within his mind. Without another wasted moment, he moved fluidly out of his quarters and to the bridge.


Things hadn't gone well. The campaign to secure the Solonae sphere from the interloping Voth had taken two tense decades. The Romulan Republic, Federation, and Klingon Empire had very nearly come to blows several times over various petty internal conflicts and would almost certainly have gone to war with each other were it not for the threat represented by the Iconians, their Solonae allies, and their Undine pawns.

Even with the technological advances the sphere allowed for, the bulk of the fleets gathering here were still made up of vessels built on more traditional technologies. They numbered in the thousands. But they were fractious, mistrustful, and could not ever be enough. Their enemies possessed the industrial base to erect fortresses around stars. The combined industrial output of the Alliance could hardly put a dent in that.

Khas however, had a solution. It would be costly, immensely so, but should put a stop to any mass incursions from the Solonae or Iconians for a long time. So, cloaked in a much more conventional battle plan, the Federation sold the idea to the Klingons and the Romulans. Khas, whose unconventional approach to warfare had impressed the Remans and who's furious tenacity appealed to the Klingons, was put in overall command. Now, they just needed a miracle.


"Admiral, Jenolan Overwatch 2 is reporting incoming contacts. Undine vessels. 832 total, 522 of which are of cruiser displacement or greater. All gate task forces report ready."

Khas nodded at the rather grim-faced ensign and double-checked his fleet distribution and the positions of the enemy contacts. The Undine were worrisome on their own and they outnumbered the alliance fleets at the Jenolan sphere's inter-sphere gate, but the Federation still possessed the schematics for the specialized torpedoes Janeway's crew had constructed all those years ago. Thanks the Romulan's constant tinkering with Borg technology, they also possessed enough nanites to go around. That should help even the odds considerably.

"Order Federation Taskgroups 1 and 2 are to meet them head on. Klingon Battlegroups 2, 5, and 9 are to harry the flanks whenever they can and try to sow some disorder. Republic Sublfeet 4 is to engage from behind once the Undine are committed."

"Orders confirmed admiral."

Khas clattered his mandibles together. A human would be more keenly aware of the lives he was spending like currency in this battle, but Khas was Arkathian. As far as he was concerned lives WERE currency. But it was still irksome to wait.

"Ensign, open a channel to the USS Shimmering." There was a pause before the greying, smiling face of Captain Tarayl greeted him.

"Hey, you horrible old insect. Why are you bothering me? I'm busy living in mortal fear for my life here."

"As always, you candor disgusts me. Battle has been met." Khas rumbled. Tarayl's smile fell a bit. She nodded slowly in response.

"Then you mean to go through with it? We may yet be able to hold them back you know. There's room to hope."

Khas effected an awkward shrug. "Perhaps. I am not a creature built for hope. I will leave hope to you, but...make sure our taskgroup force is ready to go all the same."

Tarayl nodded, almost gently. "Aye aye, Admiral." she said before cutting off. Now for more waiting.


The battle for the Gate was a nightmare. Khas watched the data being fed to his console with the intense focus of a master engineer corralling an unruly mechanism. The Undine had suffered badly, but continued to pour in from wherever the Undine were keeping their reserves. The task groups at the gates were smaller, more agile vessels unsuited to protracted combat. Losses for the Alliance were already at close to 50% and rising. It was time for stage 2.

"Issue the fallback order. Those that make it through the gate are to make best speed to their rallying points. Tell Overwatch 1 to give the signal when the time comes and run like hell."

Overwatch 1 was a small, experimental Romulan recon vessel operating with a new variation of their cloaking technology. It's job was to sit and watch, silent and undetected until the Iconians gathered in force. it never acknowledged the order, however. Any transmission on its part would give it away. Khas simply had to trust they'd remain hidden.


The enormous gate linking the Solonae and Jenolan spheres flared to life and started spewing out burnt and broken ships. It could have been disabled, true, but the Iconians would have just used some other distant gate that the alliance wasn't currently aware of. And it would have denied the Alliance the opportunity to hit the ephemeral, enigmatic invaders right where it hurt most.

Khas watched the distant flickers of light tumble and, occasionally explode. They seemed so far away. He focused the display on what appeared to be an old-style Romulan T'Varo being desperately towed to safety by badly-mauled Federation Centaur frigate. He read the transponder signals and rubbed at the spikes of chitin jutting from his lower mandibles.

"Lieutenant Burnside, will the USS Miskatonic clear the minefield by the designated time?" Khas hissed.

Burnside, an older human with rather pronounced sideburns double-checked an indicator. "They'll miss the clear-off point by...fifteen seconds at this speed."

Khas rumbled. Lives are to be spent...but not that cheaply. "When I give the order, activate only the inner ring of mines. Try to give them time to get out before activating the remaining mines."

Burnside nodded in acknowledgement and returned to his displays. Khas stood up and cut into the fleet-wide comm net.

"All taskgroups. This is Admiral Khas Ker'at. The Undine are coming through the gate. Be prepared to engage anything that clears the minefield. Remember, we must, must get them to commit their more powerful vessels to the offensive. Don't let Death take you until you've fed it a few Undine first."

"All groups report ready, admiral." Chimed the grim-faced ensign.


For a while, there was only the cold accountancy involved in tallying up the screams of the dying and the momentary flashes of destroyed vessels. The minefield did its job well enough, hampering the Undine advance, though without destroying many of the powerful Undine vessels. The Undine themselves fought ferociously, clearing paths through it with their powerful main cannons, but their more tenuous tactical situation and susceptibility to the specialized torpedoes the alliance had brought along meant that they would falter without reinforcement.

Which came through the gate almost on cue.

The Undine's reserve of heavy warships came pouring through along with what appeared to their Solonae counterparts. Not much longer, then. The tide started to turn.

Khas stood up from his command chair and clicked his way around the bridge like a caged spider. "Dreadnaught groups 1, 2, and 3 move in to support the front lines. Fighter reserve, give them some escort and try to keep the heavy ordinance of them as they close in. Reserve group 4, move in to support Subfleet 6, they're starting to falter. Hrm. Taskgroup 15, let's move out."

The ships of Taskgroup 15, a motley collection of recovered and refitted non-Federation vessels, moved almost in unison, arrowing into the heart of the fight. For all intents and purposes they looked like a thrown-together mob. None appeared less threatening than the USS Tempest herself, a gutted and patched together Tholian Orb Weaver recovered from who knows where.


The fight grew to a fevered pitch. Losses were starting to mount, especially among the Alliance's lighter support vessels and older cruiser hulls. The Alliance vessels desperately tried to hem in the growing mass of heavy, advanced warships coming through the gate and were barely holding their own. The Solonae vessels had proven especially robust, requiring multiple battleships to bring down. It was a battle of attrition the Alliance was going to lose unless something changed.

Task Group 15 had already lost two of its fifteen vessels to the frantic scrum. It was honestly a miracle the Tempest had survived, but its deployment was necessary for the ruse that he was about to pull on both the Iconians and his own allies. They needed to be close to the gate and they needed to be a low-priority target until it was too late. Just another few moments...

"Sir, message from Overwatch 1." Ensign Grim-face (Khas couldn't recall the Ensign's real name) declared. "It says "Barbarians at the Gate."

Khas rumbled. "That was unnecessarily dramatic. I just told them to tell m when the Iconians started forming up. Task Group 15, form up on me. Transfer command to Rear Admiral Shanda V'ral."

"She's dead, sir." Lieutenant Burnside said quietly.

"Subadmiral R'ath, then. Tell him to send in whatever reinforcements we've got to the lines. Task Group 15, we're punching through."


The last charge of Taskgroup 15 was into the very teeth of hell itself. It lasted for either an eternity or two minutes depending on who you asked. One by one, the Tempest's converted escorts were brutally cut away by the withering fire of the vessels still coming in through the gate. Within moments only it and an almost miraculously undamaged Shimmering remained. They hit the transition point at full impulse, heedless of any ships that might be coming through.

"We're through, Admiral." Lieutenant Burnside intoned. He had taken the grim-faced Ensign's station. The ensign himself lay bleeding to death on the floor nearby. An injection of painkillers to ease him on his way to death was the only sop to medicine the situation would allow for.

"Status?" Khas barked, his own carapace painfully broken and oozing.

"There are...thousands upon thousands upon thousands of ships here sir. The computer can't keep trac of them all. Solonae and Iconian. Sir..."

Khas groaned in pain. "We were never going to be able to stand up to them ship to ship, Lieutenant. That is why we are here."

Burnside nodded. "Aye. We've got incoming, though. Another wave of reinforcements heading for the gate. ETA thirty seven seconds. Another Solonae warship's moving away from what looks like the wreckage of Overwatch 1, ETA thirty nine seconds."

Khas tapped his comm badge. "Tarayl. You know what we must do."

Her oddly accented voice drifted back. "Of course I do. I always knew you'd be the death of me, you horrible old bug. We'll stall 'em as best we can. Do your thing."


A Tholian Orb Weaver is an enormous vessel. The Tempest had only a skeleton crew, so a great deal of its internal space had been hastily converted to house a rather nasty bit of old, forbidden technology, protected by additional armor plating and redundant internal shield generators.

A Dyson sphere is far, far more vast. At its heart is a star exerting a great deal of force against the thick shell of the sphere. Destroying such a construct is no easy feat. However, one could do so if they possessed a device that could create a self-propagating wave of exotic energies that would reduce all matter it came into contact with into sub-atomic particles. Such a wave should be able to propagate through the thin atmosphere that permeates a Dyson sphere and work its terrible effects on the numerous ships currently plowing through it. Khas knew this because he studied the math for weeks, along with some plans quietly forwarded to him from the Starfleet sealed archives.

There was little for Khas to do now. He watched, incapable of remorse or sadness, as the Shimmering and its ever-smiling commander imploded under the concentrated fire of the Solonae vessels. She had done her job, though, and Khas had enough time before they'd catch up to him.

Then he turned to watch the timer on his console that was counting down to the launch of the enormous torpedo contained within the Tempest's starboard hull.

The ship slowed a bit, reaching it's optimal velocity, and a button push blew open a heavily armored blast door on the starboard hull. Khas nodded to Burnside, who slowed the ship down suddenly, a move that sent the enormous torpedo, labelled "Genesis Mk IX"sliding towards the inner surface of the sphere.

The oblong shape drifted towards the idyllic green woodlands below. It impacted without much fanfare before exploding into an ever-growing web of glowing traceries that sped across the surface below. Khas didn't turn the ship around. There wasn't any point. They couldn't escape it anyway. Fortunately, neither could the Iconians, he would wager. They'd have a handful of seconds before the transference wave would render them all into so much life-giving dust.

The energy wave tore through the atmosphere towards his battered ship, a vast, all-consuming ball of fire. Khas' last thought as it tore his vessel to shreds was tired, weary, and grateful.


Last edited by squatsauce; 03-21-2014 at 08:33 PM.
Join Date: Sep 2013
Posts: 22
# 16 The Axis Push
03-22-2014, 03:45 AM
We count on our diplomats, we count on Klingon engineers, our enemies fear us!

Mirror Universe factions became allies in light of the joint oppositional forces...we had little time to respond to this, the fighting was beginning soon. In the middle of the battle the Borg arrived, it was made clear to us that the Borg were especially vengeful towards the Mirror Universe factions...The true way, we were to understand had decided to use their influences to create additional disaster, in hopes of gaining new territorial grounds had betrayed the Local Stellar Alliance to Borg. However it had become clear that external influences would not appear in this conflict as Romulan, Starfleet and the Empire had been contacted by their temporal futuristic forces, the upside to this would be that there would be no Tholian involvement, yet Sheliac, Klingon, Denubulan and Canis Majoran diplomats used their treatises to include the Hirogen, who naturally detest the Borg, and are the most likely to enjoy the spoils of war. Likewise the Sheliac and Canis Majorans, along with an external allied Delta Quadrant network via Admiral Janeway and "Voyager," are defending this causal vortex between the local stellar neighborhood, and the Delta Quadrant.
Lindonians, Tromedians, Argonians, Benbesians, Rozellians, Tellaxians, and many others have joined our conflict, although the oppositional forces have entered the causal vortex, both sides and the interior is completely defended by ally forces. Hirogen and Large Klingon ships seem to be defending the causal vortex with impunity, all may enter, the Axis may not leave! A joint task force has endeavored to defend the Delta quadrant. The Iconians simply believed that they could transpose the frequency of the causal vortex to that of the Mirror Universe, frankly it was the Mirror Universe forces that had been planning this particular strategy, from a defensive position, however their motivations have never been made clear to alliance factions, it was assumed that on their side of the universe they were enslaved by Iconians, little else of their motivations are known. Our temporal forces warned us to trust this alliance on this occasion-who are we to argue? The Sheliac and the Endine are, as it turns out, ancient enemies, and naturally of their historic relationship, nothing is known. The Elachi, in this rare event are being out matched by the Romulan Star Empire, who still owe us defensive right by way of the Borg Initiative Protocal, which at the moment is still being honored, however there is a notable tension between Romulan factions. Many Romulans want revenge against the Elachi, this situation hopefully will not require mitigation.
All allied forces have been appraised of the short comings of the Borg initiative Treaty. Hopefully the spoils of war will be left to the Hirogen and the Klingons! One problem will be explaining that the Dyson facility will be of yet not welcome territory to the Star Empire due to their xenophobic and civil rights issues...and it is the wish of the alliance that the Star Empire not find alliance with the Voth either!
Our diplomats who have left for the Delta Quadrant to persuade the Voth that Axis empowerment will endanger the balance of power in the galaxy, have not yet returned. Delta Quadrant officials have stated that all is well with that diplomatic envoy, however this war has already lasted a week and we have begun to hear rumors that the True Way factions have aligned with the Breen! And yet anomalies in territories known to have regular military commitment against the Tholians have been sighted regularly. Our hopes are that the Temporal forces from the future are making their marks to defend us in real time. If the diplomats return with Voth reinforcements, as now there is a cease fire within the sphere, this may well create new peace in the Delta Quadrant and strike a new blow to Axis control. Convincing the Voth to go against their heritage of secularism will not be easy, however, many separatist Voth who have worked with alliance forces since the Dyson conflict began have also joined the diplomatic envoy. 5/6ths of alliance factions are here defending the causal vortex, while a make shift reserve fleet is always on home defensive duty within our local stellar neighborhood. It is enough for now, however for now there are no scheduled shore leaves, and the academies are on accelerated defensive education for reinforcement purposes. This occurred with some frequency in earlier Borg engagements and during the war with the Klingons against Cardasian and Dominion forces. Our best estimates tell us that making the enemy retreat would likely occur simultaneously to an expeditionary Voth military engagement.
We count on our diplomats.
Klingon engineers have developed anomalous detection mines, which, using technological fusions of Romulan, Cardasian, Ferengi, and Borg design philosophy creates a quantum harg-peng transphasic pulsewave shield generator that within seconds, albeit sometimes several minutes closes Borg and axis rift anomalies. This defensive strategy, if nothing else has had a devastating effect on the enemy. So far it is estimated that around 15% of the mines enter the rift and emerge on the other side of the Mirror Universe, which creates meta-static transphasic shockwaves that likely are decimating our enemies, or collapsing their wormholes offering our enemies zero trajectory.
Klingon High Command along with JmPoc have decided that the science fits the crime, although at worst it depowers enemy ships with a high impact internal implosion, which often creates a temporary anomaly. In one case however a bird of prey was pulled into the gravitational rift at high velocity by an engaged detection mine, it is thought in such an instance that the existing wormhole would simply collapse, a terrible, if honorable death.
We count on Klingon Engineers.
Section 31 along with the House of Targ, the House of KaPeng, and the Dalshi Romulan New Republic Task Force, have instigated deborgification tactics that involve smaller more maneuverable ships and some of our Borg allies as well. It is the alliance's request that the Tal Shiar save their energies on the Elachi, which is naturally a reversal for them to agree with us on anything, frankly, yet Starfleet, The D'Tan Contingency, and the High Council have made a secret augmentation to the Borg Initiative Protocols, possibly threatening legal viability for previous Elachi strikes against alliance factions, whatever the case... The smaller task forces have begun to massively deassimilate Borg cubes on an individual ship to ship basis via a previously secret and unknown project now notorious to the axis as "The Hue Effect." Gravimetric Hull Plating allows smaller ships to use transphasic co-oscillation with special pulsonic shield emitters that create a Borg vengeance enigma. However some Borg prefer the Bonsai maneuver as an offensive strategy, to the dismay of secret forces who have polarized to the hulls of such Borg vessels. In some cases due to Borg volatility it is best to beam inside Borg craft in order to disable it from within without use of "The Hue Effect." The strategy however is working.
One final note, the Borg are also fighting the Endine, the Solinae, and the Elachi. The Borg are not fighting the Iconians, regrettably enough, however our understanding of Iconian technology is at a point where our aggressive aptitude is enough to give the Iconians pause - They fear us!
Our enemies fear us!
Join Date: Feb 2013
Posts: 354
# 17
03-22-2014, 09:32 AM
"What Will Be"
Captain's Log, Stardate: 94853.2
The Renaissance has been chosen to lead the fleet to combat the Iconians and their servitors. After centuries of manipulation and instigated war, this mysterious Third Party is going to finally attack and attempt to destroy the Federation. From the time Enterprise (NX-01) made contact with the Elachi three hundred years ago, if not before, the Iconians have been interfering with the Federation. From everything from the destruction of Praxis, the explosion of Ceti Alpha VI, the annihilation of Kzinti, and the nova of Hobus, these demons have been responsible. Now the Federation is facing its greatest enemy in a war 200,000 years in the making.
The Iconians tried to tear the galaxy apart with war, but the common threat has pushed us closer. The Galaxy must join together, or fall to these hiding devils.
This war would be the deciding factor for the Federation. The Iconians are more insidious than just staging war, they want to tear each government apart with civil war. Though the Council denies it, Section 31 exists. Citizens have grown angered and if they get confirmation of its existence, it will be complete anarchy. With every clandestine mission to prevent Iconian threats, the organization grows stronger. They may soon grasp control of the Federation.
The Federation has three possible fates. Either we shall be torn apart by this enemy and be conquered, come out of this war with complete and utter corruption, or we shall use this incident to purify our government of this horrible stain.
The future is in our hands. The Iconians are bound to come. Today, we find our destinies. Today, we decide tomorrow.

I stood on the bridge, grasping my hands in front of my face. I drank earl gray tea I created using the replicator on the arm of my chair.
It was time. Before us, the Gateway at the Dyson sphere lay waiting. It buzzed with energy. Forms and shapes grew within it. The Iconians approached.
Along side, the Enterprise, the pride of the fleet stood. And with us, the Kirk, the Phlox, the Missouri, the Excelsior, the Trevin, the McCoy, and many more.
We were all about to undergo the greatest battle of our lives.
To be continued...

"Star Trek: Rubicon" Season 1, Season 2 A new era, a new time, a new crew, a new ship, a new mission...
"I rather believe that time is a companion who goes with us on the journey and reminds us to cherish every moment because it will never come again."- Jean-Luc Picard

Last edited by captclazorus; 03-29-2014 at 11:38 AM.
Join Date: Jul 2013
Posts: 23
# 18
03-23-2014, 09:42 AM
Joanne still isn't exactly sure how she got here. Oh, she knows the technicalities of it - one and a half weeks of strategic meetings and tactical engineers shaking their heads at the Mutabor - but why she was chosen to lead Starfleet's forces into this battle remains a mystery to her. She's a physicist, for heaven's sake, and the Mutabor isn't what you'd call a bruiser by any definiton. She's heard the rumours, of course. Bitter captains of massive war ships whispering about there having been a lottery, and it's simultaneously the stupidest and most offensive thing Joanne has ever heard.

It's all part of the plan, if the sparse information she has received is anything to go by. There's an official plan, which has probably leaked to the enemy forces already, and another one, that only a handful of people are privy to. One of them is her first officer, and Joanne is about eighty percent sure that Commander Corspa Eide is the one who came up with it in the first place. Joanne has needled her for more information, obviously, but she's been met with a stony silence that is quite unsettling from someone she's been friends with for over ten years now.

Then again, nothing about the whole situation is particularly reassuring. They've known it would happen for a while now, but that doesn't mean that they were prepared for the message Command sent out almost three weeks ago. Everything since then has been a blur, from announcing to the crew that they had been tasked with leading the vanguard, to hearing about all the millions of people that had been evacuated, to this. Four hours out from an empty region of space and what is probably going to be her death. It's not that Joanne thinks the situation is hopeless, but basically everyone she's talked to in the last couple of days has commended her and her crew in a way that makes it pretty obvious that they all think it's a suicide mission.

Then again, Joanne thinks, looking down at the PADD containing her orders for about the hundredth time, that is what it looks like. It's all common practice, really, sending in a small group of ships first to weaken the enemy's defences, but with the battlegroup Joanne's been given, it's like they're not even trying. Granted, they're all good ships, able to hold their own in a fight, but not in what's shaping up to be the final, decisive confrontation between the greatest powers in the galaxy (not counting the Borg, which Joanne is eternally grateful for). Heavens, she knows for a fact that one of the captains was awarded a medal by the Diplomatic Corps just last month!

Joanne puts down the PADD and turns her head to look out the window of her ready room at the stars streaking by. She rubs her face, rakes her fingers through her hair and absent-mindedly fiddles with the Vice Admiral pins on her uniform collar. She hopes her mothers are safe. She hopes the weapons upgrades that were practically welded last-minute onto the hull won't fall off the moment she gives the order to fire. She hopes that whatever Starfleet have got up their sleeves is going to work. She glances down at her PADD, at the one line in her orders that hints at something more, something that will save all their lives.

T+12, or at discretion of Fleet Admiral Juana Galán: relinquish command to Captain (temp.) Corspa sh'Eide.

There's a sickening sense of relief coming with the knowledge that less than half an hour into the battle, Joanne will be able to hand over all responsibility to her tactical officer and help out in engineering or sick bay instead. Joanne doesn't get a chance to dwell on that thought any longer, as there's a beep from the comm system and Commander Taallir's voice comes through.

"Admiral Roslyn, please report to the bridge. We have made sensor contact with the enemy."

With a silent sigh, Joanne gets up, straightening her uniform and steeling herself for what's to come. Guess she'll find out what the grand plan was when they come out the other side.

Last edited by jonnaroslyn; 03-23-2014 at 09:55 AM.
Lt. Commander
Join Date: Feb 2013
Posts: 239
# 19 The Iconian Factor
03-23-2014, 03:58 PM
The Iconian Factor

Sometime into the Far Future...

Tactical Assessment of the Federation:
Base Location: Sector 001,
Dominant Species: Human,
Ruling Government: Federation,
Home System of Operation: Earth, Humans Home World.

Current Allies: Klingon Defense Force, Romulan Republic.

Current Enemies: Undine Servitor Faction, Elachi Servitor Race, Solanae Servitor Race, Tal Shiar Servitor Faction.

Neutral: Dominion.

Assessment: Tactical Threat along with other Alpha and Beta Quadrant Powers.
Reassessment: Maneuver Servitor Races and Factions against the Federation, Klingon, and Romulan Republic Worlds.

Our Race IS Dying, We Must Survive, We Must Plunder Their Worlds For Ourselves.
A metallic planet-shell, created a millennia ago through the deaths of countless worlds and lost cultures, subjugated by an ancient, and powerful force, was located in the void between galaxies. After centuries without use, undetected by anyone outside the void, even by its creators, it had slumbered undisturbed. Millions of automatic systems began to jump to life as a single Gateway activated. The Gateway suspended the travelers for ten point three seconds prior to arrival, to identify the most suitable artificial atmosphere for its new hosts.

The Gateway spat out the Joint-Alliance scientific survey team, consisting of a duo of Humans, a Klingon, a Ferasan , a Romulan and Reman Scientist, as well as four Reman Resistance Officers, a group of six M.A.C.O Elite and four Klingon Honor Guard soldiers.

With the reawakening of the Sphere, it also opened a long forgotten stasis structure within a single Iconian ship far within the bowels of the once-dead sphere.


Onboard the Iconian Ship, The Atax:
[Kandar se, kandar ere, kandar more, kandar sete, kandar ne, kandar qetar, kandar jet, kandar piqe...]

(Translated from Iconian to English)

[Stasis Device has finished reanimation process, starting reactivation sequence...

A that a dark red, see-through hand with dark black armor sculpted to the arm, pushed open the door to the crypt like structure of the stasis device. It was awake, and it was in for a rude awakening.

[Master, intruders detected, non-aligned with the Iconian Protectorate; recent updates to the mainframe with the reactivation of the gateway network cite these intruders as enemies, immediate termination is authorized]

[Do nothing computer, non-lethal protocols will be enough, I wish to inquire information from these beings of galactic affairs, confirm orders accepted.]

[I'm sorry master, but with the recent update, my intelligence protocols have been updated, and I've been authorized to supercede your commands, so that the Iconian Empire can take this base for its efforts in its galactic affairs; please do not attempt to sabotage me, or I will be forced to kill you before the Empire can claim this sphere.

20 minutes later...

The last drone dispatched the final Reman Guard that was left alive, the only survivor of the brutal massacre that had begun twenty minutes ago when the Iconian Computer A.I. activated the internal defenses.

The Reman was ten feet from the Iconian Gateway that was the entrance to their tombs, but it wouldn't have mattered if he survived to activate the gateway home, as the gateway activated no less then ten seconds later to reveal an Iconian walking through the gateway. The Iconian surveyed the space in the sphere, turning to the ancient computer system near the gate, to read of the sphere's contents. If an Iconian could show a smirk, if it didn't already feel as superior as it did, this one would be showing a Cheshire grin.

Projected Holding space of Sphere: 1,000,000 Dreadnaught-Class ships.
Current Ship Status: Four Iconian-Class Dreadnaughts, 100,000 Elachi Qulash Frigates, Twenty Sheshar Dreadnaughts , Six Neutronium-Plated Planet-Killers. Experimental Dreadnaught Prototype: Atax, equipped with a miniaturized Psionic Enhancer/Control Device for planet wide contact with friendly/hostile species.
This would change the flow of the current war against the Alpha-Beta Quadrant Alliance. The Iconian Empire will survive.


Starfleet Academy, Earth 2434

It was a foggy San Francisco morning, with a chill in the air; it was fifty-nine degrees, uncommon and unusual for a standard May on Earth, but not unheard of in the San Francisco area of late. It was barely 6 O'clock in the morning, and only bi-luminary species or the common stray domestic pet was up at this time of day. The Starfleet Academy in all it's stunning glory looked majestic, even with its points and hidden crevices shrouded by the morning fog. The air fogged the glass windows of the academy main building, hosting the famous Club 602 and its many bartenders.

On the foggy windows though, one could see the many fingerprints of the people who visited this hall the night previous, as more people still with various drinks, hot and cold, still sit at the tables and ponder their morning affairs. With all the fog on the windows, you would think seeing a reflection the glass would be difficult, but it wasn't for me. I sighed and reflected on what had happened in the past three days.

I had ordered an Earl Grey tea, asked for Saurian Brandy to be added, and sipped at the hot drink, as it began to chase the chills of the cool morning away from my tired figure. I was so busy enjoying my drink I hadn't noticed the broad figure of Sharvan slip into the chair across from mine. "Your an oddity, captain, you know that?" He said, "Your the only Professor here at 6:30 in the morning, and only to drink tea?" I shrugged off the look, and focused on the apprehension I could see in his eyes.

"Hello little brother," I said looking at him while sipping my tea, knowing what he was here for, "I've retired Sharvan, what could the top brass want from me?" He blanched, confused at my statement, then became stony faced once more.

"So you've realized something's off I guess, huh?" he said it as a question, but posed it as more of a statement. He turned his head up, looked around, then slipped something from his pocket onto the table we shared. "Sorry, this device will keep any unauthorized ears from listening in," he told me with a slight look of nervousness, "I'm sorry I couldn't tell you, but this is top alliance class secrecy levels I'm working with here." I merely stared at him with a look of impatience. "The Iconians are back Gregs, I've been cleared by Section 31, Klingon Intelligence, Romulan Republic Intelligence, and a few other of the quadrants intelligences, to create a task force," he pauses, "More specifically, a small group of people to lead the Alliance into battle, any who have had contact with the Iconians, gateway technology, Elachi, or Solanae and lived to tell the tale."

I look at him like he is crazy, maybe he is. "I can't Sharvan, and you know why!," I say to him. He looks, down at his crossed hands. "I have Zel, Cann, and little Xavir to look after, and my wife wouldn't like to find out I died from a Federation representative," I yell, "Why should I die because of the Iconians, why me, when so many others have fought against them and been successful?" He looks me in the eye, and I can tell that what he is going to say next would be the truth; it's the same look I give.

"Gregs, your the only one who is left, everyone else has been systematically incapacitated or killed in strategic strikes against civilian or military ships," he says, "And there is more Gregs, they're right on the Romulan Border, latest intelligence reports that an Iconian force of 50 ships spotted around the remains of Romulus and Remus, among them were Elachi vessels, Tal Shiar vessels, an inactivated Planet-Killer, and lastly an Iconian ship, named the Atax."

I was concerned by this report, and decided to act on this. "Sharvan, could you leave the device here...I need a moment to call my wife, and talk privately," I say to my younger twin. He nodded and left the table, bringing with him a cup I didn't notice I drained while we talked. I brought out my personal communications P.A.D.D., and activated the video conferencing feature, to which my wife answered in our house outside San Francisco, along with the a sleepy looking six-year old in her arms.

"It's a good thing Xavir already woke me up because of a nightmare Gregs, or I'd be cross with you for calling me at six -she looked away for a second- forty seven in the morning," she said, before she noticed my grim face, "What's wrong?" I proceeded to tell her all that Sharvan had told me, along with my decision, and she looked like she was about to cry. "Gregs, why do you have to have such a strong sense of duty...I can't stop you, but I can only tell you...come back home safely," she says, "Wait on the line a few... let me get Zelandra and Cann up so they can at least know... just in case."

She brought back the 14 year old twins with her and after a tear filled 'see you soons' I turned off the P.A.D.D. and went with Sharvan to fulfill my new mission.

24 Hours Later

Six sectors had been set up, two in the Jouret System, both near the Iconian Space Gateway, one at Quo'nos, one at Earth, and one at Mol'Rihan, and a final one to lay in wait at DS9 between Bajor and the Wormhole to the Gamma Quadrant.

Now was the time for me to go over the ship roster.

Alliance Ships:

16 Vesta-Class Starships
30 Chimera Heavy Destroyers
6 Galaxy-X
6 Avenger-Class
6 Solanae-Class Dyson Destroyers
200 Constellation-Class
50 Odyssey-class Ships
150 Galaxy Class Cruisers

Romulan Republic:
100 D'deridex Warbirds
10 Aves-Class Dyson Destroyers
200 Light T'Varo Warbirds
12 Scimitar Warbirds
20 Khnial Borg Ships,
20 Tal Shiar Adapted Destroyers, Llaihr-class

30 Bortasqu' Class ships
60 Vo'Quv-Class carriers
25 Nov-Class Dyson Destroyers
45 Negh'Var-Class Heavy Battle Cruiser

Recovered Enemy Ships:

15 Hirogen Apex Heavy Battlecrusiers

100 Breen Chel Grett Warships

120 Tholian Widows
35 Tholian Recluse
15 Tarantula

500 True Way Jem'Hadar Attack Ships
25 Reclaimed Jem'Hadar Dreadnaughts

95 Obilesk Carriers
60 Monbosh Destroyers
1 Iconian Ship: Obex
The Obex, our secret weapon, an Iconian ship I remember wresting from the grasp of the Iconian captain, having to kill or be killed in that situation. He didn't like that, but I think the darkness of space really suited the Demon of Air and Darkness, though I don't know how much air he would have. The Iconian ship had been searched, dissected, and reengineered for over twenty years, its technology shared between the Alliance powers, advancing all sharing powers closer in understanding of the Iconian Empires plans of galactic domination, as well as being able to closer match their weaponry and power, though we were still out of our league.


Latest intelligence reported that a huge fleet of Iconian and associated ships were just past deep space scanners, and a Romulan scouting force was dispatched, but only one returned, badly burned and warped by weapons fire. Reports show a space gateway, almost near activation, and who knows what it could do or where it could lead to.

Red alert klaxons blared to life as subspace messages came in from the reporting sectors.

"All sectors are compromised, I repeat, all sectors are compromised, Iconian signatures are forming within sector limits, I repeat six space gateways have formed out of subspace depositing Elachi and Planet Killers, and subspace links show it leads to the active gateway outside the Romulan border, I repeat..." the subspace message said, "Eleven light years from Bajor, six light years from Qo'noS, ten light years from Earth, Mol'Rihan and the Jouret system is swarmed with Elachi... I repeat all sectors compromised, hold attack formation." The crew looks to Captain Son'aire, and he merely sits in the Oregon's Captain's chair, his hands folded and a smile on his face.

"Good, it's happening all according to plan."

1 Hour Later

Outside the battle was raging, Elachi ships swarmed the Alliance fleets placed to battle the gateways, Iconian Dreadnaughts had appeared in five of the six sectors, each protected by a mix of Solanae Obelisk Carriers and Elachi Sheshar Dreadnaughts. The Planet Killers were the main enemy at the moment, cutting away at swaths of Elachi and Alliance fighters, though Alliance ships were holding the best they could against the larger enemy fleet.

"Captain, Tholian recluses, and swarms of Tholian Widows and Mesh Weavers are appearing out of... subspace..." said a lieutenant at the comm station, " well as various dozens of Voth ships, who appeared to have generated the subspace bubbles, and all are converging on the Planet Killers...Planet Killers in every sector have been neutralized, and Elachi ships are converging on Iconian-Class Dreadnaughts to protect them, especially in sector 3, Mol'Rihan, around the Atax." Captain Son'aire stood up from his chair.

"Good, now lets hope Gregs' can finish his half of the mission," Captain Sharvan Son'aire says to himself, "He's our last ditch hope."


The dark and lithe shape of the Iconian ship Obex as it flew past stars and planets against the blue glow of warp speed could be called fearsome. The ship had been docked in the Mars Ship Yards as it was prepared for a one passenger flight crew. Now it began its journey at warp to reach its destination, using its in-board subspace jump system to jump light years closer every few minutes.

Aboard the Atax

The Obex was on the Iconians view screen, and the Iconian watching its approach knew it had no Servitor race or Iconian onboard, but a weak pretender who thought it could make a difference in this war. [To all Servitors do not attack the Obex, let it through so we may reclaim it, that is all,] the Iconian then turned back to the screen. Let it come.


The ship approached New Romulus, avoiding barely the warzone around it, and made it to the outer ring of the Elachi barrier around the Atax, and was alowwed in. 'So they already know I'm here then eh,' Gregs thought to himself, 'Well, it may be a trap, but I know I can still make a difference.'


Ten Minutes Later....

I was thrown roughly into an Iconian prison cell, at the feet of another prisoner in the shadows. I got up, looked outside the force field and then turned to the being in the shadows, as only its red and black legs were showing in the purplish glow of the artificial lighting. The Being stood up to reveal a slightly smaller Iconian male, not too unlike the one I had faced before, less menacing and threatening then the one in control of the Obex. "Kersae, Sone Tren Kante, Ve Ken Da'ne..." it began to say, though it was merely gibberish to me. I accessed my telepathic powers, augmented the language portion of my brain chemistry, and scanned the Iconians mind. "...It is good to know that you can know understand me now telepath, though had you merely asked I would have prepared myself for such an intrusion," the Iconian spoke to me, "Now, how is the battle faring for your people; for the Iconian Empire seems to be ruthless conquerors now, instead of the kind protectorate I once knew generations past." I began to spin my tale, from my life here in the Alpha Quadrant to my experience with the Iconians over the years.


Onboard the Obex

A single computer activated as the Atax began to scan the ships library for any useful information the lost ship had gained, no matter how outdated it was. Inside this computer was a Artificial Intelligence Computer Virus, reengineered from the Iconian Super Virus that could disable ships, though this one was to disable Omega Molecule powered ships and spread over subspace to any others in the vicinity and even spread across the Quadrants, leaving only life support aboard the ships intact, while making inert weapons and shields. Now this program was active, and ready to spread to the Iconian Fleets across the quadrants.


The Iconian prisoner was equally open about his people of the past, stating how once they were a protectorate, keeping young species from influencing other planets and civilizations, and if need be, remove hostile species that could threaten the development of life across the quadrants. He talked of how ancient Iconians were once conquerors, choosing to be gods among lesser beings, influencing them to help in the construction of Dyson Spheres, the Solanae for example be one such society, until Organians chose to intervene, setting them instead on the road to becoming the protectorate. It was said though, when the war against Iconian began 200,000 plus years ago, that it was started by a small faction hoping to become gods again, only to cause the very war that made their species extinct. And it seemed the very Iconians who started the war, were the only ones left, the Iconian Protectorate now an Empire, and once more conquerors instead of the explorers who created the Iconian Gateways.

Suddenly the ship rocked, the force fields around the cell going down, and resulting in freeing both I and the Iconian man, I found out named Mar'An, who was a scientist in the Dyson Sphere he was cryogenically frozen in. "Did you do this Gregs," he asked. I nodded and proceeded to tell him of the Iconian Virus the Alliance reengineered to attack the Omega powered ships. Both he and I removed ourselves from the cell, to face a horde of Elachi, I moved to grab a stray weapon. "No Gregs, don't give them a reason to attack, with me as your companion, they dare not attack one of their gods," Mar'An says, "They will not attack unless ordered to by their captain." Both he and I made our way to the bridge, the Iconian Virus recognizing me as an authorized user, powering the ships equivalent of turbolifts to allow us to reach the bridge. There we were met with a near empty bridge, save the Iconian Woman facing us with a bulky tiara like device she was placing onto her head.

"Your too late weak pretender, I have finally have had enough time to activate the mind control device to take over not only this planet, but your puny fleet of ships attacking our servitors," she said with an evil laugh, activating the device, "What... I should.. I should feel the billions of minds, but I feel nothing at all.. an emptiness, what trickery is this!" The Iconian woman brings up her own weapon, only to not fire any shots from the Omega powered device.

"I'm sorry Kan'Se, the device is not useable by you, it was not meant to conquer worlds, merely to pacify the genocidal, not control the innocent," Mar'An says, "Your attack was futile, your weapon is useless, surrender now and be spared the death you so deserve." At this the Iconian woman collapses onto the deck.

"My people... doomed... I failed them, they're all dead now, because of YOU!" she says yelling at Mar'An, "Had YOU not the resources we needed WE wouldn't have failed, you tricked me, I.. I failed." She was weeping, or its equivalent for an Iconian, and Mar'An put her in a pair of Iconian arm cuffs. He walks to a console over on the ship, and opens a subspace channel to all Iconian, Elachi, and Solanae ships across the quadrants.

"To all Iconian and Servitor ships across the battlefield, you have lost, the virus targeting your Omega generators will have surely been affected by now, and all but life support have been taken offline," he says, "Servitors will stand down, Kan'Se has surrendered to Federation Officer Gregs Son'aire, the Atax is now under my command, the Iconian Protectorate now controls any Servitor or Iconian Ships who can hear me, the Empire is no more, we must rebuild, but not as conquerors." At that he ends the message, and merely sits in the captains chair, waiting a response.


The fighting had stopped once all the Iconian ships were disabled by the Omega Virus, and once Mar'An's message was relayed over subspace all Servitor races immediately ceased fire on Alliance ships and vice versa. The remaining Iconians among the other Iconian Dreadnaughts chose to surrender themselves to Mar'An and relieved control of the ships to Alliance personnel with Servitor species that could operate the crafts.

The loss of life on the Alliance side was in the millions both military and civillian. Parts of Qo'noS was scorched black by ships that had escaped destruction before the cease-fire was called into effect, agriculture was sure to be affected because of the land that was destroyed, and First City shaken, but not harmed. Earth was blackened as well, London was on fire, Africa a pit of black, acidic, charred earth, parts of the east coast on the North American continent was in ruins by hurricanes and tornadoes created by the Elachi ships, and Global Flooding would be an issue as the artic caps were a third of the way melted by intense weapons fire from both sides. Mol'Rihan was mostly unscathed in its bulk, already healing from help in its already irradiated state, plant life actually enriched by the exotic energy the Elachi weapons use. Any displaced personnel from affected planets were offered a place on Mol'Rihan until they rebuilt, or for permanent residence if so desired. Risa offered its technology on terraforming to help the affected planets heal.

Gregs chose to remain with Mar'An and the Iconians, including Kan'Se, and acted as informal diplomat between the newly reformed Iconian Protectorate and the Alpha-Beta Alliance. Perhaps, just perhaps in time, the Iconians could learn to trust others again, then they could possibly thrive once more as flourishing species, maybe not now, but in the future.


Sometime in the Far Future

The classroom was full of beings from across the Alpha and Beta Quadrant; Human, Klingon, Vulcan, Trill and more were still flowing into the large university classroom. Exchange students were mixed in with the group as well, Ocampa, Talaxian, Krenim, Tholian, Voth, Romulan, Reman, Ferasan, Caitian, and even a few of the rarer Breen and even a few Tkon in recent years. All were hushed when the teacher had approached the podium, all ready to take notes.

"The Earth, home to the Federation, Qo'noS, home to Klingons, Vulcan, Fersa, Tellar, Cardassia, Mol'Rihan, the Alpha Quadrant, the Beta Quadrant, all home to what you may remember as the Federation of Planets, the Klingon Empire, the Romulan Republic, all main powers in the Alpha-Beta Quadrants," he activates a holoprojector in the middle of the room, showcasing these very planets in real time. It focus' then changes to a smaller, dark planet, filled with storms and violent weather all localized to the northern and southern poles, while ships are seen going to and fro against the planet. "This planet may be strange for a few, but may seem similar to those who read the assigned history chapters for last night, and may draw attention to those who've read ahead to tonights assignment," the professor says, "Iconia, home to the once dead Iconian Empire/Civilization over 200,000 plus years ago, and now it is revitalized some centuries after a galactic war that took place some two centuries ago." He moves to show an Iconian Dreadnaught, powered by the no longer secret Omega Molecules. "This ship, was the Atax, the undoing of the Iconian Empire, built by the Iconian Protectorate and piloted by one Kan'Se, leader at the time of the remaining Iconian Empire, some two hundred thousand strong, not counting the Servitor races they employed at the time," he continues, "Mar'An, the Iconian who found the once-thought-dead Tkon, the Iconian that rebuilt the Empire and restructured it into the Protectorate, and the first Iconian that was allowed entry into the Federation was a great being, he was a personal friend to those lucky enough to know him, an amazing scientist on Dyson Spheres, and a great politician, bringing the Iconian-Tkon alliance into the Alliance." He looked around at the young faces, and it reminded him how old he was, then a young cadet raised his hand.

"Sir, how do you know all of this, if I may ask," the young Tkon asked, "You say these things like you were there, but that was two hundred Terran years ago, how is this so; was an ancestor there at the battle?" The speaker looked at the young face, then recognized him as a young Tkon/Iconian, Shran, who had recently transferred from his granddaughter's class on Xenoscience to focus on Archeology instead of Chemistry.

"Well, since you are new, and were once a part of my granddaughters class, I can tell you I'm a bit of an oddity to the university," he removes his glasses, to wipe them clean, "My name is Gregs Sharvan Son'aire, Captain of the U.S.S. Oregon, Star Breaker, and my final vessel the Obex, and I'm a bit of a temporal and genetic anomaly among the Federation." He puts on the non-functional glasses, then turns back to the chalkboard behind him. "You see, I was there at the battle, and I was a friend of Mar'An, and later of Kan'Se after she changed her views, I was the one who ended that battle over two hundred years ago," he says, "But you see I've been quantum entangled with this universe, to live as long as the very universe will, by an entity known as the Q, for a very old crime I committed a long time ago, which I must - and will- make penance for, one day." He sits down in his chair, then looks to the star chart. "But that's neither here nor there, and I have nothing to regret anymore, and neither should you concern yourselveswith my current condition," he says, "Now to continue on with Quadrant History, tonight I wish for you to all read the chapter on how the Iconians rediscovered the lost outpost of the Tkon, hidden from the rest of the universe in the Spore Nebula of D-Star 56-A-9807 of the Andromeda'd probably know a bit about this Shran..."

Last edited by aten66; 04-01-2014 at 04:31 PM. Reason: Final Update 4/1
Survivor of Remus
Join Date: Dec 2012
Posts: 359
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Last edited by squatsauce; 03-24-2014 at 12:23 PM.

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