05) A Mighty Battle Coming
31 OCTOBER, 2569
23:00:02
These Romulans knew how to use their cloaks.
NAS Muskogee drifted at 11.2 kips, her systems completely blacked down, well within gun range of a line of 1,950 cloaked Romulan hulls running on minimum power, minimum life support, passive sensors only, those passive sensors having an effective range of 100 kiloklicks with all other EM emissions minimized.
Even a blacked down starship generated hest and other electromagnetic spectrum information, not enoigh to light it up like a Christmas tree, nut more than enough to show up on the 190,000-ton Manhattan-class light cruiser's own passive sensors, especially when linked to the passive sensors of her 72 Picadors and 48 Corsairs, as well as to the passive sensors, frones and fighters of the Mobile Strike Fleet's 1,449 other capitial platforms.
“Report from Sentinel, via HAARP,” Radioman 1C Carole Vaughn reported in the coldlamp-lit gloom of CIC.”Romulans have formed two skirmish lines, 100 kiloklicks apart, and continue to hold station, under cloak.”
“Counter detectiom?” Beck asked, for only the third or tenth time, since the fleet, plus everything the Feds, the Cardassians, the Bajorans and B-Prime had ready to go, had taken up position aft of both Romulan lines.
“Negative, Skipper,” Senior Chief Radarman Miles McGrath reported.”No active sweeps, no small craft launches, and we're still out of their passive range.
Beck nodded.
“They're hoping we overrun the first line,” Commander Talina Allred offered,”before they drop their cloaks, and catch us between two fires. The Starfleeters I've talked to say it's a classic Romulan tactic.”
“They still outnumber us 2 to 1, XO,” Beck replied; with comm silence, it could only be assumed the commanders on the Alliance side of space would send a sufficent force to reverse thisclassic Romulan tactic on the Romulans, but, assuming made an ass of you and me, as the saying went, and, regardless, the fleet and its allies would bum rush the Romiulans at the appointed time.
She glanced at the clock in the window of the tactical holoproj, counting down(painfully, slowly from her point of view)the minutes, before the fleet opened fire at max range, the fighters and drones came to life, and launched their attacks, and everyon powered up, and charged, max av, through what enemy were left, and straight through to the Justinia system.
She shivered inwardly; Beck had seen the telemtery from Palestinia, huge warships and their crew sliced deli-thin by ever-propagating strands of monowire, the web around the planet preventing any ship from getting through.
There were at least three concentric rings of the stuff round the system, its starbase and orbital docks, and the planet itself, and the only way the allied forces had for sure of getting through all three webs was brute force, which meant prohibitive casualties, as not only were the anchor points defended, as the Fed rear admiral, Sheridan, had pointed out, when Yukari had briefed her group commanders, Kim had briefed her squadron skippers, and Commodore Perry had briefed her capatains, but, the enemy could simply gather his ships at each of those anchor points.
The only bright note was what remained of Sheridan's Starfleet Intel assets had detected the Klingon Western Fleet massing at Walkuria, the nearest Klingon world to Cardassian space, which, if there were gods who answered prayers, meant they would launch a direct assault on the Justinia system.
But,the Klingons weren't forthcoming with their battle plans, and the Starfleeters had rumors of a possible alliance between the two normally antagonistic powers.
So...the Mobile Strike Fleet and its allies had only one sure plan, and, frankly, it sucked hairy, green Buddha balls, same as every other time this fleet had charged headlong into enemy guns in the year Fleet Scouting Group 55 had been assinged to it.
On the other hand, no one joined the Fleet in hopes of dying in bed.
Great.
Now, Beck would think about how she missed Kim and Yukari's cuddles, even though Kim and she had spent some quality alone time together ever since the first engagement against the Romulans.
About a couple, three hours ago, not a lot of time, but, you took what you got, and ran with it, when it came to initimate relationships, especially polyamotous ones, and service in the Fleet.
They'd more time at Annapolis, though the three of them had actually met in Baltimore, in a bar room brawl, them versus a dimwitted bunch of Unionist scumbags, and Kim had been a menace with a broken bottle.
Beck smiled...three years wasn't really that long either, it was over, and they were comissioned as middies, and posted to seperate ships for their fourth-year cruises, before any of them knew it.
Seemed that way with most Beck's thirty-eight years in this mortal coil, all gone by her in a flash and a roar of light.
All she could do was hope Muskogee wouldn't go the same way in the battle to come.
31 OCTOBER, Y169
23:00:15
“Frankly, Kyra,” Legate Admiral Elim Garrak, Prefect of Bajor, told the Kai, as she sat across from him in Terok Nor's office, and drank mugs of a Human beverage known as root beer,”my hands are tied.”
“The local head of the Obsidian Order--” Kyra started to say, Garrak replying,”Shot through and through with agents working for the Tal'Shiar, Circentus-ta, or both.
They're watching us right now, hoping we'd give them something worth watching.”
Kyra made a face.
“Yes,” Garrak remarked, smiling.”We may have friends in common, but...no.”
“So...” Kyra said.
“I couldn't, even if I wanted to,” was Garrak's reply.”They can only be deactivated from inside the starbase's operations center, and I haven't any friends in the Justinia system, none with that kind of access.”
“I see,” Kyra sadly replied.
“Speaking of friends in common,” Garrak thrn pretended to change the subject,”Ziyal is still very fond of you.”
“How is she?” Kyra asked, face brightening at the mention of their mutual lover's name.
“She says she can't find decent haasparat anywhere on Friesland,” Garrak replied,”which, according to her, is a shame, as the beer on Friesland would've complimented it perfectly.”
“I might have to send her a care package,” Kyra observed, Garrack addinf,”she says the best part of her new assignment for House Circentus-ta is meeting new people.
She seems especially fascinated by our most recent arrival from another reality, and is considering offering the captain and crew of that ship steady, gainful employment.”
31 OCTOBER, 2569
23:01:50
It had been a busy flight to Friesland.
The crash course in economivs of this reality was enough to give her a spliyying headache, as the Terran Commonwealth used a digital currency exclusively, same as the Gnats, while each patriot in the Theoctacy could print hard currency to his heart's content, within ever-shifting limits imposed by BuTRADOCC.
Here, only the late Federation had utilized a digital currency, the Terran Dominion, convinced such a thing was the Mark of the Beast, immediately adopted the gold-presed latium standard used by most of the rest of this reality's known space, the moment they'd consolidated power over a year ago.
Nevertheless, it had taken Sonia a bit of research and time to figure out how to divvy up 250 bars GPL amongst the ship's 399 remaining crew, and still have enough left over to provision the ship and keep her running for the nexxt month.
The harder part had been first finding, then, preparing, a Bajoran herbed meat pir known as haasparat.
She was now hoping that hasn't been a bloody waste of time.
As Eagle herself orbited Friesland, her guest, and Baranov's, smoothed her brown skirt, in a very Human like gesture, as she ate some of Sonia's cooking, washing it down with a bottle of pale ale from her family's farm on Venus.
In another time and place.
Nakomis had been addicted to coffee, and it had been like pulling teeth to get her to drink a bit of wine with her carnosaur steak, new potatoes, asparagus, and chocolate cobbler for her birthday last month, Nakomis jokingly telling Sonia she was trying to get her drunk, so she could have her wicked way with her.
She smiled.
Til she'd found in a dumpster in some shithole town on Earth, at the age of eight, her wife's young life had been...hell didn't even begin to describe what she'd been put through,..
For her to joke like that...not only of how much she'd grown in the intervening 27 years, but how deeply she trusted Sonia, and Sonia appreciated that, made damn sure her first, truest love was always safe and loved in her arms.
“Captain?” Ziyal Tora, House Circentus-ta's represenative on the Frieslander Mercenary Bonding Authority, asked, concerned.
“Nothing,” Sonia said, using a wetwipe from the kitchenette to wipe her face.”It's really nothing.
How's the haasparat?,” she the asked, changing the subject.”It's my first time making it, and--”
“It's excellent,” Ziyal replied, washing down still another bite of food with a swallow of ale,”as is the ale; I haven't had decent haasparat, since I left Bajor. Thank you.”
Sonia grinned, as she leaned up against the wardroom sink...least that part of the quick psych profile Lavinia had worked on the flight here had been spot on.
“Unfortunately, Mister Chairman,” Ziyal then said, confirming more of said profile,”I must decline your request to hire Frieslander forces into Federation service.”
“Oh?” Baranov said.
“The Big Four,” Friesland's four largest banks,”have been hired by my House to form part of the enforcement fleet headed to Alliance space, and, under the terms of the contract forming the Bonding Authority, Circentus-ta's requests have ultimate priority.”
“Of course,” Sonia remarked, Ziyal adding:
“Even if that weren't the case, Cirentus-ta, as part of its price for being part of the Authority, has forbidden any mercenary contracts between the Frieslander government, and the Federation government, and, to be honest, the continued existence of our business, as well as of Friesland itself lies in not alienating our overlords on Romulus.”
“I should've expected as much,” Baranov conceded, sipping his bottle of ale.
“However,” Ziyal thrn saod,”Captain, the performance of your ship and crew against Tomolok's ships in the recent battle has not gone unnoticed by us, and I've been authorized to make you an offer.”
“Okay?” said Sonia, trying to sound as dubious about the intended prposal.
“You and your crew will be given equivalent ranks, pay and status in the Royal Frieslander Navy,” Ziyal went on,”and a starting bonus of five hundred bars GPL.”
“I'll need fighter craft, crews, and marines,” Sonia replied.
“As a warship in our Navy, you will have your authorized complements of both,” Ziyal assured her.
“Ermmm...” Sonia said, finally taking a swig from her bottle of ale, making a show of cinidering the hal-Bajoran woman's offer.
Finally telling Baranov:
“Sorry, mate, but it is steady work, which the crew and I could use, being stuck here and all, ans, for hiring for other people's wars, welll, shit, it isn't as if we're cut out to b free traders, pirates, or even farmers, y'know?”
Bidding, Baranov got up, shook Sonia's free hand, and remarked,”no hard feelings, Captain. Your crew's your first priority.”
“I'll refund your money, of course,” Soia offered, Baranov replying,”no need. I really only hired you to bring me to Friesland, and you've done that. I'll just stop by my quarters, get my things, and gate down to the surface of the planet.”
“Fair winds and following seas,” he added, before Ziyal uploaded a contract to Sonia's BCI.
31 OCTOBER, 2569
23:00:02
These Romulans knew how to use their cloaks.
NAS Muskogee drifted at 11.2 kips, her systems completely blacked down, well within gun range of a line of 1,950 cloaked Romulan hulls running on minimum power, minimum life support, passive sensors only, those passive sensors having an effective range of 100 kiloklicks with all other EM emissions minimized.
Even a blacked down starship generated hest and other electromagnetic spectrum information, not enoigh to light it up like a Christmas tree, nut more than enough to show up on the 190,000-ton Manhattan-class light cruiser's own passive sensors, especially when linked to the passive sensors of her 72 Picadors and 48 Corsairs, as well as to the passive sensors, frones and fighters of the Mobile Strike Fleet's 1,449 other capitial platforms.
“Report from Sentinel, via HAARP,” Radioman 1C Carole Vaughn reported in the coldlamp-lit gloom of CIC.”Romulans have formed two skirmish lines, 100 kiloklicks apart, and continue to hold station, under cloak.”
“Counter detectiom?” Beck asked, for only the third or tenth time, since the fleet, plus everything the Feds, the Cardassians, the Bajorans and B-Prime had ready to go, had taken up position aft of both Romulan lines.
“Negative, Skipper,” Senior Chief Radarman Miles McGrath reported.”No active sweeps, no small craft launches, and we're still out of their passive range.
Beck nodded.
“They're hoping we overrun the first line,” Commander Talina Allred offered,”before they drop their cloaks, and catch us between two fires. The Starfleeters I've talked to say it's a classic Romulan tactic.”
“They still outnumber us 2 to 1, XO,” Beck replied; with comm silence, it could only be assumed the commanders on the Alliance side of space would send a sufficent force to reverse thisclassic Romulan tactic on the Romulans, but, assuming made an ass of you and me, as the saying went, and, regardless, the fleet and its allies would bum rush the Romiulans at the appointed time.
She glanced at the clock in the window of the tactical holoproj, counting down(painfully, slowly from her point of view)the minutes, before the fleet opened fire at max range, the fighters and drones came to life, and launched their attacks, and everyon powered up, and charged, max av, through what enemy were left, and straight through to the Justinia system.
She shivered inwardly; Beck had seen the telemtery from Palestinia, huge warships and their crew sliced deli-thin by ever-propagating strands of monowire, the web around the planet preventing any ship from getting through.
There were at least three concentric rings of the stuff round the system, its starbase and orbital docks, and the planet itself, and the only way the allied forces had for sure of getting through all three webs was brute force, which meant prohibitive casualties, as not only were the anchor points defended, as the Fed rear admiral, Sheridan, had pointed out, when Yukari had briefed her group commanders, Kim had briefed her squadron skippers, and Commodore Perry had briefed her capatains, but, the enemy could simply gather his ships at each of those anchor points.
The only bright note was what remained of Sheridan's Starfleet Intel assets had detected the Klingon Western Fleet massing at Walkuria, the nearest Klingon world to Cardassian space, which, if there were gods who answered prayers, meant they would launch a direct assault on the Justinia system.
But,the Klingons weren't forthcoming with their battle plans, and the Starfleeters had rumors of a possible alliance between the two normally antagonistic powers.
So...the Mobile Strike Fleet and its allies had only one sure plan, and, frankly, it sucked hairy, green Buddha balls, same as every other time this fleet had charged headlong into enemy guns in the year Fleet Scouting Group 55 had been assinged to it.
On the other hand, no one joined the Fleet in hopes of dying in bed.
Great.
Now, Beck would think about how she missed Kim and Yukari's cuddles, even though Kim and she had spent some quality alone time together ever since the first engagement against the Romulans.
About a couple, three hours ago, not a lot of time, but, you took what you got, and ran with it, when it came to initimate relationships, especially polyamotous ones, and service in the Fleet.
They'd more time at Annapolis, though the three of them had actually met in Baltimore, in a bar room brawl, them versus a dimwitted bunch of Unionist scumbags, and Kim had been a menace with a broken bottle.
Beck smiled...three years wasn't really that long either, it was over, and they were comissioned as middies, and posted to seperate ships for their fourth-year cruises, before any of them knew it.
Seemed that way with most Beck's thirty-eight years in this mortal coil, all gone by her in a flash and a roar of light.
All she could do was hope Muskogee wouldn't go the same way in the battle to come.
31 OCTOBER, Y169
23:00:15
“Frankly, Kyra,” Legate Admiral Elim Garrak, Prefect of Bajor, told the Kai, as she sat across from him in Terok Nor's office, and drank mugs of a Human beverage known as root beer,”my hands are tied.”
“The local head of the Obsidian Order--” Kyra started to say, Garrak replying,”Shot through and through with agents working for the Tal'Shiar, Circentus-ta, or both.
They're watching us right now, hoping we'd give them something worth watching.”
Kyra made a face.
“Yes,” Garrak remarked, smiling.”We may have friends in common, but...no.”
“So...” Kyra said.
“I couldn't, even if I wanted to,” was Garrak's reply.”They can only be deactivated from inside the starbase's operations center, and I haven't any friends in the Justinia system, none with that kind of access.”
“I see,” Kyra sadly replied.
“Speaking of friends in common,” Garrak thrn pretended to change the subject,”Ziyal is still very fond of you.”
“How is she?” Kyra asked, face brightening at the mention of their mutual lover's name.
“She says she can't find decent haasparat anywhere on Friesland,” Garrak replied,”which, according to her, is a shame, as the beer on Friesland would've complimented it perfectly.”
“I might have to send her a care package,” Kyra observed, Garrack addinf,”she says the best part of her new assignment for House Circentus-ta is meeting new people.
She seems especially fascinated by our most recent arrival from another reality, and is considering offering the captain and crew of that ship steady, gainful employment.”
31 OCTOBER, 2569
23:01:50
It had been a busy flight to Friesland.
The crash course in economivs of this reality was enough to give her a spliyying headache, as the Terran Commonwealth used a digital currency exclusively, same as the Gnats, while each patriot in the Theoctacy could print hard currency to his heart's content, within ever-shifting limits imposed by BuTRADOCC.
Here, only the late Federation had utilized a digital currency, the Terran Dominion, convinced such a thing was the Mark of the Beast, immediately adopted the gold-presed latium standard used by most of the rest of this reality's known space, the moment they'd consolidated power over a year ago.
Nevertheless, it had taken Sonia a bit of research and time to figure out how to divvy up 250 bars GPL amongst the ship's 399 remaining crew, and still have enough left over to provision the ship and keep her running for the nexxt month.
The harder part had been first finding, then, preparing, a Bajoran herbed meat pir known as haasparat.
She was now hoping that hasn't been a bloody waste of time.
As Eagle herself orbited Friesland, her guest, and Baranov's, smoothed her brown skirt, in a very Human like gesture, as she ate some of Sonia's cooking, washing it down with a bottle of pale ale from her family's farm on Venus.
In another time and place.
Nakomis had been addicted to coffee, and it had been like pulling teeth to get her to drink a bit of wine with her carnosaur steak, new potatoes, asparagus, and chocolate cobbler for her birthday last month, Nakomis jokingly telling Sonia she was trying to get her drunk, so she could have her wicked way with her.
She smiled.
Til she'd found in a dumpster in some shithole town on Earth, at the age of eight, her wife's young life had been...hell didn't even begin to describe what she'd been put through,..
For her to joke like that...not only of how much she'd grown in the intervening 27 years, but how deeply she trusted Sonia, and Sonia appreciated that, made damn sure her first, truest love was always safe and loved in her arms.
“Captain?” Ziyal Tora, House Circentus-ta's represenative on the Frieslander Mercenary Bonding Authority, asked, concerned.
“Nothing,” Sonia said, using a wetwipe from the kitchenette to wipe her face.”It's really nothing.
How's the haasparat?,” she the asked, changing the subject.”It's my first time making it, and--”
“It's excellent,” Ziyal replied, washing down still another bite of food with a swallow of ale,”as is the ale; I haven't had decent haasparat, since I left Bajor. Thank you.”
Sonia grinned, as she leaned up against the wardroom sink...least that part of the quick psych profile Lavinia had worked on the flight here had been spot on.
“Unfortunately, Mister Chairman,” Ziyal then said, confirming more of said profile,”I must decline your request to hire Frieslander forces into Federation service.”
“Oh?” Baranov said.
“The Big Four,” Friesland's four largest banks,”have been hired by my House to form part of the enforcement fleet headed to Alliance space, and, under the terms of the contract forming the Bonding Authority, Circentus-ta's requests have ultimate priority.”
“Of course,” Sonia remarked, Ziyal adding:
“Even if that weren't the case, Cirentus-ta, as part of its price for being part of the Authority, has forbidden any mercenary contracts between the Frieslander government, and the Federation government, and, to be honest, the continued existence of our business, as well as of Friesland itself lies in not alienating our overlords on Romulus.”
“I should've expected as much,” Baranov conceded, sipping his bottle of ale.
“However,” Ziyal thrn saod,”Captain, the performance of your ship and crew against Tomolok's ships in the recent battle has not gone unnoticed by us, and I've been authorized to make you an offer.”
“Okay?” said Sonia, trying to sound as dubious about the intended prposal.
“You and your crew will be given equivalent ranks, pay and status in the Royal Frieslander Navy,” Ziyal went on,”and a starting bonus of five hundred bars GPL.”
“I'll need fighter craft, crews, and marines,” Sonia replied.
“As a warship in our Navy, you will have your authorized complements of both,” Ziyal assured her.
“Ermmm...” Sonia said, finally taking a swig from her bottle of ale, making a show of cinidering the hal-Bajoran woman's offer.
Finally telling Baranov:
“Sorry, mate, but it is steady work, which the crew and I could use, being stuck here and all, ans, for hiring for other people's wars, welll, shit, it isn't as if we're cut out to b free traders, pirates, or even farmers, y'know?”
Bidding, Baranov got up, shook Sonia's free hand, and remarked,”no hard feelings, Captain. Your crew's your first priority.”
“I'll refund your money, of course,” Soia offered, Baranov replying,”no need. I really only hired you to bring me to Friesland, and you've done that. I'll just stop by my quarters, get my things, and gate down to the surface of the planet.”
“Fair winds and following seas,” he added, before Ziyal uploaded a contract to Sonia's BCI.
Statistics: Posted by WillDexter — 2024-07-09 12:22pm