"A number of sensor contacts," Scargill continued, his voice becoming high-pitched and excited. "Energy signatures confirm... sir, it's a Siohonin fleet. Reading... that can't be right."
Gref turned in his chair. "What can't be right?" he growled.
"I'm reading - well over a thousand ships, sir. It's immense. The fleet, I mean, sir."
Gref shrugged. "They have industrial capacity. And those lightweight frigates of theirs are a throwaway design - replicators can churn them out by the gross. What about heavier units? Serious starships?"
"It's hard to get a reading, sir, with all the noise... but at least three."
"Three," said Gref thoughtfully. The Siohonin frigate wolf-packs seemed to travel in large clusters, with a single command and control vessel at their centres... three such capital ships suggested a particularly large force, indeed. "What's their heading?"
"They're currently travelling sublight," said Scargill. "Overall bearing seems to be... coordinate vector one seven four by two zero three.... Sir, that'd put them on course for the Dioclema trading station."
Gref grunted. "Give me fleet communications," he ordered.
"Channels open, sir," the comms yeoman called out.
"Gref to all ships. Siohonin fleet has been detected, destination appears to be Dioclema. These people have already attacked a number of Federation and Allied worlds, and we are not going to let them do it again. All ships to battle readiness. We are moving to intercept. I will try negotiations, but you people know me, and the Siohonin are less reasonable than I am. This is going to get rough - but I know you people can do your jobs, and that's all we need to do today. Gref out."
"Setting course for the Siohonin fleet," said Lieutenant T'Nen at the helm.
"Good." Gref muttered darkly under his breath. The Siohonin... it would be better, really, if they did negotiate. But the aliens were drunk with their victories over the Klingons, their conquests of scattered Federation worlds... this was going to end badly for someone, Gref could feel it.
"Sir," said the comms yeoman, "I have Vice Admiral M'Azzur on hail."
Gref groaned silently. The Caitian and his damned carrier... he would have been happier with Ronnie Grau, even, in that space on his fleet roster. The damned furball was too keen, that was the trouble. "On screen," he said, with no enthusiasm.
M'Azzur's face, whiskers twitching, green eyes shining, appeared on the viewer. "I'm ready to take Tiger's Claw in first, sir. I reckon, if we deploy a fighter screen fast, we should make even that number of frigates think twice about tangling with us. What do you think, sir?"
Gref considered. If there was going to be a fight - and he was pretty sure there was - M'Azzur's Atrox carrier would be a lot more use with its fighters already off the launch rails and its considerable armament ready to support them. Gung-ho he might be, but M'Azzur had decent tactical senses. "Very well," he said. "Take point, and get the cruiser elements to back you up - tactical plan Delta Seven."
"Yes, sir! M'Azzur out." Too damn keen, Gref thought.
He consulted the tactical display. "That," he said, "is a whole lot of ships." No one answered him. "Open hailing frequencies," he ordered. "Let's at least give them a chance to talk."
But the face that appeared on the main viewer now was not that of a man disposed to talk. "I am Third Marshal Amaranuk Tem, aboard the Theocracy battleship Bardiche," the Siohonin commander announched. He was blond-haired, blond-bearded, and his horns were long and filed to needle points. "We are conducting military operations in this star sector. Do not attempt to impede us."
"Admiral Gref, Sixth Fleet, aboard the USS Taras Bulba," said Gref. "If you're conducting military operations in Federation territory, be aware that this will not be permitted. Your people have already attacked Federation worlds, but I'll let the diplomats sort that out - for the moment. Right now, I want to see you and your ships turn around and head back to Siohonin space."
"Brave words," said Tem. "And where, in the view of the mighty Federation, is Siohonin space?"
"The details aren't my business," said Gref. "Your home system, maybe? In any case, not here, and not Dioclema station either. Turn back, Third Marshal."
"The Theocracy does not take orders from the Federation," said Tem. "No more than we do from the Klingons.... You are too accustomed to thinking of yourselves as a galactic superpower. Times are changing, Admiral Gref. Learn to bend with the wind... take your fleet home."
Gref rose to his feet. "Take my fleet home? This is Federation space, Third Marshal, my fleet is home. And we will defend it. Make no mistake about that."
"I grant you leave," said Tem,"to try." And the channel went dead.
"Siohonin ships are changing formation," Scargill reported.
Falling into an attack pattern, Gref decided. A basic one, a wall of battle across the sky, seeking to use their numerical superiority to outflank the Starfleet ships and overwhelm them from all angles. Gref engaged his tactical console. "Gref to fleet. They're trying to wrap around us. We're going to punch through and split their forces." He considered. "Attack plans as given, concentrating on vector three seven mark six three."
"Sir," said T'Nen, "that will put us very close to the Bardiche."
Gref grinned. "Damn right it will. In weapons range, in fact. Weapons free."
"Vice Admiral M'Azzur on comms, sir."
"Tell him - oh, put him through."
The Caitian was grinning from ear to ear. "Going in, sir. Looks like you're aiming for their flagship? We'll go after one of the other heavies."
"All right," said Gref. "Stay alert, keep moving. Try and stay out of the way of those kinetic lances, and watch for their other special weapons."
"Yes, sir. Don't worry, my boys and girls will clean up those frigates, no problem."
"Let's hope," Gref growled.
"Fleet in engagement range," Scargill reported. "Weapons fire exchanged... conventional disruptors only from the Siohonin, so far. Lots of it, but individually, not heavy."
"Stalkers going in," M'Azzur reported. The Caitian was practically bouncing with excitement.
"Targeting solution for the enemy flagship!" shouted a tac officer.
"Phasers to maximum," Gref ordered. "Let's give him a nudge he won't forget in a hurry."
"Phasers locked." The tac officer turned, a puzzled frown on his face. "Sir... he's making no evasive manoeuvres. His shields are up, but... he's making no attempt to avoid action."
Gref snarled. Suddenly, he felt a deep inner disquiet, and there was no way to dispel it but immediate, violent action. "Fire as they bear, as soon as we enter range."
"Yes, sir." Light was slashing across the starfield, now, green light of Siohonin disruptors, golden-orange of Starfleet phasers. Were his ships holding their own against the Siohonin onslaught? Gref thought so....
"Enemy in range. Firing phasers."
Taras Bulba trembled as the phaser banks fired -
- and then the ship rocked and lurched, and the bridge was full of the crash-bangs of exploding consoles, and the lights failed and flickered and came back red. The terrific impact hurled everyone to the floor. Alarms screamed. The surviving console displays were unintelligible with static, the air was filled with smoke and fire and noise.
"Damage report!" Gref roared. "What the hell -? What hit us?" He clambered groggily to his feet, and stared at the scene of chaos which was his ship's bridge. T'Nen was slumped inert over the wreckage of the helm console - the tac officer on phasers was nowhere to be seen -
"Coming through now," Scargill's voice croaked. He was staring in horror at his screens, ignoring the blood that ran freely from a gash on his scalp. "I don't understand - we were hit by a phaser barrage!"
"Damage report," said Gref firmly.
Scargill swallowed. "It's - bad, sir. Six per cent structural integrity, hull breaches all decks, main deflector is offline, shields are down."
"Trying to get a line to main engineering now," the comms yeoman chimed in. "Sir, Vice Admiral M'Azzur is hailing -"
"Can you get him? On screen!" Gref shouted.
The Caitian's face appeared, shot through with static, on the main viewer. "Sir," he said, "we think we know what happened -"
"What?" Gref demanded.
"They - somehow, they inverted the region of space between you and their flagship. Turned it, and everything in it, through a hundred and eighty degrees. Your own weapons, sir, they were reflected back on you."
Gref groaned. "Warn the other capital ships!" If they could do that - No wonder the Klingons hadn't got proper reports back on this weapon. Klingon capital ships emphasized firepower over armour, if they were caught like this, their own barrages would blast them to flinders. Even his ships -
"We can fight this, sir." M'Azzur's face was grim, now, and determined. "Come in at multiple angles - they can't use that defence in every direction at once, they'd cut themselves completely out of normal space-time. My fighters can engage them and swamp them."
Gref studied his half-wrecked tactical board. "Try it. You have fleet command. I can't run tac coordination from Taras Bulba now."
"Yes, sir." M'Azzur saluted.
"I'm getting some telemetry back," Scargill said. "Sir - the Siohonin are firing their kinetic lances. The fleet is taking heavy damage." His voice suddenly cracked. "Oh, God - Warspite is moving to engage one of their capitals -"
"Comms! Get a warning through!" If the dreadnought Warspite fired her phaser lance, she was done for.
"Stalkers engaging," M'Azzur said fiercely. "We'll make them pay for -"
And then his voice stopped, and his image vanished from the screen. "What happened?" Gref yelled.
"Trying to get a picture," said Scargill. "I'm patching stuff through, but -"
Disjointed images were appearing on the viewer. Gref groaned aloud as Warspite fired - and the brilliant beam of the phaser lance doubled back on itself, and in one horrifying flash the dreadnought was gone. He could see cruisers taking a savage pounding from the Siohonin lances... the light enemy ships were suffering too, but they had the advantage in numbers, had done from the start. The Caitian fighters were inflicting damage, but without the support of the mother ship - what had happened to M'Azzur, damn it?
"I don't believe it," said Scargill. "Sir, I - I'm picking up the Tiger's Claw."
Gref rounded on the man. "Where?"
Scargill swallowed. "It's... it's at one of our remote sensor buoys, sir. About half a light year away. The Siohonin weapon... it's some sort of overloaded, focused warp field. It physically picks up the target and throws it through subspace. That's where all the interference comes from, that's why the targets just seem to vanish...."
"What about the Tiger's Claw? How soon before they can get back?"
"I'm sorry, sir." Scargill's tone was bleak. "The field must generate a massive gravimetric turbulence. All I'm getting from the buoy is the Tiger's Claw's ID transponder... in among the debris."
Gref sagged back into the command chair. "Do we have any comms channels at all?"
"Can get you fleet-wide on unencrypted only, sir," said the comms yeoman.
"It will have to do. Set it up." Gref took a deep breath. "All ships, this is Admiral Gref. We are outnumbered and outgunned. All ships, scatter and retreat. I repeat, scatter and retreat. Flagship out." He turned to glare at the yeoman. "Get a secure link-up to the buoy network. Send a signal to Starfleet. They have got to know how the Siohonin warp weapons work. There's plenty of redundant bandwidth in that system, work with it. That message has to get through."
"Sir," said Scargill, "I don't know if we - we're massively badly damaged - I don't know if the ship can generate a warp field."
"I do," said Gref. "She can't. Taras Bulba will cover the fleet's retreat for as long as she is able. After that -" He snorted. "I suppose we get to see how the Siohonin treat prisoners of war."
No comments:
Post a Comment