Creerie swore, seeing Rush's squad wiped out. At least they'd got that fighter, but the loss of men soured that victory. They were going t have to get in closer to the Federation troops if they wanted to avoid more casualties like that. Either that or they'd be forcing them to fire on their own men. There was a group of about 30 men firing out form a building about 200m away. An easy shot for a concussion missile. He'd wanted to hold them back in case they encountered armoured units, but from the looks of things, the Federation had nothing like that, or at least not in the area. Creerie wondered if all the armies in this area were so weak.
The 30 ensigns from Starfleet Security were holding their position in the east entrance to Starfleet command. They couldn't detect their enemies with tricorders, but they knew they were there. The occasional blaster bolt had given a rough idea and the missile launch had narrowed down their position even further. They were ready now to start clearing the area.
"Ensign Harrison to transporter room, we're transmitting co-ordinates now."
"About time ensign, the Klingons are restless." War cries were audible in the background. A couple of Klingon B'rel class birds of prey had been docked in Space dock. Diplomatic carriers, their crew had been on the ground, enjoying Federation hospitality when the Imperial attack had occurred. Moving to Starfleet Command to observe the battle, they had remained there until the Republic attack. Honour it seemed demanded that they help drive back these treacherous cowards. The transporter operator looked on nervously as the warriors dressed in traditional armour and wielding savagely sharp batleths had a crazed look in their eyes. He would feel much better when they were gone. Fortunately, he would be able to move all of them in one go, using a cargo transporter. A beep from a console indicated that the co-ordinates had been transmitted. Catching the leader's eye, he nodded, shivering slightly at the inhuman, almost feral glare, and engaged the transporter.
"Fire!" ordered Creerie as the missile launcher was brought to bear on the Starfleet troops, barely visible, sheltering in their building. His vision was momentarily obscured as the missile blasted its way towards them. Less than a second later it had detonated, vaporising most of the men and burying the rest of them, all critically injured, in a pile of rubble.
"Move out," ordered Creerie, vaulting the small wall they had been sheltering behind and ran for the impact point. There was plenty of dust to obscure them and they had already eliminated most of the enemy fire. No phaser beams lanced out to meet them. A strangulated cry from behind made him whirl, however. A group of 20 tall, muscular humanoids with guns drawn and viscous looking bladed weapons in their hands had just materialised behind his squad and hacked his rearguard to pieces. Letting out a cry. They charged towards the rest of the squad, blasting away. A couple more of Creerie's men fell before they returned fire. At this range, it was hard to miss, but Creerie still took the time to line the sighs of his E-11 up with the ridged forehead of each alien, blasting his head into a bloody pulp. The explosion of flesh beside them served only to intensify the war cries of the aliens and increase their frenzy. A few of them reached his men and holstering their guns, grabbed their bladed weapons in both hands and one smooth motion, cut deep into his men's flesh, pulled the blade out and repeated it until they were dead. His men were panicking under this onslaught and began to turn and run. They had killed half the aliens, but unless they could put some distance between them, they would be cut down like Gamorreans in a Rancor pit. If they ran, however, they could be cut down with whatever guns the aliens seemed to be using.
Seeing one of them charge towards him, Creerie took a snap shot with the blaster, aiming not at the head, but the body and immediately turned the rifle round in his hands, ready to use it as a club. The shot caught the alien in the arm, filling its face with pain and rage. Within a fraction for a second, it was upon him, blade twirling, seeking his soft, vulnerable pink flesh. Raising his blaster to block, e nearly his and, as the blade bit deeply into the gun. The remaining members of his squad seemed to be locking in similar battles. Ducking to dodge a high swung, he swung upwards at the alien's injured arm and was rewarded with a howl of pain. Dropping the weapon, the alien staggered back a couple of paces. Taking advantage of its weakened condition, Creerie leapt at it, in a high tackle aimed at his neck. The force of the impact knocked the two of them to the ground and they began rolling in the dust, clawing, kicking and punching at each other. The alien's struggles seemed to be growing weaker, but Creerie swung harder and harder, almost breaking bones on the tough armour. He could feel blood running from innumerable cuts from where he had snagged his skin. Suddenly he convulsed, a mind searing pain stabbing through him. Grinning savagely, the alien spat at his ace and threw him off. Looking down at his chest, Creerie could see blood streaming out. A 3 bladed dagger was now in the alien's hands as it knelt down beside him. Creerie wanted to spit in its face, curse, do something to resist, but his punctured lungs and shredded muscles were barely keeping him alive. Soon they would not be able to do even that. The alien seemed to whisper something in its tongue as it brought the dagger above to his throat. With a click, two small blades popped out from the side. Creerie could see his face reflected in the blades. It seemed as if his whole was there. He had lived his life as a weapon, serving the Rebellion and then the Republic. He had lived a fighter and was proud to die as one. Taking another tortured breath, he sighed and stopped the struggle.
A shudder in the ground brought him back to attention however. There it was again. And again. Rhythmic, artificial. Mechanical? The alien gave a startled glance back the way his squad had come before thumbing a button on his belt and shimmering out of existence. Rolling his head, Creerie could just make out the glint of sunlight on polished metal. The armoured divisions had landed. AT-ATs and AT-STs were on the way. No wonder the aliens had run. Creerie grinned. They would have bacta with them, just enough o keep him alive until he could be moved to a field hospital or shuttled up to a medical frigate. A leg swung into view, obscuring the approaching ATs and one of his squad members knelt down beside him. Blinking slowly and smiling to reassure the obviously worried private, Creerie rolled his head back up and closed his eyes. He had done his bit. He had played his part in this victory. Now he would rest.
[U.S.S. Omaha]
An explosion shook deck 25 as the Republic boarding party blew through the airlock seal. Immediately, a force field crackled on in front of them. Setting up more charges, the boarding party retreated back to the transport as the Starfleet security officers arrived. The explosion not only blew through the security field, but also the deck floor of the current deck and the deck above. The security officers arriving in the corridor were blown off their feet and out of their minds, landing unconscious with third degree burns.
The explosions did not go unnoticed on the bridge. Alarms that the crew had only ever heard when boarding other ships, a rare event, had begun blaring. The security console had more lights glowing and flickering than every other console on the bridge. More force fields were flicking on.
The crew however remained calm. Starfleet had allowed for situations such as this. "Flood the deck with anaesthesine gas."
"Sir."
Almost immediately, the life sign indicators on the deck switched from a steady green to a light yellow, indicating unconsciousness. 30 seconds later, Captain Fox-Roberts gave the order to clear the deck of the gas.
"Send a security patrol. Put the boarding party in the brig. Have another patrol waiting on the decks above and below." Just in case. "Tell them to keep an open channel." Just in case.
"Channel open."
With both the warp drive and impulse engine off line and the klaxons silenced, only the sound of force fields and doors permeated the tense silence of the bridge.
"We're on deck 25 now, sir. Approaching from port side turbolift. We've encountered some bodies. They're unconscious." There was a muffled curse from one of the security officers. "Sir, the first security team is here. They've got bad burns. Recommend you send a medical team at once."
"Once you've secured the deck, lieutenant." Regulations were regulations for a good reason. Usually.
"There must be about 50 bodies here. Hold on, one of them's a woman."
"That shouldn't be too unusual," frowned Fox-Roberts. The Republic hadn't seemed to have any prejudice against female officers. Granted these were troops, but still...
"She's not in uniform, sir. She's in robes. I think it's that princess, erm..."
"Princess Solo?"
"Yes, sir, it's her. She seems to be-"
"Captain, one of the life signs is coming back. I think it's the Princess," interjected the bridge security officer.
The lieutenant leading the patrol looked down at the Princess. She was sitting on the floor, legs crossed, in what appeared to be some sort of trance. Virtually no breathing and no detectable pulse.
"Sir, are you sure about those re-"
Her eyes snapped open and a forbidding yellow glow filled the corridor. The security officers dropped silently to the floor, as unconscious as the Republic troops around them. On the bridge, the security console went dead.
"What's going on," asked Fox-Roberts. He knew, but some questions had to be asked.
"We've lost sensors in the area. The last scan showed our patrol unconscious. Only the Princess' life sign was conscious.
"Get the security patrols out of there. NOW." He remembered the Solo's explaining about the Jedi to them. If one was leading the boarding party... "Sound the evacuation order."
"Sir?"
"This is a battle I do not think we can win."
"She is one person."
"A Jedi is more than a person." And a captain's orders are not to be questioned.
"Aye sir."
Immediately, klaxons began wailing again. On deck 24 it was heard by the 5 security officers on patrol. Moving for the escape pods, they barely heard Leia Force jumping through the hole in the deck. The glow of her lightsabre, however, in the dark of the corridor was much more revealing. Spinning, they immediately opened fire. Even Intelligence officers got a little trigger happy in situations this tense. Confidently raising her lightsabre to block the beams, Leia was shocked to feel them pass straight through and impact on her body. Staggering under the force of the stun beams, she paused, turning off the lightsabre. The security officers, shocked as they were, did not pause, instead resetting their rifles to kill and fired again. Leia, however, was no longer there. The officers felt the corridors dim further. The lights were still on, but they felt night approach. Then they felt no more. Leia stepped over the fallen bodies, wisps of smoke curling from their eyes and ears. She reached out with the Force to find the bridge, but it was empty. Too late, she felt the last members of the crew depart in their escape pods. A new siren began to wail. A siren in her mind. Through the Force, she felt timers count down. An image of the ship exploding filled her. Seconds later, she was back in the transport, sealing the hatch. The transport was most of the way back to Mon Remonda by the time the ship blew.
[Dark Phoenix]
"Admiral!"
Shocked by the appearance of his commanding officer at the door of his cell, Lt. Smith almost fell over in his haste to stand to attention.
"At ease, Smithy, everything's okay now. These aren't Imperials, at least not ones we need worry about," Boyd replied with a grin.
"Sir? I don't quite understand..."
"We're allies, Mr Smith."
"..." Boyd grinned again as Smith's eyes boggled.
"All in good time, Mr Smith, all in good time. Let's go." Strolling out of the cell, feeling more confident with some of his crew now with him, Boyd was led to the next cell. Before long, the entire bridge crew of 'Nelson' was trailing behind him, amazed and astonished expressions on every one of their faces. As officers of Starfleet Intelligent and members of Boyd's crew, there were used to unusual or demanding situations and being able to hide their emotions, but this... this was... they had no word for the situation. But he seemed confident enough and that was enough for them. For now.
[Iwef System]
Dalton reached the bridge after a brisk jog. Sitting down to get his breath back, to tried one of the consoles. To his amazement, it powered up first time. He still hadn't encountered any signs of light. Emergency lighting was on everywhere and life support was at the bear minimum. Just enough to keep a skeleton crew alive. But there weren't even skeletons on board this ship. Tapping in commands, he accessed the ship's logs and called up the most recent entry.
"It is day 298 of our search. We have found Vernan Kirda at last. We destroyed him fleeing in a Corellian freighter. It was no match for our TIEs. We have been instructed to rendezvous in the Iwef system with a 'Special Agent', whoever that may be. It will be a short jump, but at last we may get some answers. Who is this man we have tracked for nearly a year? And why the near total communications blackout? I do not question that it was for the good of the Empire. I merely seek understanding. His final transmission has caused some... confusion.
TIE Interceptor squadron Eta was refitted today with the new software upgrades from Seinar Systems. Hopefully the additional performance..."
Dalton stopped the log, as the rest seemed to be more of the same. The only item of interest was at the start. Vernan Kirda. Not a name he had heard before. Searching the computer, he pulled up his last transmission.
'Much of the past of the mysterious persona known as Jedi Anger is shrouded in secrecy. Somehow, through espionage, an extensive spy network, and the power of the Force, all records of him were deleted. Any attempt to search for records of him, even in the extensive library archives of the Coruscant library, Obroa-skai, Yaga Minor, or Bastian, leads to a dead end. There is only place that contains any information about Jedi Anger at all. The information database at the Hand of Thrawn. It contains a single brief description.
JEDI ANGER DOES NOT EXIST.
DISCONTINUE YOUR SEARCH.
YOU WILL KEEP SILENT.
AND YOU WILL DIE.
In addition, there are numerous Jedi prophesies that describe a "darksider, a bane to the Jedi, a warrior who uses anger as his ally." Of course, we know that our lord Palpatine exposed the Jedi to be the traitors that they were, corrupt and evil, using their power for personal gain, and attempting to sabotage the New Order, until the illustrious Lord Vader saw through the corruption of his masters. And of course, every child is taught about how Lord Vader set himself upon a path of righteousness, taking it upon himself to bring to justice all the Jedi terrorists. However, there is some truth to this Jedi propaganda, twisted as it is. Some Jedi were known to actually be able to see into the future, though by the time His Highness Palpatine came to power they were nothing but corrupt madmen. So, the Jedi scripts can not be considered a reliable source of information. However, they all contain prophesies of a dark man who would be incredibly skilled in the "Dark Side" or other such nonsense.
Normally, such Jedi lies would normally be disregarded, but upon searching the holonet, a tip from an anonymous persona directed me towards Grand Admiral Thrawn's personal database, to search for more information to Jedi Anger. I never got there. My starship was intercepted by 3 Interdictors and a Star Destroyer named the 'Darksider'. Whoever was behind this certainly wasn't taking any chances. They weren't aiming to capture either, they were shooting to kill. I fled in the escape pod just before my ship was destroyed. Strangely, the ships did not pursue. But my ship was destroyed, and along with it all my evidence of the existence of a "Jedi Anger." And even more strangely, for the next several years, I simply forgot.
It was not until years later that my memory simply returned to me. As soon as I remembered, I immediately fled and went into hiding. Sure enough, my apartment was bombed the very same day. I was constantly being pursued. But I managed to capture one of my pursuers. To my surprise, he was Imperial. An implant in his brain triggered before I could get anything out of them. For the next several years, I fled. I constantly changed my identity, my location, and my ship, and yet I was still followed. I feared that they might be traitors in the government conspiring to keep a deadly secret.
Deciding to test my luck, I decided to try once more to find some information on Jedi Anger. I sliced into the Coruscant database network, leaving an obvious trail. Within minutes, an operative showed up. But I was prepared. I had numerous grav traps, stun traps, ion grenades, and an array of blasters. The operative was incredible. He evaded or disarmed every single one of my traps. However, I was hiding, and I managed to get a shot off with a stun blast. Quickly getting him off-world, I quickly did some makeshift operating to prevent him from being able to kill himself. Then, I interrogated him. He proved incredibly resilient to all methods of interrogation. Using spice, drugs, droids, pain, electroshock, mind probes, and such got me nowhere. I tried for months, until he finally broke.
The operative was a Crimson Guard. He was working from direct orders from the Emperor himself. Apparently Jedi Anger had friends high up. Jedi Anger was a man. A "Dark Jedi" trained by Vader and Palpatine. I kept trying. Eventually, the operative revealed all he knew to me. Some of his terminology, like "The Force" is a bit abstract, but nonetheless I will transcribe it in its entirety.
Jedi Anger's true identity is unknown. It has been speculated that he was the descendant of a Sith. He was born as Jedi Anger. By the time he was born, the Clone Wars were over and he was far away. Much of his childhood was unknown, but his parents were Force sensitive, and they managed to hide him during the great Jedi purge. During the early days of the New Order, while he was in his teens, he was recruited to the Empire's service. Taken to the harsh high-gravity world of Carida, he joined the Imperial Academy.
For the next 6 years, he was known only as AC-925. The high gravity strengthened him greatly, he was given brutal discipline, and was taught total obedience and conformity. However, the brainwashing techniques that were designed to make Imperial troops loyal had no effect on him. He was able to resist without them knowing. He excelled in all subjects, from commando training, piloting, tactics, and general warfare. AC-925 graduated at the top of his class, and was assigned to a stormtrooper unit on the Star Destroyer Forger, as the squad leader. During the five years that he was on the Forger, he participated in over 80 planetary subjugations. He was the best of the best, feared by Rebels everywhere. Strangely, Jedi Anger felt sadistic pleasure from utterly destroying the Rebels ruthlessly, and he never accepted any promotions, so that he could stay on the battlefield, enjoying the look of fear on his opponent's faces, as he methodically slaughtered their forces.
AC-925's actions did not go noticed. Five years after he first joined the Forger, he was transferred to the world of Yinchorr, where he was to be trained as a Crimson Guard, the Emperor's personal bodyguards. The world was a hellhole, harsh, desolate, and a complete wasteland, perfect for training the best of the best. Even though Jedi Anger was among the best of the best, his training had only begun. He was assigned a partner, Chasa Davdel, who would train with him like brothers. Here they were instructed in every weapon known to exist, and learned both armed and unarmed fighting. And they swore total allegiance to the Emperor. They either learned, or they died. They trained and fought in the squall, an arena set over a bottomless pit. And the best of the trainees had the "honour" of facing Vader upon his visits. Vader brutally killed in combat every trainee he fought, as motivation for the rest to train better. And trained he did, for the next 3 years. Jedi Anger and Chasa became best of friends, training together, fighting together, and serving together. At last, it was time for their final test, and they both faced Vader and the Emperor.
There was one spot available in the Emperor's Crimson Guards. Vader handed them each a staff with a blade on each end. And Palpatine ordered, "Fight for me." The two men looked at each other, then fought without hesitation. Both men parried and thrusted with perfect technique. And their blocks were equally well met. Then Jedi Anger started sensing Chasa's moves ahead of time. Chasa did a sweeping attack with one end of his staff, and Jedi Anger blocked it, turned around, and kicked him in the face. Chasa fell back, and recovered just as quickly. Now Jedi Anger mounted on the offensive, as he attacked over and over with reactions far greater than what Chasa had. At last Chasa fell, and with a thrust of a blade into his heart, it was over. His training was over. Jedi Anger knelt in front of the Emperor.
The Emperor gazed at him. "You have done well, my son." "Yes, my lord." Jedi Anger replied. Vader said, "It would seem that the Force is strong in this one." "Yes, yes. He will make an excellent guardsman. My son, this is Lord Vader, from now on, he shall be training you in the Dark Side of the Force." Jedi Anger bowed. "Yes, my master."
From then on, Jedi Anger's whereabouts became unknown, other than that, after being trained by Vader, he was trained by Palpatine, and became incredibly powerful. Almost as powerful as Palpatine himself. He built a double lightsabre, and became head of the Imperial Sovereign Protectors, an elite among even the Crimson Guards, who had limited abilities in the Dark Side of the Force.
Apparently, Jedi Anger practised and grew stronger and stronger, until Palpatine realised that he would pose a threat. Yet at the same time, he knew that he would be useful. Palpatine knew his reign might not last forever. He would put Jedi Anger into stasis. After a specified amount of time, Jedi Anger would be released, if the controls were not reset. And Jedi Anger would rebuild the Empire. He would be a weapon of vengeance, destroying all who stood in the way of the Empire.
That is all. The agents of the Empire will do anything to keep this a secret, to keep the location of Jedi Anger a secret. I reveal this... because I want the truth to be revealed. The end is near. Jedi Anger will be released someday. Find Jedi Anger.'
Transmission complete.
[Last known transmission by Virnan Kirda]
SEARCH: Virnan Kirda
/*-/*-/*-/*-PROCESSING/*-/*-/*-/*-/*-/*-
[Virnan Kirda]
[Rank:Lieutenant]
[Division:ISB (Imperial Security Bureau)]
[Speciality: Intelligence]
[Status: Unknown]
[Last known location: Unknown]
[Search again? Y/N]
SEARCH: Virnan Kirda
/*-/*-/*-/*-PROCESSING/-*/-*/-*/*-/*-/*-
[Virnan Kirda]
[No such person in database]
[No matches found]
[Search again? Y/N]
Dalton stared at the screen. 'What in the Sith?1' for once just
didn't seem appropriate.
Sheppard entered the conference room flanked by Glasgow. Everyone except Lt.Hit-Man, who was as always already standing, stood as protocol dictated. Nodding, Sheppard took his seat, followed by the assembled officers. Three pairs of eyes stared down at him, two of them suspicious and the other virtually unreadable. Sheppard made a mental note to arrange a game of sabacc with the Starfleet officers. Boyd was the first to speak, introducing his officers.
"Admiral, this is my first officer, Captain Mawhiney. I'm sure it's obvious why he's here. And this is Lieutenant Smith. He insisted on coming. I'm sure you understand," he said with a disarmingly apologetic smile that would have done any ambassador proud.
"This is my chief of staff, Vice Admiral Glasgow," Sheppard said for the benefit of Mawhiney and Smith, "this is Captain Yates, head of our CAG and Captain January of the 'Vengeance'." The stares of both Mawhiney and Smith hardened slightly at this while Boyd merely looked over curiously and then grinned slightly before returning to his poker face, all business expression. January frowned and was about to speak when Sheppard pre-empted him. "I trust that there will be no...undue hostility given your past?" Not the best start the alliance could have had, but at least no one was drawing guns. Not that January needed one, given his cybernetics.
"Of course not, Admiral. It's a personal policy to forgive," but an intelligence officer never forgets, Boyd didn't add.
"Then perhaps we can get started." Sheppard tapped a control and the transmission from the Republic played, again for the benefit of Smith and Mawhiney, although they had no doubt been briefed about it already by Boyd. "You all know why this alliance has been formed - we have a common enemy. Parties with common goals, however, form the best alliances. To that end I suggest to you that we work together, not only for the liberation of Earth, but the liberation of any entire galaxy. No, not a galaxy, but two. Yours and mine. The Republic has for several years held sway over our galaxy, manipulating entire races, lying to and deceiving billions, just as they deceived you. T-"
"Excuse me Admiral, but the liberation of two galaxies? We don't have the power to 'liberate' one quadrant of the Milky Way, let alone two entire galaxies. And I doubt our ideas of 'liberation' are entirely in agreement," interrupted Boyd.
Sheppard shrugged. "I'm not an expert in semantics, but I'm sure we both want to see Earth freed from Republic control, yes? I propose to similarly free the planets of our galaxy and offer them a choice to join our alliance."
"Our alliance still doesn't officially exist, Admiral. Only the Commanders in Chief and Federation Council have that authority."
"When this meeting is adjourned, I hope to change that."
"And there is the resources issue. You propose a war against a galaxy-spanning government. The entire Alpha Quadrant wouldn't be able to win against that, even if we had ships fast enough to reach our targets."
For the first time in the meeting, Sheppard smiled. Rather than reply, he nodded at Glasgow. Tapping another control, Glasgow activated the display again. A spinning 3 dimensional image appeared along with a scale. "This, he paused for dramatic effect, "is a World Devastator. It is a self-sufficient factory capable of consuming an entire world and constructing a fleet out of it. It is fully automated, capable of producing its own defences and there is one in our cargo holds."
"How quickly can it build a ship?" asked Boyd quietly.
"That depends on its age," Glasgow replied, now in his element. "As it extracts materials from a planet, it grows in size and production capacity. Given long enough to grow, it could construct one of these ships every couple of weeks."
There was several seconds of stunned silence before the Starfleet officers replied. "Why do you need us then?"
"There is a problem with World Devastators. They are driven by black holes. The one in our cargo hold lacks one and we are unable to obtain one ourselves. It is our hope that you would be able to obtain one for us."
The Starfleet officers looked at each other then turned back to Glasgow, a faint smile on their faces and nodded in unison. "No problem."
It was the Imperial officers' turn to be stunned. Sheppard had anticipated several reactions from them, the most probable being a laugh and a query as to whether this was a joke. He had not expected this. "No problem?"
"We can have one ready for you before the end of the week if you take us to our starbase."
"How."
Boyd smiled again, this time more visibly. "Admiral, given the state of our alliance and our history with this ship and the members of your fleet," every eye except Boyd's and Sheppard's turned towards January, "I think it would be in our interest to keep a few secrets. For the time being at least."
"Of course. It would be in the interests of our alliance then if we were to proceed immediately to this starbase."
"Agreed."
Sheppard rose, followed by the other officers, the meeting obviously adjourned. Filtering out of the room, Boyd, escorted by Smith and Hit-Man, followed Sheppard to the bridge while Glasgow headed for Engineering and Yates escorted Mawhiney back to the Starfleet quarters. January alone remained in the conference room. Forced to keep a check on his anger during the meeting, he now vented it, smashing his fist against the wall. Thanks to he cybernetics, he felt no pain and left a sizeable dent. Feeling a little better, he thought over the last few minutes. Boyd, not content with being an intelligence officer, was acting like a seasoned ambassador and January hated diplomats as much as all the other little bureaucrats he had had to put up with in the Empire.
[San Francisco]
Crierie awoke to the blissful sound of silence and a strange feeling of hanging in limbo. Opening his eyes, he could see he was suspended in a bacta tank. He tried to curse his misfortune - it would take weeks for the smell and taste to disappear - but his chest ached too much from the effort. The medical droid - he couldn't remember the model - noticed the movement and chided him. "Please try and stay still sir. You have-" Crierie closed his eyes and tried to get back to sleep. Talking to droids gave him a headache. They just droned on and on and on. He had never quite recovered from his first assignment on an asteroid listening post. He was part of a 3 strong guard detail, assigned to protect the same number of crewmen, and more importantly their droids. There must have been ten R2 astromech units in the control room, all chirping and whirring away while their counterparts, scavenged 3PO droids, chatted away with everything and anything, trying to pass the time.
The medical droid continued to chatter away, oblivious to Crierie's attempts to sleep and the entry of Lt. Rush. He was recovering well form his concussion and was now permitted to walk about the prefab medical facility the Republic had landed. The battle for the planet was nearly over now. The last major pockets of resistance seemed to have relocated to mountainous areas and dug in. The Republic now had control of the major command and communication centres and the planet was firmly interdicted by several patrolling wings of fighters. The arrival of the armoured regiment in San Francisco had quickly subdued resistance. The AT-ATs were well armoured enough to resist all hand weapons and had simply strolled through Starfleet Command, depositing their platoons of troops where necessary. One of the Empire's useful contributions to the galaxy, Rush thought. A pity Crierie was still in the bacta. He'd wanted to thank him personally for shooting down that fighter. Oh well, that could wait. He slipped out of the room before the droid could spot him.
[Mon Remonda]
Paulsen had been pacing his cabin for the last hour. A Jedi was supposed to be calm, disciplined, in control. At the moment he found it difficult to be any of these things. Leia's actions worried him. It was understandable that she be upset at the death of her brother and one of her closest friends, but her actions seemed increasingly closer to those of one controlled by the Dark Side. He was unsure of what to do. He could talk to her, but doubted that would be sufficient to pull her back to the Light. Her mind was stronger than his. There was the danger that _he_ would be the one changed, dragged over to the Dark Side. Perhaps General Solo could talk to her, but first he would have to convince him that something was wrong. Solo might not believe such news, simply because he did not want to, at the moment, given the losses he had already suffered. He would not be willing to accept that he might be losing Leia. His only ally was going to be the Force. Finally sitting on his cabin floor, he closed his eyes and meditated, hoping for an answer.
[U.S.S. Belfast]
"Okay boys, let's saddle up!" The jury-rigged warp drive was complete and, according to the single test the engineers had performed, _should_ work. Time to find out. "Ahead, full impulse. Divert all weapons power to shields. Set quantum torpedoes to proximity detonation. Let's ride." The Defiant-class starship burst out from the belly of the shattered ISD and rapidly picked up speed, accelerating at a rate of tens of kilometres per second. A slight shudder ran through the hull as a Republic interdictor powered up its gravity wells. "Where's that warp drive, Engineering?"
"We're trying to establish a stable field, but with the gravi-"
"Understood," interrupted Captain Davidson. "Helm, take us away from that interdictor."
Davidson was nearly catapulted out of his seat as the 'Belfast' spun about. "Sorry, sir. Doesn't look like the inertial dampers are back up to spec yet."
"How many ships in our way?"
"Three corvettes, one frigate and one squadron of X-Wing fighters." No problem for the 'Belfast' with all her systems on line, but with the damage she'd taken...
"Take us straight through, full speed."
"Targets sir?"
"Just the fighters."
"Just the fighters sir?"
"We're just going to have to roll with the punches."
"Aye sir. Torpedoes away."
Flicking the viewscreen over to tactical mode, Davidson watched the torpedoes home in on the X-Wing formation. Scattering, most of them fled away in an umbrella formation. A couple of more experienced targets continued on course. A couple of new dots appeared, traversing the distance between the X-Wings and torpedoes rapidly. As they reached the torpedoes, an explosion was registered and both vanished.
"They're shooting our torpedoes down with their own sir."
"Damn. At least they're not going to have many left to shoot at us."
The viewscreen began registering incoming turbolaser blasts. Davidson could see that the Republic capital ships had turned and were running in the same direction as Belfast, hoping to keep it in range as long as possible. Suddenly the ships flashed past the Belfast and vanished far astern. Davidson could feel the familiar thrum of warp engines through the deck once more.
"Nice work people."
"Course, captain?"
"The wormhole until we're out of sensor range or the cloak is repaired. Head for Starbase Le Carré once that happens. Sound red alert if you detect _any_ ships. I'll be in my quarters," getting some much needed rest, he didn't have to add.
[Starfleet Medical]
Lowe had heard the shooting grow gradually closer for the last hour. Trapped in his isolation room, he had been unable to deactivate the isolation force field and had heard only fragmented reports from the EMH as it whisked back and forth from medical room to medical room, trying to find out what was happening. He knew that the Republic had invaded for some unknown reason and were making short work of the few troops the Federation had. If someone would just let him out and give him a phaser, he could do - do what? With his arms amputated, he couldn't very well fire the thing, could he? There was his plunger-nose, but that was about as much use as a Klingon at a peace conference. Perhaps he was useless. He had been discarded by his own people, maimed and left to live out the rest of his life as a freak. After all his years of service, this is how he was rewarded. The federation couldn't undo what they had done. They couldn't re-grow limbs, or attach cybernetic ones. But the Republic could. But would they bother to help a POW? Probably not. What about...
"Computer, activate the EMH."
"Please state the nature of the medical emergency. Oh, it's you. If you don't mind, there's an invasion I'm trying to stop."
Lowe chuckled inwardly for a moment. He couldn't quite picture the EMH as a resistance fighter. He was more likely to stand in front of the Republic troops, lecturing them about their posture.
"Under Starfleet Regulation 4c, I order you to deactivate the isolation field and let me out."
The EMH stared for a moment, considering trying to reason with the captain, but he was within his rights. Under that regulation any member of Starfleet was required to defend against invasion unless unable to medically. The decision as to medical fitness was, in the case of this regulation, left to the patient to decide.
"Very well. I hope you know what you're doing," chided the EMH, deactivating the field.
"Computer, take the EMH off-line and run a level 1 diagnostic," ordered Lowe. The EMH opened its mouth in preparation to speak, a puzzled expression coming across its face when it vanished. Lowe grunted in satisfaction. That ought to keep it out of the way for the next few hours, long enough for him to do what he needed to. Moving to a console, he activated the LCARS and communication systems and began issuing orders to the computer.
[Mon Remonda]
"General, we're receiving a transmission from the surface, voice only. It's from a Starfleet captain."
"What's he have to say?"
"He claims to welcome our invasion, sir. He welcomes the 'new regime' and downfall of the oppressive brainwashing frauds of the Federation. He's also giving us the co-ordinates of weapon depots and command centres all over Earth. He also claims to be able to provide the location of every fleet admiral in Starfleet."
Solo whistled. "Get a platoon to his position right away. Tell
them to secure the position, but leave him well alone. Looks like we've
got a defector. Check out all the information he's sending us. If this
is for real, then we could have their entire high command within a day."
[Le Carré Base]
2 Excelsiors lazily circled the station, their active sensors shut down for the moment. The same was true for the mushroom shaped starbase. Light years from any star and officially not in existence, secrecy was its greatest asset. Few outside of Starfleet Intelligence knew of its existence, none outside of the Federation. It was the homeport of Taskforce Black Knight.
Admiral Rog was just coming on the duty. For the 8 hours for the third or night watch, he was in command of the second most important starbase in the quadrant. More importantly, however, he got to sit in the most comfortable seat this side of Risa.
"Report ensign."
"Microtransmission at sixteen hundred hours indicates taskforce Spectre is in position. Still no word from 'Eclipse', but there doesn't appear to be increased Romulan activity either. Other than that, sir, it's been a quiet day."
Rog snorted at that. There was no such thing as a quiet day in the intelligence business.
[ISS Dark Phoenix]
"5 seconds to reversion. 3... 2... 1."
The 17km wedge shuddered slightly as it returned to realspace less than 5km from the starbase. Admiral Sheppard made a mental note to check when the navigator had last been promoted.
"Keep shields on standby, but don't activate them unless we're fired on. Open a channel to the starbase. You're on, Admiral."
[Le Carré Base]
The arrival of the Executor class Star Destroyer had set off a dozen different alarms, half of them in Rog's head. The base was supposed to be invisible. They had trained to repel an enemy attack, but nobody seriously expected it to happen.
"Shields are up sir."
"Sensors going active, target classified as Imperial Executor class Star destroyer 'Palpatinian'."
"We have weapons lock on their engines and bridge."
Rog stood and nodded his acknowledgment. That thing had devastated Earth. His starbase didn't have a chance.
"Peregrines launching and forming up with Excelsiors. Should we alert Starfleet, sir?"
A good question. Was the appearance of the ship justification enough to reveal that this base existed? That was the drawback to being the Admiral, he thought. The buck stops here.
"Incoming transmission."
"Open channel." Hopefully this would help him make that decision.
"Good evening, admiral." If anything, things had just got a lot more complicated.
"Boyd?! What are you-"
"Sorry sir, there'll be time for explanations later. All you need to know for the moment is that this isn't the 'Palpatinian' and it isn't going to fire on you. As you can see, shields are down and weapons are unpowered. I've brought some friends."
A subtle sequence of nose twitches and eye movements conveyed that Boyd was speaking the truth and was under no coercion. That created an awful lot of questions however.
"Care to elaborate, Admiral?"
"I think it would be best if we came aboard, sir and explained in person."
"We?"
"A few of our new friends and myself."
Rog paused for thought. This was damned peculiar, but he trusted Boyd's judgment. He had command of Black Knight after all.
"All right, Admiral. One shuttle. We'll drop shields on the far side of the station to let you in."
"We'll be with you in fifteen minutes. Boyd out." Boyd turned to Sheppard. "I'll be leaving you now, Admiral. With your permission of course."
"Of course. Captain Yates, Vice Admiral Glasgow and Lieutenant Smith are waiting in bay 3. Lt. Hit-man will escort you there."
The walk to the bay was a short one, despite being half the ship away, but Hit-man seemed to have a knack for stretching seconds out into hours and minutes out into eternities. Boyd shuddered at the thought of spending a deep space assignment with him. It wasn't anything he said - he didn't seem to say much at all in Boyd's presence -rather it was his very presence. And he was coming on the shuttle too. Boyd sighed.
"Admiral." Smith greeted his superior with a grin. They were going home. Not the whole crew yet of course, but surely it wouldn't be long. Then they could see to chasing the Republic all the way back to the wormhole.
"Shuttle Lambda-109 requesting permission to depart."
"Permission granted Lambda-109. Atmospheric containment field down."
It was a short flight, barely long enough to unfold the shuttle's wings. A pair of Peregrines took up position alongside as they passed the Excelsiors and rounded the station. One of the fighter bays was open, not the cavernous spacedock facilities used by starships. A tractor beam guided them in for the final approach to Yates' annoyance. He trusted his skills over a machine any day. The touchdown was a little softer than he expected, but the reception committee was exactly what he expected. 10 security personnel armed with phaser rifles cautiously awaited them. Boyd was first out of the shuttle, a familiar face to reassure them. Smith, never far from the admiral's side was next. Hit-man, assigned to protect the Imperials officers was next, his lightsabre hanging at his side. Finally Glasgow descended the boarding ramp.
"Follow me please, sir." The lieutenant in charge of the squad was polite but firm. A couple of his men were already checking the arrivals with tricorders while more moved round the back to 'escort' them. One ensign, relatively new to the job nearly fainted when he saw the readout for Hit-man.
"Uh, sir, I think you should take a look at this."
The lieutenant was just as surprised. Hidden compartments in the stormtrooper's armour, multiple concealed firearms, grenades ... "I'm afraid you'll have to remain here sir," he informed Hit-man, gesturing for a couple of men to guard him.
"There's no need for that. I'm not carrying any weapons. I can proceed with the admirals."
"Yes... you can proceed. You're not carrying any weapons," replied the lieutenant.
"But sir, you saw the tricorder, he' got enough weapons to-"
"That's enough ensign. There's a glitch in the tricorder obviously."
"But sir-"
"Take it to be repaired. Now."
"Aye, sir." The exasperated ensign strode out of the bay, leaving a bemused Imperial Vice-Admiral behind. Boyd merely raised an eyebrow at the incident and continued out of the bay.
"Shouldn't we have him remain here, sir?" asked Smith.
"I doubt Admiral Glasgow would accompany us in that case. And I think we can deal with one man if he gets out of hand." Boyd knew that, as per procedure, every man that had disembarked the shuttle has a transporter lock on him. If anything happened they could be instantly transported into a nerve gas or stasis chamber. The rest of the journey was made in silence. The corridors of the station seemed unusually empty. Purposefully kept clear no doubt. As Boyd had expected, they were brought to the main conference room. Admiral Rog stood to greet them as they entered.
"Good to see you again, Admiral."
"Not as good as it is to see this place again. Allow me to introduce Vice Admiral Glasgow, formerly of the Imperial Navy and Lt. Hit-man, formerly of the Imperial Army."
Glasgow accepted Rog's hand, shaking it firmly. Hit-man however declined, standing rigidly to attention behind Glasgow as he took an offered seat. Fixing his eyes on Rog he could see he was bursting with questions, but Boyd was the first to speak.
"I suppose I have a lot of explaining to do."
"We thought you were dead."
"I probably should be." Boyd spent the next 15 minutes relating his escape from Earth, encounter with Captain January and subsequent capture by Sheppard. Rog listened on in silence until he had finished speaking.
"So this Admiral Sheppard, an Imperial renegade, captured the 'Palpatinian', found you abandoning ship, took you prisoner and then offered an alliance? It all sounds rather implausible."
"Not really. The Galactic Empire has been at war with the New Republic and its predecessor, the Rebel Alliance, for decades. They hate each other as much as the Klingons and Romulans. And they view the Republic as a much greater threat than us. If the Republic was to gain control of 2 galaxies, the Empire would cease to exist as a political or military entity. Admiral Sheppard may be a renegade, but he's dedicated his life to the cause of restoring the Empire. And to do that he has to stop the Republic."
Up to this point, Glasgow had been silent. "He's right. To be honest we would have had no interest in you if not for the Republic's invasion, but now we have a common enemy and seem to be in a position to help each other. I know it's not the firmest foundation for an alliance, but it's the truth. If we were lying to you, why did we come on board? We could easily have taken this station by force. That's not a threat, admiral, just a statement of fact. We could take significant portions of your Federation by force and use them against the Republic, but it's too both our benefits to work together."
Rog pondered this for several moments. "You do realise that I don't have the authority to declare an alliance? That would normally fall to the Federation council. Since Earth is occupied, however, it falls to the Commander in Chief. Admirals, if you can put together a convincing case for this alliance on paper, I'll send it to the CinC."
Glasgow smiled appreciatively. "The sooner we return to the 'Dark Phoenix', the faster we can get started. Perhaps Lt. Smith could stay to be debriefed."
"An excellent suggestion Admiral. I'll have a couple of men escort you back to fighter bay."
The 3 admirals stood and once again exchanged handshakes. 10 minutes later Glasgow and Boyd were back on 'Dark Phoenix' and headed for Sheppard's ready room.
[Starfleet Medical]
The bustling facility was as yet untouched by the fight for control of Earth, a situation that no-one expected to last forever. There were no security officers left however, apart from the wounded and they weren't being let out. Instead the doctors had equipped themselves with phasers locked onto stun. A distasteful course of action, but a necessary one. Being a medical facility, it lacked any sort of external sensor array and the first fighter wave arrived unnoticed. A pair of A-Wings, jammers activated, swooped low over the building, rendering tricorders inoperative. Next came the Gamma Assault Shuttle, a pair of X-Wings flying escort. Landing several kilometres distant, its guns were unable to cover the deployment of its 20 strong squad of commandos, but that was hardly necessary, as it was unlikely they had been spotted. Paulsen, the Jedi Knight, had been chosen to lead the mission, being the best able to determine if Lowe had been telling the truth. They filed out and began jogging towards the facility. Lightly loaded with equipment, they covered the first few kilometres relatively quickly, then slowed to a gentle walk for the last one. They wanted to ensure complete surprise. According to sensor readings there were no exits at the rear. Apart from the main entrance in fact, it seemed to rely entirely on its transporter system to get people in and out. There was a landing pad on the roof for critically ill patients who couldn't be transported, but that was undoubtedly being watched.
Various clumps of trees provided cover for the commando squad as it approached planted to provide a pleasing view for patients. They reached the rear wall unnoticed and prepared for their break-in. Lowe had provided a map of the facility, including his location, which was on the third floor. Rather than sue demolition charges which might have attracted attention, Paulsen sliced through the wall with his lightsabre, first checking to ensure that no one was nearby inside. The squad slipped through, leaving a 4-man patrol to guard their exit. Signalling with hand signals, the squad advanced into the building.
[Isolation Room]
Lowe was beginning to get impatient. Still no word from the Republic. What if his transmission had been intercepted? Or perhaps the Republic hadn't taken him seriously. In frustration he hit the wall with his plunger.
"Please state the nature of the medical emergency. Ah, you've decided to keep me on line have you? Any more of this nonsense and I'll have to put you back in isolation. Now-"
Lowe uttered a low groan. Looking at the wall he saw he'd managed to stop the diagnostic and reactivate the EMH.
"Computer, take the EMH off-line and run a level 1 diagnostic."
The only response however was an irritating buzz. Realising he was still pushing down the activation controls, Lowe tried to back away from the wall, but found himself stuck. The plunger was obviously rather more powerful than what he had expected.
[Ground Floor]
The squad had located a turbolift shaft almost immediately. Paulsen felt great unease at the presence of so many suffering beings, but none seemed to be in a position to threaten them at the moment. Still using hand signals, he motioned for one of the commandos to open the turbolift doors. As the rest of the squad covered the corridor he removed the control panel and began rewiring it. Within seconds the door was open. A few sparks later the lift had been disabled. Locating the ceiling hatch, Paulsen opened it and force leapt on top of the lift. Reaching down, he helped the rest of the squad to climb up. Leaving 2 men in the lift, they began ascending the lift shaft, listening carefully for the sound of other lifts.
As they reached the second floor, Paulsen's danger sense flashed. A lift was approaching and there was no time to get the whole squad out of the way. Breaking the silence, he snapped a command to the only Wookiee member of the squad. Several times stronger than the average man, he had no trouble carrying an E-WEB by himself and had been climbing alone on the other side of the shaft. At Paulsen's command he hooked his legs and one arm round the ladder and aimed the E-WEB upward with the free arm. A strong of blaster bolts illuminated the darkened shaft before burrowing into the descending lift. Hearing the screech of arrester mechanisms trying to bring the crippled lift to a halt, Paulsen pushed with the Force, willing it to stop. Before it was completely at rest, the squad was moving, double time, up towards it. Ignoring the stench of charred flesh, no new sensation to him, Paulsen swung up into the lift and examined its passengers. 2 orderlies lay moaning on the floor, one mortally wounded by a blaster bolt, the other barely conscious, a bolt having grazed her leg. Security personnel were fair gam in a war, but medical personnel? They had always been protected. Well by the Alliance and Republic. The Empire had not always been so discriminating.
"Anything I can do sir?" asked one of the younger commandos, clearly disturbed by what he saw, but doing his best to mask it. The first orderly was beyond the healing abilities of both Bacta and Paulsen. He could already feel his life fading away, merging with the Force. The second, however, he could help. Placing his hand on the wound, Paulsen concentrated, envisaging millions of cells, torn and burnt by the bolt. Taking a little of the life energy that filled him and his squad, he passed it to the cells, healing them. The burn would heal now by itself. Motioning for the squad to resume their journey, Paulsen's mind flicked to that of the orderly, ensuring she was fully unconscious, before moving on.
The short time that it took to reach the third floor was uneventful. Again reaching out with the Force, Paulsen ensured that the corridor was clear before leading the squad out. The corridors were surprisingly empty. Paulsen assumed that all personnel were busy treating patients. 50m down the corridor turn left and third door on the right. That's where they would find their defector. They would have to pass quite a few rooms on the way, but fortunately there didn't seem to be any windows looking into the corridor. Motioning, Paulsen began jogging down the corridor. The quicker they got there the less chance there was of them being spotted. It took about 10 seconds to cover the first 50m and the spirits of the commandos were clearly soaring. Clear to Paulsen that is. To any other observers, had there been any, they would have appeared to be wearing a mask of cool detachment, as befitted their status as professional soldiers. As they passed the first door, however, Paulsen's danger sense flashed. Bringing the squad to a halt, he backed off as the door opened.
"Thank you Mr Data, but I think it's more important that you get out of her and into contact with whatever resistance groups are forming. I would just slow-"
No time for mind tricks. Paulsen shoved hard with the Force, knocking a bald man wearing an air of command and hobbling on crutches over and sending his droid companion smashing against the wall. Paulsen was reminded of the toy soldiers he'd played with as a kid. Startled voices were coming from through the doorway now, however, leaving Paulsen with no time for reminiscing. Two commandos were already running forward, throwing grenades over-arm. Stepping back and covering their eyes and ears they allowed the concussion wave to pass before storming into the room. Only one person was still standing.
"Who are you and what are you doing in my ward?" came the pompous voice.
Taking no time to puzzle over the lack of sensation from the person, Paulsen fired his blaster. Blue stun waves rippled towards him, but passed straight through, his form rippling as they did so. A hologram. Rolling to avoid a retaliatory stun blast, Paulsen sought the source of the hologram. In his mind, an image appeared. Looking round the room, littered with beds, he spotted the emitter station. a bank of innocuous computer panels. Before the hologram could fire a second shot, Paulsen was firing on the emitters himself. The hologram shimmered out of existence, his phaser dropping to the floor. Paulsen's danger sense was still wailing however. Scanning the room he saw nothing. The same for the doorway. But there should have been 2 guards. A black and gray blur flashed through the doorway, a golden orange beam flashing from it. The wide beam phaser took down 3 men before the rest could dive for cover. Obviously the droid was some sort of combat model. Igniting his lightsabre, Paulsen dived in front of the blur, swinging his glowing blade. The blur seemed to slow, taking on features until Paulsen could see it with complete clarity. It was the same pale skinned droid he had thrown about earlier. It shifted direction to dodge his blade and began bringing its phaser to bear. Paulsen was moving as well however. Sweeping his blade one way to force the droid's movements, he lashed out with his right leg, simultaneously ducking to avoid the phaser blast. His foot connected with the droid's right leg, knocking it off balance and sending it clattering to the floor. Before it could recover, Paulsen was again swinging with his lightsabre. Bringing it down he clove through its neck, severing all connections between the head and body. After a few brief spasms, the droid came to a final rest.
The skirmish over for now, Paulsen signalled for the unconscious commandos to be brought into the room and guards to take up position on the door. Portable jammers were being positioned round the room to prevent transporters beaming the squad out or from others beam in. Paulsen knew he had moments before the first Starfleet personnel would arrive to try and stop them. The safest way to retrieve the defector now would be to cut through the walls and avoid the corridor. Signalling for 2 men to accompany him, Paulsen began slashing through the first wall. The first room seemed to be little more than a storage room of some sort with no one present. In the next room, however, Paulsen could detect a single presence, one becoming more and more stressed by the second. Their defector.
[Isolation Room]
Lowe had finally detached himself from the wall, however an increasingly suspicious EMH was now holding a phaser to him. He was beginning to think that his last ditch attempt at glory had failed when the alarms went off. Taking advantage of the EMH's momentary confusion, Lowe jumped on him, swinging his plunger. His arm knocked aside, presenting him from firing the phaser, the EMH killed his containment field, causing Lowe to fall through him, but also forcing him to drop the phaser. Seizing it with his plunger, Lowe rolled aside and got unsteadily to his feet.
"Computer, take the EMH- oof!"
The EMH had closed and reactivated its containment field, punching Lowe. With the medical knowledge of the entire Federation at his disposal, the EMH knew exactly where to hit Lowe. Dropping to his knees, badly winded, Lowe was unable to complete the order, but did succeed in firing the phaser. The EMH flickered, killing its containment field and moving out of the way. Realising he only had one chance, Lowe began firing the phaser on continuous beam, sweeping the entire room. Sparks erupted from consoles as the beam played across them. As sparks flew and smoke began pouring from the walls, the EMH flickered out, this time permanently. Gasping, Lowe rolled over and tried to recover his breath. He had little chance however, as a searing beam of light stabbed through the wall and carved out a doorway. 3 men in uniforms he was unfamiliar with stormed through, bringing their guns to bear instantly on him.
"Captain Kenneth von Lowe, formerly of the United federation of Planets Starfleet. Welcome to the freakshow," he gasped.
For a moment he thought he could feel another presence in his mind before the middle man nodded and the other 2 rushed forward to help him to his feet. Despite a few curious glances, the new arrivals managed to restrain questions, and more importantly for Lowe's ego, any laughter.
Paulsen had no questions for he already knew the answers. It hadn¹t been hard to find them, so close tot he surface of Lowe's mind were they. His hatred for the Federation for what they had done to him was clear. So barbaric. Any doubts Paulsen had had about this war were now fading. As they returned to the squad as quickly as Lowe could manage, Paulsen activated his comm-link.
"Execute."
[Assault Shuttle]
The single word had come loud and clear through the comm system and the pilots were powering up the shuttle's engines. They were veterans of the civil war and probably wouldn't have broken a sweat had an SSD decloaked in front of them. What they were about to do, however, made them more than a little anxious. Using repulsors only, the shuttle rose several metres above the ground before firing its thrusters. It only took a few seconds to break the sound barrier and the sonic boom flattened several bushes the commandos had used for cover earlier. Despite the short journey, they were beaten to the facility by a pair of A-Wings which were circling, keeping watch for Peregrines that might have escaped destruction. 2 beacons were lighting up their sensors, indicating the positions of the segments of the squad. A similarly sized squad of the Republic army were on standby in the Shuttle's passenger compartment, ready to break the commando squad out if necessary. It didn't look like they would be needed however. The first group of 6 was waiting for the shuttle on the ground outside the facility and evidently still hadn't been spotted. Landing, the pilots allowed the commandos to board before again lifting off to recover the rest of the squad. Third floor, east side. Fortunately the room the commandos were in was one of the outermost ones and they could be taken straight on to the shuttle. Moving into position, the shuttle rotated until its boarding ramp was pointing to the wall. Within a second, demolition charges had gone off and the wall was blown out rather spectacularly, fragments falling and digging into the earth below. Immediately the shuttle backed up until the ramp was in contact with the floor. The army troops in the passenger compartment already had an E-Web set up and were covering the commandos' retreat, mowing down the Starfleet personnel that surged through into the room as the commandos retreated. First the stunned members of the squad were dragged on board, then the defector, a sight the troops would have sniggered at had they not been occupied with target practice on the more foolhardy Starfleet men. Last to board was Paulsen, accompanied by the Wookiee commando, still wielding his E-Web as if it were little more than a toy gun. A few phaser shots began raining down from the roof, targeting the shuttle's engines as Paulsen boarded, but shields were re-established before any damage could be done. With everyone aboard, the pilots cleared the facility on repulsorlifts only before throwing the throttle wide open and heading for home flanked by the A-Wings.
Score one more for the good guys thought Paulsen.
Hopefully the information they would glean from this... person would shorten
the war and prevent a few of the casualties he'd caused today.
[Earth orbit]
"There is much anger in him. Anger, fear, a desire for revenge. His motives for joining us are not the best."
"Anger and revenge will ensure he does not betray us for them and fear we can manipulate."
"Fear leads to anger, anger leads to hate-"
"And hate leads to suffering. One of the first lessons my brother taught me, but suffering is inevitable in war. I thought the last few days would have made that clearer than any lesson you learnt at the praxeum."
Paulsen merely inclined his head, retreating into thought. The princess' behaviour had changed little since he had left on the commando mission. He had hoped it was merely grief at Luke's death, but the presence he felt as they probed Lowe's mind was not sorrowful. Instead, it seemed obscured, veiled by a darkness he could not penetrate. Something was very much amiss.
"Leia, why don't you rest now. Han and I can handle things for the next few days. After what you've been through-"
"Thank-you, Björn. I know you mean well, but it's easier on me if I have something to concentrate on. When Alderaan was destroyed there was nothing I could do except sit in my cell and mourn. I felt so powerless, so weak. I had failed everyone and that was driving me crazy. Now, though, I can do something. The Federation will pay for Luke and Ackbar's death."
Paulsen reminded silent. Still no clear emotions in her mind. Not even the mention of Alderaan had brought any close enough to the surface for him to read. His vision was marred by the same dark skies that covered half the Earth beneath them.
[Le Carré base]
Four men, the most powerful on the station, filed into the sparse briefing room. Painted a matte black, according to the whims of Admiral Rog, the walls seemed to make the LCARS terminals glow all the brighter. In this room, some of the most critical intelligence operations of the Dominion War had been planned. Billions of lives had been saved by the actions of Section 31 and now they hoped to do the same again. Taking a seat, Rog opened the meeting.
"Three ships and six thousand men. That's all we have at our disposal gentleman to fight this war. The last transmission was received from the commanders in chief was a direct order to Section 31 to transfer all ships and starbases to the main body of Starfleet. Every ship that can be mustered is en-route to Wolf 359 in preparation for a strike on Earth. If the New Republic opts for a full-scale invasion of the Federation, we are, quite simply, dead. They're too fast and too powerful to stop once they got moving, so we'll have to hit them while they're consolidating their position on Earth. It is possible, however, that it's already too late for that. The transmission was interrupted by high-intensity subspace interference. The interference seems to be localised in the areas of the commanders in chief. Everything is going to be up to whoever is commanding the fleets and us. Due to the jamming, I've been unable to contact the commanders in chief so I'm provisionally declaring an alliance between our governments, Admiral Sheppard. I've also taken the step of ordering all assets assigned to this station to remain part of Section 31 rather than joining the fleets. We're too far away to reach them in time for an attack anyway."
"What class are your ships, admiral?"
"Two Excelsior class frigates and One Nebula class cruiser. Ordinarily we would be able to call upon the ten ships of Black Knight and over a dozen other Starfleet Intelligence vessels, but as I said, they're preparing for the strike on Earth. We also have twenty Peregrine class fighters, but no carrier. They have warp drive, but range is limited."
"I think we can help somewhat in that department. Time to show my hand."
Sheppard tapped a few buttons on the terminal in front of him, calling up a holo display of his small fleet. It had been relatively easy to learn how to use the primitive Starfleet computers, though their clumsy interface which seemed designed to catch the eye rather than enable quick and easy use, still irritated him.
"At my disposal I have one Corellian Corvette, 'Dagger', two Imperator class Star destroyers, 'Revenger' and 'Cyclops', one Immobiliser class interdictor cruiser, 'Hutt's Feet' and one Executor class Star Destroyer, 'Dark Phoenix'."
Tapping another few buttons, he brought the specifications of the ships up as well. Boyd had faced them in battle and Rog had read the reports, but even so, the two admirals still found themselves slightly overwhelmed by the sheer power of the ships. Seeing the colour drain slightly from their faces, Sheppard smiled.
"As I recall, admiral, you had one more ship," said Boyd, dragging his eyes away from the slowly revolving display.
"Ah yes. Admiral Rog, allow me to present my - our - World Devastator."
A tap of a button and the holo display changed once again, this time the image of a world devastator orbiting a planet appeared. Raising his eyebrows, Rog appeared about to ask a question, but was silenced by a change in the display. The World Devastator swooped low over the planet, tractor beams lancing out at the ground, ripping up rocks and soil, feeding them into its molecular furnaces. As the consumption of the planet continued, the World Devastator grew in size and began reproducing. First to be constructed were more World Devastators that greedily got to work devouring the planet. Next came fighters to defend them, then support ships. A starbase began to be constructed, followed by defence satellites. A shipyard appeared and before their eyes a monstrous sphere began to grow, becoming larger and larger, weapons emplacements and docking bays beginning to spot its exterior. A single indentation in its upper hemisphere marred its appearance. As the planet was reduced to its core, the ships departed. All but one. The sphere, dark and sinister, rotated slowly to face the place of its birth before an emerald green shot sped from the focusing eye and shattered the remains of the planet, hurtling debris outward for hundreds of thousands of kilometres.
Boyd had seen the World Devastator before, but never the results of its creations. Rog had o way of being prepared. As the display faded out, the two admirals looked over into Sheppard's eyes and saw not fear or greed or respect for the power they had just witnessed, but cool, calm, confidence. As far as he was concerned, the destruction of planets was an everyday natural occurrence, or so it appeared to them.
"What was that?" asked Rog in a dry whisper.
"Our future."
[Mess Hall]
Hit-Man found himself dining alone, a not unusual occurrence. A pity, he thought. He was in one of his better moods. Here they were, with a whole galaxy to claim for the Empire, they'd be whooping Rebel ass any day now and he had no-one to celebrate with. With the Cleaners still stationed on Revenger and Palpatinian, there was no one he knew of on the station, hard enough to dine with him. One of the Starfleet officers had tried it, but they hadn't lasted five minutes into the story of his early years with the Empire. Pyjama-wearing pansies. Couldn't even make a decent drink, he thought, knocking back his eighth glass of synthahol for the evening. To his disgust, it was as flat and tasteless as the previous seven. Slamming the glass down hard enough to make every crewman present wince and the more nervous edge towards the nearest exit, the lieutenant stood and made for the nearest door. There was a bottle of Corellian whiskey in his assigned quarters and a glass to go with it. The crewmen who had begun edging for the door began to rather more swiftly edge away upon his approach. Everywhere he went, people learnt quickly that you don't get in the way of the El Tee.
Not everyone on board was quite aware of Hit-man's temperament, least of all Lt Cmdr O'Leary, who had just returned, along with a platoon of security personnel, from a two-day training exercise in holodeck 4. Light infantry training. All they ever did. They were good - probably the best infantry forces Earth had ever produced, but O'Leary didn't think infantry was worth much without armoured support. Starfleet in general disagreed and in this respect, even Section 31 followed normal policy, much to her disgust. The two-day workout, battling Jem'Hadar troops, had raised her spirits however and it was in this mood - weary, but satisfied, that she jogged towards her quarters and a well deserved sonic shower. Round the corner and down the wall, Hit-man strode purposefully onwards. Not quite as fast, but with just as much energy and just as much enthusiasm. A few seconds later, enthusiasm met with and annihilated itself.
"What the kriff do you think you're doing?" glowered Hit-man menacingly (a redundant phrase perhaps, for it often seemed that the lieutenant knew no other way of talking) as he picked himself off the floor. Bouncing up, the red haired lieutenant-commander flashed her emerald eyes back at him and retorted,
"If you'd been watching where you're going rather than prancing about in your lily white armour, it wouldn't have happened, you great eejit. What kind of fool wears white armour? Why don't you wear a blazing neon sigh saying 'Shoot Me!' I suppose your one of the new arrivals? Well a fat lot of good you're going to do us. Maybe we can use you to draw fire while we get some real work done. Friggin' retards, the lot of you."
Shoving the lieutenant out of her way, O'Leary jogged off round the corner towards her quarters. Hit-man stared and watched her go. No one had spoken back to him like that since... since the days of the Emperor. That girl had fire. Fire like her flowing crimson fair that seemed to meld gracefully with-
Knocking himself round the head a few times with force sufficient to shatter any ordinary man's skull, Hit-man interrupted his train of though.
"Kriffing synthahol, messing with your brain."
Shaking his head, he stormed off towards his quarters.
[Briefing Room]
"I will not be a party to mass murder!" exclaimed Rog defiantly. "How _dare_ you bring a madman like this on board my station and suggest that _he_ might be the saviour of the Federation," he angrily accused Boyd.
You didn't object quite so much when that virus was turned loose on the Founders, Boyd thought. Much as he would have liked to, he did not raise that point. Displaying any sign of weakness or division, even in front of an ally, was generally frowned upon. "I doubt the good admiral would even dream of using such a weapon, especially not on planets with Federation citizens."
Sheppard mentally sighed. Obviously these people were not willing to make sacrifices for the greater good. Bu there were other ways of using a Death Star. "Of course not. Such a weapon is considered barbaric by most of the Empire, however it does serve a useful purpose as a bluff. Its mere presence would be sufficient to make the rebels rethink any plans they may have for this galaxy. Their ships can not hope to match its firepower and have no way of breaching its defences. Rather than using it as a weapon of mass destruction, I intend to use it to bring about a lasting peace here. The rebels will be too afraid to fight us."
"He wants to start the damned Cold War all over again! You know your history - remember World War Three?" exclaimed Rog, still less than convinced by Sheppard's plans.
"I remember," replied Boyd quietly. "I also remember Hiroshima. Nagasaki. This isn't the Cold War, it's World war Two. We'll be the only ones with nuclear capability. They can't respond to us and if what I've learnt about them is right, they'd have a riot on their hands if they tried building a Death Star of their own. We would have an overwhelming strategic advantage over them. You can't ignore that."
"You also can't ignore the fact that that monstrosity can destroy planets."
"If you're concerned that my men might have an itchy trigger figure," Sheppard inwardly smiled at the involuntary shudder Rog produced, "then I could train your officers to control its primary armament, the superlaser."
The room fell silent for several minutes as Rog mulled the idea over in his head. Section 31 had been responsible for the deaths of millions, but they were enemies of the Federation. Not it's own people. But if they could control such a weapon themselves
"Very well Admiral," he finally grudgingly replied. "You can build your Death Star and _we_ will crew it."
"Thank you admiral, you won't regret this. However, one matter still remains - the powering of the World Devastator. The only component missing when we recovered it form its storage depot was it power source - a black hole or quantum singularity as seem to be fond of calling it. Admiral Boyd, I believe we have already discussed how one may be obtained, in principle."
Boyd nodded and input several commands to the console in front of him. A rotating 3D image of a Romulan Warbird appeared. "As you are aware, the Romulans power their vessels, not with a conventional matter/anti-matter reactor, but with an artificial quantum singularity. We are not entirely sure how they manufacture or obtain these and can not do so safely ourselves. Certainly not with the equipment available to us at this station. We do, however have the means to acquire one from the Romulans." Pausing, he entered several more commands and the image changed to show a star system.
"Epsilon Cygni, a small and at first glance, unimportant system on the edge of the Romulan Empire's borders. It has no significant mineral deposits and no great strategic value. There are no indigenous races and the Romulans have not colonised any of its planets. It does, however, provide a home to a subspace monitoring station. Given its proximity to the Delta Quadrant, we believe that it may be part of an early warning system against the Borg. Following recent hostilities, the majority of the Romulans' anti-Borg taskforce, known to consist of approximately sixty vessels, twenty of them D'deridex class Warbirds, was relocated to firm up their Alpha and Beta Quadrant borders. A small group of vessels centred around three Warbirds remains. How do we know so much about this? The USS Grenville, a modified Excelsior class starship, fitted with a phase cloak, has been monitoring the area. If we were able to seize control of these vessels, we would be able to provide power for the World Devastator."
"That's risky," objected Rog. "If they manage to get a warning off, the Romulans could turn on whatever's left of the Federation. Even if we jam their transmissions, all it takes is for one of them to cloak and run hell for leather back to Romulan High Command."
"Agreed. Which is why we won't be using Federation vessels for the operation. Instead, I propose we make use of Admiral Sheppard's vessels. 'Grenville' has amassed very detailed astronomical data on the area, so hyperspace navigation should be no problem. I suggest that a single vessel drop out of hyperspace in the Epsilon Cygni system and attack the subspace monitoring station without jamming its transmissions. That ought to bring the Romulans running. Once they arrive, _Dark Phoenix_ will drop out of hyperspace and disable the vessels."
"Too risky," objected Sheppard, to the surprise of all three other admirals
present. "It would be too easy for them to scuttle their ships. We have
to guarantee that we'll get them intact. There's the only one way to do
that. We'll need one of my corvettes and an escape pod." Sheppard paused
and grinned at the perplexed expressions form the Starfleet admirals and
the sudden dawning of realisation appearing on Glasgow's face. Catching
Sheppard's eye, Glasgow nodded and smiled. Yes, he understood. Time to
show the Starfleet lackeys how dark black ops could get.