From: lusankyan@aol.comJyhad (Commander Thelea)
Newsgroups: alt.startrek.vs.starwars
Date: 04 Feb 2001 18:30:05 GMT
Subject: [Fanfic] The Long Patrol Act I


  The Long Patrol, Act I:

	Prologue.

	"To Bloody Wars and Sickly Seasons!"  

	The Surface of Killion's World.

	"El intin fasta... El'tioff entair nifaer enti, das trin astra ba... El 
intin fasta..." The alien music to the cheap Jizz-Wailer band droned in the 
background. The bar was heavy with Tabacc smoke, and the smell of a thousand 
exotic drinks being consumed.. At least, it seemed that way. There was a storm 
outside... This world didn't have the funds for planetary weather control.

	Around the rickety tables and barstools, people lounged; all human, mostly 
men. One woman sat at the bar, facing the stage, leaning back against the 
hardwood, which a faded sign proudly announced was from Alderaan. Dead world. 
Kriff it. Her hair was longer than regulation demanded, and she liked it that 
way.

	Her official excuse was that all the haircutting lasers on the FSC-956 
were non-operational. They had a habit of becoming that way as soon as they got 
on the ship; Parts conveniently scavenged for various systems on the ship. They 
increased targeting accuracy by 1.5% they'd added so many micro-sensors and 
laser targeting mechanisms by now. It was probably enough to make up for her bad 
marks on discipline. She didn't give a kriff about that, either.

	The singer/dancer/probably whore in her spare time who was singing was a 
Twi'lekk, so she figured the nonsense was probably a Twi'lekk dialect. Actually, 
it was all that bad of nonsense. Uniform cap, of course, was missing, and her 
uniform jacket simply gone; The undershirt for the standard uniform was enough 
to label her a prude by this world's standards if she weren't an officer. The 
gloves were still on; She didn't want to catch something from the bartop.

	A gloved left hand held a half-sipped glass of Nikarian Alderwine. She 
wanted something stiffer, but she enforced a strict two wine glass limit on 
nights before patrols. The crew could have all the hangovers they wanted, 
though, as they'd been running this convoy escort route for the past eighteen 
months, and the bloody rebs simply never attacked during the first day out. 
That's what they were... The crew of the Frigate; Strike Class, number Nine 
Hundred and Fifty-six. She was Commander Elise Kalar-Leben, captain of the 
illustrious ship with no name.. Though of course the entire crew had assorted 
nicknames for the ship.

	She didn't want to run them through her mind; It was gutter enough 
already. Idly, Elise wondered if anyone was going to report the Twi'lekk, who'd 
just turned the place into a strip joint without a permit. She doubted it. The 
crewers all hollered like wild, of course, but one kept it off afterwards. 
Damnit.. Klif just couldn't ever control himself. Her chief engineer was now up 
on the stage, holding an open   container of Corellian Whiskey... And raising it 
high. Oh kriff... There goes another stunt. Or a toast. She didn't know which 
was worst. "And..." Klif began... Shit, thought Elise, another goddamned toast. 
"Let's all raise a glass to his most honourable Grand Moff Tarkin! Killer of 
innocent worlds, destroyer of the cream of the crop of the Imperial Starfleet!" 
Klif Einhauser poured the entire thing over himself.. Elise estimated he managed 
to drink about a fourth of it, as the entire place shut up.

	Elise sighed.. Someday the idiot was going to be visited by ISB... Or 
maybe not. They'd probably all buy it first. "Okay, okay, enough fun and 
games... I think our commander is a tad drunk.... Get him off the kriffing 
stage.." The sound of crashing as Klif fell off the stage and into one of the 
cheap tables, quite unconscious, cut her off. Another sigh. "Amended... Haul him 
into the 'fresher. He'll come to in a few minutes and start puking." A few 
crewers complied with the order, and the unconscious engineer was dragged from 
the room. The music immediately resumed. Kriff. Elise took another sip of her 
wine.

	The door was flung open, bringing with it a burst of rain and cold air. 
Collective groans from the crewers. Elise... Well, she was used to the cold. Two 
men entered; One dressed properly and formally in a stiff Lt. Commander's 
uniform and the other in the uniform of.... Elise blinked for a moment. Kriff. 
He was a correspondent. She didn't like this.

	To her right was the fully uniformed, and probably the only one here who 
looked like a member of the Imperial Starfleet, Lt. Commander Hallsburg. 
Hallsburg was a starfighter pilot, which made it just plain weird that he was 
big on spit and polish. Of course, he looked like he'd been in his uniform for a 
month compared with the Lt. Cmdr who's just entered. He came to attention before 
Hallsburg and saluted promptly. "Commander Kalar-Leben? This is.." She cut him 
off. "Nihkt... I'm Commander Kalar-Leben. That's Lieutenant Commander 
Hallsburg."

	She liked using other languages in conversion; It confused the hell out of 
the average fellow officer. He was even more confused. "I.. My apologies. I 
wasn't told a woman commanded FSC-956." She drained the rest of the glass. 
Whoever he was, he was probably straight out of a desk on Coruscant, and that 
just meant trouble, either through malice or plain stupidity. The Correspondent 
standing beside him was blushing rather furious at the topless Twi'lekk woman 
dancing on the stage.

	Elise found that mildly amusing... She couldn't recall the last time she'd 
seen a man blushing, even one that fair skinned. There was the sound of puking 
in the men's 'fresher. Good, Klif was okay. The man came to attention and 
saluted again, the correspondent following. Elise didn't bother to return it. 
"Two glasses of alderwine for our new guests," she announced to the barkeep.

	She took another sip from her own. "So... You are?" The man paused.. Good, 
he was off balance. "Lieutenant Commander Harlann Quir, Sir.... Your new 
executive officer." Elise dropped her glass; Of course, it wasn't real glass, it 
didn't break, and it wasn't nearly full. "What the kriff happened to my old 
executive officer?"

	The man relaxed a little; That was a good sign; he was either a sadist or 
Tahar Baeleron was in no trouble whatsoever. "Lieutenant Commander Baeleron has 
been promoted to Commander and given command of the FSC-452, Sir." Elise 
sighed.. Well, that was a relief. "And your friend?" The Correspondent finally 
spoke up. "Ah... Lieutenant Varish Liebau, ma'am... Err, sir." He looked to the 
Lt.Cmdr for reassurance at the self-correction and got it.

	Smart lad, Elise thought, but he'd probably spent to much time around 
paper perfectionists. "And the purpose of this visit?" Let's be direct... 
Though, of course, Elise kept her relaxed manner. It didn't fit with the tone of 
voice or the question.. So much the better. Quir was hesitant, but he answered. 
"The FSC-956  is undergoing special modifications for a new assignment, that 
were classified even to you until this point. Lieutenant Liebau has come along 
to record this most momentous mission under the vessel's new state."

	Elise was already staring daggers... Command had started modifying HER 
ship without letting her know.... "Are we still supposed to go out this morning, 
in a ship modified in ways we don't even know?" More stiffening from the 
Lt.Cmdr. "Well, yes sir... The equipment is setup to be quite standard, and your 
ship was especially picked.. It's quite an honour. I believe you were chosen 
because of your high kill rate on convoy defence missions."

	Elise smirked slowly... A wicked one. "Two things, Lieutenant Commander... 
Any ship racks up a kill rate that high when they're under constant attack by 
rebs, pirates, assorted scum races from the fringe and everything else in-
between while protecting a bunch of oversized space pigs, and...." It turned to 
a dangerous grin.. "It's 'Us' now, not 'You'. Welcome to the FSC-956, gentlemen, 
for better or for worse." LtCmdr Quir straightened again. "Thank you, 
Commander." She laughed softly, and swung a bit in her barstool. "Boys.... I'd 
like you to meet your new XO, Lieutenant Commander Harlann Quir. I think he 
needs a lap dance from our singer."

	And with that she stood up, grabbing her jacket and cap, while a mass of 
largely drunk crewers propelled their new XO towards the stage and the 
Correspondent stared on in fascinated horror. Elise walked to the door, figuring 
that her new XO would be embarrassed enough by morning to stay shut up on her 
bridge until she got a good reading of him, and, anyway, he'd distract the crew 
while she headed off to rave..

	Futilely, of course, at the local commodore for this assignment. She'd do 
it anyway, though.. Might as well milk as much fun out of this as she could 
before they left again. Then again.. This might just be a milk run. But in the 
back of Elise's mind, something was telling her it would be ten times worse than 
convoy escort through hostile sectors... Or more.

	Main Sector Command Base, the surface of Killion's World.

	Elise had gotten through the gates easily enough with her pass, and then 
up into administration.. Of course, with her uniform now fully on though not 
nearly straight and narrow, she was recognized if not respected. There were a 
few leers from desk jockeys, but she talked her way past most of them and the 
secretaries to the Commodore's office.. Which, of course, she stormed into. 
"Commodore Nott.. What is the meaning of reassigning my ship and crew with 
modifications for which we have no training for, sir!?" The sir tacked on, of 
course.

	To her surprise, the chair in the office swiveled around to face her 
instead of an immediate reply, from those storm-beaten windows to that side of 
Commodore Nott's office. The man in the chair had the same blackish hair as the 
Commodore, but blue skin and solid red, glowing eyes. Elise froze, and 
stuttered. "G..Grand Admiral Thrawn.. Sir." She came to attention and saluted; 
Nott didn't care when she went mouthing off for show and to relieve pressure, 
but, a Grand Admiral, here, at the ass-end of the Empire or probably beyond 
it... Then she noticed the small, greyish, and oh-so-deadly looking alien 
lurking in the shadows and tensed a bit.

	However, the Grand Admiral started speaking, first. "Commander Kalar-
Leben... I was the one who gave the orders, in full knowledge of your crew's 
capabilities.. And I am the one who will explain them. Please, sit." Trembling 
slightly, she nodded once.. "Of course, sir." She sat in one of the guest 
chairs, the odd alien lurking, and then.. The Grand Admiral began to speak.

	And so Commander Elise Kalar-Leben sat, and she listened. "Commander, 
because of your kill rate, and your success on the field of combat, not to 
mention the highest crew efficiency ratings in the fleet short of the HIMS 
Executor, but, at the same time, continually degrading crew morale and political 
reliability ratings, you and your crew are now in a rather interesting 
position." Elise stiffened.

	"You're the best, Commander, at destroying the enemy. But you and your 
people.. You're not good Imperials." She opened her mouth to protest. The Grand 
Admiral raised his hand. She fell silent. He continued. "You are, however, quite 
clearly good hunters. Good hunters being wasted on escort duty."

	"Is this to mean, sir," she asked, hesitantly, "That we are to be 
reassigned to search and destroy operations against the rebels?" she could 
barely contain the excitement, however hesitant.  The Grand Admiral focused on 
her. "No. Where you are going is much, much more dangerous... But to quote the 
words of the ancestors of the ones you will be fighting... It will be the.. 
'Happy Times', Commander.

	With your crew's skill, you'll quickly adapt to the modifications, and I 
believe you shall find your assignment a most acceptable one. Make no mistakes, 
and you shall become a legend. Make one.. And there will quite likely be no 
survival. Period. The choice on this mission, at least for the crew, is still 
yours. However.. ISB might soon be paying you an unpleasant visit if you remain 
here. I advise you accept."

	She looked to the Grand Admiral intently. "What about the correspondent, 
Grand Admiral, sir. What is he for?" The man smiled. "To record, of course. A 
very momentous campaign, indeed." She raised an eyebrow. There were choices.. 
And there were choices. "I accept, Admiral." The smile grew a bit more. "Gather 
your crew, then, Commander, and report back to the FSC-956 within twenty-six 
standard hours. That is all... You are dismissed." She stood. "Understood, sir." 
Saluting, she left the office. The next few weeks, it seemed, would be 
interesting.. IF she survived them.

	Killion's World, Sector Spacedock, Two days later.

	Lieutenant Commander Harlann Quir stood at ramrod attention before 
Commander Elise as she reclined in the chair to her briefing room. It was off 
the bridge, cramped, windowless, covered with charts, ship models, and 
recognition guides to Rebel, Neutral, and Imperial warships. It smelled, like 
everything else on the ship, though liberal use of air freshener gave it an 
artificially clean smell; Better than a totally artificial smell, which had 
replaced the earthy odor of sweat during the refit.

	"Well, since Hallsburg has been reassigned since we have no fighters.. In 
fact.. Since we have no hangar bay whatsoever.. I believe we shall have to put 
our past in the bar behind us and work rather more closely. XO, from now on. 
I'll call you that.. Understood? And relax. Please."

	Harlann actually did, as he wondered what the odd, perhaps even lunatic, 
of a woman planned next. She smiled. "Well, XO... It's time you told me what all 
the nice boxes, the extra power core, the retractable mast atop my bridge pod, 
and everything else taking up space is. I want a full review of all 
modifications. Including the weird things on the engines I saw will walking 
across the boarding gangplank."

	Harlann nodded, and inserted a data card into the holo-readout on the 
desk, which displayed the image of the FSC-956. "Well, ma'am, starting with the 
engine baffles.. They're designed as dispersers of the drive tail. The drive 
tail, of course, is what ships are oftentimes detected by. These baffles work 
better at slower accelerations, but at maximum acceleration, you'll have a fifty 
percent reduced detection based on drive tail.

	When you reduce your speed down to five percent of maximum acceleration, 
you'll have a reduced detection of seven hundred percent. Also, the decay rate 
of the drive tail is ninety-seven percent faster; It'll be much harder for ships 
to know where you are with these fitted, if you've already gotten out of the 
area." Elise smirked faintly. "Wonderful for ships limited to passive sensors.. 
They'll have a very hard time detecting us indeed. But the rebels have active 
sensors, and we are still a ship." Harlann nodded.

	"That's what the three setups are.. Three types of cloaking devices." 
Elise stiffened abruptly. "Three.. Separate.. Types of cloaking devices.. Each.. 
Different.. And on my ship?" Harlann nodded.  "Alright then," Elise said, "Go 
on.. What to do they do?" There was a pause. "The first is a standard cloaking 
device as you've no doubt been taught about in the academy. The next two are 
heavily modified versions of cloaking devices acquired from an alien source..." 
Those eyes narrowed as they looked at him.

	"One masks the ship from essentially all active sensors, but works both 
ways, and it remains visible to the naked eye, but not to visual sensors of most 
types. The next one also renders the ship invisible to the naked eye, but less 
effectively on sensor readings.. And there is a slight wavering. The new power 
core that was installed is to power all three simultaneously."

	She grinned abruptly. "So that's it.. With the combination of three Cloak 
variants and the baffles.. We can maneuver virtually undetectable. But we'll 
also be deaf, dumb, and blind." Harlann grinned back. "Not so, Commander.. 
That's what the sensor mast is for. Mounted there, we can raise it above the 
level of the standard cloak; That'll give you passive sensors, while the other 
two cloaks, set to extend further out from the hull, cover it.

	The chance of detection is slightly increased, but the probe is designed 
out of subspace-stealthy materials and in a stealthy shape for short range 
lightspeed sensors. You can even raise it above the second cloak, out to the 
level of the third; Increased chance of detection, but you can use low powered 
active sensors that have special tracking modes that allow them to essentially 
blend in with background subspace radiation. They don't give you visuals, or 
anything like that, but they help in targeting and can give you a general idea 
of where an enemy vessel is."

	"Alright, I'm starting to like this. But the simple fact is that firing 
the turbolasers is still going to give away our position, no matter what... Let 
me guess, you have something for that, too." Harlann nodded. "The heaviest 
torpedoes in our arsenal.. While the other systems take up most of the modular 
portion of the ship, these go into the old flight deck. Eight torpedo tubes, set 
to fire forwards.

	Each has seventy-two of our heaviest anti-ship torpedoes; one hundred and 
eighty-eight megaton devices with the blast cone set into a fourty degree 
forward arc, only five percent of the energy bleeds off into the other arcs, and 
some of that will still hit the target with a direct hit. These torpedoes have 
been modified with the third type of cloaking device I described above, 
Commander, and also a device called a 'Warp Drive'.. Which makes them rather 
longer, requiring the special tubes, and lessened number of torpedoes over what 
the ship could carry. The Warp drive can propel them at a speed of 'warp factor 
eight'."

	"Tell me what Warp Drive is, XO, you're preaching to the deaf here if you 
don't." He straightened slightly. Elise sighed.

	"Well, It's, essentially, a form of subspace distortion drive that allows 
a vessel or warhead to exceed the speed of light while in realspace." Elise 
stood up then, looking to him, then down to the modified version of her ship on 
that hologram.

	"Damn..... Must be as slow as hell. I know that much about Subspace 
physics.. But the possibilities..." Harlann nodded. "Exactly, Commander, 
exactly. And there's one on the ship, too."

	She had to keep herself from getting weak at the knees.. "The rest of the 
modular space, then? I didn't think a reactor and three cloaking devices would 
take up room for twenty-four starfighters." Her XO nodded again. "Correct.. It's 
limited to Warp factor four, sustained, or Warp five point nine two for up to 
five hours before needing to be disengaged for cooling, but we have it." a grin.

	"However, turbolasers cannot be fired when both warp drive and the three 
cloaks are in use. To much of a power drain. The two reactor systems are 
interlinked, though both are standard reactors..." Elise smiled slowly. 
"Alright. Good. You've made my day.. Now make me understand what godsend I've 
won, and why."

	"Well, we can't manufacture the warp drive and the new cloaks ourselves, 
so there's a very limited number to go around.. And they're being assigned to 
where they're most effective. They're being sold to us by a trading race. The 
warp scales they provided, are roughly.. Well, Warp four is one hundred and two 
times the speed of light. Our burst speed is around three hundred and seventy-
five times the speed of light.. The engineers haven't quite figured it out yet.

	The torpedoes can make one thousand twenty-four times the speed of light. 
However, it's easier for them to detect us when moving at warp, or torpedoes 
moving at warp. Still, it evens the playing field. Our enemy uses warp drive. We 
could get more speed out of the warp drive, but to do so would be to use 
exceptionally vulnerable external nacelles for the drive, and highly unstable 
plasma conduits for power."

	"Must be a damned slow thing to have interstellar travel like that, even 
if they're going a hell of a lot faster than Warp Eight, XO." He smiled. A 
hunter's smile. His first. Elise liked it. "Quite correct, Commander.. But 
they're still a very powerful fleet, and the Empire at this time does not have 
many resources to devote to the mission."

	"Just what are we looking at here, XO?" He turned to regard the model of 
the Executor. "Well, Commander.. Seventy two Strike Cruisers modified like 
this.. Against an assortment of nation-states spanning three-fourths of a 
galaxy.. The other quarter we're to leave alone until more resources can be 
brought to bear against an unusual threat there." Now her day had gone to hell 
again. "Seventy two ships against a galaxy!?" He turned back. "Not really.

	They have very, very easy to cripple interstellar trade and 
communications... And there is a squadron of Star Destroyers and a cruiser 
guarding the installation around the wormhole on their side, and numerous armed 
resupply ships... Modular Taskforce Cruisers. Our job is to remain unseen, 
Commander. To strike without warning at singular, light warships and at any 
commerce shipping we can; At lightly or undefended outposts. To rip and tear 
until their societies collapse without ever realizing who's pulling out the 
threads.  We have an alliance there with one race called the Ferengi. They've 
given us the technology in exchange for an agreement not to attack their 
merchant shipping and warships."

	Elise sighed heavily, and nodded. "And so this is the challenge we shall 
face.. Hunter and prey, at the same time. I understand what the Grand Admiral 
meant now. No room for mistakes. Where do we go to receive our orders, XO?"

	"The coordinates are in the Navcomp... We just need to cast off the ship 
and head there." Elise was already heading to the doors as he finished. He 
followed.. Out onto the bridge.

	The officer of the watch straightened to attention. "Captain on the 
bridge!" The crew stiffened at their posts or stood at attention. This, Elise 
knew, would last about a week into the mission, and then discipline would have 
fallen enough so as to have ceased to exist. "At ease!" She walked over to her 
command chair, and settled down into it, enjoying the heavily padded black 
leather of the heavy, high-backed chair for a moment, and then selected her 
button for a shipwide channel. "All hands, all hands, this is the Captain 
speaking.

	I hope you've enjoyed your leave... We've got a mission laid on. For the 
moment, I can't share the details with you, but that's only because I don't know 
what they are myself. We'll be casting off from spacedock and heading to a 
location where we'll receive our orders.. And from I know.. Proceed to our.. 
Hunting grounds. With any luck, someone will have to do an EVA to put the broom 
up before we come home..." some chuckling broke the speech. "You know your 
duties.. Get to them. We're clearing spacedock."

	"Communications, announce to spacedock to clear all umbilicals and stand 
by for our departure. Helm.. Guide us out on my signal." She waited.

	"Commander, Spacedock signals all ready." She nodded. "Helm.. Guide us 
clear." The helmsman eased the FSC-956 away from the spacedock's long docking 
arms, and then slowly accelerated. "Plot course at your discretion to clear the 
gravwell, Helm, and proceed. Astrogation, call up coordinates..." She looked to 
Harlann, and cleared her throat. "File AQUFPTW-109," he said. The astrogator 
brought it up, frowning slightly. "Empty space, Commander." She smiled silently. 
"You'll see when we get there... Or so I've been told."

	A few minutes later, the Helm reported that the FSC-956 was clear of the 
planetary gravwell of Killion's World. Less than a minute after that, the 
heavily modified Strike Cruiser nimbly leapt into hyperspace.

	Beta Quadrant exit to Hyperspatial Anamoly XX-7-A-29, Imperial 
fortifications.

	The crew was still in awe at the incredible wormhole passage. That's what 
she'd thought of it as, though it seemed to be more hyper-spatial in nature. It 
had no defences on the far side, to keep it quiet. On this side.. Two massive 
Rendili resupply repair-defence platforms, each over 4 km long. Guarded by 10 
ISDs and an Allegiance class Light cruiser, and the most advanced Imperial 
fighters she'd ever seen. Some were new designs she'd only heard rumours of. 
They were receiving their orders now.

	The Communications officer finished receiving the coded dispatch, stood, 
and faced Elise. "Sir, orders from operations as follows." She looked to him. It 
was strange that they were coding things even here, but they must not have 
wanted a peep to get out to anything nearby. She was surprised they weren't 
required to dock and get the orders by hand. "Go ahead, lieutenant." The man 
read them off in the traditional fashion. "Target region of space is that 
controlled by so-called 'United Federation of Planets', hence referred to as 
UFP, believed to be a Communist Police State in political nature; stop.

	Technology is inferior but still of a nature to be of a danger to our 
vessels; stop. Your orders are to proceed by hyperdrive to location in UFP of 
your choosing; stop. There, you will seek out and destroy all merchant vessels 
and any warships you feel capable of engaging; stop. Convoy attacks are to be at 
your discretion, the same against higher order warships; stop. Full data on UFP 
and ships of the UFP, along with necessary star maps of the UFP and space 
between it and this location are being transmitted along with these orders; 
stop.

	In two months, you will arrive at coordinates specified in data package to 
meet with a resupply vessel, and which time you will receive further orders; 
stop. These orders may be given out to your entire crew, along with data 
packets, for study; stop. Good luck, and good hunting, Commander; stop. Leave 
immediately - Grand Admiral Thrawn."

	Elise smiled brightly. It was time to get down to business. "Astrogation, 
as soon as you receive the data, plot a course... Find a system, say, within two 
hundred light-years of the center of their space. Totally random. Jump to 
within... Five light-years of it. XO... Read the orders off to the crew, then 
join me in my briefing room to study the data package." She stood. "Well, 
friends.. As the Grand Admiral said... It's time to hunt!"



	The Long Patrol: Chapter One.

	"Happy Times."

	Lieutenant Varish Liebau was confused, and rightfully so. It seemed to him 
that all the excitement that would be expected in serving the Empire in such a 
unique and glorious way was lost upon the crew of FSC-956. They did their 
duties, as they raced Hyperspace, but the atmosphere was a rather depressed one, 
except in the crew galley, where quite simply anything seemed to go.

	The blaring Jizz-Wailer music over the speakers was strictly non-
regulation as he entered. Most of the men forgoed uniforms, it was quickly 
becoming apparent; Here, a few were bare chested, and most in uniform trousers 
but an assortment of shirts, some with ridiculous floppy caps from the space 
marine services of various ports of call. A watch was eating, and eating well, 
too. Nobody seemed to notice or care that an officer had entered.

	He walked over to one of the men and tapped him on the shoulder. "Why does 
it seem, crewman, that nobody onboard wears uniforms?" The entire table burst 
into uproarious laughter. "Uniforms are for inspections, Lieutenant, not for 
running the ship!" Well, it wasn't Imperial discipline, but Varish thought he 
understood... "And the food.. You're eating a feast here. Far above 
regulations."

	That earned laughed again, almost mocking, as one man turned to look to 
him. "Listen, Lieutenant kid sir.. You've had it easy. The Empire doesn't give a 
flying kriff about maintenance on these ships, and the last four runs out we've 
have to strip parts from our time-suspension units for keeping the food fresh to 
fix the kriffing hyperdrive."

	"Well, crewman, it can't be helped.. The rebels always go after the supply 
convoys. The ones you guard, you know." The table fell silent, and a woman, an 
engineer from what seemed like a bandolier of tools she had on, looked to him 
with a smirk. He realized the tools were for computers; A computer technician, 
than.

	"Look here, Lieutenant. Nobody cares. We could steal stuff off the ships 
we guard, because the ships WE guard always make it, because we're the best.. 
But, of course, that stuff's headed to the important fleet units out chasing the 
bloody rebs across half the galaxy while they hit us when we're undermanned, 
undersupplied, and outnumbered three to one! So learn fast. And you're gonna 
learn hard. This isn't all the fun and games you think it is. We're out here for 
the pay, not to serve some Empire, and even the pay is lousy, too, but 
volunteering for the navy is a kriff of alot better than getting drafted as a 
grunt. Hell, most of us are conscripts anyway." There was a chorus of agreeing 
yells from all about. Varish sighed.

	"Well, what do you feel about having a woman captain? There are many in 
the Empire who feel it was foolish to allow women to continue to serve at all 
like they did in the Republic's era." This time, the crew straightened up. 
Silence. A glare from the techie.

	Finally, one man spoke. "We don't think of the Captain as her or him or it 
or sir or whatever else the kriff you might think, mister correspondent. We 
think of the Captain as the Captain. The Captain has saved all our asses 
countless times with decisions made, and that's what kriffing matters. Nothing 
else."

	Another of the men spoke up. "Well, okay, we've given you our side, sir, 
but why don't you sit down and grab some chow." Varish glanced up and offered a 
smile than. "I wish I could, crewman, but I already have an invitation to the 
officer's mess I have to be leaving for." There was more laughter.

	Nice! The officer's mess.. If the food suspension units break down, you 
get the mold cut off your food before you eat it there!" More laughter from the 
table. Varish fled to his meal appointment in the wardroom. They were not at all 
like what he had been told to expect.

	Wardroom, FSC-956.

	He entered the wardroom rather nervously.. To be greeted by a far more 
laid back, but just as unconventional sight. The table had a white tablecloth. 
There was fine silver dishes, with the same good food, though in moderate 
amounts, for the officers. The Chief Engineer, however, was in a radiation suit 
minus the gloves and helmet, and a greasy one used for numerous repairs, he 
could tell.

	The ship's Astrogator was at the Captain's left, with headphones on, 
already eating his food though most of the others had waited for Varish to 
arrive. His uniform was ruffled and the coat partially unbuttoned. To the right, 
the XO was dressed perfectly in a starched uniform with lines that could hold up 
skyscrapers, and looked as uncomfortable as Varish felt.

	The Captain was the oddest sight of all. Black leather pants. Black 
gloves, as she ate everything with fork and knife, including several things on 
her plate that normally were eaten with the fingers. Crimson silk shirt, a vest 
over it on which her rank markings were displayed; A Commander, of course, as 
Frigates didn't rate full Captains. "Sit down, Lieutenant, sit down." She 
gestured to the seat across from the Engineer, between the XO and the Helmsman 
further down.

	The weapons officer was over to the far side, and a woman who was the 
secondary weapons officer sat at the far end of the table. She and the Captain 
were the only two women among the officers eating here. Out of a crew of 1,972, 
there were only 180 women onboard; Less than 10%, not uncommon among Imperial 
starships.

	Varish sat, and then the rest of the officers here, in their myriad of 
questionable uniforms, began to eat. "It's dinner, you know, Lieutenant, but 
we've all just woken up. We'll be arriving in system, soon." Varish looked to 
the Captain with interest now. "Really, sir? How long..?" A slight smile. "Not 
long." She poured herself a glass of a red wine. Varish frowned. "If we might be 
going into combat, sir..." She smiled a bit more brightly.

	"Two glasses a day, for medicinal purposes only. The doctor would be here 
with us, but he is preparing sickbay for potential casualties. I shall have one 
more glass before I sleep this day.. If we life to sleep." Varish shuddered. 
Abruptly, the glass was raised. "On that subject...  A toast, my fellow 
officers... May we live to sleep again." Glasses were raised, despite hers being 
the only one with wine, and it was drank. Varish joined in, wondering about that 
somber mood.

	Lieutenant senior rank Klif Einhauser broke the silence. "You know, 
Captain, this really is crazy. After all the shit they've thrown us over the 
years, this takes the cake. Unknown technology I'm still working into my systems 
here, data provided by alien races... No idea what we're jumping into. This is 
just plain crazy." Elise looked to him severely.

	"But orders are orders, and we will do our duty. That is all, really." He 
nodded once, grimly. "Of course. Do our duty, maybe a little dying while we're 
at it. Invading another galaxy when we can't even keep our own under control. 
Insanity." The XO broke in there. "Ours is not to reason why, Lieutenant. Ours 
is not to reason why." Klif shut up, but threw the XO a glare.

	"Gentlemen, gentlemen, please. If the system is overcrowded, we shall back 
up, find a better target. No hurry. Their drives are slow. My only concern is 
that as science vessels, they should all have good sensors, which does not help 
cloaked operations."

	"Nothing helps cloaked operations," Klif said, tiredly, now. "But we'll do 
our best. With any luck all we'll do is kill merchantmen and a few tenders and 
head home after two months and get reassigned. Of course...."
	The woman at the end of the table finished the sentence for him. "We never 
have that kind of luck."

	The rest of the dinner continued in silence.

	Two hours later, the edge of the Beta Proxima System.

	Elise stood by her command chair. Silence all around. They had come out of 
hyperspace cloaked, turbolasers taken offline to meet the power demands. Now 
they, and the shields, were cautiously brought online. "Shield leakage from 
cloaks?" A pause. "Negative, Captain. Cloaks are functioning at full operational 
capacity. They can't have detected us.. Period."

	She walked over to the sensor officer's board, studying the rather blank 
readouts. "Can you get anything on passives, lieutenant?"  The man worked the 
sensors again, earphones on, and then shook his head. "Subspace is pretty much 
just static... I can't pick up any distinct, ah, warp-core signatures, nor the 
signatures of communications subspace or anything." She was still in the clothes 
she'd worn during the wardroom dinner.

	They were comfortable, good for battle, mated oddly with artillery boots 
she'd traded with an officer from a combat engineering regiment a while back. 
That fling hadn't lasted long, but then she didn't want it to. Everyone needed 
to relieve stress... And he'd liked her enough that she'd gotten nice boots out 
of it. Good deal. Fraternizing with army officers, she thought, wryly, was a 
good way to avoid getting accused of sleeping one's way into command in the 
navy.

	"No active sensors.. Not yet. We have the system mapped. Bring us in 
towards the inhabited world... Slowly, helm, slowly." She walked back to her 
command chair and sat, a finger pressing down to open the shipwide com. "All 
hear this, all hear this. This is the captain speaking. We are now going to 
condition two. I repeat, we are now going to condition two. That is all."

	"Take us in, helm. Nice and slow. We're nothing on their sensors.. And we 
keep it that way."

	"Aye aye, Captain. Maneuvering towards estimated position of habited 
planet.. Acceleration slow."  Eight Hours Later, Inner system, near Beta Proxima 
II.

	Her watch had ended two hours ago. She had stayed on the bridge. Hunter's 
instinct. The same that warned her of incoming rebels.. Not the force, just the 
knowledge. The feel for space. It was what one needed in this  hellish 
atmosphere. Waiting.

	"Captain.." The next watch's sensor officer spoke softly. "Yes, Nevarr?" 
There was a pause. "I.. I think I've got something.... Warp signature, briefly.. 
Now just very faint reactor noises.... Heading towards the planet. not one of 
the contacts we thought we had in orbit."

	She rose from her command chair, empty cup of kaff left behind on the 
armrest, as she walked over to the plotting station on the bridge. "Show me, in 
comparison with the estimated position of the planet." A circle appeared. 
"Somewhere in there, Captain..." She was silent, musing, for a moment. "And 
you're sure it's artificial?"

	"Definitely, Captain. Definitely artificial." She made the decision. 
"Helm. Receive estimated coordinates from sensors. Begin approach at two percent 
acceleration." The man entered the orders, accelerating the ship, maneuvering 
it; His control plains were secondary to direct input, but either could be used; 
Control plains in situations were speed was demanded. "Aye aye, Captain. 
Intercept course plotted... Two percent acceleration."

	Elise walked back to her command chair, and sat down, unsteadily. First 
contact, first battle with a new enemy. She looked to the officer of the watch, 
and gave the mandatory orders for the situation. "Call the crew to action 
stations.. I repeat. Condition one.. General quarters. Battlelights. Call the 
crew to action stations!"

	The bridge crew responded like a well-oiled machine as the officer of the 
watch got on the intercoms, and flipped the switches; The lighting on the ship 
blanked into darkness, and then flashed into a deathly, bloody red glow of 
battle lights. The officer of the watch gave the orders. "All hands! All hands! 
Condition One! Condition One, on the double! General Quarters, general quarters, 
all hands to action stations!" The klaxon wailed. It was music to Elise's ears.

	She knew the XO would be going deep into the ship now to man the secondary 
bridge, just in case. That Klif would be bringing the two balanced reactors to 
full power. That her ship.. Her battered ship, and her battered crew, would 
responded, like a well oiled machine, rusty looking on the outside but still 
fully functional. It made her proud.

	"Job well done, Lieutenant Nevarr.. Now.. One burst, active sensors. Just 
one burst. Pod sensors, as per cloaked procedure. Report information gained."

	There was a long moment of silence, then a triumphant whoop from sensors 
just as the report was given that the crew was at action stations. "Range to 
target is one hundred and twenty-thousand kilometers. Target is on course fourty 
seven degrees starboard from solar heading, traveling at low sublight speeds. 
Target length of two hundred and twenty-eight meters. No other data available 
from one sensor burst, Captain."

	"Helm. Intercept course. Increase to ten percent acceleration!" The 
helmsman entered the new orders, the reactors thrummed with life as the FSC-956 
swung and accelerated. "Aye, Captain. Intercept course. Ten percent 
acceleration. Locked in."

	"Torpedo Officer. Load tubes one and two." The woman from the wardroom had 
returned to the bridge; It was her job to handle the secondary weapons, the new 
weapons, their cloak torpedoes. "Aye Captain, loading tubes one and two."

	"Astrogation. Estimated time till optimal firing range?" The response was 
fast, damned fast, the way she liked it. "Twenty-four seconds to optimal firing 
range, Captain!"

	She stabbed her finger down on the shipwide com. "All hands, all hands, 
this is the captain speaking. We are commencing attack run on unidentified 
Federation vessel. Prepare for imminent action. Do your duty and we shall have 
another kill. Good luck!"

	"Captain," The secondary weapons officer reported. "Tubes loaded; Awaiting 
firing settings."

	"Set torpedoes for maximum yield; Slow acceleration, Sublight. Self-homing 
under those new cloaks. Let's see how our fish work." The woman entered the 
settings for the torpedoes. "Torpedoes armed as ordered, Captain."

	"Decompress tubes one and two to vacuum and open the outer tube doors! 
Sensors.. Computer give you any idea of what we're attacking yet?"

	The sensor officer answered promptly, proudly. "Only one Federation ship 
is two hundred and twenty-eight meters long, captain. Nantucket class Subspace 
Relay Tenders. Minimal armament but good shielding; Servicing and repair 
facilities for their subspace relay network."  Elise smiled. "Mmhmm.... Very 
good target."

	"Captain, torpedoes are ready for firing," came the monotonous voice of 
the secondary weapons officer.

	"Time till optimal range?"

	"Four.. Three.. Two... One.. Optimal range now, Captain!" announced the 
Astrogator.

	"One more subspace sensor burst. One only." The sensor officer turned back 
and hit the button that sent out another pulse of subspace energy, masked into 
the background. The Federation sensors detected nothing unusual; Two brief 
pulses of what seemed to be static in subspace were ridiculously common.

	"Sensors.. Transfer data to weapons."

	"Aye aye, Captain. Transferring data to weapons console," Nevarr answered. 
They were excited, now. Hunter's blood boiling.

	"Sensor data being transferred to torpedoes.." The secondary 'Weaps' 
paused, and she grinned. "Captain, we have firing solution for torpedoes one and 
two."

	"Standby tube two," Elise said, calmly, but her left hand, gloved, was 
clenched in a fist. "Standby, Standby," 'Weaps' announced calmly. Then, Elise 
gave the order. "Tube one... Fire!"

	The weapons officer pressed down hard on one of the firing studs and sent 
the electronic signal that ignited the torpedo in tube one. Engine flaring, it 
raced out of the FSC-956, cloaking immediately and, clearing the cloak vehicle, 
homing in on passive sensors, racing towards the target. "Torpedo one away. 
Standing by with tube two, Captain. Estimated time till impact of Torpedo 
One.... Fifteen seconds at slow acceleration rating."

	Elise, right fist clenched, looked  to the bridge chrono, and waited, as 
the seconds ticked past in total silence.

	The Federation Subspace Relay tender did not detect the cloaked torpedo 
racing in, until, three seconds prior to impact, it began rapid fire pulses of 
active subspace energy to initiate the final run on it's target. The Captain of 
the tender, shocked by the sudden source of activate subspace sensors from an 
unknown location, opened his mouth to give an order.

	He never had a chance.

	The missile impacted the Subspace Relay Tender dead-on amidships, 
exploding milliseconds later in a blast that spread nearly 188 megatons of 
energy out in a fourty degree cone. Within that cone, the hull of the ship 
ceased to exist. More energy bled off to other sides, melting hull. Two-thirds 
of the crew was killed instantly, as plasma conduits exploded all around the 
ship, including those maintaining power to the critical antimatter pods.

	"HIT!" cried Lieutenant Nevarr wildly. "Clear radiation detection.. Direct 
hit on target! Passive sensors picking up gravitational changes in target's 
mass.... Debris... Heavy radiation... Subspace noises from reactor becoming 
erratic..."

	"Prepare tube two to fire." Elise said.

	They didn't have to use a second torpedo. Six seconds after the first hit, 
the M/AM pod containment failed, and the Subspace Relay tender blew apart in an 
awesome explosion, ripping the hull into fragments and spreading debris as the 
fireball briefly flared in space.

	"KILL!" Nevarr ripped off his headphones and yawned loudly. "Subspace 
static damn near deafened me, Captain, from that one. Definitely reactor 
explosion noises. We have a kill!"

	Beta Proxima II orbit, USS Amazonia.

	"Sir! The Alexandria just blew up!" Captain Cole swiveled around in his 
chair to look at the ops officer with a stunned expression. "What!?" The shaken 
sensor officer was sending out pulse after pulse of active energy. "No targets 
detected in the area... But the ship was definitely destroyed.. Recording one 
massive fusion explosion on the order of two hundred megatons, followed six 
seconds later by the anti-matter pods of the Alexandria blowing up.. Some kind 
of missile, sir, and our sensors never detected it!"

	"Set sensors to maximum sensitivity.. Head for the area at maximum 
impulse. Shields up.. Arm all weapons!"

	The old Miranda class Starship assigned to guard the colony swung away 
from the older K-7 type orbital post and raced towards the site of the 
destruction of the Alexandria.

	FSC-596.

	"Gods above, they're sure lighting us up!" Elise looked to her sensor 
officer. "Any chance of their detecting us?" He shook his head. "As long as we 
don't jam the drives to full or use active sensors, they'd dumb to us.. And we 
can get clear readings on them. Miranda class. Older escort ship. Coming in like 
a bat outta hell. I got a clear lock already.. Idiots. Active sensors are giving 
them away like all hell, Cap'm."

	"Helm, swing us to orient on the incoming Miranda. Weaps, lock tube two on 
new target and standby. Reload tube one and prepare to fire! Sensors.. Keep 
feeding them data. And pray they don't stop transmitting!"

	They didn't. It was standard federation procedure to have one's sensors at 
maximum in a combat zone, and as they slowed, passing near the wreck of the 
Alexandria, they still kept sweeping space... And getting nothing. The Captain 
was a good man, and looked for a cloaked ship, but the tri-cloak system was 
infallible, virtually, with maneuvering thrusters only and passive sensors.

	However, the orbital station also lit up the region with subspace energy, 
revealing it's self, but doing nothing else. Six small cargo ships there 
prepared to flee.

	"Captain, detecting new signatures.. Orbital base scanning.. Six power 
cores warming up there. And that escort is still blasting around with their 
sensors.. No sign they've detected us.... Losing them a bit in backwash from the 
destruction of the tender...."

	She took a deep, nervous breath. "Wait until they've cleared the tender... 
Weapons, status?"

	"Captain... Tubes one and two loaded and armed, ready for firing. Tube 
doors open.. Being fed targeting data from the passives. They can home in on 
their own passives as long as the Miranda keeps transmitting, and then go active 
if it stops." Elise nodded. "Alright. Prepare to fire as soon as you have a 
clear solution from sensors... And prepare tube three for firing. Also; Prepare 
all three for quick reload." The woman nodded. "Aye, Captain, right away.. 
Complying."

	"Captain, Miranda has cleared wreckage.. Clear data now. Continous feed to 
weapons." The Sensor officer was all business now. This was an enemy warship.

	Elise took another deep breath. "Set torpedoes one and two for maximum 
acceleration runs."

	"Torpedoes one and two set for max speed runs, aye."

	Elise looked to the Weapons officer, and nodded once to that other woman. 
"Fire tubes one and two."

	The woman professional stabbed first one firing stud and then the other. 
Two of the torpedoes were launched from the FSC-956, racing in towards the 
Miranda class Amazonia.

	USS Amazonia.

	"Captain.... I'm detecting some odd disturbances... Directly ahead... 
Match similiar disturbances around the area of the Alexandria the computer 
detected earlier but did not re...." He never finished his sentence.

	The first torpedo struck roughly one second ahead of the second, expending 
it's energy on the shields of the Miranda class vessel and knocking them down 
long enough for the second torpedo to race in without shields to stop it. The 
second torpedo struck the main hull at an angle near the junction with the pylon 
supporting the port warp drive.

	When the warhead detonation, the port warp drive and pylon were ripped 
clean off, the port Impulse engines were totally destroyed, and the central 
shuttle bay violently exploded, as the shuttles inside went off, their power 
cores adding to the damage. Crippled, a battered hulk in space, the Alexandria 
spun around, losing power fast.

	On the bridge, most of the crew was killed by the violence of the 
explosion and the spin it inflicted, the energy of the weapons combined with the 
kinetic energy, secondary damage doing the rest, but the Captain was alive, and 
he leapt to the weapons console, brushing aside the body of the dead security 
officer, and fired starboard phasers, the only bank operational, as the spinning 
Amazonia presented them, along the track of the incoming. He couldn't fire 
again; Not until another spin was completed and the bank could fire without 
hitting his own ship.

	FSC-956.

	The shields took the single phaser hit well, no energy bleeding through. 
But it was definitely a wakeup call. Elise reacted more on instinct than 
anything else.

	"Helm! Course twenty degrees starboard, five degrees down bow. Accelerate 
to twenty percent of maximum acceleration.. Do not initiate until my mark."

	"Aye sir!"

	"Sensors... One pulse!" Nevarr pulsed the sensors, and the data lit up 
'Weaps' again. The secondary weapons officer selected tube three.

	"Tube three, fire!"

	"Tube three fired, sir!" she called back to the captain.

	Elise swung to look at the helmsman. "Initiate!"

	The FSC-956 turned to starboard and down, accelerating away from her 
previous position, as the torpedo homed in, active pulsing it's crippled target. 
Amazonia's captain fired again when the phaser bank was lined up, but the FSC-
956 was no longer there.

	He never even knew he was lucky enough to hit the first time. The second 
torpedo struck the center of the half-sauce dead on, and the bridge area and 
most of the saucer ceased to exist. Less than two seconds after impact and 
detonation, the secondaries ignited the core of the Amazonia, and her ruined 
hulk blew apart in a blooming sphere of debris and plasma light.

	"Sensors confirm Miranda class target destroyed, Captain! Sensors read six 
transports from space station preparing the flee; Noting power buildups in their 
warp cores; They're clearing the area of the sensor pulses from the space 
station now, Sir."

	"Captain, all eight torpedo tubes have been reloaded and are ready to 
fire." The weapons officer gave her report. Heart of ice, but heart of steel, as 
well.

	Elise smiled. "Tubes one and two. FTL dropout attack on the station. Tubes 
three through eight, Weapons officer select one per target at your discretion; 
FTL dropout attacks. Sensors, go active, two pulses, feed data directly to 
Weapons. Weaps, fire at will!"  Space Around Beta Proxima II.

	On the K-7 type space station, the crew was desperately getting off a 
distress message to a Galaxy class Starship that was patrolling only fourteen 
hours away at it's maximum warp. They knew they were doomed by the mystery 
attacker, undetectable, it seemed, but they thought the colony was the target, 
and hoped they could save it. They were wrong.

	They detected the torpedoes, the computers, that is, even through the 
cloaks, at warp eight, but only very close. The computers had perhaps a 
millisecond of detection before the torpedoes dropped out of warp and they lost 
them; Then they reacquired them, and they hit simultaneously. Again, tube one 
fired just a bit later. The shields were gone, and one of the three docking arms 
was ripped off of the fragile civilian station by the energy cone of the blast.

	The second struck the station dead on, and though it was powered by fusion 
and not unstable anti-matter reactors, had sufficient force to rip the K-7 type 
station into nine large pieces, not counting the docking arms and bottom sensor 
pole, which went spinning off, charred, in their own directions, as the impulse 
fusion reactors of the K-7 type cooked off.

	The other six torpedoes worked perfectly. The civilian sensors on the 
small ships were less accurate, and their weak shields didn't have a chance at 
repelling any of the energy. They didn't even detect the torpedoes that slammed 
into them in rapid-fire succession, blasting the civilian ships to pieces, every 
one. No survivors from any quarter, now. The last pilot of the ship had enough 
time to realize he was going to die, but that was it.

	FSC-956.

	"Kills! All Kills!" Lieutenant Nevarr leaped to his feet, headset ripped 
off for a different reason. Never had he felt so elated before! No more constant 
attacks by rebels against THEM while they herded convoys! No! No! They were the 
hunters, now, and the best hunters!

	Elise still had one fist clenched, but she was grinning brightly now. 
"Confirm!" Nevarr leaped to action, sending out two pulses of subspace energy. 
"Confirmed, captain. All targets destroyed. There are no remaining ships in this 
system!"

	"Good job! Good job! Nine kills.. One a warship.. With only twelve 
torpedoes expended. Excellent, indeed!" And then she looked thoughtfully to 
their com officer. "Did anyone get off a distress message?" The Com officer 
studied his board for a moment. "Confirmed, sir, the station. An unknown ship 
replied. I'll try cracking it." Elise grinned slowly. "Helm. Maneuver us one 
hundred thousand kilometers from the planet in any direction of your choice at 
five percent power, then disengage all engines and thrusters."

	"Weapons.. Reload the tubes, then secure from firing. Sensors... Secure 
from active use, passive scanning only."

	"Officer of the watch.. Inform the crew, we are standing down to Condition 
Two, relaxed status. Inform them of our kills.... Also.. You have the bridge, 
Lieutenant." Elise stood. "I'm going to get some sleep.. With their slow FTL 
drives.. We likely have hours before we get to see what's come for us... And 
maybe get one of the big ones." In her mind was dread at the possibilities, but 
on the surface, she was bloodthirsty and all action. An inside, she knew part of 
her was, too. It was what made a commander a good one.  


	The Long Patrol: Chapter Two.

	"Courage Under Fire"

	USS Zealandia, Galaxy class Starship, Beta Proxima system, Fourteen hours 
later.  "Reduce speed to warp factor two, Helm." Captain Ernst Reynolds of the 
USS Zealandia was frowning deeply as he entered the Beta Proxima system. All was 
most certainly not right here. The transmissions had been cut off immediately... 
It wasn't good, it seemed. The garbled report said invisible ships and 
explosions out of nowhere. It was eerily similiar to a situation he'd had to 
fight out in the Holodeck at the academy; Captain Kirk's running battle with a 
Romulan Warbird intruding across the neutral zone over a century ago.

	The USS Zealandia was Galaxy class, but for the Dominion War had been 
refitted with a fourth hangar bay in the front of the saucer for additional 
fighter capacity, the science labs and extra crew quarters replaced by munitions 
stores and bunks for large numbers of troops, the phaser strips upgraded to 
type-XII, and the photon torpedoes replaced with Quantum torpedoes. The 
Zealandia had yet to be rebuilt into a more standard explorer, and in this 
situation, Captain Reynolds was glad of that.

	"We are now entering inner solar system, Captain." Reynolds looked more 
intently at the screen. "Drop out of warp. Proceed to Beta Proxima II at half 
impulse. Scan the system..." A pause. There was no war on, but... "Yellow alert. 
Raise shields at maximum power, but keep weapons down." The acknowledgments came 
in from the helm, ops, and tactical as his XO, Patrica Clarke, arrived on the 
bridge, moving to take her position beside Captain Reynolds.

	"Sir.. Scans report no other ships in system. Reading debris from platform 
K-22, multiple civilian vessels, and the USS Amazonia, sir." Clarke cursed 
softly. "And the colony?" A pause. "Perfectly intact... They're hailing us, 
sir." That was odd.. Not raiders, then, and invaders had a history of destroying 
Federation colonies rather mercilessly.. "Put it on."

	FSC-956.

	"Confirmed, sir, definitely a warship... They don't have freighters that 
big. It proceeded in-system at low warp and dropped out.. We lost it briefly, 
but they're scanning, and communications with the colony... Confirmed. Galaxy, 
Niagara, maybe Sovereign classes, but the first two are a lot more likely from 
the signature of the sensors." The officer of the watch made his decision. "Go 
to ready status, but maintain condition two."

	The Chief Petty Officer on the bridge confirmed. "Ready status, sir, 
maintaining Condition Two." Unless directly attacked, it was not proper for 
anyone but the XO or Captain of an Imperial warship to order Condition One, 
though not strictly forbade. This man chose to follow tradition. He stood from 
the chair he knew would soon be occupied, and pressed down on the one button 
available on the right side of the armrest that automatically linked him to 
wherever in the ship the Captain was; Not standard, but an addition Elise had 
made. It cut down on time wasted locating her.

	At the moment, she was showering after working out for two hours in the 
ship's fitness gym. There were no serious luxuries on a Strike Cruiser, 
especially one jammed to the brim with supplies for two months of combat without 
any outside support, but Imperial officers and crew had to keep fit, and she was 
religious about her own exercise.

	And showering after it, for that matter. Luckily, water recycling on the 
ship such that there were not serious shortages; However, it was a standard navy 
shower for any Imperial, still. Water on until wet, water off, scrub, water on, 
rinse. She was just finishing rinsing out her hair when the buzzer sounded 
indicating she had an important call from the bridge. Damn. She shut the water 
off and pushed the shower door open, hitting the button to turn on the hot-air 
dryer at the time her other hand was hitting the one to activate the audio link.

	"This is the Captain. What is it?" Senior Lieutenant Giras Pardoen 
answered; Current officer of the Watch. "Captain, enemy ship entering system. 
Sensor readings suggest a Destroyer Escort.. She's bigger than six hundred 
meters, so no frigate, Captain, but shorter than nine hundred, too.. Niagara, 
Galaxy, maybe Sovereign if we're unlucky. I've brought the ship to ready 
status." Her answer was immediate. "I'm on the bridge two minutes ago, 
Lieutenant. Maintain passive sensor drills. That is all."

	One hand shut off the comm, the other the dryer. Her body was mostly dry, 
but her hair was still wet, and her face, for that matter. She grabbed a dry 
washrag off her counter and used that to dry to her fast as she dashed over to 
her fresh set of clothes, laid out on the bed, and dressed. The hair would just 
have to stay wet. Same style as her previous ones, she grabbed the original vest 
as she dashed out of the doors, putting it on as she ran to the turbolift and 
hit the override for a direct, max-tolerence transport to the bridge down the 
tube. It's inertial dampers took care of the accelerations, of course.

	The back of her clothing was getting a bit wet from her hair. Oh well. 
When the doors opened and she stepped out, down onto the bridge, it had been 
well less than five minutes from when the buzzer had sounded with her in the 
shower, nude and soaking wet. To get to the bridge in a decent condition within 
that time was one of the minor achievements she took a bit of pride it.

	It was one thing to do one's job, but another to do it efficiently. 
Efficiency was one of the reasons she ignored the crew's dress, the loud music 
belowdecks in the bunk rooms, the mess of the interior of the FSC-956, the 
grease that seemed everywhere near the engineering spaces. As long as her crew 
performed well in combat, she'd let anything short of mutiny slide, and so far 
it had worked. Press them too hard, she knew, and you got mutinies. She'd heard 
of Imperial ships defecting to the rebels, and she believed them all to be acts 
of mutinous crews, driven to the edge by officers who had a combination of 
ruthlessness and utter inability to deviate from regulations. That would never 
happen on the FSC-956.

	"Status same on enemy vessel, Lieutenant?" She called out, as she finished 
the stride over to her command chair, and then turned to sensors; There was a 
Chief Petty Officer manning sensors now; it was rare for Lieutenant Nervarr to 
actually man the consoles on that section the bridge personally; During the 
earlier battle, she was pretty sure he'd been doing it to try out the new 
tactics. "Status same," Giras answered, "they're continuing communications with 
the colony.. Large amounts of data being exchanged from the colony, as well."

	She nodded absent-mindedly as she stood over the plotting board, looking 
over the shoulder of the Petty Officer manning the sensors.. Yes... She could 
clearly see the indication of the ship there. "You stand relieved, Lieutenant. I 
have the bridge." Giras came to attention. "I stand relieved, Captain. You have 
the bridge." She strode back to chair and sat in it, the wet hair not 
uncomfortable when one didn't concentrate on it. "Officer of the watch. Signal 
all hands.. Condition One. General Quarters.... Action Stations. On the double, 
Lieutenant. And switch to battle lighting."

	Giras smiled, with a trace of nervousness. He'd never been in a ship 
engaging anything larger than a Corellian Corvette before, and then the FSC-956 
was three hundred meters longer and armed to the teeth compared to that blockade 
runner. Fighters had been dangerous, but to think of actually engaging the 
super-Frigate out there... Oh well. He opened the shipwide com. "All hear this! 
All hear this! The ship is now at Condition One, General Quarters! All hands to 
Action Stations! All hands to Action Stations, on the double!" As he shouted out 
the words, he flipped the switch which shut off the white lights on the ship, 
replacing them with the lurid glow of the red battle lights once again.

	The FSC-956 came alive like, a machine, but a living one of ship and crew, 
as men leapt down from their bunks and pulled on boots, running to their 
assignments in lines, hurried. Speed was more important at the moment that 
regulations, which had been lax to start with. Guns were manned, the torpedo 
room quickly becoming loaded; In an emergency, without power to the area, the 
big torpedoes could be loaded and fired manually with self-homing should the 
sensors be blasted away. Like everything on an imperial ship, there was triple 
redundancy or more, even harking back to methods of physical labour better 
suited for older combat.

	On the bridge, personnel arrived at their posts, the secondary weapons 
officer, Mystrela of Kuat, a sixth child of the scion of the Kuat family, 
returning to the post occupied over half a day before during that momentous 
surprise attack. She brought her boards up to full status, confirming with the 
torpedo crews that they were ready.

	The chief weapons officer was in central gunnery control, not on the 
bridge, though connected by intercom, from whence the turbolasers and Ion 
cannons, along with the two concussion missile launchers, could be used, but as 
long as stealth was the deciding factor, they could not be. Elise's XO was 
already manning the secondary bridge inside the hull. The ship reported ready, 
as Lieutenant Nervarr arrived, immediately pacing along behind the sensor 
operators, the various banks, checking to see if all was well, but, as he should 
have in the first battle, not taking a station himself.

	"Sensors," Elise ordered, "transfer all data to torpedo control." The CPO 
dumped the data on the enemy vessel and position to Mystrela's boards, even as 
he acknowledged the command "Aye aye, Captain. Transferred." Elise looked to the 
secondary weapons officer. "Report."

	"Good firing data. Loading tubes one through four now, Captain.... Fast 
home on sensor emissions, sublight velocity." Elise nodded once. "Load the other 
four tubes too, lieutenant. Four might not be enough for one of these suckers. 
We won't know until we try, but we can't waste torpedoes, either." A pause, as 
switches were flipped. "Acknowledged.... Tubes one through eight loaded... We 
have firing solutions for tubes one through four... Tubes five through eight 
standing by." In the red-lighted bridge, Elise sat, hands folded. "Ready tubes 
one through four for firing on my mark."

	USS Zealandia.

	 "Ops," Captain Reynolds said, now in frustration. "Are you getting 
anything of all that might be useful.. Anything on the scans at all?" The Ops 
officer sighed and shook his head. "No, sir. The weapons, whatever they are, 
incorporate their own cloaking devices... And so does the ship... It's a mystery 
how they home in on anything. The logs of the battle from the ground bases don't 
indicate ANY sensor use at all, at least of sensors we can determine, except 
some bursts from what might be the torpedoes, but by then they were at 
pointblank range from their targets.. And they had to get there somehow."

	Commander Clarke suddenly looked to her Captain. "Warp attacks, sublight 
attacks, long range. This couldn't be some kind of direct visual targeting... 
There's only one way." Reynolds' eyes widened with understand. "Ops, shut down 
all sensor emissions NOW! Everything! Helm.. One burst at maximum impulse for 
two seconds, then let us drift... Red Alert! Battlestations!"

	The already tense crew of the USS Zealandia, veterans of the Dominion War, 
soldiers even though they might claim otherwise, raced to stations as the ship's 
weapons were brought to full readiness.... And the active sensors shut down. The 
burst was enough to clear the Zealandia of the immediate area at a fair clip of 
speed without creating too much of an Ion trail. The Klaxons wailed, and the red 
alert lights flashed, and the crew waited for what was next.

	Reynolds had to control the trembling in his palms. For all he knew... 
They could have been sitting right out there, ready to fire.... In reality, they 
had been, though he didn't know it. Thinking about it was enough to give him 
chills; They didn't just use cloaks for stealthy maneuvering. Whoever was out 
there had cloaked warfare down to an exact science, or so it seemed. It might 
not have helped him much to know his enemy was learning as they went along.

	FSC-956.

	"We've lost them," the CPO at the passive sensor station announced. "All 
active sensor transmissions gone.. Reactor noises, too." Lieutenant Nervarr 
pushed in by his station, double-checking, listening... "Confirmed, Captain!" 
>From weapons, "Firing solution lost, Captain!" Elise stood up in her chair, 
mixed admiration and rage. "Geralt!" she swore. And then the thought leapt into 
her mind.. Yess. "Let them think we're timid to use our active sensors.... Helm, 
five degrees port!" She slammed down on the button to link her to engineering. 
"Klif... Ready engines for flank acceleration!" Then, she looked back, up, over 
the red-lit bridge.

	"Weaps, prepare to fire tubes one through four.... Reset for warp burst 
attack, and active homing as soon as they reach the target area. They will home 
in on sensor data from the active sensors, I repeat, actives." She looked to 
Nevarr. "Lieutenant. Prepare for six pulse active-sensor scan." He looked to the 
CPO. "Ready pulse-sensors. Six pulse scan." A pause. "Six pulse scan, aye, sir."

	"Direct data-feed to torpedoes. Weaps, fire as soon as you receive the 
data. Helm, stand by for hard maneuvering." She hit the general intercom link 
next. "All hands, all hands, stand by for hard maneuvering and incoming fire. 
That is all." She looked around the bridge intently, one more time. "Any luck 
with passives?" The CPO nodded, pulling off his headphones. "Nothing now, 
Captain, and I can't locate the reactor noises again.. To far from the initial 
position, to much space to search accurately without them using active sensors 
to zero in on them." Elise nodded. "Then.. Let's do it."

	"Sensors... Six pulses... Now! Weapons, fire when you've got 'em.. Helm.. 
Stand by!" The CPO was already pulsing the sensors, active subspace energy 
lancing across space. The return was gotten, and fed directly to the weapons 
officer, but that wasn't all they got.....

	USS Zealandia.

	"Captain! Active sensors.. Being pulsed rapidly.. Portside aft!" Captain 
Reynolds leapt to his feet. "Target sensor pulses and fire.. All phasers that 
can bear, aft torpedoes, full spread!"

	FSC-956.

	The phasers lashed against the forward shields like angry wasps, but 
didn't drown out the triumphant report from Mystrela. "All torpedoes away!" 
Elise gave the order instantly. "Helm! All ahead flank acceleration!" The helm 
officer shoved the right controls. "All ahead flank acceleration, aye!" The FSC-
956 leapt forward.

	USS Zealandia.

	"Hits... I think hits.... Wait.. Warp... INCOMING!" As the operations 
officer yelled it out, Captain Reynolds turned around and grabbed his chair for 
support, and just in time, as the four torpedoes dropped out of warp and lashed 
the hull of the Zealandia with subspace sensor pulses, homing in for the last 
second, barely a second, and slamming against the shields.

	Three exploded against the shields in a series of thrumming impacts, all 
their force directed forward, which collapsed the bubble long enough for the 
fourth to race in. It homed in on the saucer section and slammed into the side 
of the main hangar bay, ripping it and it's load of shuttles apart in a series 
of explosions that barely avoided venting the bridge to vacuum. The blast chew 
through the hull, crew quarters disappearing in atomic fire, Sickbay ceasing to 
exist. The only casulties were the doctors and nurses there, though, as the ship 
was at Red Alert, or else several hundred would have perished.

	The explosion bodily threw Captain Reynolds across the bridge, and the 
Tactical officer over the board and in his general direction, which saved him 
from energy as his panels exploded, but the rest held their seats, and all on 
the bridge, atleast, kept their lives, as coolant rushed out of burst paneling 
on the far side of the bridge, and alarms wailed, the damage control officer 
desperately trying to get a hold on whatever was happening.

	FSC-956.

	The ten Quantum torpedoes were incoming, and the drive had already been 
shut down. The torpedoes reached the location the ship should have been at, and 
not impacting it, activated active sensors. They detected the plasma drive-tail, 
though faint, at pointblank range they could, and accelerated along it. As it 
had been cut, the torpedoes began active homing again, and as per computer-
procedure established for torpedoes after the Khitomer Incident, continued along 
the extrapolated path of the ship from the cut Ion drives. However, like the 
engines that made it so hard for the torpedoes to track, FSC-956's maneuvering 
thrusters had baffles too.

	"Zulu Plus two hundred meters, helm, now!" The helmsman reacted instantly, 
a spurt from the maneuvering thrusters bringing FSC-956 up; They'd detected the 
torpedoes when they'd gone active. Intelligently, the helmsman didn't bother 
with another spurt to stop them at two hundred meters up from the current plain. 
The torpedoes did not have sensitive enough sensors to detect the plasma from 
the baffled maneuvering thrusters. They raced past the FSC-956 less than two 
hundred meters from her ventral shielding.

	They were so close the sensor CPO could hear them passing easily, or at 
least the sounds of their active sensors as they raced past. "Captain.. Misses.. 
Directly below us!" The torpedoes raced on, and running low on fuel, no target 
detected, self-destructed in unison ahead of the FSC-956.

	The explosions spread outwards, hitting the shields of the Strike, sending 
her nose pitching up, Elise feeling it but not being thrown; The inertial 
dampers were too good for that, the blast waves too light at that distance. But 
passive sensors on the enemy ship could detect part of those blast waves 
missing.

	The damage control officer was reporting. "No hull damage.. Forward 
shields severely depleted from phaser strikes and torpedo detonations." Elise 
had other things to worry about. "Helm... Fifteen degrees starboard, then engage 
port thrusters on a burn to take us clear by twenty-thousand meters within eight 
seconds! Damage control, shift shields and equal out power on them!"

	As the orders were carried out, the FSC-956 swung silently from it's 
previous position on maneuvering thrusters, attempting to escape detection.

	USS Zealandia.

	"Damage heavy, but contained, Commander," Captain Reynolds was still 
unconscious. "Sensors detect parts of the torpedo explosions obscured..." 
Commander Clarke reacted instantly. "Target obscured location.. Lay down a 
pattern with phasers!" The Ops officer, temporarily controlling weapons, fired a 
pattern of twelve phaser beams from six phasers, but they all lanced harmlessly 
through space.

	"No hits, Commander.. The target has moved or wasn't there to begin with." 
Commander Clarke swore softly to herself, even as the on-bridge medic tended to 
the Captain. "Get me a full damage report, and make sure we're using passive 
sensors only.. If they detect us before our shields are fully recharged...." The 
ops officer was learning fast. "Understood, commander."

	FSC-956.

	"Damage control confirms, damage limited to shield depletion only, 
Captain. No other damage. Shields are recharging at standard rate. No casualties 
reported from the shaking we took, sir." Elise sat back in her command chair 
with a sigh. Her hair was still damp, but she certainly hadn't noticed in the 
minutes that had passed since she arrived on the bridge.

	Unlike the Federation ship she now fought, there were no idea sessions, no 
conferences, no challenging her authority. She was absolute dictator of her 
vessel.. And hence, absolutely responsible for every decision, every injury, 
every death, every bit of damage. Something done by her crew was done in her 
name. Success was awarded to commander and ship, with commendations to others 
only by her recommendation. It was a tremendous privilege, and a tremendous 
burden. The chains of command, indeed.

	"Very well. Maintain shield recharge." She paused for a moment in her 
thoughts. "Good work, people. But we don't know how badly we've hit them.. We 
just know they're out there, they haven't fled. Unlikely that they would. Some 
of the toughest the Federation has, those Galaxies, and they think they have a 
colony to protect." She didn't have to tell them, but she did. One could assuage 
fears that way. She stood, then, and made her way over to the sensor plot. 
"Chief... What was their last position relative to ours, and heading?"

	"Fifteen degrees off our port bow, Captain," he began, "at a range of one 
hundred and seventy-nine thousand kilometers, and Zulu plus twenty-six thousand 
kilometers. Last heading was twenty degrees to starboard of direct course to the 
system's primary from that position, proceeding at low sublight. No reactor 
emissions detectable, no sensor sweeps." Elise nodded once. "Good work, Chief. 
Keep your ears open for anything.. Any peep of subspace static at all that might 
come from sensors, communications, reactor, anything from that ship." The Chief 
nodded grimly. "Aye aye, Captain."

	Elise turned, striding across the bridge to the helm. "Bring the ship 
around.. Twenty-five degrees port, minimal thrusters."

	"Twenty-five degrees port, thrusters minimal, aye." The helmsman swung the 
FSC-956 slowly on it's course to align with the new heading, stabilizing the 
ship to it. "Bow up two degrees," came the next order. "Bow up two degrees, 
aye." The FSC-956 made the next minor adjustment.

	"Very well... Ahead on one percent acceleration from main engines only on 
this course... Continuous."

	"Aye aye, Captain. Ahead one percent acceleration, main engines, 
continuous." The helmsman adjust the controls, and the FSC-956 eased forward, 
stalking tiger once again.

	Elise walked back to her command chair, and set in it again, leaning back. 
Her back hurt from the jostling they'd gotten. Oh well. It was going to be a 
long, slow pursuit. "Weapons.. Reload tubes one through four and ready all tubes 
for firing at sublight velocities, passive homing." Mystrela obeyed, flipping 
and engaging the toggles to signal reloading of the appropriate tubes, making 
pre-adjusted settings to the torpedoes' running options. "Aye, Captain. Tubes 
reloaded, set for sublight runs, passive homing."

	"Excellent. Now we wait.. And probably for a while, too. I want your 
trigger finger itchy, Weaps." The woman nodded once in acknowledgment. Elise 
looked to the officer of the watch. "If you'd be so kind, Lieutenant, send to 
the galley to have them bring up a mug of kaff for everyone on the bridge. It's 
going to be a while, and we need to be alert."

	"Right away, Captain." Giras contacted the galley and gave the 
instructions, smiling. They'd survived. A real test of combat for the ship, at 
least, the first since he had been assigned, and they had survived. He'd heard 
stories of far more desperate combats with Nebulon-B frigates from the officers 
who'd been with Commander Kalar-Leben longer than he, but this was his first 
true experience with a combat that seemed it would be decided by tactics, not 
firepower. And he had seen how close it had been. Now he trusted that his 
captain was the better of whatever commander was out there, hunting them. 
Hunters hunting hunters.. It seemed oddly right. The fear of death had passed.

	Belowdecks, it was the same for most of the crew, including the war 
correspondent, who'd been in the secondary bridge, perhaps pestering the XO with 
questions until the hits came. Now he truely understood what it was like to be 
under sustained fire, and he didn't like it. As he went to the mess to get 
something to eat to calm his nerves, the crewers at their duty posts he could 
hear exchanged jokes and laughs, and generally waited. They, like him, were 
nervous, but they hid it like sailors, no, submariners, always had, from time 
immemorial.

	A while later, on the bridge, Elise held a handleless mug of hot, 
steaming, and quite black Kaff in her gloved hands, and drank of it, ignoring 
the feeling that she was scorching her throat. Her hair was going to be a mess 
when it finally dried, was the idle thought, quickly shoved from her mind. 
Another gulp of the stuff. Vile, wicked, even, but it was the fuel of the human 
half of the Imperial Navy.

	"Well, gentlemen, I do believe we've gotten in the first blow, but our 
prey out their has fangs of it's own, and they're always more dangerous wounded. 
I have the utmost confidence in you all. Maintain your posts. Sensor operators, 
strain for those sounds. We know they're out there. We've hit that ship once, 
and it's marked for the killing blow. Let's make that happen, shall we?"

	She relaxed in the chorus of 'Aye Aye's and acknowledgments, and drank 
deeply from her mug again... Wondering what the enemy commander was doing. Where 
he was going. What his goals were, what his next move would be, as the FSC-956 
slowly gained speed on a roughly interception course towards the distant foe.

	Beta Proxima System.

	Slowly, the shields of the USS Zealandia recharged, as Captain Reynolds 
came to, as did his tactical officer, the surviving medical personnel trying to 
deal with casualties with the lack of a sickbay, and Commander Clarke having to 
command until they were sure Captain Reynolds didn't have a concussion. They 
were drifting forward, very slowly now, on their momentum alone, detecting 
nothing from passive sensors.

	And as they recovered from their damage and restored their ship to 
fighting peak, the cloaked, silent predator FSC-956 crept closer, just as blind 
as they were, two foes groping in the dark to be the first to see, the first to 
strike. And so they waited, in a tense, hellish limbo, for the first sign of the 
enemy, for the moments of terror to begin again.   


	The Long Patrol: Chapter Three.

	"For those in peril among the stars."

	Slightly over one Hour later, USS Zealandia.

	"Captain.. Shields are fully recharged.. But the shield generators have 
strain from trying to stay operational under those hammer blows. They may 
overload if we're hit like that again. All weapons are armed and fully 
operational. The ship is at Red Alert... I'm sorry, sir, but the only way on and 
off the bridge is by transporter or EVA now, so we're stuck here for the 
duration.

	We have heavy damage, but the structural integrity fields are reinforced, 
and we have full combat capability." Captain Reynolds nodded at Commander 
Patrica Clarke's report. "Well, Commander.. This is a damned messy situation 
now. We were lucky. Very lucky. They're out there, somewhere.. Hunting us." She 
paused.. "How can you be sure, sir?" asked while sitting.

	"Feel it. Whoever that commander is.... That ship is out there, waiting. A 
predator. Waiting for the slightest peep from us to fire.... What do we know 
about their torpedoes?" She paused for a moment.. "They seem to home in on 
active scans, definitely. The torpedoes have less effective cloaks than the 
ship. They may be detectable.. Evaded, shot down, something, when running fully 
active. Guidance from the ship, targeting data, it's important... But they can 
home on passives, on their own, definitely."

	Captain Reynolds paused to think.. "Sensors on those torpedoes can't be 
big. They might not be full spectrum.... Or of the right type. We need to find 
that ship." He looked to Ops. "Lieutenant Commander... Begin a tachyon sweep of 
the system. Send the results directly to tactical" A pause. "Tactical... Fire 
everything you have at the first sign of a cloaked ship." Then forward again, 
towards the screen. "Helm, prepare for hard evasive action. Commander, signal 
the crew to brace themselves for incoming."

	FSC-956.

	Lieutenant Varish Liebau had just arrived on the bridge. He'd been 
uncertain about doing so, but seemed ignored in the background. The Kaff mugs 
were gone, now, collected by the steward, and the crew waited silently. Deathly 
silent. He stayed in the background, in the blackness of eerie shadows cast by 
read Battlelights and waited.

	The Chief was the first one to detect it on sensors. "Tachyons, sir," he 
reported to the Lieutenant. Lieutenant Nevarr swung around, studying the screen 
over the man's shoulder. "Captain... You'd better see this... They're scanning 
with some kind of tachyon sensor." The fear rose in Elise's chest. She stood, 
and walked over to the plot. "Sweep?" The Chief nodded. "Aye, Captain. Starting 
near our original position.. Coming this way." She frowned, and activated her 
comlink.

	"XO. This is the Captain. How do those cloaks stand up to tachyons?" She 
heard the answer, and brought her com down, striding back to her command chair, 
and slapping the button for the direct link to engineering. "Klif. Shut the 
reactors down. Run the cloaking devices off batteries. Now." There was a 
strangled reply from the other end. "Now, Klif." She looked to Nevarr. "Retract 
the sensor mast all the way." He nodded, wordlessly, and gave the order.

	Varish couldn't ignore that, and he asked cautiously. "Captain, what is 
it." She glanced back like she'd known he'd been there. "Tachyon sweeps. They 
can penetrate the cloaking devices from this galaxy but not ours.. Well, maybe 
not ours. We're going dead. As dead as we can be. Now be very quiet." She hit 
the shipwide com button. "All hear this. All hear this. This is the captain. 
Shut down all nonessential systems. We are going on to batteries. That is all."

	In engineering, Klif completed the task, cloaks switched to batteries, and 
then brought the reactors down to shutdown status, shutting off everything 
except the cloaks, life-support, and interior lighting and comms. He then 
activated the intercom. "Reactors shut down, Captain. Ready for immediate start 
as necessary, though. We have two hours of battery power at this usage." The 
response was prompt. "Then pray they aren't they patient with their tachyon 
sensors."

	On the bridge, Elise stood, walking.. Conscious of what might be heard, 
almost, though no sound could be transmitted across space. "Chief... Before we 
shut down the passives, did you get their location from the tachyon emissions?" 
The man nodded grimly. "Got it, Captain... Right.." He tapped out on his 
keyboard, and it came up, in relation with the system, and then focused in, in 
relation with them.

	Elise frowned. "They've been drifting, then. Portside aft.... Ranges?" A 
pause. "Fourty six thousand kilometers after, sixteen thousand kilometers to 
starboard, ten thousand two hundred meters, just meters, captain, negative 
zulu... Heading.. Five degrees to starboard of course directly for system 
primary. Speed... Estimated at three kilometers per second."

	"We can't fire torpedoes to home on tachyons..... But... They won't risk 
changing course... Helm, battery power to thrusters. Thirty degrees port... 
Then.. Gently.. Zulu minus ten thousand two hundred meters... In twelve seconds. 
No less." The helmsman initiated protocol to draw power from the fusion cells as 
he nervously replied. "Aye captain.. Thrusters.. Thirty degrees port.. Down.. 
Zulu minus ten thousand two hundred meters." Her line to engineering sounded. 
"Yes, Klif?" A pause. "The batteries, captain. The fusion cells will not provide 
us with cloak for long while using thrusters." She nodded slowly. "Don't worry 
about it."

	Varish was struck by that calm sort of assertiveness in Commander Elise 
Kalar-Leben as she waited. He did not think anyone could be comfortable in this 
sort of situation. He watched her check her chrono, like one might do when 
waiting for a bus, and then lean back, and wait in silence. The bridge was also 
in silence, until the helmsman broke it, barely above a whisper. "In ordered 
position, Captain." Elise nodded once, and looking to the plotting board along 
the sensor banks, then back to her chrono.

	USS Zealandia.

	"We've completed one full sweep of the system, Captain.. And.. Nothing. 
Nothing at all. Whatever they're using, the Tachyons can't penetrate it." 
Reynolds frowned. "Try again. One more full sweep... Then we'll go with anti-
protons." The ops officer nodded. "Initiating second sweep, sir." Reynolds 
drummed his fingers on the armrest of his command chair, and waited. The 
Zealandia was wounded, but far from out of the fight. She continued to drift 
forward at that steady pace, hunting the huntress.

	FSC-956.

	"He's finished one," she announced, calmly. Varish looked to Elise. 
"Captain?" She smiled slowly, perhaps luxuriously. "I noted the time it took for 
the tachyon sensor scan to sweep through so many degrees. He's finished one. 
We'll give him enough time to finish three."  Giras also smiled, silently, to 
himself. A hint of the Commander's thinking.. A hint that assauged his own 
fears, and perhaps those of the war correspondent on their bridge.

	And so the waiting continued. Deathly silence in the garish red. The FSC-
956 maintained perfect silence when it came to subspace emissions, regular 
radiation emissions. Even the shields were down at the moment. Elise checked her 
chrono once again.

	USS Zealandia.

	"Second sweep completed, Captain. Still nothing to report. Tachyon sweeps 
indicate no cloaked ship in system," the Ops officer said. "No, Ops. He's still 
here. He's still here, alright. Switch tactics. Anti-Proton scan now.. Two full 
ones, like before." Anti-Proton scans took about twice as long as Tachyon 
sweeps, but Captain Reynolds thought it would be well worth it.

	Anti-Proton scans worked by firing exceptionally small amounts of Anti-
Protons out of the Anti-Matter spread emitters on the ship. When they hit the 
unshielded hull of a cloaked ship, and most ships could not raise shields while 
cloaked, they produced a series of tiny explosions which gave away the location 
to passive sensors. Reynolds was betting a ship that could hide from a tachyon 
sweep used far to much energy on it's cloaking device to raise it's shields 
while cloaked.

	FSC-956.

	"More than enough time for three scans, now... He's done," Elise said, 
calmly. Though it was one hell of a risk. She hit the link to engineering. 
"Klif.. Bring the reactors back up to full power." Then, to sensors. "Raise the 
sensor mast." Finally, she looked to Mystrela of Kuat, and smiled. "Target their 
extrapolated position, Lieutenant. Prepare to fire tubes one through four.. Slow 
sublight acceleration attack to intercept extrapolated position. Once there, if 
torpedoes do not hit target, they're to engage active sensors and home in and 
attack target at will."

	"Captain," the CPO manning the passive sensors suddenly announced. "I'm 
detecting minute amounts of anti-protons in the area.. Circular pattern.. Some 
seem to be heading in our direction..." Elise frowned. "Anti-Protons.. Anti-
protons....... SHIELDS!" The acknowledgement came a moment later. "Shields up, 
Captain, full strength." She focused in hard on the Chief Petty Officer. "Get me 
a fix on the location from which those Anti-Protons are being emitted as best 
you can. Dump that data directly to torpedo firing control." Then, to the 
Weapons lieutenant. "Weaps.. Adjust targeting data as necessary with provided 
information."

	USS Zealandia.

	"First Anti-Proton scan conducted, sir... No results." Reynolds frowned. 
"Order the computer to run a sweep for odd behaviour in the motion of the anti-
protons after they were emitted, Ops." The man frowned, but got the computer to 
work on it. Luckily, the cores hadn't been damaged for them.. Or engines. 
"Understood, Captain."

	FSC-956.

	"Anti-Proton scan ended," reported the Chief. "Weapons," Elise said 
tensely. "Extrapolate from last known position and fire tubes one through four!" 
Mrystrela selected the targeting data and instructions, downloading it to the 
onboard computers on the torpedoes, and vented all four tubes to vacuum, the 
outer doors opening.

	She then, quite calmly, flicked the safety covers off the firing 
mechanisms for the first four tubes, and flipped the switches one after the 
other in rapid succession. "Torpedoes away, Captain. Estimated impact of torpedo 
one in... Eighty three seconds." Elise looked to the bridge mounted Chrono, 
then. "Helm, stand by for flank acceleration and hard manuvering."

	"Standing by for flak acceleration and hard manuvering, aye, captain," the 
helmsman reported. Then the bridge fell silent, and they waited.

	USS Zealandia.

	"Sir... We've detected an area where the anti-protons seemed to have 
bounced off something in terms of their courses.. But there's nothing there." 
Reynolds straightened in his chair. "Bring us about on an intercepting heading 
to that point, helm. Ahead one eighth Impulse! Weapons stand by. Ops.. Full 
tachyon sweeps on that point. Standby active sensors!"

	The USS Zealandia swung, bow to bow with the FSC-956, and began to 
accelerate, as the Operations Officer began tachyon sweeps directly ahead.. And 
he saw them. "CAPTAIN! TORPEDOES INCOMING... DEAD AHEAD! FOUR!" Reynolds' eyes 
widened. "Helm! Hard a port! Tactical... Fire everything you've got down the 
path of those torps..." The Zealandia began to turn. "To late, sir.. Point 
blank!" Even then, the Quantum Torpedoes and Phaser beams were lancing out from 
the Zealandia. He slapped open a shipwide com. "All hands, brace for impact!!"

	Just as soon as he finished his sentence, the torpedoes slammed into the 
forward shields of the USS Zealandia. Like the first time, it took three to 
collapse the bubble, but this time they overloaded it completely, shield 
generators exploding and burning out from the strain, as the fourth raced in.

	The hit was direct into the main sensor dish, striking and detonating in a 
massive explosion that tore through the secondary hull and nearly reached 
engineering, the backwash disabling the primary forward torpedo launcher, but 
from both of them, twenty torpedoes were on their way and racing towards the 
target. As the secondary explosions rocked the USS Zealandia, she slew crazily 
to starboard, then back to port, regaining control and slowing, trailing plasma 
and debris, most of her sensors gone.

	FSC-956.

	The shields rocked with phaser blast after phaser blast.. Six, again. But, 
the phasers did not penetrate the forward shields. "Transfer power as necessary 
to forward shields." Lieutenant Nevarr's report, then.. "Torpedoes incoming.. 
Many homing signatures.. Directly ahead." Elise's eyes suddenly looked wild. 
"All ahead flank! All ahead flank! Dump every single joule of power you have 
into the forward shields!" The helmsman was stunned, but obeyed with precision 
as the FSC-956 leapt ahead, directly on a ramming course with the incoming 
torpedoes.

	She slapped down on the button to open a shipwide com channel hard. "All 
hands! All hands! Brace for multiple collisions!" Then, to the helm. "On my 
order.. Turn seventy degrees port and then engage engines all ahead flank for 
ten seconds!" The man, sweating, tapped in the commands, ready for engaging. 
"Aye, Captain!" The Chief Petty Officer gave one final listen, then ripped off 
his headphones. "Torpedoes on final run!"

	The first of the USS Zealandia's torpedoes raced through the cloaking 
fields and rammed into the forward shields, followed by a second, and then a 
third, the ship buffeted by the impacts, directly on.. "Helm... EXECUTE!" The 
man executed the commands, and the FSC-956 slew, presenting other shields to the 
additional torpedoes as one after another all twenty hit, bashing the shields of 
the Strike Cruiser down completely in those areas, though none struck her hull.

	And as the explosions flared through space, the drive spewed out energetic 
plasma and the ship rushed ahead on her new course, leaving behind plasma and 
the massive radiation and debris signatures from the explosions of twenty 
torpedoes.

	USS Zealandia.

	"We've got her, Captain! Reading a massive amount of radiation and plasma 
in the area.. We blasted her clean into particles!" The ops officer cried. 
Reynolds and Patrica exchanged a glance. Despite the severe damage, perhaps they 
had won... "Can you confirm?" The answer was immediate. "With the sensor damage 
we've received... Only on active sensors." Reynolds nodded.

	Twenty torpedoes. Nothing could survive that short of a Borg Cube or a 
Dominion Dreadnought. "Active sensors. Let's scan for debris. Everything we've 
got." The Ops officer lit up the area, and then frowned.. "Sir... Torpedo 
detonations... Only... No wreckage..." Reynolds froze. "Good god..."

	FSC-956.

	"They're lighting up the impact area with everything they've got.. Damn! 
Clearest fix we've had in years, Captain!" The Chief cried out, excitedly. Elise 
grinned that predator's grin, and tapped the other button on the virtual console 
built into the armrest, to central gunnery. "Chief gunnery officer.. You may 
commence firing on target at will with primary weapons."

	Fifteen turbolasers, seven turbolaser batteries, and seven Ion cannons 
could bear on the USS Zealandia. They all commenced fire simultaniously. The 
green and redish-purplish bolts raced through space to impact against the 
unshielded target, the FSC-956 lashing the USS Zealandia again and again. The 
bolts ripped through the duranium/tritanium alloy hull with merciless firepower, 
chewing through men, conduits, systems, wrecking the ship utterly in the first 
two salvos. Only the aftermost phasers could bear, and torpedoes.

	The USS Zealandia managed to get off ten aft torpedoes, and two phaser 
shots, before the third salvo wrecked all power completely, killing most of the 
remaining crew. And then the fourth lashed into the crippled wreck, and one bolt 
struck the already decaying Anti-Matter storage. The USS Zealandia was ripped 
apart in an awesome explosion of Matter/Anti-Matter mutual annihilation that lit 
up the stars.

	The phaser shots struck. Elise gave the order a moment later. "Gunnery 
control. Turbolasers to CIWS mode; Turbolaser batteries flak bursts. Ion 
Cannons.. Best guesses." Then, back to the damage control officer. "More power 
to the starboard shields. Now!"

	The Turbolasers opened up on CIWS, the light ones, while the heavier 
batteries pounded out flak, and the Ion bolts lanced thorugh the night. They 
brought down six of the incoming Quantum Torpedoes. Four more struck the 
starboard shields of the FSC-956; reinforced, recharging, from the earlier 
massive explosions.

	They were doing as best they could, but the strain was considerable. 
Oddly, like with the shields of the galaxy, three torpedoes battered down that 
shield section. The third slipped through to pound into the hull with a whang 
that was buried in the roar of the explosion.

	Elise held on tightly to her armrests as the ship yawed and rolled to 
port, shuddering like a dieing whale. "Stabilize! Stabilize!" The helm officer 
fought with the controls, and the FSC-956 stabilized on her heading. "Active 
sensors.. Everything we have. Confirm destruction. Gunnery control, standby..." 
Another glance back. "Damage report!"

	"Captain, sensors confirm.. Target utterly destroyed. No survivors, no 
further torpedoes," The chief announced calmly. Varish had been thrown to the 
deck. He slowly stood, shaking his head, listening, trembling. But he had lived.

	"Captain," the damage control officer began.. "Cratering to starboard hull 
armour. Damage to sector twenty two, deck fifteen. Medical scans indicate four 
wounded from radiation burns, six others seriously wounded by impact shock. 
Twenty other minor injuries.

	Medical teams being dispatched as necessary. Combat effectiveness 
unimpaired except for armour loss." Elise sighed, gloved hands untensing. "Very 
well. Stand down from General Quarters. Dispatch repair teams and droids to seal 
up that breach ASAP." She stood. "Officer of the watch, you have the bridge. 
Inform the XO that I want to meet him in the plotting room."

	She looked slowly around the bridge. "Good work, people, good work. You've 
made the Empire proud, today, if they knew..." a slight grin. "It's doubtful any 
of their ships, considering the speed of their drives, will arrive within hours 
or even days.

	Once repairs are completed as best we can, we shall procede to another 
system to continue attacks as ordered. That is all." As she started to walk off 
the bridge, cheering erupted at the victory. As she entered the Turbolift, Elise 
just felt tired. Tired, and a bit saddened. The Captain out there had been 
good.. But not as good as she was. And in Space Warfare, being second best 
always meant being dead.     


	The Long Patrol: Chapter Four.  

	"Die Jageress."

	FSC-956's Medical Bay.

	She was there. Varish saw that immediately, as he went into sickbay, 
silently. Elise stood like some tired, hooded guardian over the wounded. The 
radiation burns were a serious matter. Of that Varish knew. There was no 
expression on that face, even after hours of restful sleep, as she looked over 
the crewers. She paused at one, when he seemed to come halfway away.

	"Captain," the man said, hoarsely. "My wife.. My son.." Elise's hands were 
bare. Rare enough. She took his left hand; His right bandaged, in her own. 
"Don't worry, Crewman Markiff. I shall get you home safely. I swear it. You and 
the others. Doctor Holiss can keep you stabilized until we get you to the 
appropriate facilities. Just hang in there. You will see you family again, 
soon."

	"Thank you, Captain.. I... I just want to see them again.." A corpsman 
came over, and Elise let go, stepping back and nodding once. She headed towards 
the small doctor's office. Varish could not help but approach. She looked to 
him, then, sharply, for a long moment, as he froze in place. She stepped closer.

	Her voice was soft, not reproachful, as she spoke, though for a moment 
Varish had feared condemnation. "So you see, Correspondent Lieutenant.. The 
nature of war. It is like a drug, a toxin. All the more so, when you stand up 
there on the bridge, and you are silent, and you hunt, and the enemy hunts you, 
and you play your deadly game of strategy. It is a high. An incredible high, 
that I have come to live for. But like any addict to any drug, mine has a 
downside. A fall. These men. These young boys... Who volunteer to fight in the 
name of the Emperor. You lead them, and they perish, or go home crippled, or 
with scars. They are the fall. Combat... A horrible drug, but one that our 
Emperor demands we take. And I fear I have grown to fond of it."

	He was silent, frozen, as she repeated those words, looking into his eyes, 
he looking into her's, for those moments. And she stayed silent, also. Until 
finally, she spoke again. "But.. That is enough of that. Let us speak with the 
doctor, now, and see what can be done for my men."

	She entered the office quietly. Doctor Holiss looked up, compassion on her 
face. Elise was an enigma to her, and would always remain such. A born killer 
with the conscience of a saint, a contradiction in terms in all ways. "What can 
I do for you, Captain?" Though, of course, her rank was Commander, Tradition was 
Tradition, and Elise was addressed as Captain.

	"How long do they have, here, Doctor?" Simply, softly. Holiss looked to 
the closed door to her office, then to the correspondent with a frown. "He will 
not speak of this, Doctor. I think.. He is beginning to understand. Please. Go 
ahead."

	"The longest they have, Captain, in these facilities.. Sixteen days. The 
shortest... Six. Nothing can be done to save them here.. Just delay the 
inevitable. With the medical facilities at the wormhole base....." Elise nodded. 
"But we have our orders. They cannot be disobeyed."

	Doctor Holiss nodded once. "Then they will die, Captain. All four of 
them." Her words were soft, but spoken with the simple truth. Elise stiffened at 
that... And then began to turn away. And then stopped. "Federation medical 
facilities. Could they heal the injuries?"

	Holiss was surprised, but had learned how to deal with odd questions from 
her Captain long ago. She accessed the data, Varish turning curiously to Elise. 
"Federation... But how, Captain?" She looked to the Lieutenant, reproachful. 
"There are ways within the bounds of my orders."

	The data came up. "Captain.. The answer is yes. Any of their starbases or 
deep space facilities should have the medical equipment to heal all four of 
them. They're very advanced when it comes to exotic radiation treatment, even if 
they are inferior in most other ways of medical science." Holiss looked intently 
to her Captain, and waited.

	"The Federation facilities like that... Have large numbers of civilians. 
But.... They are the enemy. These are my men. I may be able to save them yet, 
Doctor. If so.. I will speak to you again, soon. Inform me of their status." 
Holiss nodded once. "Of course, Captain."

	Silently, Commander Elise Kalar-Leben left the doctor's office, and then 
out of the medical bay, saying nothing, not moving unnecessarily. Varish did not 
have to be told not to follow.

	FSC-956, traveling in Hyperspace, Plot Room.

	Elise approached the plot room again, in silence. They'd chosen their 
course. Now.. They were on it. Time for review, time for preparation. The men 
back there... She had made a promise to one. She would keep it at all costs. As 
she had said, there were ways. Bloody ways, but ways.

	She wondered, though, why she had shared her state of mind with Varish. 
Perhaps, she thought, because it did not matter out here. The mission was a long 
one. ISB was not a danger to her; Not yet, anyway. And success.. Success made 
such things easy to forget, even for them.

	Anyway, she had needed someone outside of her chain of command to confide 
it. Someone like Varish. Simply to talk to, but at the same time one frightened 
enough of her not to speak of it to those in her chain of command. It was the 
best way, perhaps very good, indeed, to get the load off her mind.

	She reached the doors, and keyed them open, stepping inside. Lieutenant 
Commander Harlann Quir straightened, saluted. She returned it, idly, as the 
doors were shut behind her, and she walked over to the holo-projector, looking 
at the data on the system. "Captain. The Ferengi information suggests it was 
recently settled. Small colony.. There may be ships there.. Or there might not. 
We should be approaching it soon."

	Elise nodded. "Very well, XO. No defences to speak of?" He checked the 
data again. "A twin phaser bank. Old type. No real threat to us; There is no 
shielding except simple magnetics over the colony, if you wish to attack it." 
Elise shook her head. "No.. Not necessarily. Unless it is to cover our tracks. 
However.. What do they have in the way of medical facilities?"

	"Minimal. Why do you ask... Ah. The men with the radiation burns?" Elise 
nodded. "Six to sixteen days... We don't have the facilities here. This means.. 
If we cannot raid some far off colony.. We shall raid something else. No matter 
what, XO.. I don't let my men die when there's a chance to save them."

	He nodded once, stiffly. "Don't worry," she said, "It can be done within 
the confines of the mission. It will simply not be pretty." He murmured, then. 
"May I ask what?" She smiled grimly. "Of course. Start looking for viable 
candidates for a Federation facility with the appropriate medical equipment to 
treat severe radiation burns... One that we can possibly take by storm."

	He looked up. "You can't be serious.... We aren't carrying any 
stormtroopers for this mission, Captain." She smiled grimly. "I am very serious. 
We have hand weapons. We have the ship, as well, which has Ion Cannons. We can 
negate their internal defences by disabling the station.. Likely after passing 
as an exploratory vessel.. And docking. Then we come aboard.. And fight them. 
Volunteers only, of course... But... Their comrades will die without the risk. 
So I know they will volunteer. Especially since I will lead the way."

	"Lead from the front? If you were to be killed in such a raid...." She 
grinned. "Then you would take over and do just perfectly on the mission, XO. 
Don't worry. I do have faith in you. Though perhaps our skills shall again soon 
be tested.." He nodded, and smiled.

	"What of the repairs, then?" A pause, as that data was brought up. 
"Completed.. We've patch the hull with equal thickness armour in a plate over 
the breached area, and made some bypasses around the damaged compartments. The 
patch is probably stronger than the hold hull.. No degradation in combat 
capabilities."

	Elise clasped her hands behind her back, and studied the hologram of the 
solar system they were approaching. "Well.. That shall soon be tested, it seems. 
We have.. Fourty minutes, yes?" Harlann nodded.

	"Good.. I believe I will look at the reading material the Grand Admiral 
provided me, now. I will go to the bridge when we enter the system. Make sure 
all systems are in readiness, XO. I may fight the ship, but without you running 
it, I could never win." There was a smile. It was shared. With that, Elise 
turned, and headed out of the Plot Room.

	FSC-956, Captain's Quarters.

	She gently turned off the computer display, her place in the text saved. 
The translation to basic was exquisite. It was a very interesting book. And 
quite meaningful to the mission. The parallels.. Interesting, indeed. To look at 
things from the other side, as well. Oh well. It was time, now.

	She stood, changing from a light lounging robe into her 'battle dress', as 
the crew had taken to calling it, the simple, highly non-uniform clothes that 
she wore on the bridge.. Largely because they were comfortable, and functional. 
Comfort was necessary for a crew at peak efficiency, to keep them from being 
worn down, though it was a hard thing to come by on an Imperial warship.

	Ready, she left her cabin, and headed for the bridge. Silent, alone, in 
the turbolift up to it. There was nothing but silence in her mind. Things would 
come alive.. Later. Moments later. She was preparing for action once again.

	FSC-956, Bridge. 
	Elise stepped out onto the bridge, with her usual slow, graceful air of 
command. She had time, now. "Officer of the Watch, report." The lieutenant 
turned and saluted. "Captain on the bridge!" he announced first, and then 
obeyed. "Captain, we are two minutes from Hyperspace reversion in target system 
designated UGX-3497. System data on sensor plot screen. The ship is at Condition 
Two."

	"Very well. Officer of the Watch, I have command. You are relieved. Stand 
by for further orders." She headed over for the command chair which he had 
vacated to stand when he announced her presence as he answered. "Of course, 
Captain. I stand relieved." She sat back in the wickedly comfortable chair, but 
other than reclining her back, was as stiff and straightened as a statue, hands, 
though, moving on the available displays on the flared out armrests. She was one 
of the few crewers to actually sit on the bridge; The astrogator did, as did the 
helmsman and the sensor bank operators, otherwise, they stood.

	"One minute to hyperspace reversion," the Astrogator reported. Elise 
smiled slowly. "Condition One, General Quarters. All hands to Action Stations.. 
On the double! Battlelights!" The orders were relayed, as the ship again came 
alive with the order for Condition One, General Quarters, Action Stations.

	It meant the highest level of readiness on the ship, all hands at their 
combat posts, and prepared for imminent combat. The lighting changing to a 
garish red. Elise didn't know why Battlelights even existed, or why they were 
that damned colour of Red, though they had been throughout recorded history in 
her own galaxy. She wondered if it was the same here.

	The Astrogator brought the ship out of Hyperspace. Immediately, the 
reports came in, the first over the intercom. "Captain, Engineering. Cloaking 
devices all fully active and functional. All sensors are ready for operation at 
one hundred percent. Sublight engines fully ready for combat." A moment later. 
"Bridge, primary weapons control. All turbolasers and Ion cannons ready for 
combat."

	After that. "Bridge, this is secondary control, XO. All systems manned and 
prepared in case of emergency." Elise certainly didn't want that kind of 
emergency happening; When secondary control took over the ship, it would mean 
she was dead. It was nice to know that the crew was finally settling down to 
standard routine with their definitely nonstandard systems and tactics, though.

	From the secondary weapons control, Mystrela spoke. "Captain, torpedo 
tubes ready for loading and fully operational. Concussion missile launchers 
armed and ready for immediate launch." From behind her, the voice of Lieutenant 
Mratis. "Damage Control parties standing by in all sectors, captain. Sickbay 
reports ready for casualties. Shields are at maximum power."

	She punched the button to open a shipwide com. "This is the Captain 
speaking. We have entered a new enemy system. Following our success in the last 
one, we are continuing with orders to engage enemy targets of opportunity. Stand 
by for imminent action. This is not a drill."

	"Captain," came the voice of Lieutenant Nervarr. "Sensors report detection 
of eight transporter signatures. Ships conducting cargo beam-downs with those 
devices of theirs, apparently. In orbital of the second planet in the system, 
the habitable one."

	Elise raised an eyebrow. "Interesting," she murmured. "Lieutenant; 
Direction to all sensor operators. Two full sensor pulses of the entire system. 
Match data with our charts and display as soon as it comes in."

	"Two full sensor pulses; aye. Sensor controllers, two full sensor pulses 
from each sensor type, full system scan. Transfer to chart display as they come 
in." Nervarr was far cooler in combat, now. He'd been blooded, so to speak.

	Elise stood up, then, walking over towards the sensor banks. The data was 
coming back in. Both herself and Lieutenant Nervarr were looking at the data... 
He was surprised. She, however, was not. Ten ships. Eight conducting the beam-
downs. "Run a trace in our ident banks for types immediately, Lieutenant."

	"Of course, sir." He turned over to the computer console he had; Being the 
only sensor man who stood, and began to work the controls to match the data 
provided by the two pulses to what had been provided them. It had been accurate 
so far.

	"We have matches, Captain," Lieutenant Nervarr reported a minute, perhaps 
two later. "Go ahead," was the response, idly, as she watched the plot. "Two 
vessels.. Sixty meter long ones, sixty-six meters wide, massing somewhere over 
three hundred metric tons.. Assault and escort ships. Warships, but very light 
ones.. Comparable to our Guardian class Police Cruisers, though larger because 
of less advanced technology." Elise focused him with a slight stare. Nervarr 
winced. Giving to much information again.

	"The other eight are a standard Federation freighter type; These are used 
by the government in addition to private concerns.. Assuming they have any. 
Antares class transports; One hundred and ninety-six meters long." Elise nodded 
once, and looked back. "A small convoy of sorts."

	She turned abruptly, walking back to her command chair, settling into it, 
the positions of the planets and ships firmly fixed in her mind.. "They're in 
geostationary orbit, correct?"

	"Yes, sir, Geostationary orbit over what would be the colony, I presume," 
Nervarr replied. Elise nodded, and looked to the helm officer. "You have the 
data, Helm. Choose best course to place planetary mass between us and the 
position of the ships in question. Once on that course.. Ahead one half 
acceleration."

	The helmsman worked his boards for a moment. "Course plotted, Captain. 
Engaging; All engines ahead one half acceleration, aye." Elise leaned back, and 
folded those gloved hands, and waited. "Sensors, report when we are behind 
planetary mass." It would be a relatively long cruise in-system, even with a 
Strike's acceleration.

	FSC-956, Bridge, some time later.

	"Captain, engines are at all-stop," the helmsman reported. Near 
simultaneously, Nervarr gave the awaited report. "We are concealed behind the 
planetary mass, Captain." She drained her mug of kaff and set it down. "Steward, 
remove the mugs, please." The steward did as ordered for the bridge personnel, 
as Elise looked towards the plot by the sensor operators again.

	"Bring up a full scale plot on the holo-projector." It appeared in front 
of everyone, wavering into existence with crystal clarity. "Lieutenant Nervarr, 
transmit this plot to gunnery control." A nod. "At once, Captain."

	Elise pressed down on the selector to bring her in contact with gunnery 
control. "Gunnery officer, this is the Captain. Do you have the plot?" The 
response was clipped, swift. "Yes, Captain. Orders?"

	She smiled, then, the wolf's smile, and addressed them all. "We will 
proceed at flank acceleration, with the solar wind and the planet's mass masking 
our drive tail. Once at the planet, we will execute a series of powered orbits. 
These powered orbits will be at extremely high velocities. To save torpedoes, 
Gunnery officer, you will engage the targets with turbolasers and ion cannons. 
Our velocity will be to great to allow accurate targeting the first time around; 
Use flak bursts to cripple them, based on estimated positions."  "Understood, 
Captain. We're preparing the firing solutions right now." Elise looked to 
sensors next. "Can you still detect their neutrino emissions?"

	"Yes, Captain, quite clearly. They're exactly where they were, and we'll 
know... We'll lose the neutrino emissions if they maneuver, but as long as they 
stay there.." She nodded. "Right. Helm.. Adjust course to accelerate at flank 
acceleration directly towards the second planet."

	The ship swung as the helmsman thrustered her about, lining up. "Ship 
aligned for flank acceleration run towards planet." Elise felt her right fist 
clench involuntarily. "Prepare for hard maneuvering for powered orbit on my 
order, Helm."

	"Prepared, Captain." One stiff nod was the response. "Execute flank 
acceleration run."

	"Executing flank acceleration run.. Now, Captain." The FSC-956 leapt 
forward under cloak like a racehorse out of the starting gate, hurtling on her 
Ion engines towards the habitable planet, where the new colony lay, and in 
orbit, the two large escorts and eight freighters, unknowing of the threat they 
were under.

	"Time till optimal orbital range?"

	"Eight minutes, twenty-nine seconds and counting, Captain."

	She stabbed a button. She didn't need to, but the nerves did it. "Guns. 
Standby for firing as ordered."

	"Guns acknowledge;" the voice could be heard giving the order. "Standby, 
standby."

	The range was steadily decreasing, faster and faster. Right fist clenched, 
Elise watched the holo-display as they leapt closer to the planet at continuing 
increasing speeds. The amount of energy being fed into the Ion Engines at Flank 
Acceleration was stupendous even on a Strike. The seconds, the minutes, ticked 
by. Closer.

	One minute. It was called off by the officer of the watch. "One minute 
until mark and counting, Captain." The report came from Gunnery Control. 
"Adjusting aim for relativistic distortion." She knew that at this speed, one 
miscalculation with the course could smash them all into the planet at 
incredible velocities.

	But she knew her Helmsman could handle it. She trusted him, just like her 
crew trusted her to do the right thing. To bring them home alive.... And 
victorious. Alive. No time for those thoughts now. She pushed them from her 
mind.

	The seconds seemed to race past.

	"MARK!" cried the officer of the watch.

	"Helm! Execute powered orbit as ordered!" She stabbed the button again. 
"Guns.. Fire at will as targets present." Then, to Lieutenant Nervarr. 
"Illuminate them with everything we've got as we round the planet!!"

	Moments later, they did, Nervarr barely having time to give the orders.

	"Commencing firing!" came the excited voice from Gunnery Control.

	The FSC-956 whipped around the planet at utterly mad velocities, 
turbolasers spitting out of nowhere and detonating in flak bursts amongst the 
Federation ships. The Ion cannon bolts raced as well; It was inaccurate, as 
predicted, but still effective in rate of fire. They maintained it while pumping 
the area full of sensor energy.

	The shieldless freighters were horrendously vulnerable even to flak 
bursts; Of the eight, six were taken out, three blown up outright, one losing a 
warp nacelle, the other two reduced to spinning hulks. Two freighters and the 
heavy escorts evaded damage the first time around.

	They swung about to engage the intruder, having somewhat of a fix from the 
sensor emissions, launching their quantum torpedoes and mini-photons, phasers 
firing; The planetary phaser crew was quite literally asleep.

	Two Quantums and four mini-photons slammed into the FSC-956 as the frigate 
rounded the planet, explosions coming from nowhere, but so did turbolaser bolts 
and Ion cannon bursts. The second time was viciously effective; The Gunnery 
Officer had just enough time to choose his targets, and as a result, the 
freighter still capable of impulse acceleration but not warp was blown apart, as 
was one of the two undamaged freighters, despite having their shields up. The 
other's shields survived a hit, and it immediately went to warp.

	The two raiders were likewise hit, one ripped apart outright, the other 
losing shields and phaser power to Ion cannon hits, but retaining the ability to 
launch mini-photons.

	"Transfer additional power to forward shields!" The order was given by 
Elise as they swung around for a third pass.

	The Raider dumped power from secondary systems, enough for a full salvo of 
phaser beams and pulses into the FSC-956 as it fired it's mini-photons, scoring 
hits, but not enough to penetrate the shields. This time, as the FSC-956 
commenced firing, the bolts ripped through the remaining, unshielded escort and 
blew it to pieces that scattered into orbit, as the two spinning hulks were 
reduced to plasma.

	Unengaged light weapons on the port side of the ship, for they had 
actually being whipping through their orbit between the Starfleet vessels and 
the planet on which the budding convoy existed, opened fire at half power on 
ground targets.

	The Ion Cannons on that side did as well, maximum power. The sensors were 
blasted, the planetary phaser banks immolated by even half power bursts from the 
laser cannons, and the Ion Cannons, though they didn't kill any of the 
colonists, who fortunately were placed away from the defensive facilities, had 
their technology immediately fried. They'd be living off the land until a rescue 
ship came, but that wasn't Elise's concern. She'd done her duty...

	Except for one ship. The FSC-956 was completing a fourth orbit of the 
planet, and was swinging into a fifth as the news came through. "Sensors 
confirm.. One vessel has gone to warp.. Warp... Five point five. On escape 
vector!" Lieutenant Nervarr announced.

	"Transfer it to the helm....." A pause. "Helm, pursuit course!"

	The FSC-956 raced onto the heading as the freighter, but was, of course, 
hopelessly outpaced at sublight against Warp Drive.

	Elise stabbed the button to put her in contact with engineering. "Klif.. 
We're going to be trying out the Warp Engines." There was a pause. "Under combat 
conditions!?"

	"We need them for pursuit! Give me warp engines, now!" In engineering, 
Klif swore vividly and slammed a fist into a bulkhead. "Alright you scoundrels! 
Activate the warp engines.. Warp one!"

	The engineering crew went to work promptly, and drawing power from the 
second reactor, the FSC-956 broke the light barrier in realspace for the first 
time.

	"All data from every sensor but the subspace sensors just went crazy!" 
Lieutenant Nervarr reported. "Captain.. Same course... Speed.. We're at the 
speed of light." Elise sighed.

	"Of course we are. Lieutenant Nervarr, continue monitoring on active and 
passive subspace sensors. And engage FULL jamming protocols.. They're almost out 
of range of our standard jammers now, and I know it'll give us away but it's a 
freighter.. They can't transmit! Helm.. Maintain course!"

	"Understood, Captain," came the chorus, then, from Nervarr again. 
"Captain, they're still outpacing us..."

	"Damnit, Klif, I want more speed from those drives.. What are you doing, 
testing them!?"

	"Yes. Very well, Captain... What speed do you want? I've confirmed they're 
stable."

	"Flank!"

	"Flank speed on Warp Drives, aye," came the voice in reply.  The FSC-956 
accelerated to Warp 5.92, and abruptly began to gain on the freighter traveling 
at Warp 5.5, racing out of the system and pursuing wildly, running it to ground.

	"Secondary weapons control... Can we fire torpedoes?" Mystrela answered in 
a clipped, intense voice. "I believe so, Captain.. In.. Nineteen seconds we will 
have the range for torpedoes traveling at warp eight."

	"Very well. Load tube five; One torpedo should be enough for a freighter. 
Set to run at maximum warp on a warp intercept and impact attack."

	"Acknowledged. Loading tube five. Torpedo set to run at maximum warp on 
warp intercept and impact type attack. I am selecting active sensor readings for 
best impact probability." Elise nodded consent.

	Mystrela looked to her chrono. "Venting tube five. Tube five vented. Outer 
tube door opened. Tube five is ready to fire. Four... Three.. Two... One. We are 
within firing range."

	"Fire tube five!" Elise ordered, confidently. Now was the real test of the 
other half of their purchased technologies.

	The torpedo leapt out of the torpedo tube, immediately accelerating to 
warp eight and racing in towards the fleeing freighter.

	It seemed like everyone on the bridge held their breath as the torpedo 
homed in. The enemy freighter tried to coax more speed from the engines to 
escape them; It couldn't detect the cloaked torpedo, not with all the jamming, 
when it was being fed sensor data from the Frigate.

	The torpedo, traveling dozens of times faster than the freighter, slammed 
into it's aftersection and exploded, the explosion tearing apart the balance of 
the warp drive while shredding the vessel was well. Between the combined forces, 
the freighter exploded into a ball of energy that rapidly turned into a long 
streak as the remnants of the warp field held around it.

	In instants, the FSC-956 raced through that streak, turning it into a 
donut shape of debris, batted aside by the shielding, and through the wreckage 
of it's latest target. Cheering erupted on the bridge, and everywhere else the 
destruction could be seen. Their first warp kill!    


	The Long Patrol: Chapter Five.

	"Where Eagles Dare."  

	FSC-956, Plot Room.

	The excitement had worn off quickly. Back to the usual grind; Discipline 
was lax here, but still a grind in the Imperial Navy. The ship had secured from 
Warp Speed, as Klif went over those marvelous drives, and the XO and Captain met 
over something rather different.

	"You've found a place, XO?" Her words were soft, but the intent behind 
them clear. "Yes, Captain. I've run through the list of places that would have 
the medical equipment we need.. And found one that is also a viable military 
target." She looked up from the holo of that sector of space. "Also a viable 
military target? No research lab to raid quickly?"

	"Well, think about it, for a moment. The silences, the reports must surely 
be trickling in by now. We haven't had any other contact with our own ships, but 
they're either succeeding or failing as well. The Federation must be learning 
about this by now. I say the best place to go is somewhere unexpected, somewhere 
a bit crazy.. Until we look at the information the Ferengi gave us a second 
time, Captain. And then I found something that made this place ideal."

	Elise was frowning. "Enough with the word games. Show it to me."  A nod. 
"Alright, Captain. Here." He brought up the holo.

	"Bajor system, and the mutual Federation-Bajor Defensive station Deep 
Space Nine. The Bajoran Militia has joint control over the place. There's one 
ship stationed there. The Defiant, a heavy assault vessel rather like an 
overgunned Corellian Gunship." There was a cough. "Corellian Gunships are bloody 
well overgunned Corvettes, XO."

	"There's more. The station is heavily defended, and the Bajoran Militia 
has a very impressive military space force." She was now fixing him with the 
look of one who thought another mad. "Numbers."

	"Currently operational.. Sixty-eight small six man attack crafts, and six 
two man trainers. Impulse only. Also, sixteen warp-capable attack ships; Small 
ones. Like our patrol ships, but with warp."

	"By the seven shades of hell.... Lieutenant Commander, do you realize what 
you're proposing?" He smiled. "But, Captain, I haven't told you the full story. 
In addition to this; Two defensive platforms around the planet it's self. Each 
one doubles as a repair dock. They're refitting some ships there. Old non-warp 
capable battleships, at least, they call them that, and ships sold to them by 
the Feds. The Refits won't be done for months, though. They're a paranoid race 
of religious fanatics; Barely freed from slavery. Heavily militarized."

	"Then why are you proposing this at..." She trailed off and looked into 
her new XO's eyes, and he smiled back. "Gods damn you, Harlann. If I'm getting 
at what I think you're trying to tell me..."

	"Today is the beginning of a religious holiday on the Bajoran calendar," 
he responded, with a nod. "A time of celebration for the harvest. No work is 
allowed; One big party that lasts three days." The smile turned to a grin. "Any 
other time of the year, this would be absolute suicide.. But right now.. 
Fighters and attack ships on the ground in two bases. The defensive orbital 
shipyards won't have their shields up, and the ships there would be barely 
operational if at all, anyway. And Deep Space Nine doubles as a guard for a 
wormhole; A trading post."

	"Another wormhole? A third galaxy?" Harlann shook his head. "Just to 
another quadrant of this one. Damned fast, though. But that doesn't matter. It's 
near the edge of charted space in this quadrant, as well. We will be a newly 
discovered species for them....."

	The huntress got her grin back. "The Ferengi data here, I see, is highly 
accurate indeed. Accurate enough for long range computer-memory missile attacks 
until final homing... If this is timed right...." Now it was her XO's turn to 
look slightly confused, as she activated her comm-link to her Chief Engineer.

	"Klif... Yes. Status of the warp drives?" A pause; Harlann couldn't make 
out what she could. "Very well. Warp six, you say, underestimated? Very very 
good... Limited periods are better than nothing. We won't be overtaxing them." A 
grin on her face that was lighter. "You'll see soon enough, Klif. It's as insane 
as you are." And then she tapped off the comlink before she could be gotten back 
for that one.

	"Alright, Harlann. I have an idea. We're going to play tourist. Tourists 
who have an explosive bell to let them know when the party ends and it's time to 
go back to work."

	"Captain?" She laughed softly. "The range of Deep Space Nine's sensors, 
please... Followed by the maximum range of our torpedoes at an energy conserving 
warp regimen." 
	FSC-956, Main Ship's Gym.

	The Gymnasium had quickly been confirmed into a briefing room for the 
higher ranking officers and section chiefs. It hadn't taken long to get into 
position via hyperdrive, Elise reflected. Now the crew waited and wondered as to 
what the hell they were doing. And it was her job to pass that on.

	She stood on a small podium at the front with a holo-projector, then, when 
activated, chose to walk around to it, holding a small swagger stick of her 
grandfather's, a Republic Rear Admiral at one time, to point out the features. 
It also added a bit of dash, and this mission was all about such mad stuff that 
earned one the right to swagger in the first place.

	"Officers and crew chiefs.. I know you've all been wondering about our 
next mission. Well, I'll say this. It's tough. It's a bit crazy. The odds are 
against us. It's a tradition for this ship, though. We've been through hell 
together in our own galaxy, and hell together in this one, too."

	"The target is the Bajor System. The target defensives include sixty eight 
heavy fighters, and six lighter training types, along with sixteen warp capable 
attack ships, and a total of thirty-two older impulse armed merchant cruisers 
and so called 'Battleships' which are outmassed and outsized by our frigates. 
However, the AMCs and those so-called Battleships are undergoing refit, along 
with two Ambassador class starships sold to the Bajoran Militia. They're a very 
close Federation Ally, and are inside our target spectrums."

	They had gone from enthusiasm to the same look she had the day before, to 
now, looks of curiosity. "I know this sounds like an impossible mission for 
anything short of Imperator loaded for Kryat. But the Bajorans are, racially, a 
collection of religious fanatics. Right now, they're in the middle of a three 
day long party-till-you-drop harvest celebration religious holiday. I can't 
pronounce the name of it, so I'm not going to bother trying." She got a few 
chuckles out of them.

	"We're going to go in at warp six; Klif says we can sustain it for maybe 
four hours; The techies underestimated the drives, no surprise there. We're 
gonna make it look all nice and natural-like, sucker them into letting us dock 
at our actual target in the system." She activated another holo of the station. 
"Deep Space Nine. A powerful defensive station, but mutually administered. The 
entire crew of the thing should be stone cold drunk or whatever these feddies do 
for that."

	"Now, this is where things get interesting. We will shortly launch four 
torpedoes with cloaks, on a long-range warp intercept course. Two will be 
airbursts in a cone-blast for taking out their heavy fighters on the ground. 
They've got shields over the two bases, but those are only raised in 
emergencies, and the fighter storage isn't nuclear hardened. One each of the 
other two is aimed at an orbital shipyard. These suckers are set to home in on 
their matter/anti-matter reactors, which are unarmoured and in a latticework. 
For some reason, the Ferengi got loads of data on this system. It makes things 
almost sickeningly simple to plan. These four missiles will detonate... 
Precisely two hours after we arrive at Deep Space Nine."

	There was a hell of alot of murmuring. Finally... "But, Captain.. If we.."

	"We're not attacking, Chief. We've got wounded who are dying of radiation 
poisoning and burns. We're going to board Deep Space Nine as spacers; Traveling 
for months at warp six. More militant than the feds, but still explorers. They 
can't scan our ship; Suspicious, sure, but we'll be sending a third of the crew, 
one watch, over, if it can be arranged. Unarmed. We need their medical 
equipment. We're going to capture Deep Space Nine."

	"Unarmed!?" exclaimed a lieutenant. "Unarmed," Elise repeated. "They have 
excellent weapon scanners. Hell, you all have to go through basic training, you 
all have your self-defence classes. At the moment of the torpedo detonations, 
the FSC-956 is going to disable the station with Ion Cannon shots, along with 
the one defensive ship docked there. They can't use their forcefields and 
transporters then, and we'll have armed crewers spilling over the boarding ramps 
to back us up. Until then, we'll just use our fists, our brains, and any weapons 
we can capture."

	"All of this for just some.." Elise fixed the man with a harsh glare. "We 
never give up on any of my crewers! You should know that by now, Dydson! Anyway, 
this has military potential. Classified data from their computers. Prisoners. 
We'll be taking out an entire station we couldn't hope to take out with the 
shields up, getting the care for our men who need it, stocking up on supplies to 
keep the ship in better condition for the rest of our patrol. This is important. 
We'll take that station, savage it for the supplies we need, and then blow the 
bloody thing up! We're the best in the damned Imperial Navy, and if we can't run 
a single boarding operation against a bunch of drunks, then who the hell are we, 
anyway? We don't need Stormtroopers for this; We can do it, we will do it. 
Inform the men. That is all!"

	There were cheers instead of men coming to attention as she walked out of 
the Gym. Sure, it had been a speech, and a bit of a bad one, she was no speaker, 
but it had enthused them. They'd been fighting under her for a long, long time, 
most of them, anyway. The ones who had spoken up were transfers, newbies to the 
FSC-956. They'd fought off one rebel boarding raid once, Elise remembered. 
	Even with all the Stormtroopers dead, they'd stopped them cold, fighting 
them till the blood was inches deep in some of the corridors. That had been a 
near fraught thing. The survivors of that tour of duty were still here. The 
mission parameters never said HOW to blow up the enemy, and she'd be damned if 
she let those crewers die. They could do it. Hell, she had to. In her own mind; 
Anything, anything, to save the lives of a few of the crew. How could your crew 
follow you into hell unless you were willing to risk it all for a few of their 
comrades first?

	FSC-956, Bridge. 

	Senior Lieutenant Giras Pardoen came to attention beside the command chair 
as Elise settled into the leather-backed, sinfully comfortable thing. Damn. She 
should have considered something harder.. No. Kill her back that way, even if it 
would be easier to stay awake. A mental laugh. Stay awake. Like that was somehow 
hard to do when one was about to launch a complex operation against the enemy. 
The Adrenaline would probably kill her young, like she cared much.

	"Well, Lieutenant, get me a report from the officers and section chiefs on 
the status of the crew for this mission." A pause, as the datapad was used to 
call up the reports; He was listening to a few late ones in an ear comm-link, 
too. "All officers and section chiefs report themselves and the crew ready. The 
crew has been fully briefed on what is expected; The third watch is ready, 
Captain."

	"Very good. Go to Condition Two." The necessary klaxons flared into life, 
the reports flickered across the bridge, screens came up. "We are at condition 
two, Captain."

	"Torpedo Officer," she addressed Lieutenant Mystrela Kuat; More properly, 
Mystrela OF Kuat, the distinction, though, one lost in the navy. She'd gotten 
sick of "Secondary Weapons Officer". Most of the weapons Mystrela had control 
of, except the tractor beams, were warhead weaponry, so she'd told her from now 
on she'd be addressed as the Torpedo Officer.

	"Acknowledge, Captain. Orders?" Elise smiled. "Load four tubes with the 
torpedoes preprogrammed for the assault courses to the designated targets, final 
homing to be done active. Long-range warp settings."

	"Aye, Captain. Tubes five, six, seven, and eight loading, designated 
torpedoes, designated settings." a pause. "Tubes loaded, Captain."

	"Are you ready to fire, Torpedo Officer?" Another pause, briefer. "The 
solutions are good, Captain. I'm ready to fire." Elise offered a smile. 
Mystrela's job was the most important of them all at the moment. "Quite good. 
Fire at will, Torpedo Officer."

	Mystrela activated the necessary torpedo tubes in sequence; She'd been 
choosing the starboard launchers since the port launchers had been getting most 
of the work. The tubes were vented to space, the outer caps on them opening. 
They were ready to be fired. In sequence, she fired the four torpedoes. They 
could not, of course, be seen. They were running cloaked. "All four torpedoes 
away; Running good, telemetry good, they're on the right paths.. Disengaging 
telemetry now, as planned... They're on their own."

	"Very well, torpedo officer. Seal the tubes and stand down your weapons." 
She looked to the astrogator as Mystrela acknowledged. "Feed course to Helmsman. 
Helmsman, set ship on course, full thrust."

	The 'Aye ayes' chorused from the two men, and she hit the link to connect 
her directly with engineering. "Klif.... Warp speed at your discretion. Bring 
the engines up slowly."

	"Very well, Captain," forever weary, Klif's voice. "Now engaging warp 
drive.... We are at warp four." Elise glanced to the Helmsman, who confirmed. 
"Warp five," Klif announced. "Warp six.. Reactors within expected tolerances; We 
can hold for four hours." Elise relaxed, then. A sigh of relief. "Very well. 
Thank you, Chief. Bridge out." She cut the line.

	The Chief Petty Officer who was the main passive sensor operator glanced 
back. "Two minutes to maximum range of Deep Space Nine's sensors, Captain." She 
nodded once. Getting tense again. "Countermeasures officer, disengage all three 
cloaks."

	"All three cloaks, disengaged, aye." Elise looked next to the officer of 
the watch. "Lieutenant, inform the crew that they are expected to be in full 
uniforms, watch three without weapons. They are to stand by for possible combat 
and watch one for boarding actions. Also inform them that we are officially part 
of the navy of the Corellian Concordiat until further notice." She exchanged a 
faint grin with the man, and then settled back.

	"Deep Space Nine Sensor range."

	As the instructions were sent out the crew, she thought. Usual "Battle 
dress" for her. She wanted them in uniforms so they'd be soldiers if caught and 
tried, if this was kriffed up horribly. She, of course, would not allow herself 
to be taken alive.

	It was a guilty feeling, being armed when the others would not, but in her 
left boot was a concealed vibro-dagger with a special anti-scanner device in the 
handle. It could work on Imperial scanners, and it would work on Federation 
scanners. Unfortunately, it was the only such weapon she had. It was just, she 
resolved, a burden to put on herself; She'd have to take out anyone who might 
uncover their ploy before the missiles hit, personally.

	She'd done that with knives before. Unpleasant, but... They were her men, 
down there, slowly dying of radiation burns. Anything for her men, her crew. 
That was the resolve.

	"We are being scanned by a standard sweep from Deep Space Nine."

	"Very well, Sensors. Carry on. Wait until they contact us. Nothing out of 
the ordinary, everyone."

	And so she waited. She waited for the station to contact the approaching 
ship they could now pick up. Fortunately for her nerves, she did not have to 
wait long at all.

	"Captain, Communications coming in from Deep Space Nine." Elise closed her 
eyes. "Audio on."

	"Unidentified vessel, this is Colonel Kira Nerys of the Bajoran Defence 
Militia and UFP station Deep Space Nine. You have entered Bajoran space. Please 
identify and state intentions." She wondered about the voice behind that. A 
woman. A Bajoran. A fighter, yes, but it didn't have quite the tone of command. 
Interesting, then, that a Colonel... She had thought enough. She pressed down 
the one button that would open a channel. She would talk to the enemy and let 
their translators render it as they would.

	"This is Commander Elise Kalar-Leben, Captain of the Exploratory Cruiser 
FSC-956 of the Corellian Concordiat. We are on an exploratory mission on behalf 
of the Corellian Concordiat. We've heard a fair bit of Deep Space Nine in the 
past few weeks. We've been out for several months now. This appears to be a sort 
of a First Contact situation, Colonel. Permission to close and dock so that we 
can possibly exchange data and allow my personnel to rest? I am told your 
station is a trading outpost of sorts. We're rather short on creature comforts 
for long missions."

	There was a long pause. Elise didn't like that, but she couldn't expect 
the enemy to be stupid. "Deep Space Nine is open to all those who come in peace 
and obey the station laws, Captain Kalar-Leben. Why aren't you transmitting 
visual?" Easy question first... Elise wondered where that would go. "We don't 
have the capability for subspace visuals, I'm afraid, Colonel."

	"Very well, Captain." Elise noted the formality of calling her a Captain 
stretched across the barriers of species; Either that or the Commander and 
Captain designations had been confused. "We can't get clear sensor readings on 
your vessel, Captain Kalar-Leben. Please explain why." Colonel Nerys, Elise 
thought, wryly, was not a diplomat. "Concordiat regulations require we run with 
internal jammers up at all times, Colonel. I apologize for any inconvenience, 
but technological secrets are those that our security agencies demand we keep, 
and I merely follow regulations."

	"The Federation prides it's self on a free exchange of information, and 
such jamming is a rather suspicious act.." Elise grinned abruptly. "But you're 
not Federation, Colonel, at least, as I understand it. We're a people that's 
suffered a lot of war. Paranoid, yes, but not hostile. We're coming in with 
screens down, weapons barrels flush to the hull. We mean your station no ill 
intent."

	She could almost see the smirk on the other end. "So noted, Captain. 
You're cleared to approach and dock. Contact us again once you've dropped out of 
warp for final docking instructions." There was the sound of the subspace audio 
channel being cut off. Elise cut it off from her own end, just to be sure.

	"Maintain course, Helm. We've got ourselves a ticket inside. Alright, 
everyone. Maintain the meekest damned posture a frigate can. I wouldn't want to 
betray the Colonel's trust..... Until after our torpedoes have found their 
mark."

	Some time later, space around Deep Space Nine, Onboard the Strike Cruiser 
FSC-956.

	"Klif, disengage Warp Drives." The order was given, and the Strike class 
Frigate FSC-956 eased out of it's uncomfortable warp state. "Ahead one percent 
thrust," Elise gave the next order. "Aye, Captain, ahead one percent."

	The FSC-956 began to accelerate. "Holographic imagery of station, online, 
sensors." The sensor data they had been waiting for appeared before them. It 
stopped them all rather short. "Confirm that one Niagara class Starship is there 
and the Defiant is not, please."

	"Confirmed, Captain. Definitely a Niagara, and no Defiant class in range. 
Shall I go to.." She nodded in the negative. "No." A tap to the line to central 
gunnery control. "Weapons officer, replace Ion Cannon solution for Defiant class 
with Ion Cannon solution for Niagara class as specified by sensor officer. That 
is all."

	"That Defiant is somewhere around, but Warp Drive is slow, people. Don't 
worry. Just replacing one ship for another. Anyway, if this thing went 
perfectly, I'd be worried. Communications, contact Deep Space Nine for docking 
instructions."

	"Aye, Sir. Transmitting now... We are being received... Message coming 
through."

	"Put it on the holo." The image changed, to that of what she assumed was 
the command center for Deep Space Nine. Odd architecture. And only an ensign, 
but a Starfleet one, for docking instructions. "This is Captain Kalar-Leben," 
Elise said, to the Holo that was projecting the Two-D. The ensign seemed mildly 
surprised. Perhaps because they looked human, but that was common here. It was 
more likely the design of the bridge.

	Officers standing, crewman sitting in long rows on varying levels, and the 
Captain sitting rather to the aft than on normal bridges. Elise had been 
wondering about the design herself, for several years. She'd concluded the 
positioning of her chair was because Captains virtually never stayed in it 
during combat, and because very, very ancient naval sailing vessels in their 
distant history had been conned from the stern. Some things wouldn't change even 
if there were eight circles in hell.

	"Ensign Dartmoor, Captain. Please standby for transmission of docking 
instructions. Transmitting now.. You are cleared for Upper Pylon Three." Elise 
nodded once. "Helm, you have that?"

	"Aye, Captain. Commencing docking evolutions now." Elise looked back to 
the Holo. "We are commencing specified docking evolutions for the specified 
pylon. Thank you Ensign." Pleasant enough kid. The face of the enemy. Hell, 
everyone in the universe had been sending their kids off to die for a few tens 
of millenia now. This was no different. "You're welcome, Captain. Welcome to the 
United Federation of Planets."

	The way the kid said that, they should all drop down and kiss the station 
since it was co-owned by said Federation. Oh well, they just had good 
propaganda, he was young, and they'd won a war. It made people like that, she 
knew. They were about to bring the entire organization down a few notches. 
Luckily, the kid wouldn't live to see what would come after this odd operation 
of sorts.

	The channel was cut, and she thumbed another of her own. "XO, report to 
the bridge, please." After that, she stood, clenching and unclenching gloved 
hands. "Alright. This should be interesting, to say the bloody least." She 
studied the Niagara class ship with it's three nacelles through the holo that 
had come back on as the FSC-956 docked.

	As the ship settled into place against the clamps, Harlann came up onto 
the bridge and saluted. "Captain?" She turned to him, and made the formal words. 
"You have command until such time as I return to the bridge, Lieutenant 
Commander. Your instructions are clear. Good luck."

	"As to you, Captain." She flashed him a grin, and headed off the bridge. 
She'd need it. By the time she got to the docking hatch, word had come through 
to allow one-third of the crew, after that precise number had been transmitted 
to the Deep Space Nine authorities, onto the station at once, maximum. 
Excellent. Harlann was doing his job.

	At the Docking Hatch.

	The odd looking roundel rolled back, blood red, and she stepped forward. 
Four security guards, a man, a woman. Half in Starfleet, half in Bajoran 
uniforms. She recognized Colonel Nerys at once. "Colonel," a nod in her 
direction. "Permission to come aboard?" The man, she guessed a security officer, 
was checking a panel. She was being scanned for weapons. A tense moment. None 
showed up that they were aware of.

	"Granted," Kira replied, finally. "And welcome to Deep Space Nine." At the 
moment, Kira wished Odo was around as a security chief, but that was impossible 
now. The very human looking alien captain pulled off one glove, and offered the 
hand. Curious, about some gestures. Kira shook it. The two looked each other in 
the eyes. Kira saw a seasoned warrior, like herself. But some other element....

	She didn't have it, Elise decided. She was a warrior, oh yes, a good one, 
but had likely gotten to the rank of Colonel not by commanding personnel but by 
her own skills and being good at following the mission plan. Easier, to deal 
with a foe like this, instead of a ship captain. All Captains of ships who truly 
did well, civilian or military, had that ability about them. It was needed. You 
had to care for your people, and yet be able to harden your heart..

	To judge when the risk was to great. To sacrifice a few to save them all; 
Those points drilled into her mind, as she walked off with Kira. She had taken 
one hell of a big gamble. Her only comfort was that it was still going to be a 
major military success in addition to saving her men.

	Just more complex than an outright attack. If it failed, they would still 
do tremendous damage, and they would likely die in an outright attack on this 
system, anyway. This way, they had a chance. If only she knew where that Defiant 
ship was....

	Kira, assured of the good graces of their visitors, though still generally 
suspicious, was headed back up to Ops on the station. The Defiant was due back 
from it's patrol mission to check up on a few nearby outposts that had gone 
silent in a little less than six hours. Kira did not know that a ship called the 
FSC-1743 had been responsible for those, and that the FSC-1743 was the sister 
ship of the FSC-956. It might have changed her opinion of the crew considerably, 
to say the least.

	On the Promenade, some minutes later.

	She had been wandering through the station for a bit, now. She'd run into 
a few of her own crewers as she'd wandered. Just wandered. The religious-party 
festival was.. Odd. Of course, the non-Bajorans just used it as an excuse to 
party. She'd learned to avoid the crowds around the 'Temples' in the station.

	It had a rather homey feel, however odd and alien. Regretful to blow it 
up, but she'd be spending some time here. Enough, at least. She was now 
wandering along the Promenade. Humans were social creatures. She found it odd 
how many did not stray near her nor attempt to converse with her. It was like... 
There was something they feared in her. She thought of what knew of the 
Federation. Still.. It was odd. She didn't like odd things at a time like this.

	It was, of course, though she didn't consider it, the air of the predator. 
Humans in the Federation could still be violent, but they were not inherently 
predators. They had their needs provided for. From cradle to the grave. They had 
grown soft in that fashion.

	Elise Kalar-Leben was something they felt a need to avoid. The presence of 
the huntress. Of someone who had grown up fighting for scraps, fighting to 
survive, fighting to climb up in the capitalist society to join the military 
society, where she promptly had to do the same thing.

	Fight, fight, no matter what the fight was, it was still fighting in a 
fashion the Federation humans didn't really understand anymore. Claw your way up 
to survive. Give no quarter, expect no quarter. You had your friends, your 
'mates', to use the slang, and that was it. Now, of course, it was your crew.

	You were ultimately in command, but you still had to rely on those under 
you, just like they relied on every decision you made.... Every decision you 
made. Elise winced mentally, avoided flinching openly. She'd already played her 
hand; There was no recalling the torpedoes. They'd take the station, hand to 
hand. It was the only way.

	As Elise made her way undisturbed through the crowd of easy-goers and 
partiers on the Promenade, in addition to the usual bustle, she approached a 
place where the shrieks initially made her thought of some exotic Hutt torture 
park. No, these were excitement, she thought, a moment later. Some background 
music, too, but that was from elsewhere. Odd sounds with those excited noises.

	Elise headed in that direction. Insatiable curiosity was a problem at 
times. She soon enough found herself outside Quark's place, looking in. It was 
bloody well mild compared with topless joints, or, hell, full exotic dancing 
ones, on third-rate rim worlds where she often found herself shepherding her 
junior officer.

	More to keep them from spending the night with some dancer and getting an 
exotic STD that the ship's doctor couldn't treat than anything else. Having your 
female commanding officer watching you tended to have a moderating effect on 
junior officers. Or maybe it was just protective camaraderie.

	Looking in, she spied the Ferengi, finally. Interesting.. A Ferengi here. 
On a Federation-Bajoran station. Well, they were traders. She wondered if the 
Ferengi was involved in the information deals... And how much information 
dealing the Ferengi did. That made up her mind.

	She checked her watch. Ninety minutes, precisely, until the torpedoes 
struck their targets. She had enough time to relax.. And find out if the Ferengi 
was just the proprietor of a bar, or something rather more sinister.. And hence 
potentially dangerous to her, her crew, and her ship, considering that the 
credit was the bottom line with those over-eared aliens.

	That done, course assured, she headed past the entrance, into Quark's. 
Ninety minutes. Ninety minutes. Then she'd know if her gamble worked or not. She 
thought of the men, her men, dying of radiation burns and poisoning. Resolve 
strengthened, she pressed her way through the place. Here, aliens and humans 
alike were far too packed together to give her much breathing room like the 
others had. Good. She liked crowds. When she was armed. The vibro-dagger felt 
reassuring in her boot. Ninety minutes.    


	The Long Patrol: Chapter Six.

	"Thunderball."

	Quark's Place, Deep Space Nine.

	Dabo. Elise immediately decided she didn't like the game. There was no 
skill involved; Pure chance. It reminded her far to much of her own situation. 
So, one round of that, using up some of the small amount of Gold Pressed Latinum 
they'd been given for trading, and she'd bowed out. It simply wasn't worth it. A 
pity they didn't have Sabacc here. Or even Poker, though she didn't know the 
rules... What else, though? Something that involved gambles, but not pure random 
chance, thank you. She'd stacked the deck against that.

	After that round at a Dabo wheel, she settled in at one table in a dark 
corner. One of the waitresses came up soon enough. "Wine. Red. The rest isn't 
relevant," was her only request. Alcohol in moderation. She hadn't had any 
glasses yet today, and her family was notorious in that area for consuming large 
quantities and shrugging it off. She didn't want large quantities, though. She 
wanted something to sip.

	"Synthol or the real thing?" Elise wondered what the hell Synthol was now. 
"The real thing." The alien waitress gave her an odd stare. "You Feds never want 
it. Bad for you or something, always..."

	"Barkeeps are supposed to double as counselors, not waitresses. Just a 
glass of red wine, please, the real bloody thing. And I'm not a Fed, thank you." 
With an annoyed stare, the woman headed off. Elise wondered if she'd get real 
blood in the drink now.

	She heard some kind of commotion from by the Dabo wheels. Looking, she saw 
Klif. He'd just won big. Elise shook her head. She'd never understand her chief 
engineer. Not in a thousand million years or longer. Oh well. It was nice not to 
be alone. Even unreliable friends like Klif were friends. Eating away time.

	He drink showed up. She paid for it, and sipped of it. Expensive, 
obviously. The Ferengi were into Ripping People off 101, which meant getting as 
much money from them as possible. It was easier to charge outrageous prices for 
things when they tasted like they deserved outrageous prices. As for the 
Latinum... She'd just strip the entire damn station of the stuff before she blew 
it up. That was a good incentive to be loose with money.

	The minutes ticked by as she listened to Klif alternatively win big and 
lose big at Dabo, sipped her drink, and observed the civilians. What the hell to 
do with them. Then she thought of the Niagara out there. Warp speed only, but... 
They had more internal space than Galaxies, devoted to exploration.

	It would be a kriffing cattle barge, absolute hell, but it was better than 
slaughtering the civilian population of the station cold-blooded. Of course, she 
had no idea what the station would do with them. Better than systematic 
executions or just plain leaving them onboard with a bomb, of course.

	She liked the idea more and more. Of course, it would mean more time, 
but.... It could be done. Thinking of time... She checked her chrono and smiled 
faintly. Then the smile faded. The Ferengi was headed over. She gulped down the 
rest of the wine.

	"Hello, beautiful.. I'm Quark, and you are..." The voice grated. The words 
made her hate him instantly. In physical appearance the alien made her rather 
revolted; It was one thing for aliens to look, well, alien, but to look like 
withered humans with oversized ears. That was disgusting.

	"Commander Elise Kalar-Leben of the FSC-956," she replied, bluntly. Quark 
got this odd look, and approached closer. She briefly closed her eyes. He knew. 
He had to know. It was confirmed a moment later as she opened her eyes; His 
fingers were on the rank bars. That was also uncomfortably close to her left 
breast. Bastard. "Do you attempt to fondle all of your customers?"

	The Ferengi smiled somehow, like it was a joke, and leaned closer, 
whispering. "What are you doing here.. We had a deal...." He trailed off as she 
made a chopping motion at her neck. "Somewhere else." Quark looked around 
nervously. "Odo is gone, we don't.."

	"Somewhere else." The Ferengi was annoyed, but stepped back, and she 
stood. Klif was glancing in her direction. She gave a jaunty wave, and he waved 
back, then went straight back to Dabo. Quark had already started off towards his 
office. She followed through the crowd, wondering who Odo was, and why his lack 
of being here was somehow or another a good thing. Oh well. Not to question it.

	Perhaps a minute later, they were safely inside the dirty, unkempt office. 
Still, it was tidy enough of a place. He gestured to a seat for her, and she 
took it, as he stood, looking. Annoyed, but at the same time, sizing her up, 
definitely. Bastard.

	"Is it secured from surveillance or being overheard in here?" she asked. 
He nodded once. "Yes, yes, perfectly safe now that Odo is gone." A frown. "Who.. 
Nevermind."

	"We had a deal," he whined, abruptly. "Protection from the Empire.. What 
kind of scam are you pulling on the Ferengi Alliance!?" She rolled her eyes. 
"None, you idiot. This station is owned by the United Federation of Planets and 
the Bajoran Militia. I'm sorry that you're a resident on it."

	"Sorry... For what? What are you going to do?" Quark was looking 
progressively nervous. Elise leaned back; She spread her legs, at that, 
breathing deeply. The idiot was so superficial... "Well.. Come a bit closer, ah, 
Quark, and I might be inclined to tell you."

	As expected, the Ferengi approached her. She'd never seen a creature that 
could nearly be drooling and nearly be quivering with fright at the same time. 
"Well.. What?" He was really getting to close. "I'm going to take over the 
station and then blow it up." That stopped him short.

	"But.. But.. My business! Profits! Even friends! You can't! We have a 
deal!" She smirked. "I have a deal with your government. And if you want to 
survive and keep your stuff.. You'll stay shut up. Understand?" Quark sneered 
indignantly. "Of course not. I'll report you and take a reward in it, and 
they'll never know my part...."

	She let her hands drop down. "Come now, Quark. I have a certain 
philosophy... Anyway, perhaps we could... Deal?" That stopped his move towards a 
pistol of some sort out of her reach on the desk. No matter. He leaned forward.. 
Closer. Way to damned closer. No surprise, though. A nice, easy, deep breath. 
"Deal?" He frowned, then. "What's the philosophy, first?" Another deep breath.

	"Live and let...." She trailed off, as he looked curious at her.. Too low 
for her tastes, but not low enough for his own survival. She brought the dagger 
up with the precision of someone who'd been in to many barfights in too few 
years, held for an upward thrust, slicing through flesh.

	She could have sliced through bone with a vibro-dagger, but she didn't 
have to. In melee fighting in bars, one became an expert, and all humanoid 
hearts were roughly in the same place. The Ferengi had given their own medical 
info, anyway. That, especially, cost Quark his life.

	As he staggered back, she straightened up, pulling the dagger out, and he 
fell, screaming in pain. The blood didn't even get on her. "As I was saying," 
she continued, almost casually.. "My philosophy is... Live and Let Die." She 
grinned down at the bastard, as he toppled over, quite dead.

	She took the weapon off the desk, then. A disrupter of some kind; Nasty 
thing. It was stuffed in her belt and her vest adjusted to cover it. Then she 
wiped off the deactivated vibro-blade on Quark's clothes and replaced it in her 
boot.

	She walked over to the door and keyed it open, stepping out of the office. 
The door automatically rolled shut behind her. Not a drop of blood on her. That 
was... The ninth person she'd killed personally. It was actually the second most 
satisfying.

	Most immediately satisfying; The first overall was because she'd later 
found out the bastard was a serial rapist. Another five had been soldiers in the 
boarding action on her ship; Something she rather regretted. They, even for the 
Rebels, had at least been doing their duty.

	As for Quark.. He was just a bastard who would have used up needed oxygen 
and food on that Niagara class if her plan was going to work. She headed back to 
her table. Apparently, Quark remaining in his office was not unusual. She sat 
down in her chair again. Not much time had passed, really. She caught the 
attention of a passing waiter... And then saw someone else heading over.

	He had a Starfleet uniform. A Captain. She knew who it had to be. The 
Captain of the Niagara docked to Deep Space Nine. "Captain," he said to her. She 
nodded once. "Captain. Please, sit." He had the look, anyway. He nodded once, 
walking over as the waiter did.

	"Two shots of whiskey, please, the real thing," the man asked, as he 
pulled out another chair and sat. Elise wondered what everyone would be doing if 
they knew she'd killed Quark. Probably fighting over who got what in his bar, 
she figured. "I'd rather not, Captain... Drink anymore, that is."

	"You've already had some?" A nod. "A glass of wine." He smiled. Odd man. 
Dirty blonde hair, older than she was; A full captain, then, definitely, odd 
look to those gray blue eyes. "Not enough, then, even on duty. Relax, ah, 
Captain..."

	"Commander, only, but I command the ship.. And we all know tradition. 
Elise Kalar-Leben." He grinned. "Jonathan Revere. Captain of the USS Suzuya. 
You've got an interesting ship out there. No nacelles, armoured like an 
armadillo, studded with guns. What's her name?"

	"She doesn't have one. FSC-956 is the designation. We've got to many 
Strikes to name them. I'm afraid the rest is...."

	"Classified." He finished her sentence. "I understand, I think. The data 
that Colonel Nerys sent us said you were deep space explorers."

	"For the moment. Easiest way to use old military ships. We had an old 
enemy we'd been fighting for the past, hell, fifty years or so. Finally beat 
'em. Left a lot of military ships with nowhere to go. So we have these old 
escort cruisers that can't sustain speeds of more than warp six and have the 
worst conditions, and the politicos send us out on these missions.."

	She'd gotten him smiling with interest, as the whiskey returned. "Well, it 
doesn't sound like conditions onboard are the best, then. The Suzuya was lucky 
enough not to be sent to the front in the Dominion War; Not heavily armed 
enough. We were still explorers. A good thing, at that. She was designed for 
exploration from the start... Alot more comfortable than your ship, I'd bet." 
There was that gleam. He'd bet, alright.

	"True, but in a proper slugging match, my ship of many names, none of 
which may be spoken," a smirk. "Would give yours a right proper drubbing, I 
rather imagine. She's a powerhouse. A brute, but a beautiful one."

	"You're probably right. But I'd rather not slug it out. Perhaps a warp 
race?" She matched the grin. "You know you'd win it already. No point." He 
laughed, and she sipped the whiskey. Bad stuff. Good. A bite to it. A thought 
came to her mind. Perfect.

	"Well, we really can't have a formal competition, but.... Perhaps a tour 
of your ship, which I could reciprocate, as long as you didn't ask to see the 
code room or the weapons control room?" A look. "Surely.. Though I can't apply 
the same limitations. My ship doesn't have either." It was her turn to laugh 
lightly. Then she slugged down the rest of the whiskey, coughing and her eyes 
watering a bit. She stood. "Excellent, then. If you'd care to lead on, 
Captain..."

	"Of course, Captain. A pleasure. Every commander of a ship, I think, can't 
help but show it off." As he started out, Elise gave another jaunty wave to 
Klif, and glanced at her chrono. Perfect. She just wondered how she'd manage. 
She sure as hell hoped most of the crew was on Deep Space Nine.. But they'd have 
to take the Suzuya one way or another, and she had a knife and a disrupter.

	Onboard the USS Suzuya.

	One-third of her crew. Seven hundred men were on Deep Space Nine, unarmed, 
and another seven hundred, armed to the teeth, waiting to dash over. The 
remaining seven hundred were at duty stations, ready for action. It was odd to 
think about, as Captain Revere had given his tour and she had followed, nodded, 
memorizing things. Unsurprisingly, the weapons scanners at the docking port for 
a Federation ship weren't activated, and there was no reason to scan the 
Captain's guest.

	"If I may, Captain, how much of your crew is on Deep Space Nine at the 
moment? The ship seems rather empty." They'd taken to calling each other 
Captain, which suited Elise fine. She didn't want to become to close to this 
enemy. "Slightly over half, Captain.. We're just down to skeleton operations and 
such. All the civilians are off, too, and for those onboard.. A few parties for 
this Bajoran holiday thing that I, honestly, don't have a clue about."

	"Careful, Captain. That might get you to the seventh circle of hell where 
I come from. Of course, I'm aiming for the third, so..." He laughed. Even mortal 
enemies, Elise reflected, could find common ground when they were both Captains. 
And she was going to have to stab this one in the back. Possibly literally. 
Well, she was doing it for her crewers. She had no doubt that this man would do 
the same for members of his own crew, or else he wouldn't be worthy of the 
title.

	"Alright, Captain," he announced, "Off to the bridge, next." She had to 
hide the grin, and managed to check her Chrono as they got on the turbolift. 
Perfect. To good to be true, almost. Heading up, now. She thought of her men, 
ready to storm, infiltrating, putting themselves in harm's way. She thought of 
her missiles, racing in towards their targets. They'd better hit.

	Captain Revere noticed the silence of his guest, so human, indeed, but 
made no comment of it. She was an odd one, to be sure. The silenced stayed 
through the turbolift ride. It came to a stop soon enough, and the doors hissed 
open for the bridge. Captain Revere led Elise out, onto the bridge, similiar in 
style to a Galaxy's.

	"Well, here it is," he said, gesturing out. There were two others on the 
bridge, monitoring things. She nodded, walking over to the upper level. "Quite 
different from our own, really." He nodded, heading down towards the command 
chairs, gesturing for her to follow. "I can't wait to see your ship."

	Elise looked to her chrono. Time.

	Bajoran Space, that same time.

	The four torpedoes maintained homing on their preprogrammed courses, 
cloaked, undetected. They dropped out of warp around the planet, arcing around 
towards their targets. The torpedoes against the ground bases were the ones 
coming in first. They headed for where their targets should be at maximum 
sublight acceleration, decelerating as they hit the atmosphere.

	Sensors pulsed and showed the bases. The torpedoes dove in. The other two 
were on final homing. They, too, opened up with active sensors and locked in on 
the anti-matter reactors of the orbital platforms. With twin explosions against 
the ground, the torpedoes detonated first against the bases.

	Cones of nuclear energy were shoved downward, slamming into the ground, 
annihilating the bases, leaving small mini-craters,  vapourizing heavy fighters 
and setting off a string of secondary explosions, shockwaves that shook through 
the ground nearby, shattering trees and homes and people.

	The two struck the orbital bases near simultaniously. The accuracy was 
impeccable against those unshielded, lattice-encased reactors for the simple, 
cheap orbital structures. The torpedoes structure, exploding, rupturing the 
Matter/Anti-Matter reactors and triggering the awesome, hungry blasts that 
annihilated the ships in the two facilities.

	On the bridge of the FSC-956, the explosions were detected simultaneously 
with the bridge of the USS Suzuya and Deep Space Nine. But Lieutenant Commander 
Harlann Quir had a small advantage. "Ion Cannons," he ordered into the intercom. 
"Commence firing at designated targets."

	A moment later. "All hands, all hands... Assigned personnel... Storm the 
station!"

	The FSC-956 opened fire with it's Ion Cannons, five at the station, five 
at the Suzuya. They fried systems and disabled and exploded conduits, rapidly 
crippling the station and the ship.

	USS Suzuya, Bridge.

	"Multiple explosions around Bajor and on the surface!" hollered the young 
ensign. "Onscreen!" Captain Revere ordered, immediately. They showed an 
enhancement of one of the orbital platforms, now spinning debris. The three were 
standing, looking, as the first Ion cannon bolts struck home. Systems fried and 
consoles exploded. Elise went for her appropriate disruptor and her knife.

	They realized what was happening quickly enough, whirling around, to see 
her with the Disrupter and bending, pulling the knife out of her boot and coming 
up. Two were unarmed, Revere included, rushing at her, as the other brought up 
his phaser. She fired the disruptor, blasting him back to the ground; Stun, 
apparently. The body should have vapourized at a higher setting.

	The other Ensign reached her next, and tried grabbing the blade.. Big 
mistake. He lost all the fingers on his hand as the vibro-dagger cut through 
them like butter and she slammed it through his chest, cutting bone, muscle, 
flesh, organs alike. This time she did get bloody.

	Then Captain Revere leaped for her. She dived to the side and slammed into 
one of the burnt out consoles with a grunt, losing her grip on the dagger, which 
arced away over the bridge. There was a sound from the right turbolift doors. 
She hastily adjusted the simple settings on the weapon, as Revere came at her 
again.

	She fired a wide-beam heavy stun just in time to take down the group 
exiting from that turbolift, and then hit the deck. The group from the port 
turbolift had been firing. They struck their Captain instead of her, as she 
slammed against the deck, and Revere fell ontop of her. She brought the 
Disruptor up again, firing. The wide-beam stuns, two, virtually drained it, but 
it brought down both groups without even really needing to aim.

	Hastily, Elise set the weapon to High Heat, and proceeded to melt-seal 
first the port and then starboard turbolift doors shut, followed by the access 
hatch to the Jeffries tubes. The Ion strikes had ceased; Only emergency lighting 
was on in the battered bridge, even that a testament to Federation energy 
technology. The artificial gravity was nice, too, she thought, wryly.

	Though the bridge of the Suzuya was secure, the battle for Deep Space 
Nine, and the rest of the Federation Starship, for that matter, was just 
beginning. The other civilian ships, and Bajoran Militia vessels, for that 
matter, were now being pummeled by the Ion Cannons before they could disengage 
from the station docking and escape.

	All were soon disabled, as men rushed aboard Deep Space Nine, where their 
comrades fought with anything they could find to clear a path for them, against 
the defenders, hampered by a lack of power but still armed.

	Elise had done all she could for the moment. As soon as possible, she 
planned to be back in the fight. She walked over to the front of the bridge, and 
then retrieved her vibro-dagger, heading back, casually, to where Captain Revere 
was.

	As per plan, she could hear the abrupt thuds, transmitted through docking 
collars and hulls, as the FSC-956 opened fire, two shots, from the turbolaser 
batteries, targeted, precision, pointblank, at Deep Space Nine's Operations 
Center. The Ops command tower was blown off the rest of the station and then 
blown apart by the section bolt, severing a central means of defence against the 
attack.

	The light stun beam had barely grazed Captain Revere. He was already 
coming to. As he did, Elise put her booted left heel down on his chest, and 
half-knelt, dagger to the Captain's throat, humming, activated. She smiled 
darkly as he looked up and realized his predicament. "Well, Captain.. In the 
name of the Galactic Empire, I demand that you surrender the USS Suzuya to me as 
a Prize of War!"  


	The Long Patrol: Chapter Seven.

	"Unto the Breach!"  USS Suzuya, Bridge.

	"No..." Captain Revere hissed out through gritted teeth. A long moment 
passed as the blade hummed at his throat, and Elise looked down into his eyes. 
Intently. Perhaps a minute passed. Eye to eye, Captain to Captain.

	She flicked the blade off and sheathed it in her boot, stepping back and 
bringing the disruptor up. "At point blank, I hear these things are fatal even 
on stun." He nodded slightly, as Elise continued to back up, setting the weapon 
to narrow beam heavy stun again. She grinned. "I had it on high heat, anyway. 
Nice setting."  "My men," he asked. "How are they.." A pause. "All stunned and 
unconscious; Except the one I knifed. He's dead." A nod, then he took a deep 
breath. Building his strength.

	He looked to her, and started to sit up.. She raised the weapon slightly. 
He stopped. "Added that one for the Dominion war on our own phasers to give 
killing shots without the high energy of vaporization.. Was banned by treaty. 
You might be get introduced to the affects soon enough. You can't take a 
Starship single-handedly."

	She raised an eyebrow at his words, faintly, then took a few more steps 
back. "No, Captain. I can't. But I don't have to. And I'm not about to thank 
your government, anyway. It's a Ferengi model. I doubt they signed your treaty 
in the first place. You're just going to take a lot of pointless casualties by 
refusing to surrender; We might use stun on civilians, but when my men board 
your ship, yours will be taking plasma and we don't have the medics to spare."

	"Why, Elise..?" He asked next, cautiously, using her first name 
intentionally. She winced a bit, but didn't waver. She was much to far away for 
him to try to take her down before she could get a shot off, now. "No 
provocation, nothing, we're a peaceful..." She fixed him with a cold stare.

	"Captain, I really don't think you're peaceful; I've been reading your 
literature for a few days now. You just hide it under a facade. We're the same 
species, and I don't know how, and I don't know why. Considering the fact you 
shall either die this day or being for a long voyage.. And you are a fellow 
Captain, I'll give you this: We're extra-galactic invaders. My ship is part of 
the first wave. To weaken you for a strike beyond your imagining. My government 
prepared months, maybe years for this."

	This time he tried to sit up again; She let him. He looked to her. Perhaps 
with some disbelief.. No, lots of it. Disbelief instinctual, but not mental. 
"But... Why? Why invade another galaxy, Captain? What's the point? What does 
your civilization want?"

	She fixed him with a blazing, cold stare. "I don't know." He started 
again.. More disbelief, this time, and a hint of mistrust in those words.. 
"That's absurd, I.." Elise shook her head. "No, Captain, it's not absurd at all. 
You should read your own history. I can guess at what the Emperor desires. Hell, 
what about your King Ferdinand and Queen Isabella of Spain, rather less than a 
millennia ago, on your homeworld? Why did they set out to conquer two 
continents?" He was silent. Elise continued.

	"They just did. Wealth; Power, prestige at home. Slaves, new territories 
to be conquered and colonized. A place to expand; A backbone to protect their 
kingdom by strengthening it. It was a gamble, of course, they had to weaken it 
first, but not by much. The Grand Admiral came up with this idea. He's a bit 
like Colombus, I suppose; He knows the unknown regions well. Odd species; I've 
only seen them in the unknown regions, and then rarely." She paused for a 
moment, took a heavy breath.

	"He saw the opportunity, and convinced the Emperor, I guess, and with the 
word given, our military was set into motion. Provocation isn't necessary; 
Neither is justification, though I suppose we could say we were on some holy 
crusade to persuade you all to believe in the force. But does that really 
matter, Captain? It doesn't to me; All I know is that I received my sailing 
orders, and so I've sailed and I've fought. I couldn't care less; Actually, I 
don't really like your galaxy, and I'd rather not be here. But I got wounded 
men, wounded men only the sickbay on Deep Space Nine can cure. And because I 
care about my men most of all, I stormed the station. You were just in the wrong 
place at the wrong time."

	"You know the history of the conquest of the Americas well, it seems. If 
you're the Spaniards, and we're the Aztecs, Captain, then you should remember 
that the Aztecs were only beaten because of Smallpox. I doubt you have some 
virus to release on us this time around," Captain Revere replied, grimly, but 
with a slight, dangerous smile.

	"You're damned right we don't. But nobody knows how the second invasion 
would have gone; And parables are just parables, anyway. Funny, though, that it 
was the second book the Grand Admiral wanted me to read. But it doesn't matter. 
I make my own luck, Captain. Goodnight." His eyes widened, and she fired, 
hitting him with a heavy stun beam squarely.

	She was now the lone conscious person on the bridge. There were two sets 
of doors, one to each side of the bridge and forward, that she hadn't checked 
yet. She was going to walk forward, when she noted the flashing amber light on 
the Ferengi weapon. "Damnit. Used up the charge," Elise muttered to herself.

	Without a weapon, on the bridge of an enemy ship, two doors 
unchecked...... The thought process trailed off. "Elise.. Stupid. Stupid." She 
was talking to herself; She didn't care. She was laughing, now, too. She had, 
after all, stunned a total of nine armed persons, and between those people, 
they'd only fired two shots on stun from their weapons. She had enough firepower 
to hold off a bloody army. A sobering thought; She might have to.

	Well, nothing was going to come out of those doors for a while if it 
hadn't already. She brought up her comlink and keyed it in for the bridge of the 
FSC-956.

	The communications crewers were, unsurprisingly, overworked, but she had 
her own private channel. It cut right through the command chair; And Lieutenant 
Commander Harlann Quir. "This is Commander Quir, Captain, is that you? Where are 
you? Our men on the..."

	"It can wait, XO. Status report. Now." She was busy collecting weapons and 
piling them as she spoke, eyeing the unsealed doors nervously. "We've thrown up 
a systemwide jamming blanket. Confusing the hell out of what remains of the 
Bajoran Militia; They don't realize what's happening out here, yet, they're 
working with rescue operations at the targets we hit in orbit of Bajor and on 
the surface."

	"Good. The station?" Harlann was getting to used to coordinating, and 
rather fast. "Most of the Bajorans in the crew were totally unprepared in terms 
of the crew; Celebrating their holiday. Some of them and virtually all of the 
Starfleeters are armed, though, and damned good fighters. More experienced than 
they should be. Our men went after those first, of course. It's all either 
captured weapons or jury-rigged. Luckily, the defenders are sticking to stun 
settings. We, of course, aren't."

	"How fast are the boarding operations going?" A pause, there. "As fast as 
can be expected. Between blasting off their operations tower and storming the 
pylon, I think we got fifty of them dead, confirmed, out of the crew. But it's 
hard, Captain. We've got seven hundred crewers armed and charging over as fast 
as they can, but with those turbolifts out, there are only so many ladders and 
they're only so big; It's a stranglehold."

	"People of gone unto the breach before, XO. We can storm the place. We've 
got a third of our crew inside. Numbers favour us as long as the civilians are 
drunk, confused, and frightened." There was a pause. "I understand that, 
Captain, but... Anyway, where are you?"

	"On the bridge of the USS Suzuya." Elise could actually hear the gasp. 
"Captain!? I mean.. By yourself?" Elise allowed herself a smirk. "Yes, Harlann, 
by myself. The Captain offered me a private tour; I figured I'd oblige him." 
There was a long.. Very long pause. "What's your status?"

	"Ten, including the captain, are sleeping rather nicely and shouldn't wake 
up for until after the battle is over. Number eleven is dead. I hold the bridge. 
I've melted the 'lift and tube doors shut; The others go to the lavatories and 
the captain's ready room. I'm checking them now, but someone should have come 
out if there was anyone in either; I'm checking them more for extra accessways 
than anything else."

	"Captain, it could be a while until our men get to the bridge of that 
starship. To long for you. I'll take volunteers from the crew and sent them over 
in spacesuits to board the Suzuya." Elise frowned. "Nice thinking, Harlann, but 
you're down to one watch. Hell, the skeleton crew for effective operations in 
combat is eight hundred, and you've got seven hundred onboard as it is."

	"I've got one hundred and twenty armoured spacesuits with EVA thruster 
packs, Captain. I can run this ship with five hundred and eighty men if the 
Bajoran Militia ships attack; You've put me in command. You can relieve me, but 
under regulations, that won't take affect until after my replacement arrives on 
the bridge. All the other lieutenant commanders are on the station, and there's 
no way you can get here. I'm sending them over no matter what you say."

	Elise cursed and smiled at the same time. "Damnit, Harlann, you've been 
learning from me far to fast. Fine. Do it; you're right. I can't stop you. 
You're damned lucky that I know my crew can make up for having two hundred and 
twenty fewer men then they need to fight the ship if they have to, or else I'd 
string you up if I ever got back."

	"I'd be worried if you didn't under those circumstances, Captain. I'll get 
them over as fast as I can. You can hold out for a bit?" Elise glanced to the 
weapons available. "If I can't, I'm kriffing incompetent. Watch the ship, 
Harlann. Always the ship. If the Militia comes, don't hesitate to declamp from 
the station and swing to engage; You can't afford to take damage while running 
under-crewed, you've got to hit them first and beat them low before the shields 
go."

	"I understand, Captain. Good luck. You should be having some company 
anytime." Elise muttered something in one of her trading languages. "Watch the 
ship, Harlann," and then she cut the link, clipping the comm back to her belt.

	Armed with one of the phasers, she searched the lavatories and the 
Captain's ready room. A maintenance duct was in the first of the two. She 
phasered that until it was sealed. Then she got an idea. Set to high-heat, she 
started blasting chairs off their mounts, doors of their engines, and other 
sorts of destruction of anything on the bridge, arranging the pieces into a 
makeshift barricade by the main screen.

	When it was done, she'd arrange the unconscious bodies and even the dead 
guy around it, too. If they stormed the bridge, then, they'd be limited to stun, 
she'd have cover, and they wouldn't use their weapons in too close for fear of 
killing their own crewmates with the stun.

	She really didn't think it would do much good if the EVA assault crewers 
didn't get there beforehand, but it gave her something to do. As she kept 
herself busy, on board Deep Space Nine, the battle raged. With both ship and 
station thrown into chaos, many men on the Suzuya headed for Deep Space Nine to 
help the battle there, not even realizing their ship's bridge had been seized. 
On the Promenade and other areas, it was hell.

	Deep Space Nine.

	The first fighting had been hand to hand in brutal intensity. The Bajorans 
were unprepared; A festive atmosphere of celebration at a harvest holiday, where 
the fruits of bounty were sampled; To put it bluntly, most were drunk. The 
Imperials had lots of experience fighting drunks.

	They were used to this sort of thing, after a fashion. One gets that way 
as a human who has survived barfights on Outer Rim planets and stations, 
especially a human wearing an Imperial uniform. They were incredible improvisers 
in those first minutes, throwing chairs and bashing with chairs and throwing 
virtually every kind of loose item that could inflict harm towards any uniformed 
person, anyone who offered resistance. Wrenched off handrails served as melee 
weapons, as did jagged pieces of glass and metal.

	Further out from the Promenade, the presence was not as strong, but still 
devastating; In cases where the Imperials were able to get at sleeping crewers 
who were unprepared, dashing out into the halls at the shuddering of the station 
and the massive shaking and roaring when the FSC-956 had blasted off the 
Operations tower; Clubbed, and then into the quarters, appropriating phasers and 
Bajoran weaponry and knives, even Bat'leths kept as souvenirs from the Klingon 
attack or given as gifts when the Klingons had been on the station during the 
war.

	It was this that gave the Imperials the initial edge; Brutality. Boot camp 
for Imperial crewers was as harsh as it was for American Marines during the 
1980s of Earth; With quadrillions upon quadrillions of beings to choose from, 
hundreds of trillions of humans, the Imperials could afford to be exceptionally 
discerning; Only the very best got in the enlisted ranks.

	In a way, it was odd. The system, as it was set up, made the enlisted men 
some of the toughest, most inventive around, while a fair number of the officers 
were political 'Yes' men and an assortment who got into the academy through 
family ties. The real backbone of the Imperial Navy was hence the enlisted men, 
led by their Petty Officers.

	Incompetence in the upper ranks can lose a war, but this wasn't a war; It 
was a brutal boarding action. All Imperial crewers had training in both 
repelling boarders and boarding enemy ships in case there weren't Stormtroopers, 
the traditional marines of the Galactic Empire, available. And, of course, the 
crew of the FSC-956 was far from normal; They were battle hardened veterans with 
a general brutal streak, where discipline was comparatively lax and individual 
initiative not stifled.

	Elise was laid back for a Captain, often looking the other way when they 
got into their barfights on a dozen dozen worlds after missions, on the rare 
earned leave. She knew the stress that would build up on those brutal combat 
missions, those escort runs where rebel attacks seemed unending and you were 
always chasing your shadow to boot. So she let them take the pressure off, and 
in the process, they learned how to fight dirty. It had served them well, the 
one time the rebels actually had boarded, and it was serving them well again.

	However, the simple fact was that the Starfleet and Bajoran personnel 
still had energy weapons, and the Imperials didn't. They were fortunate in that 
both were keeping their weapons set to stun. Colonel Kira Nerys would have 
likely ordered that changed, in such a desperate battle, but she had been in 
Ops.

	The security personnel and regular crewers only knew that a massive fight 
was going on, and so they fought back with weapons set to stun. Elise had 
gambled on that, based on the Ubiqtorate's psyche reports she had read. However, 
a heavy stun shot was a heavy stun shot; A person hit, even alive, was out of it 
for the rest of the battle.

	In terms of wounded, out of the seven hundred odd 'Infiltrators', well 
over three hundred were down already, and more falling, stunned or bashed 
unconscious, by the second. But the tide was slowly turning. On the Promenade, 
chaos of the startled and frightened and panicking civilians led to general 
confusion.

	The phasers that were captured being set to wide-beam and being used for 
crowd control more than anything else. The Imperials, largely concentrated, to 
keep up the tourist act, hence held the Promenade and the areas around it. The 
exception was an area around sickbay and security, where massed crewers were 
holding them off. It was now serving to coordinate the defence.

	The way the tide was turning was towards the Imperials. For another seven 
hundred men had been set, and the moment the Ion Cannons had opened up, they 
were charging, taking down the guards by the airlock, heading down the docking 
pylon by the ladders, clambering down with blaster rifles on straps over their 
shoulders, point guards blasting at anyone armed in their areas.

	They took casualties, too, but they were armed and even in a noose of a 
gauntlet like that, they had the numbers to press through. Phaser and Blaster 
fire was exchanged with more and more frequency, captured phasers adding into 
the Imperial weaponry, as the armed Imperials steadily spilled out of the 
docking pylon and into the outer rings of the station.

	"Lieutenant! Lieutenant!" hollered Julian Bashir, finally catching the 
attention of the security lieutenant who was coordinating. "Do you have any idea 
at all what is going on!? What's our status? Where's the Colonel?" Ezri Dax was 
with him. More composed than usual in these situations, but still frightened, 
perhaps unsurprisingly; Even with the knowledge, the strength of Jadzia Dax was 
gone. Different personality. Those were just memories.

	"The Colonel is dead, Lieutenant Commander. With all due respect, you're 
medical, not line or security. I need to keep you out of my way.. Work on the 
wounded! I need to do my job...." Julian sighed. "But WHO are they.. I mean, 
these Corellians or whatever? Why? And WHERE is the Colonel?"

	The security Lieutenant fixed him with a frustrated glance. "The few we've 
captured say they're members of the Galactic Empire, whatever the hell that is, 
not Corellians. As for the Colonel.. She was in Ops. The last big rumble was Ops 
getting blown off. I'm sorry, Doctor. But I have work to do." He went back to 
his combadge, the boards not working, shouting orders again.

	Julian was dumbstruck, silent. Kira Nerys; A friend, someone who had saved 
his life more times than he could remember, one of the few of the Old Guard 
left. Gone, in one flash. It was just like some times in the Battle of Britain 
holos he and Miles had run; One moment, your wingman was there, the next, a 
burst of cannon fire, and he was a ball of flame. But that had all been a game. 
This was reality. Thank God Miles was on Earth, Julian thought, silently.

	"Julian, Julian," Ezri half-whispered, half-hissed. "We.. We can't dwell 
on it. We've got to do what we can for the wounded.. You're the chief medical 
officer!" That proclamation snapped Julian out of his reverie. "Alright.. 
Alright. Come on, then," Still silent, half in shock at the loss, he went to his 
duty like an automon, through the area still held by their own personnel, to 
where the wounded piled to no end; Sickbay on Deep Space Nine. 
	Oddly enough, that was also the principle target of the Imperials. Though 
the other major Starfleet pocket held out in Deep Space Nine's engineering 
sections, the Promenade section where the Starfleet personnel were hunkered down 
and engineering were it; Other than that, just scattered pockets and frightened 
civilians.

	They had considered blowing the station, but centralized Cardassian design 
worked against them; The self-destruct controls had been in Ops. And Fusion 
reactors had nowhere near the explosive ability of Anti-Matter reactors. Anyway, 
there were thousands of civilians onboard. They couldn't sacrifice them while 
hope remained. The Defiant was coming, and some of the Bajoran Militia had to 
have survived those strikes.

	The resistance in other sectors was dying down; through the brutal barrage 
of phasers and blasters, the Imperials still on their feet being armed with more 
and more weapons, collected from the stunned and the dead and also extras 
carried aboard by the boarders.

	They began to sweep the station methodically; It was not a large one, and 
it would not take long, stunning the civilians and hunting out any armed 
Starfleet or Bajoran personnel that remained. However, the battle for  control 
of the station was far from over.

	By another one of the docking pylons, an Imperial patrol ran into major 
resistance; Crewers from the Suzuya, heavily armed with pulse-phaser rifles, 
forming their own pocket and advancing out. This latest of threats quickly 
occupied the Imperials' attention. More armed crewers were directed towards 
containing the latest thrust of armed personnel from the Suzuya, as others in 
less numbers were ordered to positions where they could lay down surpressing 
fire against the Promenade and Engineering pockets.

	To help in this, in ship's stores were a total of eight E-Web repeating 
blasters. These powerful weapons were being brought in by the last twenty-four 
of the boarding Imperials, three to each E-Web, to be set up to provide a 
vicious surpressing and covering fire to keep the pockets pinned down until 
enough men could be brought forward to overwhelm them.

	Time was running out for the defenders of Deep Space Nine, but they fought 
on anyway. It was all they could do, it was all they would do. They had survived 
the Jem'Hadar and the Klingons, and though never struck this badly, they still 
had a great deal of fight in them. For the moment, around the two original 
pockets, it was, however, stalemate.

	Through the rest of the station, Imperials moved like a whirlwind, 
stunning anyone they saw not in Imperial uniform, shooting the ones who fought 
back with energy weapons, and in some cases bladed weapons or their ike; They 
were not, after all, specifically trained troops, and hence obedience to orders 
when it came to situations of potential bodily threat was rather lax.

	Around the docking Pylon leading to the Suzuya, the fighting was the most 
intense, as Blaster bolts and phaser bursts raced back and forth. The Imperials 
had simple body armour; Vests, shin/knee guards, helmets, that sort of thing. It 
was not major projection, but enough to deal with most hits from the Federation 
pulse-phasers in such a way as to prevent fatalities. Wounds, though, were 
piling up here.

	The Imperials had an advantage in weight of numbers, and pressed on. The 
Federation forces from the Suzuya had to fall back under concentrated fire, now 
pinned down into a third pocket, one linked to their ship. They would not fall 
back, but in the brutal fighting in the corridors, they could not advance, 
either.

	The battle was now truly a stalemate onboard Deep Space Nine, but only a 
temporary one. The imperials were already organizing for their final pushes, 
aided by data provided on the station in excruciating detail by the Ferengi 
government, who had gotten it from Quark... Who had been the first casualty of 
this private little war.

	But that wasn't the only battle by far.

	USS Suzuya.

	Getting one hundred and twenty volunteers from the crew of the FSC-956 had 
been easy; Their Captain had proved willing to die for but a few of their 
number, and that sort of loyalty for a crew bred loyalty for a Captain.

	The EVAs over to the Suzuya were a simple process; The ships were not much 
more than a kilometer apart, after all, and there were no weapons operational on 
any of the enemy ships, nor transporters. As soon as desperate engineers managed 
to regain some power, the lashing of the Ion Cannons as delivered by the FSC-956 
would knock it out again; The only concern was friendly fire from the Ion 
Cannons, but the gunners were good, and they held fire on that section. With any 
luck, further Ion strikes on the Suzuya would not be necessary.

	The EVA troops were split into two groups of sixty. Each one had a single 
auto-boarding lock; two were all the FSC-956 was equipped with. They got in 
place on the hull of the Suzuya uncontested. One was placed relatively close to 
the bridge, the other one against the shuttlebay doors.

	Once sealed into place and conforming with the surface they were placed 
on, the airlocks activated a circle of fusion torches that seared through the 
hull and door in those two areas, leaving circular plates of metal to crash 
down. After that, from internal power supplies of their own, they activated 
forcefields to contain the atmosphere inside the target ship, and opened irises 
in their centers. The troops jumped through.

	The ones on the saucer fell down to the deck, and the circular plating on 
it. The others fell into the shuttle bay, left unmanned as the personnel from 
the Suzuya desperately went about other tasks, and rushed through. Their 
spacesuits had anti-gravs built in, allowing them to operate in a one gravity 
environment as easily as one might walk on the moon.

	Basic EVA was taught in training for Imperial enlisted personnel. So was 
basic combat, both armed and unarmed. The skills hadn't been combined before, 
but since the shooting didn't start until they were inside, it was simply like 
the basic combat, but with the bonus of a partially armoured spacesuit assisted 
by anti-gravs.

	They certainly weren't experts at such fighting, but as the two groups 
rapidly boarded the Suzuya, moving through the corridors and seizing areas of 
the ship, one heading for the bridge, one for engineering, They had the 
advantage of going up against a mere one hundred and forty-nine personnel. The 
others were all on Deep Space Nine, or, in the case of eleven, stunned or dead 
on the bridge from Elise's actions.

	The two groups made their attacks, striking down swiftly towards 
engineering and driving at the bridge; These were the two places, anyway, most 
of the Starfleet personnel were clustered, except the two secondary engineering 
positions on the Suzuya's saucer section, but neither had many men.

	The pulse and hand phasers that met them, set to burn settings, could 
penetrate through the spacesuits, but rarely with enough strength to kill the 
occupants, and as they weren't fighting in a vacuum, fatalities were low. 
Likewise, however, for both sides, and indeed on the station, as well. The 
Imperials were not, after all, trained specifically for this sort of fighting as 
their primary task; They were good at hitting the target, but not always in 
lethal areas.

	So, unlike many modern battles, especially those fought in the bitter, 
unforgiving realm of space, the doctors would have much work ahead of them. In a 
way, it was more savage; Lost limbs, horrific burns, screaming agony of someone 
blinded, or crippled, or slowly bleeding to death if they didn't get help fast.

	But that was the way of war. Here, where the Imperials attacked, all the 
niceties of modern warfare in the UFP, with vapourization and quick, clean 
deaths.. Gone. It was a gory, brutal fight, and despite all reports of the 
Federation pacifist mentality, the crewers still on the Suzuya were men who 
loved their ship, and would fight for her.

	In bloody deck to deck fighting, the Imperials advanced on their 
objectives. Seize engineering; Rescue the Captain. Two goals, one rather pressed 
for time.

	The group of sixty assigned to relieve their captain pressed the hardest, 
taking more casualties, but they were willing to go for the extra mile for her, 
and they pushed steadily towards the bridge, mercilessly advancing. Their goal 
was a personal one.

	USS Suzuya, Bridge.

	When she had phasered the turbolift doors into melted ruins, the beams had 
melted through to affect the doors of the Turbolifts, essentially sealing them 
into place with the doors on the bridge, preventing their use; Assuming their 
had been power. There wasn't.

	Elise was as prepared as she could be, a phaser in each hand, set to wide 
beam heavy stun, and she had another six available with full charges. The attack 
could only come from one place; The Jeffries tube on the right of the bridge, at 
least, when facing the back like she was.

	And she was right. The hatch to the Jeffries tube had been banged on, and 
then began to glow a bright red, and finally vanished.

	She crouched low; Waiting. The first man came out, scanning his immediate 
vicinity first, followed by a second, then a third... As they came out, got to 
their feet, they saw the barricade, the ripped up chairs... Not soon enough. She 
knew which way to point the phasers, and on wide-beam stun, she didn't need to 
do anything else but press the triggers. The beams caught the men on the far 
side of the bridge, dropping all three. They might have some serious damage from 
the double-doses they caught, but nothing incurable. It didn't matter to Elise. 
They were down for the count.

	The next group started to come through, determined to retake the bridge, 
more cautious. Two, this time. One got off a shot at the piled debris serving as 
her barricade, wary of the unconscious comrades there, before she dropped them, 
too. It was effective, but it was also rapidly draining these phasers. The next 
group, she knew, would likely stay low. The Federationers had proven to have 
little real training, but a lot of initiative and brainstorming, and they had 
caught on quickly; You could only try a trick once.

	The third group came through; They stayed low, like she expected. Elise 
tensed herself in readiness...

	There was an odd sound. Everything went blank. Then white. Her eyes were 
confused, no, flash-blinded by it. Everything seemed different. Glowing. She 
blinked, she looked around. She was on the bridge of the FSC-956. Impossible... 
Her mind tried to cope. The phasers were gone. The bridge was empty.

	No, not entirely empty. A dark skinned man, bald, with a goatee, stood 
there, in a Starfleet Captain's uniform. He looked to Elise intently. She felt 
that he was not quite real.. And yet.. Far more real than she would ever be. It 
was disturbing.  "Why?" He asked. "Who are you? What are you doing on my 
bridge?" was her cool response. Some things came naturally. He smiled, very, 
very faintly. "It isn't really your bridge, Elise." It was like a cold hand was 
reaching for her heart. "How do you know my name?"

	"I've been listening." She closed her eyes, them opened them. A distant 
passage relating to Deep Space Nine came forward in her mind. 'Wormhole Aliens'. 
But who was this... "If you've been listening, you already heard my explanation 
to Captain Revere."

	"I did. It was a good explanation. But it doesn't explain you. I want to 
know why... You.. Do this." Elise froze in place. "Don't you believe in the 
concept of privacy?" The look she got was briefly cold. "I have friends who are 
now dead from your actions." She tensed. "You obviously have great power... 
You.."

	A name from the reports drifted up in an oddly foggy, and yet incredibly 
perceptive mind..  It was as though she was in an incredibly hyper state of 
awareness, while at the same time being in a dream. "Captain Benjamin Sisko. 
Killed in action less than a year ago, stopping some Cardassian from a terrorist 
action at the end of the Dominion War."

	He nodded, slowly. "I had to stop him from releasing the Pagh-Wraiths. I 
didn't really die. I just became.. What I always should have been." Elise was 
unafraid. She had cheated death so many times. She looked it in the eye. "But 
old habits die hard, and old friendships die harder. Have you read my mind, or 
just listened to my conversations?"

	"Only the conversations. I will not look into your mind. That is for you 
to reveal. And me to discern. So, tell me, why?" She was silent, for the longest 
of moments. Then she began, in almost a haunted voice.

	"My mother..... She was everything I hated. Since I was very young. 
Growing up with my aunt. They could barely pay their own way; My mother.. To 
survive, she was a mindless flunky, really. A high-priced whore to those men in 
the seats of power, in the senate in it's waning days. I remember so little of 
that; I was young. Very young. But I remember the loathing. For those men. One 
of them was my father. I'll never know which, of course."

	He was silent. Smiling slightly, almost like a priest, accepting. It was 
unnerving, but she continued. "I suppose, one day, she overheard something she 
wasn't supposed to. Or just became a liability. They found her throat cut out. 
With.. With.. The very same vibro-dagger in my boot, today. My Aunt and her 
husband received a large sum of money to avoid pressing an investigation. The 
body.. Was cremated. The information from the investigation left to them, never 
pursued. My Aunt did care, but she was also afraid.."

	She hesitated, the tears forming in silence on her eyes. She didn't want 
to tell this all to a stranger, but she felt compelled, even though it was of 
her own volition. "The wanted me to go to college, a fine university, with that 
money. But I didn't want that. The Empire was there. Becoming militarized. 
Striking down revolts. I remembered those men; And I remembered how they acted 
around the military men. A bit afraid, a bit respectful, a bit loathsome. 
Something about the military." A pause.

	"Especially the officer corps; Noble, but apart from society. They had 
power, but not the kind of power those men who ruined my mother had. I didn't 
want to become like her. And I didn't want to become another faceless number in 
some massive research corporation or university, or a teacher struggling for the 
next paycheck. All that mattered was success; Doing the best job. Proving that.. 
Through me, they couldn't destroy my mother. Or at least her memory."

	She turned from Sisko, looking around that empty bridge. "So I used the 
money to force my way, so to speak, into the Imperial Naval Academy. The exams 
were hell, and so was the preparation, but I managed it. Women are encouraged to 
go into supply, or medical, or engineering, or even starfighters. They don't 
like women in the weapons and line, or, as you would call it, command 
specialization. They don't care about starfighters; The pilot casualty rates are 
too high to really matter." A dry laugh, there.

	"But I went for command. And I fought like hell to get it. Always under 
someone else. I could have risen higher by now, you see, but that would mean 
sleeping with some Admiral or something. I learned that.. It wasn't much 
different in the military, in that regard. But I could still have some power. I 
wanted my own ship. I wanted the responsibility, and the power..."

	"To be the queen of my little empire. Even spurning those advances, even 
being female in the command line instead of engineering or some support role... 
They couldn't ignore my service record forever. So I was duly promoted to 
Commander, and given command of a Strike class Frigate; Nothing more than a 
systems cruiser, really, not even a full Star Frigate."

	"And they gave me the worst assignments, and the worst crew. But I took it 
in stride. I could not fail. I had to prove myself.. And my mother. So I fought 
for it. Every step of the way. I trained those men to fight like tigers and give 
no quarter. I made them trust me by doing every insane thing a commander 
shouldn't do. I led from the front until they respected me." She turned back to 
Sisko, eyes intense.

	"That's why I'm doing this. Because I have a silent, unspoken covenant 
with my crew. A few of them were dying of radiation poisoning. Your medical 
facilities on Deep Space Nine can treat them of it. It also offered the best 
target, at the same time, within my orders. In my place.. I skirt the 
regulations, sometimes I break them..." Those green eyes, even with the tears, 
almost had mirth, as she tossed that mane of black hair, in open defiance of 
said regs. Another slight smile from Sisko.

	"But I always get the job done, Captain. You know what that means. You 
sacrificed your life to get the job done. I'm willing to sacrifice mine. If you 
want your pound of flesh, just kill me. Let my troops take what they need. My 
last orders were to send the survivors to our outpost. They might be prisoners, 
but I was going to send them on the Suzuya and let them live. I saw a chance to 
do both at once.. Get the job done, obey the orders... And save my crewman. So I 
made the gamble. Naturally.. It was to good to be true."

	She turned away again, briefly, wiping the tears from her eyes with the 
gloves, and then turned back. "Alright. You've heard my story. Loyalty, duty, 
honour, obedience. Four simple things. Do as you will."

	There was a long pause. "What about the hunt, Elise?" She tensed. "The 
hunt... Yes, I admit it makes my blood boil, it's ecstasy, I've found it.. 
Pleasureful, to match wits, to hunt and fight and kill other starships. But 
this.. This isn't like that, I swear it. Immobile platform, taken by secret; 
That isn't the way I fight normally, Captain Sisko." She looked to him, that 
tense look.

	"But I did it... Because of my men. I must trust them, and they must trust 
me, for us to be the crew of a fighting ship. That has always been the way of 
things. It made my stomach sick, even so... But.. Anything, Captain.. Anything, 
for my men. They trust me. They are my duty, they are my responsibility. I will 
never abandon them. Do as you will, whatever you are, God, Daemon, being. To me. 
But spare them. The responsibility, after all, always rests with the Captain of 
the ship."

	She waited what seemed like an eternity. As he looked at her, and she 
looked back. Her throat was dry. She waited. Minutes passed. Maybe eternities 
did pass. She didn't know. Finally, he spoke. "I cannot fault you. Revenge is 
such a petty thing, I have learned. I sense in you.. The truth of your words. I 
will not use my powers to interfere.... You have my word. But there are other 
ways than the powers of the Prophets, Elise. We shall see. A test, life or 
death, is ahead."

	Another flash. This time, it did not blind her. She reappeared, where she 
had been, at the same time she had left. The flashing of the light of the 
disappearance and reappearance had confused the next two Starfleeters. Her 
phasers felt warm in her hands. She was... Strangely calm. She had passed the 
test. She fired the weapons. They went down.

	Charges used up. She went for others. More of them came dashing through.. 
Hurrying... No sense to that. She didn't understand. Then, her feeling of 
detachment fled, as the blaster bolts arced down the Jefferies' tube, to strike 
into the backs of the men, and they fell, as others in the tube screamed.

	She sighed in slow, silent relief. Instants had passed in the real world, 
eternities in whatever shadow-world she had been summoned to. No need for the 
phasers, now.

	About two minutes later, the first of the men arrived on the bridge, 
pulled off his helmet, and yelled for joy. Mission accomplished. Elise raised 
one fist in salute. "Thank you, Crewman. I believe... The bridge, is now secure. 
Let us go about ending this, shall we?"

	Bridge, USS Suzuya, Several Minutes later.

	The last few minutes; About nine, Elise had estimated, had been hectic 
activity. With engineering under their control, systems were slowly being 
restored by people who knew a lot about how to deal with Ion Cannon damage.

	The ones with the better military experience had been dispatched to deal 
with the pockets in the secondary impulse engineering sectors in the saucer, and 
had taken them. The remaining troops, with help from those on Deep Space Nine, 
had caught the men from the Suzuya in their pocket, between a rock and a hard 
place, and steadily pressed them flat, so to speak.

	"Lieutenant, report on overall status of the boarding operations," Elise 
asked, crisply. Perhaps just a formality, but she felt.. Almost energized by the 
experience. These were her men, after all. She would live up to her duties.

	"Casualties in terms of wounded have been heavy, the same for stunned. 
Very low kills, though, Captain. The Suzuya Docking Pylon pocket, for lack of a 
better name, Captain, has surrendered, at least the remainder of it. Now only 
the Security-Sickbay area of the Promenade, and Engineering, hold out against 
us. The E-webs have been keeping their heads down there. We're ready to 
distribute the men still in fighting shape for final assaults on those 
strongholds, and then the station and all docked vessels well be under our 
control."

	Elise nodded. "Very well. Give the necessary orders, Lieutenant. You've 
proven yourself most competent in the boarding actions so far." The man could 
not hide a slight grin of pride at the compliment, rarely given, as he set about 
the orders.

	And then an urgent message came in over Elise's comlink; She could tell by 
the style of the alarm from it. It could only be from one person. She brought it 
up, activating it. "What is it, Harlann?"

	"Captain... We have a situation. Sixteen contacts just dropped out of warp 
at relatively close range to the station, and are closing. The remnant of the 
Bajoran Militia; Each is 141 meters long. They're all the same class. Warp 
capable raiders. Primitive ships, even by the standards of these galaxy.. 
Underarmed for their thrust-mass ratio. But they have one hell of a numbers 
advantage."

	Elise reacted instantly. "Harlann, disengage from the station; Move to 
engage immediately." The reply was almost cheery. "Don't worry. Already doing so 
before I hailed you, Captain. I'll do my best, just like you said. Good luck 
over there with the boarding operation... Lieutenant Commander Quir out." The 
audio channel clicked off.

	The men on the bridge were silent. Elise turned to fix the Lieutenant with 
a positively horrifying gaze of intensity. "Get every man you can muster onto 
the Suzuya. I don't care if all we have is a single thruster bank and a single 
torpedo launcher.. I want this ship to join the fight as soon as it can. Put 
every man you can get to work on it. We've got to go to our Frigate's aid!"

	FSC-956, Bridge.

	"Astrogator, feed sixty degree off-intercept heading to Helmsman. 
Helmsman, prepare for full acceleration run." Harlann was standing. He didn't 
feel like it was quite his right to sit in Elise's chair.

	"Feeding data, aye..." A moment later, from the officer of the watch. "All 
sections confirm Condition One, General Quarters.. Action Stations, sir. We're 
ready for combat. Shields at maximum." 
	From the Helmsman... "Course set, sir. Ready to commence at full 
acceleration." Harlann tensed. "All ahead.. Full acceleration!"  "Full 
acceleration, aye!" The FSC-956 accelerated away from Deep Space Nine to meet 
the new threat. No point in hiding under cloak now; The enemy was close enough 
to know they were there, and they couldn't play hide and seek while some of 
those ships moved to help the embattled defenders of Deep Space Nine.

	Harlann was nervous. But at the same time, excited. Now he'd have his real 
chance. "Steward, give me one of those tabaccs you got off the station.. What 
did you call them?" The voice of the calm steward came back. "Havanas, sir. The 
dealer said vintage, not some replication." Harlann grinned. One addiction, 
indeed. "Then give me one." He found it in his hand a moment later. Harlann 
grabbed it between his teeth and tore off one end, spitting it in a cavalier 
fashion onto the deck. He then held it out, and the steward lit it up. Drawing 
the Tabacc to his mouth, he inhaled deeply, and then looked to the holo-
projector.

	He reached back and tapped on a button on the command chair with one 
finger. "Gunnery Officer, this is the XO. Prepare firing solutions with all 
energy weapons on lead targets as we pass. We'll hit them hard, and then try to 
draw them into pursuit."

	"Confirmed, sir. Preparing firing solutions now." As the response came 
through, Harlann looked to the Officer of the Watch. "Signal all hands: Prepare 
for imminent action!"     


	The Long Patrol: Chapter Eight.

	"Line Dancing."  

	FSC-956, Bridge.

	"Enemy vessels forming into moving wall formation; Four distinct 
maneuvering groups of four ships each. Continuing to close on a course sixty 
degrees to our port bow; We are on heading ninety degrees to starboard of direct 
course for the system's primary," the sensor officer calmly reported. "Enemy 
vessels entering weapons range in.. Seventeen seconds."

	Harlann took a long drag from his Tabacc. It was a damned fine one. The 
channel to main gunnery was still open; Hell, he was leaving it open. "Gunnery 
officer, designate laser cannons for point-defence. Select the four ship group 
on the upper starboard section of the formation as the target for Ion Cannons. 
Prepare to lay down turbolaser flak bursts along your best estimate of the 
enemy's evasion course from the Ion Cannons."

	Mystrela's voice came back. The Chief Gunnery Officer was on Deep Space 
Nine. "Solutions set, Sir. Laser cannons designated for point-defence." The 
voice of the officer currently manning sensors overrode everything else, then. 
"Enemy ships firing torpedoes; One apiece! Sixteen incoming. Five seconds to 
energy weapons range!"

	Harlann clenched the tabacc tightly with his teeth. "Hold course. Hold 
speed. Cut acceleration. Electronic Countermeasures; Jam them!" The ECM operator 
replied as the helmsman did. "Anti-torpedo jamming commencing now!"

	"Acceleration cut. Maintaining course and speed!" Harlann looked to the 
holographic display, as the torpedoes raced in; They had to decide between the 
jamming, the confusion. "Guns stand ready!" he declared, urgently. "CIWS 
protocols active, sir, and we have the solutions. We are now within range."

	The ECM operator spoke up. "Some torpedoes are still homing on us, sir!" 
Harlann looked to the screen. "Gunnery officer, weapons free, I repeat, weapons 
free. Fire at will."

	Five Ion Cannons commenced firing in a pattern on the four target ships of 
the Bajoran formation. The CIWS cannons of the FSC-956 opened fire on the 
torpedoes that had not been decoyed by the heavy jamming. Shots ripped through 
the night of space.

	The Bajoran ships opened fire with their phasers; Two Type-VII emitters 
and two Type-V emitters apiece. They had old systems, and the jamming thrown up 
by the Imperial ship made targeting exceptionally difficult, but their were 
enough phasers firing at any one time that beams began to lash the shields.

	But at the same time the bolts of the Ion Cannons were racing in, striking 
shields and scoring hits. The Bajorans immediately began to follow their evasion 
protocols, splitting into four groups of four ships in lines, maneuvering clear 
in a rough X-pattern.

	The detonations of the torpedoes from the CIWS cannons faded, the bolts 
were already clear of them, the turbolaser bolts. The Bajorans had the time to 
attempt evasion, and they would have missed.. If they were just bolts. Mystrela 
had laid down an excellent pattern. A blinding green flash like a distant star 
going nova lit up the stars as eleven turbolaser flak bursts exploded within the 
Bajoran formation.

	The Bajorans had their AMRE to max, preferring high maneuverability, and 
it cost them. Though the shields of the ships were only weakened, no energy 
penetrating to the hulls, the flak bursts slammed them around violently, skewing 
the ships off their courses and sending them in wild directions as their main 
engines were pointed in ways they weren't supposed to be, the ships spinning 
until thrusters could stabilize them.

	Onboard the target vessels, the injuries were ugly from personnel being 
dashed against bulkheads and thrown from their positions.

	"Enemy torpedoes incoming from the other twelve ships, sir!" Harlann 
looked. "Gunnery.." The response was swift. Perhaps a trite insubordinate, but 
Harlann was learning about this ship's crew. "I bloody well see them, sir!" He 
nodded once, and inhaled deeply from his tabacc as the CIWS cannons opened fire 
again, jamming focused on giving the computer brains of the torpedoes two heads, 
or something like that. Imperial ships could pump a damned many terawatts into 
their jammers.

	"They're reforming, sir!" The lashes of phasers against the shields had 
become more common; Almost forgotten. There was a sudden heavy thud and shudder 
through the ship. "Torpedo hit!" announced the DCO. "Port-Aft shields holding." 
Harlann looked to the Hologram. The formation they'd hit was slow in recovering.

	"Gunnery, Ion Cannons, Turbolasers, hit 'em with both, target one ship in 
that formation, your choosing!"

	"My pleasure, sir!" The heavy green bolts and the red-purple-blue lances 
of the Ion Cannon shots streaked through space, focusing in on one of the ships 
in the four ship squadron they had savaged the hardest with the flak bursts. 
Wary of being shook up, they were accelerating more slowly now, less of their 
mass submerged. They weren't quite in formation, they paid for it.

	The one ship targeted had the weakest shields, and as the torpedoes came 
in again, subjected to the vicious jamming and CIWS fire, the phasers lashing on 
the shields when they did hit, the bolts tore into the Bajoran warp-raider. It 
didn't last long. Shields already weakened, the Ion Cannons clubbed them down, 
and then the turbolaser bolts found purchase in the hull. Strikes were designed 
to fight small corvettes like that in large numbers; Anti-pirate work.

	The damage was hell, one wing snapped off, the Bajoran ship speared 
through, subject to overloads of the power core. Unlike other Bajoran ships, 
these were warp capable, and they paid the price for it. Containment for the 
anti-matter collapsed, and the targeted Bajoran ship blew apart in a hellish 
fury of Matter/Anti-Matter reaction.

	The Bajorans ceased firing as they reformed into three squadrons of five 
ships each, in a three-by-five formation, another flying wall. Harlann watched 
on the holo; The Bajorans, it seemed, only knew one tactical trick, but they had 
every kriffing variation of it down like clockwork.

	"Helm!" he snapped. "Spin us one hundred and eighty degrees on the Y axis, 
then full acceleration!" Harlann pulled the tabacc from his mouth. "Gunnery, 
target the ships we've already weakened. Hit them with everything that can bear 
as we come about!"

	The FSC-956 spun on her long axis, swinging so her bow faced the Bajoran 
ships, which had fallen in on a pursuit course, now. Her massive engines flared, 
slowing her rapidly. The Bajorans, coming in fast, closed the distance at 
incredible velocities.

	The main guns opened up, as did the CIWS, for the Bajorans were firing 
torpedoes. With full jamming, and one CIWS gun available to be devoted to 
torpedoes from each ship, they didn't get in far. The ten Ion cannons and 
fifteen Turbolasers that could bear opened fire, bracketing and smashing at the 
three weakest ships, on the port side of the Bajoran formation from their own 
perspective.

	Two turbolasers and five Ion cannons targeted each of the two ships with 
the weaker shields; The one with the stronger shields received the fire of 
eleven turbolasers. The distance closed, the FSC-956 reaching a relative stop 
and then beginning to accelerate towards the Bajoran ships even as they slowed 
to strafe the FSC-956.

	It was at that moment that the Bajorans began to take hits; The Bolts had 
been racing past already, but as the velocities were reduced, Mystrela gained 
accurate firing solutions. The shields of the two of the targeted ships had not 
fully recovered, and they were lashed; The third had, but the eleven turbolasers 
focused on it overwhelmed it's shields swiftly.

	The FSC-956 charged the Bajoran moving wall. Phaser beams and turbolaser 
and Ion cannon bolts were exchanged in the rapidly decreasing distance, the 
forward shields of the FSC-956 weakening considerably, even with the reduced 
accuracy from the heavy jamming. Some of the torpedoes also got through as the 
range closed, but they were older type photons, not the latest Federation 
Quantums, and the shields held, but the power gauges dipped into the redlines.

	Finally the bolts from the eleven turbolasers brought their target low. 
The constant lashing had been to much as the ship maintained formation. It had 
gotten permission to veer out, but not soon enough. Even with all of it's shield 
energy concentrated forwards, even with every watt pumped into the forward 
shields that could be, it wasn't enough. The ship was torn through by the bolts. 
They managed to eject their anti-matter in time, but it didn't matter. One of 
the bolts that would have been a near miss struck the anti-matter pods instead, 
barely ten meters from the hull of the ship; It was already a hulk. The 
resultant explosion vapourized two-thirds of that.

	"Gunnery, shift fire!" ordered Harlann. They were almost meeting... Even 
as he said that, it was clear the other two targeted ships were falling out of 
formation, battered, disabled by the Ion Barrage, at least temporarily.

	In Main Gunnery Control, Mystrela gave permission for the individual 
Turbolaser and Ion Cannon battery crewers to pick their targets. Bolts blazed 
out at all the ships. The Bajorans fired another torpedo salvo; Only twelve 
torpedoes, but very close range. Two got through. The double hammer-blows 
battered down the forward shielding completely.

	Harlann didn't have to worry about it. Before the Bajoran phasers could 
take advantage of the weakness, the FSC-956 had shattered their formation, the 
ships scattering as the Strike tore through the 'wall' and continued on past 
them, the Bajorans arcing up and around, back onto a pursuit course.

	Mystrela immediately ordered the aft guns to open fire on one target her 
sensors told her had the weakest shields of them all from the exchange; Without 
aft torpedo launchers, they temporarily didn't have to worry about that threat. 
The five aft Turbolasers and five aft cannons commenced firing at the one 
target, pounding it's shields as the Bajorans came around, the FSC-956 
continuing to accelerate.

	The Frigate wasn't as maneuverable, but she had an acceleration advantage. 
She was outpacing the Bajoran ships, further slowed by the need to maneuver back 
into formation on the opposite heading and bleed off their speed.

	In that time period, the aft batteries stuck with their target with 
merciless accuracy, and were rewarded with claiming the third kill the FSC-956 
made that day; Another torch in the night, another group of lives snuffed out. 
Mercy in space combat was a rather thing. Anti-Matter reactors, it would be 
wryly noted, made it impossible, anyway.

	USS Suzuya, Bridge.

	"We have main sensors back online, Captain!" The Lieutenant announced with 
some pride. It was understandable. None of them had anywhere to sit; She'd 
blasted out all the chairs. It didn't matter. "Put on the main viewer. Let's 
bloody well see what's happening out there!"

	It came on, and then focused in on the battle, clumsily. Her FSC-956, 
pursued by eleven ships; Two more drifting, disabled. "Three down," she 
muttered, softly, not even realizing she'd spoken. "Status report on those 
ships?"

	"Most have their shields weakened but recovering. The FSC-956 has focused 
all her shields into the aft section; Jamming their phaser targeting, relying on 
flak bursts and CIWS for the torpedoes. Stalemate, and they're quickly falling 
out of range." Elise studying the screen. Even at this magnification, those 
details were hard to make out... Harlann was planning something, though. She 
knew it in her gut.

	Of course, she was, too. "Report on our combat status?" A warrant officer 
shook her head. "I'm sorry, Captain. We've got thrusters, we've got sensors. We 
can fire one torpedo, the one loaded, out of each launcher. Otherwise, nothing. 
We're working as fast as we can."

	"Captain, we've got to wait," the Lieutenant spoke up. Rank gave him the 
advantage there. "We'll be better able to assist later... We'd be more of a 
liability now." Elise just nodded once. "Very well.. Redouble your efforts, 
though. We can't waste a second!"

	FSC-956, Bridge.

	"They're continuing to fall behind, sir. Between the jamming and the aft 
defences, the shields are recharging  faster then they're draining them; We're 
reaching maximum power for all banks." Harlann nodded to the report. "But 
they're not going to try that forever."

	No.. They definitely wouldn't. In normal combat, the FSC-956, with the 
acceleration advantage, could dictate the terms of engagement. The Bajoran ships 
had warp drive. "Gunnery Officer. Prepare to lay down a pattern of flak bursts 
from all guns against our pursuers... To both sides of the ship. All guns; Even 
the Ion Cannons on best guesses. Stand by to implement it." There was a pause. 
"Why the bloody...." Then Mystrela trailed off.

	"Exactly. As soon as they vanish from the sensors, fire, even though the 
distortions won't register. Glad you remembered the briefings." And with that, 
another long drag on the tabacc. He looked to the holo again. He could faintly 
hear Mystrela giving orders...

	"They're powering their cores, sir; Ceasing firing!" He shot a look to the 
intercom. "Stand ready, gunnery!"

	He could do no more. The Bajoran ships went to warp, to leap ahead of the 
FSC-956. Mystrela laid down the patterns to her best guesses. There was no more 
to do. Despite the number of weapons firing, the number of flak bursts, ten of 
the Bajoran ships leapt through it without a scratch to drop out of warp ahead 
of the FSC-956.

	The Eleventh, however, plowed into a flak burst during it's warp jump. The 
Flak burst would not have been fatal normally, but colliding with the plasma at 
FTL velocities was a hellish thing. The explosion was like a long comet trail 
across the stars as the warp field decayed around the debris and they de-
accelerated. The ship was totally annihilated. A piece larger than a plate could 
not be found in that expanding cloud.

	"Helm! Cut acceleration; Swing us about, and then full acceleration 
again!" And then, to Mystrela. "Gunnery Officer; All energy weapons, commence 
fire at targets of opportunity... And drop a concussion missile salvo at each of 
the cripples!" Then, to the DCO. "Redistribute shields to standard!"

	The Bajoran ships took fire first from the forward and starboard guns, 
then the port guns, and still forward, but also aft, finally, aft and port, as 
the ship spun, firing. Finally, it's rotation completed, the aft guns fired as 
fast as they could into the Bajoran ships, now racing in to strafer.

	Calmly, Mystrela personally locked in with the Concussion missiles and 
fired two at each disabled ship. They couldn't give them a chance to come back 
into the battle, but they weren't worth wasting the heavy warp-capable warheads 
on, of course.

	The Bajorans were returning fire. With the FSC-956 traveling towards them 
and their own ships maintaining a very low acceleration, shields double-front, 
they fired mercilessly with the phasers into the Strike, but the robust ship's 
shields held, the laser cannons spitting out their bolts as fast as they could 
to take down torpedoes as the jamming flooded through space.

	"All stations, maintain current status; Gunnery, continue firing at will. 
Standby!" Harlann announced. He made a dash for the controls to the tractor 
beams, left unmanned on the undercrewed ship. The board, tractor beams, and 
controls were all activated, of course, just unmanned. Tabacc clenched in his 
teeth, he waited as the Bajorans raced towards them, watching his screen so very 
carefully there. They didn't know what he was doing, but they obeyed.

	He didn't even register the Damage Control Officer's telling announcements 
as the shields progressively weakened, or the twin explosions as the concussion 
missiles homed in on the anti-matter signatures of the cripples and blew them 
apart. He just waited.

	And when the ten ships streaked over the FSC-956, blasting her with 
everything they had, Harlann activated all eight of the ten tractor beams that 
could bear on a dorsal-forward target.. Set to full repulsion. They were 
targeted at one of the Bajoran ships.

	To provide maximum survivability, the Bajorans had switched their shields 
from double-front to double-aft as they had passed by, taking the fire well. But 
this abrupt shove, which recoiled through the FSC-956, the helmsman working the 
stabilization thrusters to match, was devastating on the AMRE-operated Bajoran 
ship. It shoved it upwards, and, especially it's nose....

	Right into the forward section of another Bajoran ship that had been 
operating in close quarters during the pointblank strafing run. Those sections 
of the ships were unshielded right now. They weren't needed against the Strike's 
normal weapons, but these weren't one of them. The collision was abrupt, but not 
at fatal velocities.

	Still, there was an explosion, and the two ships spun out of control, 
hulls blackened.. And unshielded forward sections presented to the FSC-956 as 
they spun, the crews thrown about, unable to adjust the shields in time. 
Turbolaser bolts from the FSC-956 bored into them and blew the two ships apart 
nearly simultaneously.

	The eight remaining Bajoran ships broke off, wary, regrouping. Their 
numbers had already been reduced by half, but they were all their planet had 
left in the way of defences. Two nuclear detonations in the atmosphere already; 
They would not back down from this foe.

	USS Suzuya, Bridge.

	The voice was from the man down in engineering. Her own miracle worker, 
usually drunk, usually crazy. But Klif had been hurried aboard, and he was doing 
his job. "Well, Captain, in addition to the systems operational... Warp drive, 
phasers, and torpedo tube reloads. That's all I can give you without over an 
hour of replacements and heavy repairs. Even with the droids we have over here, 
it's hard enough as it is bypassing all these security protocols!"

	"Just be kriffing glad, Klif, that the ship was disabled when we boarded, 
or else they would have locked us out!" He took the rebuke well. "Give me five 
minutes.. Maybe less, for the three I mentioned. That's all I can give." She 
gritted her teeth. "What about shields and proper impulse?"

	"Sorry, Captain, no shields, period, not for an hour, at least, and we're 
down to thrusters for that long, maybe longer." Elise nodded once, finally, 
tersely. "Very well, Klif. Do your best. It's all I can ask." She cut the 
channel abruptly, and then cursed the touchpads in her foulest corellian. Didn't 
these barbarians understand anything about ergonomics!!? The personnel working 
on the bridge didn't even bother to look up by now.

	"Well, helm, let's be ready. Cast us off from the station with thrusters 
and align us towards the battle. Do your best... You limited to these touchpads 
up there?" A pause. "Negative... There's a manual control stick.. A bloody 
joystick on a frigate! But it'll work for sublight; And the touchpads will do 
for a warp-jump."

	"Alright. Do your best, crewman. We've only got one fair chance to strike, 
so we've got to strike hard when we do!" Elise folded her arms on her chest and 
watched the viewscreen and waited for the words from Klif that might spell 
salvation for her ship.

	At least the unconscious bodies had all be dumped in the ready room and 
the voice inputs phasered out, already. She didn't need a collection of 
unconscious Starfleeters to cause her problems in the heat of battle.

	FSC-956, Bridge.

	"They're coming in again; All angles, multiple attack vectors. Torpedoes 
firing.. Phasers firing!" The sensor officer was on the point of desperation. 
The attack before this one had been halfhearted; A probe, but it had worn their 
shields more than those of the Bajorans. The first after Harlann had pulled his 
tractor stunt. Now they were coming in again.

	"Gunnery officer," he ordered crisply, the tabacc held between two 
fingers, now. "Concentrate fire on two targets; Hit them with everything you've 
got." He inhaled from the tabacc as he looked back. The ship rocked with the 
first phaser hits, but only slightly; A tremble in the sturdy ship. "Jamming, 
concentrate on torpedoes, we can't afford to take as many as we can phaser 
hits!"

	The eight Bajoran ships came on, firing their phasers, firing their 
torpedoes as fast as they could, though they were rapidly depleting their 
torpedo magazines. The turbolasers and Ion cannons returned fire, as the ship 
pumped it's power into the jammers and the light cannons spat their bolts at the 
incoming torpedoes; The continuous waves of eight, from all vectors, made 
targeting them harder. Some got through, the shudders shaking the ship 
noticeably.

	But the FSC-956 struck back. Throwing all of it's heavy firepower at two 
targets, every gun that could bear at each, the frigate struck back, depleting 
shields that were set to double-front even as those ships struck back. Shields 
failed under the concentrated bombardment; There was no way they could not, on 
those weak attack ships.

	First one exploded, spinning debris marking it's fiery end, the other 
dying seven seconds after it, the batteries shifting fire to other targets.. 
They just had to survive this run. They were accelerating again, faster and 
faster, and the Bajoran ships wouldn't be able to catch up for another pass. 
They could try warping, but that ran the risk of stumbling blind into a flak 
burst.

	The two new targets had their shields rapidly depleted as they closed to 
pointblank, but the FSC-956, under continuous bombardment now for what seemed 
like an eternal length of time, simply could not handle it forever. The shields 
finally gave out completely, overloading and shutting down.

	However, the runs were almost over. No torpedoes got through to the 
unshielded hull, but phasers did, most striking armour, no damage. One Type-VII 
beam, though, pierced through the number three engine's cowl, raking along the 
systems related to the massive engine, an explosion and burst of plasma coming 
from the aft section of the FSC-956.

	As the Bajorans veered off, alarms wailed and the FSC-956 tilted, inertial 
compensators strained as she thrusted out of control. "Hit to engine three, sir! 
Computers initiated automatic engine shutdown to prevent burnout and engine 
destruction! I'm compensating by cutting the thrust to the corresponding engine 
on the far banks!"

	"Very well. Helm, stabilize us as best you can, any course, use the 
thrusters, just get us stable, man!" The helmsman did not answer, he simply went 
to his business. It was then that the Officer of the Watch gave the news. 
Harlann knew it, but didn't accept it until them. "We can't outrun them now, 
sir."

	"Concentrate all shields aft. Give us best possible acceleration with the 
other engines. Gunnery Officer," that one to the intercom, "commence firing with 
aft turbolasers. Make the shots count."

	"They're coming for us; Pursuit vectors, sir," the sensor officer 
announced, confirming what Harlann had known. The wolves were smelling blood.

	"Sir, we're having trouble reestablishing shields. The overloads have made 
it problematic to recharge them!" He glanced back swiftly. "Dump the power 
normally fed to the disengaged engines into the shields; That should compensate. 
We can't use it for the engines, anyway. We must put it to it's best use."

	"Aye aye, sir." Harlann took another long inhalation of smoke from the 
tabacc. The shields came up, just in time to withstand the first phaser hits. 
Photon torpedoes exploded behind them as the CIWS caught them, and the 
Turbolasers thrummed out with the recoil of their power as they spat their bolts 
aft at the pursuers.

	The exchange of fire continued, as the Bajorans paced the aggressor that 
had single-handedly ravaged their entire system. The turbolaser bolts finally 
had their telling affect, targeted at one ship. With religious fanaticism at 
their backs, the Bajorans didn't break off this time. The ship blew apart before 
the Captain could reconsider the decision.

	Then there were but five pursuers; But as Mystrela of Kuat retargeted, 
another volley lashed at the shields of the FSC-956, and they collapsed again. 
There was no way they could be brought back up in time. With the less-than 
skeleton crew onboard only, they could not engage the warp drive or fire the 
heavy warp-torpedoes.

	USS Suzuya, Bridge.

	"Captain, this is Klif. We have warp power. We have weapons power. It's 
all I can give you, but you have it.. Main power is restored to this damned 
bucket!" Elise grinned. "Don't curse our savior!" A moment later....

	"Someone find the kriffing switch to signal their equivalent of action 
stations. Helm, plot a warp burst intercept..." Elise looked to the screen... 
She saw the flare of the shields of the FSC-956 die away. "Directly behind them. 
Then full thrusters."

	"Warrant officer, ready weapons! Target as many Bajoran ships as you can!" 
The helmsman reported a moment later. "Course locked in; Thruster burn ready!" 
Elise clenched her right, gloved fist, and stood tall, and glared at the screen. 
Behind her, the warrant officer reported. "Settings locked in!" And then Elise 
gave the order: "Initiate warp-burst!"

	The Suzuya went to warp, as the lights flashed to a comfortable red, 
though not as dark as her own bridge, and the klaxons blared in a most 
reassuring fashion.

	But seconds later, she dropped out of low warp at point-blank range behind 
the Bajoran ships; Literally only twenty kilometers distant. Though they were 
traveling quickly, the immediate full thruster burn compensated.

	The Bajorans had their shields set double-front as they pursued the FSC-
956. They had ignored the activity on the Suzuya, assuming it was the Federation 
ship trying to get back into action on their side, as there had been no 
communications from it to the other invaders of their territory. They were 
fatally wrong.

	Their aft sections were unshielded, as the Suzuya dropped out of warp 
pointblank behind them.

	Elise raised her clenched fist. "Forward weapons... Fire!" The order was 
given. The warrant officer activated the necessary firing controls.

	A Quantum Torpedo was launched at each of one of two of the Bajoran ships. 
Two Phaser beams from Type-VIII phaser arrays lanced into two more of the ships, 
leaving only one untouched.

	The two ships struck by Quantum torpedoes had no hope; Their aft ends 
unshielded, the torpedoes struck them on their hulls and exploded. The 
explosions ripped through to the reactors or Matter/Anti-Matter storage and 
detonated, the massive flares lighting up the viewscreen of the Suzuya.

	Of the phaser strikes, one target had half it's main engines blown out by 
one, the second sheering off one of the wings. The other target, it's shields 
down, already suffering hull damage from the turbolasers of the FSC-956, still 
in the fight as the first salvoes had struck her armour, was ripped through by 
the phasers, overloading strained hull tolerance levels. The ship ripped it's 
self apart as it tried to evade, reactor exploding as it did.

	The two remaining ships swung around immediately, one largely on 
thrusters, trailing damage and sparking plasma, readjusting their shields to 
equal levels. They came on to face the unshielded Suzuya, leaving the cripple 
for later. Elise glared back at the damaged forms on her viewscreen, eyes wildly 
intense.

	FSC-956, Bridge.

	The FSC-956 was, however, far from a cripple. "Helm... Cut engines! Full 
thrusters, everything you've got, one hundred and eighty degrees.. Swing us 
around!"

	The order was given just as the explosions were registered behind them, 
the FSC-956 swinging, coasting, bringing the largest number of her main 
batteries to bear as the Bajoran ships prepared to fire...  "Gunnery," Harlann 
shouted, "Hit them.. Everyone you've got!"

	Mystrela gave the orders, and the forward turbolasers and lasers lashed 
out at one target. Fifteen bolts of each type were sent racing for the undamaged 
Bajoran ship; Ten Ion Cannon bolts and two concussion missiles for the damaged 
one.

	At that range, the Bajorans not maneuvering, it was a slaughter. The full 
turbolaser and cannon salvo ripped apart the first Bajoran Warp Raider with the 
anti-matter flash of it's core blowing apart when the shields collapsed and the 
bolts lanced through.

	The second lost it's shields to the Ion Cannon bolts, another coming 
through to disable it's remaining weaponry before it could fire, and moments 
later the concussion missiles struck, reducing the already one-winged ship into 
a scorched, tumbling hulk. Three escape pods blew away from it, and then it 
exploded, with sufficient force to consume the pods before they could get clear.

	The battle was over. The Bajoran Defence Militia, at least as far as it's 
space forces were concerned, ceased to exist. 

	(Here's the second half of Chapter Eight, divided thanks to limitations on 
length of posts.. You know my chapters.)

	Deep Space Nine.

	The last stand. Engineering had fallen, the station had systematically 
been sweeped. There had been some sort of space battle, Doctor Bashir knew, but 
beyond that, he had no idea.

	He and Ezri simply went about their work, treating plasma burns, as the 
casualties piled up. Comforting the dying; Triage, choosing who would live and 
who would die. Brutal work, but without choice. There weren't enough medical 
personnel left.

	The sounds of gunfire grew heavier, the whine of the phasers, the vicious 
spraying the E-webs, now all eight of them sweeping the pocket, slowly blasting 
down walls, blowing defenders in half, in general, covering the advance of the 
Imperials as they fought with their plasma weapons, their blasters. Phasers and 
blasters both echoed back; A few had been captured in the fighting, but not 
many.

	The phasers were set to stun, now, but not out of kindness; Necessity. 
They were running out of power, and they couldn't recharge, as with the 
Imperials in charge of engineering, they hadn't had the access codes to use the 
security protocols, but they could go around shutting off power.

	The minutes dragged by, the horrible sound of the E-webs on full auto 
tearing through the Promenade, the screams from outside. The defenders were 
running out of men as the Imperials advanced. Abruptly, there was a ragged cheer 
from the Imperials.

	Bashir didn't know what it was about, until he risked a glance out the 
doors. Cruising there was the Suzuya.. In company with the Imperial ship, which 
looked battered but well intact. He swallowed. They'd captured the Starship. It 
was hopeless, now.

	Julian Bashir, staying low, reached an Ensign. "Where's the Security 
lieutenant?" he asked, hurriedly. This had to end.. He couldn't have the 
slaughter on his conscience. Pointless brutality.

	He needed to know the reason, at least, if no quarter was to be given. 
"Dead, Doctor.. You.. You.. I guess you're in command. Nobody else above the 
rank of ensign is fit, sir.." The kid was trembling, frightened as hell by the 
brutal fighting that had gone on.

	Julian nodded. He had with him, from sickbay, a crutch and a white towel. 
From behind the cover where the Ensign was, he raised it, and waved it slowly, 
the crutch with the towel wrapped around it, while shouting. "Cease fire! All 
Federation personnel and Bajorans, CEASE FIRE!" The shouts echoed, and around 
the shrinking perimeter, slowly firing died off.

	To Julian's surprise, it already had from the Imperials. It took several 
minutes, but finally all the firing had stopped. Julian steeled himself, and 
stood up. A moment later, an Imperial officer stepped out from cover.

	"Who are you!?" he shouted across the gulf of bodies and wreckage. "Julian 
Bashir, Chief Medical Officer of the station.. I'm the highest ranking 
survivor." The Imperial nodded, and spoke into his com. Julian spoke again. "I'd 
like to discuss terms for our surrender.."

	The Imperial fixed him with a gaze.. And was silent. He conversed silently 
into his com for a moment longer. "Commander Kalar-Leben of the Imperial Navy, 
Captain of the FSC-956, orders me to offer these terms in her name: You are to 
turn over all medical equipment to us intact, and surrender without protest. You 
will transported in the best possible conditions to an Imperial facility for 
holding, except some of the medical personnel among you, who will be held, but 
treated fairly, onboard the FSC-956. Civilians and military personnel alike will 
be given the status of prisoners of war. Do you agree?"

	"Just the medical equipment?" There was a pause, then the officer nodded. 
"Yes, that's what we want intact." Julian nodded, tiredly. Curious. So curious. 
The genetically enhanced mind raced. He made his decision. "Very well. I accept 
the terms. We surrender."

	FSC-956, Several hours later.

	The USS Suzuya, with a Prize Crew onboard, guarding the prisoners, who 
were not as uncomfortable as it might seem. Federation starships were designed 
to hold ten times their normal compliment in emergency conditions for 
evacuations.

	The Suzuya was only holding five times her normal compliment, though the 
journey would be longer than most. Her warp drives, though, were now fully 
functional, as were her replicators. It would not be a pleasant trip, but it 
would be humane.

	Elise watched from the bridge of the FSC-956 as the USS Suzuya, now 
officially His Imperial Majesty's Starship Suzuya, went to warp. She had taken a 
prize of war, another frigate, even if an underpowered one from a primitive 
species.

	It filled her with an odd sense of pride. Many captains became famous for 
the number of kills they had; But captured enemy capital ships were rare. And 
there went one, crewed by her crewers, captured by her men.. And, indeed, 
herself.

	There were two Federation personnel onboard the FSC-956, though. Julian 
Bashir and Ezri Dax. Both people, who, based on the records and a few questions, 
might.. Matter, to Sisko. But it was more than that. She'd need them to operate 
the captured medical equipment, to save her wounded, to make this entire thing 
worthwhile.

	The FSC-956 had taken damage, with noticeable and severe slashes in her 
armour, but none had penetrated except the engine hit, and that was jury-rigged 
and repaired, now. Likewise, all the weapons were operational, but the shields 
were still overloaded and down for the moment. Perhaps longer than the moment. 
And they had lost a fair amount of armour, all things told, by the hits. But 
that was what armour was supposed to do. The FSC-956 was still more than capable 
of continuing the mission.

	Before her stretched the panorama of Deep Space Nine, minus the blasted 
off and obliterated Ops tower, and the ships that had been docked there when she 
had arrived, other than the Suzuya, of course. "Detonate," she said, simply.

	Mystrela, back at secondary weapons control, activated the detonation 
sequence with uncontained glee. A few photon torpedoes in the magazines of the 
station's impressive defences had been rigged, along with the fusion cores.

	From the hologram, which, of course, toned down the brilliance, Elise 
watched silently as the dead station was ripped to shreds, as were those 
remaining ships docked at it. Finally, the explosion died away, leaving the 
tumbling pieces.

	She turned back. Ezri was crying silently, and Julian Bashir.. He was 
simply silent. "It was empty," Elise said, though she knew that meant nothing to 
them, really. Memories, indeed. And now, under guard and stun cuffs, on an enemy 
warship. Ah well. They were lucky to have lived.

	"Well, I expect you to help my ship's doctor to the best of your 
abilities, Doctor Bashir, in healing my men with you equipment. I want them 
saved. Guards, escort them to the bay where their medical gear is set up."

	She did not watch as they were led away from the bridge.

	As soon as the Suzuya was beyond sensor range, they'd get out of here.

	USS Defiant, that same time.

	They'd been delayed. Commander Burke Wilkens hated delays. But being 
second in command of Deep Space Nine, and the commander of the USS Defiant.. 
Well, it had it's perks. But the mission had yielded no clues. Just ships blown 
up by high power fusion warheads that left no trace, and fried sensors on the 
outpost that had no usable data.

	And then his bridge was empty. Except for a man standing in front of him. 
He gasped, and pushed himself back in his command chair in shock. Benjamin 
Sisko. The dead hero.. He'd heard stories from the others on Deep Space Nine, 
but......

	"Hello, Commander," Sisko said, simply. Wilkens just nodded. "You're a 
history buff. Good. You'll need that." Wilkens frowned.. "How do you...?" Sisko 
smiled, tiredly. "I watched, while the station still existed."

	"While the station still... What's happened!?" Sisko got all serious, 
then. "Deep Space Nine has just been destroyed. The survivors are being taken 
away as prisoners on the USS Suzuya; Captured."

	"My God.. Ben, if that's really you, I mean.. What's happened?!" A tired 
sigh from the slightly non-corporeal figure. "A ship arrived. An Imperial 
ship.... Just like the Spanish invading the Aztecs, or so the Imperial Commander 
herself said. Her name is Elise Kalar-Leben. Commander Elise Kalar-Leben. If she 
had been born on Earth, a century ago, I think she might be remembered with such 
names as Kirk, Sulu, and Matthew Decker before he lost it.. She's of that 
quality. I can tell."

	"But.. The station, the defence forces.. One ship couldn't do that, even 
under someone with Kirk's genius!" Sisko nodded. "They have cloak. Three kinds 
of cloaking devices on their ship alone, supported by passive sensors. And 
torpedoes fitted with cloaking devices, as well. The crew is well trained, 
though discipline is lax." A serious, pregnant pause.

	"Still, they're perhaps the best. They would die for her, and her for 
them. That's what this was all about. She wanted medical equipment her ship 
didn't have, to treat wounded men onboard. She was willing to take on the entire 
Bajoran military and Deep Space Nine to get it."

	Burke Wilkens nodded slowly. He didn't know what to believe. This sounded 
crazy. It also.. Rang of truth, from this spectral presence. "Ben.. I, you're 
more experienced. If this is happening, can you command the Defiant?" There was 
a pause, a long one. "Commander.. I was going to. Using my intelligence, that 
isn't using the abilities of what I've become. I was going to ask for command... 
But I can't, now."

	"Why not?" Sisko seemed to stiffen. "Two of my best friends are on the 
Frigate FSC-956. The Imperial ship. I won't kill them, even in battle. It's up 
to you." Wilkens nodded, very slowly. "Just FSC-956? No name?"

	"No name. Their navy is to large for that. If you don't believe me, 
Commander, do a full sweep of the system as soon as you drop out of warp. You'll 
see. But as soon as you do.. Cloak."

	"Why..." He trailed off. "They'll fight cloaked, Ben, because they prefer 
it? They can fire while cloaked?" Sisko nodded. "Yes, and yes. Though they've 
only learned to prefer it for this. I know the modifications done to the 
Defiant. If you transfer power from the phasers, you can have enough to run the 
cloak, impulse engines, and Quantum torpedo launchers all at the same time."

	"You're right, but that will leave us shieldless." Sisko smiled, a trace 
of old mirth. "Their own shield banks are still out from finishing off the 
Bajoran Militia. Like I said, you're a history buff. Military, too. Remember... 
Late twentieth century submarine warfare. Dig up anything on it that you can 
while you drift, cloaked, and when you're ready... Hunt that frigate. I'm afraid 
that's all I can do. Good luck."

	There was a flash of white. Commander Burke Wilkens found himself still in 
his command chair, but back on the lively bridge of the Defiant, as they 
prepared to drop out of Warp. Nothing had changed.. The entire exchange had been 
instantaneous, as far as the crew was concerned.

	"Bring us out of warp, now," Burke ordered. "But, sir.." He looked 
intently to the helmsman. "Do it." A pause, and then the ship de-accelerated to 
impulse. "Aye sir.. Out of warp." Commander Wilkens looked to Ops next. "Do a 
full active scan of the system.. One burst, then shut down."

	The Operations officer initiated. "Sir! Deep Space Nine.. It's.. It's 
gone! So are the Bajoran orbital facilities. I'm detecting one warp signature 
leaving the system, and another ship in system.. That's it!"

	The feeling in Burke's gut tightened. Sisko was right. Every word. "Red 
Alert! Get me an ident on that ship.. Stand by to cloak." The klaxons wailed and 
the red alert lights came on. "Sir," The Ops officer reported, "Identification 
unknown.. I think they've spotted us!"

	"Cloak now. Split all power between life-support, sensors, quantum 
torpedoes, and impulse engines and thrusters. Shut everything else down! No more 
active sensor emissions.. At all!" The Defiant rippled out of existence as the 
orders were obeyed by a confused crew.

	"Minimum thruster burn, helmsman, random course. Get us out of this 
position, quickly." The helmsman complied. "Sir, respectfully.. What is going 
on?" The operations officer, technically the second in command, had to ask.

	"I'll explain in a minute. We need to cover ourselves, first. Make sure 
there's not an erg of energy fed into the active sensors.. Keep listening on 
passives for the target. You're not gonna believe this one when I do tell you."

	FSC-956, Bridge, around those same times.

	"Captain," the Chief Petty Officer reported from his sensor readouts. 
"Ship dropping out of warp outside of the system.. Active sensor pulse.. We're 
being pulsed!" Elise looked up, tensely.

	"Confirm.. Class is... Defiant class.. We've just lost them!" The sensor 
officer glanced back, then looked to Elise. "They've cloaked."

	But Elise was already in action, moving back to settle into her command 
chair, and slap down on the general intercom. "Defiant," she hissed out. "All 
hands, All hands... Condition One! General Quarters, Action Stations, On the 
Double! On the double!" She gave that order personally, adding urgency.

	"Battle lighting," she snapped. "Engage all three cloaking devices and 
raise the sensor mast to standard levels. Passive sensor protocols to be 
initiated immediately!"

	The orders were responded to with well-oiled precision as the crew, at 
least those on their feet, and that was most, those who had recovered from stuns 
returning to duty, half shell-shocked but still capable of functioning.

	The ship vanished into it's three murky cloaks. The bridge was dark, lit 
only by the sparse red lights. The tension returned. The Defiant had come, and 
as long as the Suzuya was in sensor, Defiant could trail her back to the 
wormhole. That could not be allowed to happen. She would have to fight the 
Defiant.

	"Helmsman... One half a percent of maximum acceleration only. Random 
course. Sensors.. Maintain passive regimen. Strain. Reactor noises; Background 
radiation, drive tails, anything at all. Find that ship for me!"

	"Torpedo officer, load all eight tubes and stand by for settings to be 
adjusted in the tubes as per combat conditions. Alright, everyone. It looks like 
we've just been playing games up until now. Let's see how we do against another 
cloak-ship." Life or death. Her true test, it seemed.

	This would stretch them all to the breaking point, with a damaged ship and 
an exhausted, wounded crew. But they were the best. She felt it now, she knew 
it. She couldn't allow the location of the wormhole to be revealed.

	She would take on the Defiant, and she would win, because she had to. For 
duty, but most of all, because to lose, would mean she had failed. Not only 
herself, but her crew. And she would not let herself do that. There was only 
victory or death, now, and Elise Kalar-Leben was not suicidal.    


	The Long Patrol: Chapter Nine.

	"Cat and Cat in the Deepest Black."

	FSC-956, Bridge.

	"Proceeding on course sixty degrees starboard from heading to system 
primary, bow down on heading of minus thirty degrees from level with galactic 
plain. Maintaining one half percent acceleration," came the report from the 
helmsman. It had been that course for the past seven minutes.

	"Torpedo officer; report on torpedo loadout of all tubes," Elise said, 
calmly. Her steward came forward silently with a mug of kaff and she took it 
without thinking, drinking heavily. She'd already been awake a long time. This 
was not helping.

	"Tube one, five torpedoes expended. Tube two, four torpedoes. Tubes three, 
four, and five, three torpedoes. Tubes six, seven, and eight, two torpedoes. 
Each concussion missile tube has four concussion missiles expended." Mystrela 
reported, calmly.

	Elise nodded, did the mental work. Each tube had seventy-two torpedoes. 
Each of the two concussion missile launcher had two hundred concussion missiles. 
She had been conserving torpedoes earlier; With shields nonfunctional, her ship 
damaged, she could no longer afford to do so.

	The Defiant was somewhere out there. She took a heavy gulp of her kaff, 
and then another, as she thought, in the dim red lighting of the bridge, as the 
ship navigated slowly through the Bajoran system. The Suzuya would be out of 
standard Federation sensor range soon enough. The problem was that the Defiant 
had her heading. The Defiant couldn't transmit that information........ Well, it 
could, but to do so would mean instant death. Likewise, to engage warp to pursue 
the Suzuya would mean instant death.

	So the opposing Captain was not suicidal, either. Another drink from the 
mug. The ultimate of waiting games, indeed. The enemy was out there. Where would 
Defiant be heading... It was a tough question.

	AMRE had one major benefit; It lessened the amount of drive plasma needed 
to accelerate. The FSC-956 was a greyhound, but at those speeds she spewed 
massive drive tails. Even with baffles and three cloaks, it wasn't enough. 
Defiant, however, with one cloak, and no baffles, could accelerate faster, 
safely.. From that form of detection.

	But AMRE also produced subspace distortions, like any subspace equipment 
did. 'Reactor Noises' was really a reference to when the reactor was powering 
subspace devices, or, if very sensitively heard, the disturbances in the 
subspace radio frequencies produced by nearby dilithium, common in Federation 
reactors. That meant, of course, that it was easier to detect a Federation ship 
by the distortions it made, passively.

	It was easier to detect an Imperial cloak-ship by it's engine plasma. But 
would the Federationers know that? No... Elise made her decision, then. They'd 
be listening for subspace distortions as well.  What if I give them more than 
one? The question popped into her mind, and she smiled. Distance was everything 
in passive sensor usage, and the Defiant had last been sighted over eighteen 
million kilometers away.

	She could test the mind of the enemy commander and get her ship in a 
position for an assault at the same time, she realized. Warp drive was the key 
to that, it could be done. Another gulp from the mug. She'd probably burned her 
throat numb over the years, she thought, idly. Elise stood, and headed over to 
the sensor banks.  USS Defiant, Bridge.

	"Can't we get a visual?" Commander Wilkens asked quietly. "Negative, sir, 
not while maintaining cloak. We barely have enough power to keep the Quantum 
torpedo launchers active as it is, and visual passive sensors are the most 
draining, especially under cloak.. Takes a lot of computer power to put the 
image together, sir.." He nodded, waving a hand a bit. "I know, I know.."

	"Captain," The operations officer spoke up, "why are we maintaining a 
course towards Deep Space Nine's, well, remnants? They must have left that area 
already.. They're not going to be there, sir." Wilkens nodded again. "But we 
have a heading on the Suzuya. And they know it. They can't let us get out of 
here alive now that we do. I suspect it's heading back towards their base or 
whatever. Eventually, they'll have to hunt us down. That commander out there 
can't wait forever. We'll power down in Deep Space Nine's wreckage.. The 
radiation and plasma will shield us. When they finally start active scanning.. 
They're dead."

	"Sir.. What if they detect us first?" Wilkens looked to the Ops officer. 
"That's about equal likelihood as us detecting them first, this way, at these 
ranges. Nothing we can do except maintain course and keep our electronic 'ears' 
nice and open... And maybe, just maybe, we'll hear them, or they'll hear us. The 
problem is.. The moment we fire, they have our location. Not with them."

	"Helm," he said a moment later, "You still got that evasive pattern locked 
in for as soon as we fire torpedoes? One for fore, one for aft, and one for 
both?" A sharp nod. "Touch of a pad and it's implemented, sir."

	Burke nodded silently, and looked around his bridge. This could take a 
long time, in uncomfortable conditions as the energy on the ship was drained for 
things more important than life support.... But it was the only chance he had of 
completing his mission and keeping his crew alive. To kill the enemy.

	"Remember. They don't have shields, either. Weapons, set the torpedoes to 
programmed burst if they don't impact the target at it's predicted point on 
their runs; That's a tough ship out there, but without shields, even near misses 
from Quantums could damage it. Say.. One point five seconds after missing the 
predicted impact point." A sharp nod from the weapons officer, who tapped it in 
on his control interface. "Understood, sir. Torpedoes set."

	"Maintain course and acceleration," he said, softly. "And maintain red 
alert. We could be under fire at any second. Remember that. This is the most 
intense combat situation we've ever been in.. Even without a single enemy ship 
in sight." There were nods and some murmurs all about.

	FSC-956, Bridge.

	She had stood there, for a brief while, drinking her kaff, studying the 
readouts, before she now addressed Lieutenant Nevarr. "Lieutenant.. Extrapolate 
the location of the Defiant based on one-tenth impulse acceleration from the 
moment we lost contact." There was a wordless reply; The massive sphere came up. 
It covered a lot of space. "Its the best we can do, Captain."

	"Yes, yes indeed... Show our location in correlation with that sphere." A 
dot appeared on the three-dimensional display. "Astrogator," she ordered, "come 
here." The man left his station, another moving to take it, as he came over to 
the readout, looking at it with the other lieutenant and Elise.

	"Lieutenant Nevarr, replace the sphere with one point, representing where 
the ship would be... Defiant, that is, if it were headed for Deep Space Nine's 
wreckage. And a second.. For if it was headed towards Bajor."

	"Very well, Captain," and with that, a few instructions were entered into 
the computer. The sphere was replaced with two flashing dots.

	"Astrogator," Elise said, calmly, "Plot three courses; One, to a point 
equidistant between these two points, and then twenty-thousand kilometers back 
from that point. One course, mind you," She drew in a breath.

	"The second course will be to twenty-thousand kilometers to the port of 
the possible heading towards Deep Space Nine, and five thousand kilometers aft 
of it, crossing it's path ahead of it. Their port, mind you, not ours. The third 
will be the same distances from the second of the two possible contacts, but to 
their starboard, not to their port. All these courses will be for warp jumps. Do 
you understand?"

	"Yes, Captain. I'll do it at once." Elise nodded. "Remember to have the 
courses continuously take into account changes in our own position and the 
positions of the two possible contacts. When you are done, feed courses two and 
three to the Torpedo Officer's computer, and course one to the helmsman's 
computer." That got her an odd look, but he nodded once more. "Aye aye, 
Captain."

	Elise took a long drink from the mug of kaff. "Lieutenant Nevarr... Make 
sure your operators concentrate on plasma, on subspace distortions, as hard as 
they can.. When the time is right. It will be, soon." With that, she headed back 
to her command chair, slowly settling into it, letting her gaze sweep around the 
bridge.

	"Captain, the courses have been plotted and provided," came the word from 
the Astrogator not to long later. It was around the same time Mystrela and the 
Helmsman were getting odd looks. "Very well. Thank you. Helm, Torpedo Officer, 
do you have your tracks?"

	"Aye, Captain," Mystrela said, simply. "Yes, Captain, but might I remind 
you.." Elise held up a gloved hand. "I know that using the warp drive makes us 
detectable, especially at a maximum speed burst. But they can't focus in 
precisely.. Especially with our warp fields. And they're going to have three 
choices."

	"Torpedo officer, prepare tubes seven and eight for firing. Warp burst 
runs to designated coordinates at Warp five for port torpedo, Warp four for 
starboard torpedo. Once burst runs are completed, instruct the torpedoes to go 
silent, and then home in on the coordinates Lieutenant Nevarr will provide, at 
which time they are to initiative active homing, sublight."

	"When you have fired the torpedoes, immediately reload the tubes, make 
sure all eight are ready then, standard settings."

	Elise looked to the sensor officer. "Feed her the coordinates." Then, to 
the helmsman. "Prepare us a warp six burst right along to that point. Stop all 
acceleration and line us up for it."

	Then, she keyed in the line to engineering. "Klif. How's the arm? " The 
engineer responded perhaps a bit to cheerfully; But the doctor had passed him as 
okay for duty. "Hurts like hell, Captain. What do you need?" She smiled faintly. 
"Warp speed."

	"Charging up the engines might give away our position..." Elise gulped 
down the last of the kaff. "I know, Klif. If it does.. Things get interesting. 
Do it slowly. Inform me when the engines are ready." There was a cough from the 
other end of the line. "Very well, Captain."

	"Course plotted in and ready," the helmsman reported, quietly. Elise took 
a breath, setting the mug aside. "Sensors, stand by. After this jump.. Strain." 
She waited. "Tubes seven and eight standing by to be fired with torpedoes set as 
ordered, Captain," Mystrela reported, calmly.

	Everything was in order here. In engineering, Klif was warming up the warp 
engines, slowly, hoping the power levels would not be detected. Everyone who 
knew about it was. Elise waited silently in her command chair. Waiting. Waiting. 
The cloaks held; The Defiant's passive sensors did not detect the build up.

	"Captain, Warp drive at your order." The voice came through the intercom. 
Klif's. Elise smiled. It was time to begin. She flicked open the the general 
shipwide com. "All hands, this is the Captain. Stand by for possible damage."

	And then she looked forward, into nothing but the bridge. But she trusted 
her men, her eyes, or, more properly, her ears, as they were, now. She was the 
nerve center of a ship that might as well be a living entity.

	"Torpedo officer.. Launch torpedoes seven and eight!" Mystrela pressed 
down on both the firing studs simultaneously. "Torpedoes away!"

	"Helm.. Initiate course..... Warp six!"

	"Warp six, plotted course, aye!"

	As the torpedoes cleared the tubes and activated their warp drives, the 
FSC-956 leapt into warp on it's burst, as well.

	USS Defiant.

	"Three Warp Signatures! Three high warp signatures.. Each one is 
different.. Varying courses!" Burke looked to the Operations officer, stunned. 
"Tactical plot, now!" The viewscreen came on with an image on a grid of the 
three courses and their destinations. He saw the two closest to his ship...

	"Damnit. Only one is real.." A feint. One was definitely a feint.. The 
enemy Commander was thinking the same way he was.. But how much. He'd be 
conservative. The one towards Bajor was a feint.

	"Weapons.. Fire double-loads at the two closest contacts, all tubes, split 
fire! Helm.. Initiate evasive pattern!"

	The Defiant had it's torpedo tubes loaded with two Quantum torpedoes each, 
stuffed into the tubes and fired simultaneously to each other. It was risky, but 
the so called 'Double Barrel' approach could be used with the older single-shot 
launchers incapable of bust fire. That meant that four torpedoes were headed 
towards each target.

	As they cleared the tubes, the Defiant initiated a series of violent 
though comparatively slow-accelerating evasive maneuvers.

	The one torpedo closed to the Defiant fired it's sublight engines and 
accelerated to intercept. The other went to warp to close the gap again and then 
close to final homing.

	Four quantum torpedoes raced harmlessly into deep space. Four homed in on 
the FSC-956's position.

	FSC-956.

	"Torpedoes detected! Torpedoes detected! Four homing in on course two... 
Four heading for us!" The crewman manning the active-detection sensors in the 
bank cried out the deadly warning.

	"Helm, turn us into the path of the torpedoes.. Directly towards them.. No 
more than two hundred meters of variation! All ahead flank acceleration!" The 
FSC-956 pivoted in that direction, the massive Ion engines accelerating 
massively, racing in towards the torpedoes.

	Elise knew that the torpedoes would be homing based on the thrusters of 
her ship. The engine plasma would be directly behind them; The cloaks of the 
FSC-956 would mask it from the Quantums until it was to late.

	Another of the sensor officers began the countdown. "Six seconds until 
pointblank range.. Four.. Three... Two.... One....." Elise's hands gripped the 
armrests of her chair.

	The Quantum torpedoes were precision weapons following a precise course 
and orders. Even at maximum acceleration, roughly seven seconds did not get them 
far from their original location, the target of the Quantums.

	The torpedoes passed roughly someone hundred and fifty meters below the 
FSC-956. It was then that their sensors detected the plasma trail, and following 
programming, banked up to intercept. However, at that distance and velocity, it 
was impossible for the torpedoes to turn into the plasma trail; They arced up 
above the FSC-956.

	"Helm! Port thrusters, continuous burn, ten percent power. Main engines 
off!" The orders were responded to instantly. The result was a relatively low-
power stream of ions, easily lost in the solar wind, from the port thrusters, as 
the main engines were cut off, shoving the FSC-956, changing direction and 
position, albeit slowly.

	However, it took time for the torpedoes to complete their turns; To lock 
onto the plasma trail. Still, they did. They homed in, following it. It cut out 
abruptly. The torpedoes, following preprogrammed instructions, followed along 
the trail until the estimated position of the ship at the estimated velocity 
from when the engines had been cut.

	The target was not there. The torpedoes continued on for another 1.5 
seconds and then detonated as programmed.

	The explosions happened portside forward to the FSC-956; The four 
torpedoes created a shockwave that hit the ship. Some of the outer hull armour 
melted, as on the bridge, they tilted to the starboard and down. It was not a 
major shock, just a heeling of the ship, and they all stayed at their positions, 
the personnel with controls that demanded they remain standing grabbing onto the 
straps hanging from the ceiling of the bridge.

	The damage was essentially none. Despite the lack of shields, they had 
ridden out the near-misses.  USS Defiant.

	"Torpedoes homing! Incoming from both port and starboard contact 
directions.. Point blank!" Burke reacted in instants. "Evasive.. One tenth! Keep 
them guessing!"

	The Defiant heeled over as the torpedoes raced past her position, but 
hundreds of kilometers away, swinging around and homing again, trying to sniff 
up the trail.

	He was thinking. There weren't two ships... One torpedo had to make a warp 
jump... Was the enemy to Port, then? No.. The enemy, he realized, was directly 
astern. They had to be. These were drones... The decoys, now pursuing 
attacks....

	"They've missed us again, sir!" the helmsman cried. The torpedoes were 
trying to home in, but didn't have enough, even with active sensors lashing the 
Defiant, to locate her at one tenth impulse.

	The torpedoes finally ran out of power, using the last of it to swing on 
their best-guess trajectories and detonate, cones of fusion energy lancing out.

	The Defiant shook and rolled from the force of the nearby explosions, but 
didn't catch the cones full on, tumbling away as she did... "Stabilize! 
Stabilize!" cried Commander Wilkens.

	FSC-956, Bridge.

	"We have them! Torpedo detonations have bracketed target.. Definite loss 
of energy from tubes due to cloak masking!" yelled Lieutenant Nevarr, the 
excitement after the waiting getting the better of him.

	"Feed coordinates to Torpedo Officer," Elise ordered in a crisp voice. A 
moment later. "Torpedo officer, fire tubes one through eight as soon as you have 
the coordinates."

	"Helm, stand by for course change fifteen degrees port, increasing 
acceleration to five percent on my mark." Elise waited as the last words were 
acknowledged. It seemed like eternity; It was about two seconds. Mystrela 
punched down on firing stud after firing stud, firing the torpedoes from tubes 
one and five, then two and six, then three and seven, then four and eight, a 
ripple of twos at the Defiant.

	"Torpedoes away!" announced the young industrialist's daughter. Elise 
clenched her fist. "Helm! Initiate course change!"  USS Defiant.

	"Torpedoes homing.. Eight this time, sir, directly astern and closing 
fast! I think they're on us," the Ops officer added.

	"Weapons... Fire aft torpedoes at estimated launch point of those 
incoming... Now!" The order was obeyed, immediately, as four Quantum torpedoes 
were spit out towards the location of the FSC-956.

	"Helm.. Swing us around. Bring our bow to bear... And accelerate ahead 
full!" The order was a confusing one.. "Aye, sir, but," Burke cut him off. "Do 
it!"

	The Defiant swung, engines accelerating and bringing her quickly to a dead 
stop when used at maximum acceleration, heading back towards the enemy 
torpedoes.

	"Weapons.. Fire forward torpedoes.. Proximity burst, target, incoming 
enemy torpedoes!" The orders were entered swiftly; They had no visual, just the 
tactical display, as the numbers sped by faster and faster showing the 
decreasing range. "Torpedoes fired, Captain," announced the weapons officer.

	"Helm, swing us around again.. Maximum de-acceleration! Then pivot five 
degrees up on the bow and twenty degrees to starboard and go to one tenth 
impulse.. Sustain for twenty seconds, then cut engines.. On my mark..." The 
helmsman was nearly overloaded trying to enter the commands on his board, but he 
got it.. "Ready, sir."

	The Defiant's second volley of four Quantum Torpedoes exploded among the 
eight incoming Torpedoes homing towards it; Mutual annihilation, a massive 
explosive cloud of radiation and some plasma, but mostly burning hard radiation. 
They lit up the passive sensors and left the temporarily useless along that 
vector.. For both ships.

	As soon as Commander Wilkens had seen the explosion on the tactical plot, 
he gave the order. "Helm, begin vector and acceleration changes as ordered!" The 
helmsman just tapped one button, initiating the preprogrammed sequence, as the 
Defiant swung around again, firing engines until she came to a dead stop, then 
swung to starboard and fired her main engines again.

	FSC-956.

	"Torpedoes continuing to home in on our last position, Captain," Nevarr 
reported, cooler, now.

	"Helm! Cut engines." A pause. "Engines cut, sir!'

	Elise leaned back, and looked at her chrono. One.. Two... Three... Four...

	"Captain! Massive explosions from our torpedoes.. And possible second 
enemy salvo... Radiation backwash overloading passive sensors..." Nevarr 
reported. "Nothing clear. No debris."

	"Geralt!" she cursed, then remembered.. A bit later, but better. "Helm, 
five percent power on starboard thrusters for three seconds!"  "Aye aye, sir!" 
As the voices chorused across the bridge, Nevarr looked to her in confusion; So 
did Mystrela. She looked towards both of them. "They used their own torpedoes to 
detonate ours. Cunning bastard."

	Behind them, the four quantums attempting to home had lost any chance of 
it, period; They couldn't discern the initial course change drive tail, let 
alone after it had cut out and the minor thrusters had briefly been used.

	Reaching estimated positions, they detonated one point five seconds later, 
like the last group aimed at the FSC-956, uselessly, in flares that didn't even 
singe the hull, let alone do any damage.

	"Having a hard time, sir," the Chief Petty Officer on the sensors was 
reporting to Nevarr, but Elise could overhear it, and Nevarr knew. "But... Yes, 
definitely four explosions well astern. The enemy incoming, sir."

	Nevarr turned to Elise and gave the formal report. "Enemy incoming 
detonating well clear, sir." Elise nodded once in acknowledgment.

	"Very well. Listen for traces of them.. Anything you can get on a fix. No 
active sensors." Nevarr nodded sharply. "Aye, Captain."

	The report came several minutes later, and was exactly what Elise had 
expected. "I'm sorry, Captain, but we've lost them. In the radiation, and the 
time they've had.. Not even a best guess."

	"Very well." Elise stood slowly. "Helm, let us drift. Officer of the 
watch.. Send all crew except sensor operators to relaxed stations." The 
reference meaning that the crew had to stay at Action Stations, General 
Quarters, but could relax at those stations.

	"Aye, Captain, Relaxed Stations, exception to sensor officers," was the 
reply. A moment later, another order was added. "Officer of the Watch, you have 
the bridge for the moment."

	"Very well, Captain. I have the bridge." With that, Elise headed off the 
bridge. The Kaff, of course, had it's downsides. Oh well. The entire gods-damned 
navy ran on the stuff. Couldn't have a functioning warship with a captain who 
was awake.

	In the Bajor system, the two ships drifted, radiation emissions as minimal 
as possible, waiting for the other to make the first mistake... Or to find a way 
to negate the enemy's advantage first. It was the most deadly of games, and yet, 
so far, neither opponent had been more than scratched. Then again, death always 
came with abrupt suddenness in deep space.    


	The Long Patrol: Chapter Ten.

	"Breaking the Balance."  

	USS Defiant, Bridge.

	"Sir, we've lost contact with the Suzuya's warp signature.. It's beyond 
range," The operations officer reported, quietly. Burke nodded. He wondered what 
was onboard the Suzuya. A Starfleet ship.. A prize of war. It was a maddening 
thought. And that woman out there had done it.

	"Still no contact with the enemy?" He asked, teresely. The response was 
quiet, and what he expected. "No, sir." Commander Burke Wilkens nodded... 
Sighed, and then brought up one of the lessons he had been reading. The advice.  
FSC-956, Bridge.

	Elise was back on her bridge. The kaff wasn't doing much good. She was 
tired. Exhausted, more like it. The crew, except the sensor crew, was at relaxed 
duty stations... All they needed now were their ears.

	Well, they needed those to function. "Sensors, call your replacements. 
Take a three hour break from stations and report back after that to re-take your 
posts." The order was acknowledged, and after that, Elise, following her own 
order, stretched out in the padded leather command chair, and went into a 
restless, nervous sleep.   USS Defiant, Bridge, Three hours later.

	"Sir," The helm officer began, quietly. "We've steered fourty degrees 
beyond a half-circle, as ordered, and we're now straightening on the pre-ordered 
course.." Burke looked up, and nodded, as he rubbed at his jaw.

	"Alright. Hold this course and acceleration for now.. Negative that. Cut 
acceleration. Let us drift." Then his eyes cast to the operations officer. "Aye, 
sir... Acceleration cut." The Ops officer looked back to him. "Nothing yet, 
sir."

	Commander Wilkens just nodded. He should stop asking the question. Or even 
looking like he was going to. How long could this go on? Based on what he had 
read, perhaps much longer. Perhaps not.

	FSC-956.

	In the Sickbay of this ship, Doctor Julian Bashir worked. He worked on the 
enemy, but he didn't mind. It was different than the room where they'd set up 
the equipment stolen from Deep Space Nine; There he'd worked to treat the 
radiation wounds to this Commander Elise Kalar-Leben's crew. To his surprise, 
they were completely human, these vicious attackers from the unknown.

	In a way, it didn't surprise him at all, though. With the men cured, and 
now only rest needed, he had been set about working on casualties. The time of 
an apparent battle was long past; But he wondered at the silence and nervousness 
of the ship. He was told no information, of course. Julian wondered if the 
Defiant still existed.

	He worked, of course, not just for the sake of the Hippocratic Oath, but 
also for himself.. And for Ezri. Julian didn't want to comprehend what they 
might do to her if he didn't cooperate, even though no threats had been made.

	Julian was, after all, only healing the sick. They were all oddly 
greatful, not something he was used to, especially from wounded Jem'Hadar, but 
those had been captured. They called him doctor, treated him with respect. There 
were a fair number of robots that were also working here, one had shown him how 
to use the unfamiliar equipment. They were sentient, he guessed, but little more 
than slaves.

	What kind of brutal culture is this? That was what he wondered as he 
worked. Finally, he had a break; The injuries from the attack on Deep Space Nine 
now needed only monitoring. It had been hours.

	He had two guards as he sat and rested; He didn't know where Ezri was, he 
was to frightened to ask, really. And then a man came, wearing a lieutenant's 
uniform, young, whom the guards saluted and laughed to. The man smiled 
nervously.

	"Corro," one of the guards said, "Come to interview the prisoner of war 
we've got?" The young lieutenant smiled and nodded. Julian tensed... An 
Interrogator?

	Corro, though, was not his name. The Lieutenant looked to Julian. Of 
course, the Universal Translators had not been confiscated. "So, ah, Doctor 
Bashir, is it, what's it like to live in a Communist Police State?" Bashir 
blinked.

	"Communist Police State? What are you talking..." Genetic engineering had 
it's highlights. "The UFP isn't a Communist Police State. It's a Socialist 
Democracy." The lieutenant frowned a bit, and made some notes on a padd.

	Bashir was a bit worried; He decided to get bold, though. "What are you, 
and what's your name?" The other man, though, seemed willing to answer. 
"Lieutenant Varish Liebau, Doctor. Imperial War Correspondent."

	Well, that one threw Bashir for a loop. He'd thought of this menacing 
Galactic Empire as a doomsday sort of nightmare organization, after watching the 
way they fought, their ship. Like the Romulans. He hadn't expected them to have 
War Correspondents, of all things. It reminded him of Jake Sisko, in an odd way.

	"Well, if you want to talk with me, I want to see Ezri." Varish blinked a 
few times. "Ezri?"

	"The woman who was taken onboard with me... The Counselor. We're, well.." 
Varish smiled abruptly. "I understand. I don't have much pull around here, 
but... I am an officer." He looked to the guards. "Come on, escort this man. 
We're track down the other prisoner for him, and then I'll get a proper 
review.."

	"I'm not sure if we're supposed to do that, sir." The reply was quick. "I 
can't do my duty without an interview of some POWs, and the man's request isn't 
unreasonable. Come on.... I am a lieutenant, you know." That ended the 
discussion.

	On the bridge of the FSC-956, Elise still slept. The new sensor crew was 
quietly being replaced by the old, better trained and experienced members. By 
general consensus,  nobody woke the Captain. Nothing had happened yet, after 
all.

	USS Defiant.

	"Captain," came the Chief Engineer's voice. She shouldn't have been on the 
Bridge. Burke turned to look at her. "Yeah, what?" A pause. "I've been reviewing 
what we've detected so far about that ship's sensors.. And our own 
capabilities."

	"Okay.. So?" She took a deep breath. "I think I have a way to run active 
sensors without them homing in on us." Commander Wilkens blinked, and blinked 
again. "Alright, tell it to me."

	"One milisecond in duration tachyon pulses eminated in expanding sphere, 
full scan, instead of in a continuous sweep around the ship. As long as there 
are no more than two pulses every minute, they won't be able to home in on us 
well enough for a successful torpedo attack."

	"How would we pick the pulses up?" That answer was prompt. "Returns from 
them on our own passive sensors. We'd have to cut power a bit to run them.. 
It'll get chilly in here.. But I can have it ready with some time."

	"And you're sure they can't home in on us while we use it?" The chief 
engineer hesitated. "Not one hundred percent. But close enough." Burke nodded 
once. "I'll take that. Get to work, and inform me when it's ready."  "I'm on it, 
Captain." She turned, and swiftly headed from the bridge.

	FSC-956, Bridge, Some time later.

	"Captain.... We're detecting something unusual!" Elise snapped awake at a 
moment's notice, rubbing her eyes with gloved hands, looking about. Everyone was 
at their places again.. More than three hours. Actually, she checked. She'd 
slept nearly four.

	Her steward was on hand, somehow, she wondered if he might be psychic, 
with a mug of kaff as she stood, stretching. "What have you got, Lieutenant 
Nevarr?" A pause. "I didn't realize what it was the first time, but the 
second...."  "What is it." He looked to Elise. "Tachyon sensors. Two millisecond 
duration pulses every minute. The first time, it was dismissed as just... Random 
energy. The second time..." Elise nodded, gulping down the hot kaff as she came 
over to the sensor banks.

	"Can you home in on it?" Nevarr shook his head. "No, Captain. Not to any 
great degree, or else.." Elise nodded. "How close?"

	Nevarr tapped in a few commands, and an area of space came up, with a 
grid-sphere and a scale. "Ten thousand kilometer radius. Somewhere in that ten 
thousand kilometer radius."

	"Geralt," Elise muttered, softly, this time. "Alright. Keep trying to pin 
it down.. We can't pepper a sphere twenty-thousand kilometers in diameter with 
torpedoes and sanely hope for a hit."

	She headed back towards her command chair. "But they might well detect 
us..." A pause. "Officer of the watch.. Sound the battle klaxon and send the 
crew back to Action Stations!" She took another gulp of the kaff.

	Any tiredness in her body was leached out by the shrill whoop of the 
klaxon signaling the return to Action Stations. The FSC-956 was once again in 
peril.

	USS Defiant, Bridge.

	"Sir! We've got a target!" Commander Wilkens looked up in his chair. "Can 
you confirm? How good is the lock?"

	"Confirmed, but not very good... We can't quite focus in enough. But close 
enough to try for a shot, sir." Burke nodded, rubbing his hands together. "If 
you say so. We'll go for it. Feed the data to weapons. Tactical, stand by to 
fire as soon as you have it. Helm, prepare evasive pattern."

	"Data received.. Forward torpedoes ready, sir," the tactical officer 
reported, followed a moment later, "Evasive pattern laid in, sir."

	Wilkens looked to the simple tactical display, and the small sphere 
flashing there. "Weapons... Fire!"

	"Torpedoes away!" came the resolute voice.  "Helm.. Commence evasive 
pattern!" As the Defiant evaded clear of her firing position, Wilkens prayed to 
any god that would listen that this, the tachyon sensor pulses, would finally 
give them the advantage.. And the win.  FSC-956.

	"Torpedoes incoming. Read four quantums.. Homing on our position! They're 
coming straight for our position, even through the cloak!" The CPO was 
experienced, calm, but that was nerve-wracking. Cloak was supposed to protect 
you.

	"Lieutenant Nevarr, how do you figure they home on us?" Elise asked 
abruptly, her eyes intent on the hologram now displayed forward. He thought 
fast. "The passive sensors on the torpedoes home on the returns from the tachyon 
pulses, most likely."

	"I concur," Elise said. "And that means their passives are less likely to 
be sensitive to drive plasma."

	"I concur as well," Nevarr responded. It sounded right. He didn't know 
anything else; He was groping into blind areas of sensor operations, literally.  
"Another two pings," the CPO reported.

	"Helm," Elise ordered, calmly.. Very quickly, but very calmly, for someone 
who was making a hazy educated guess. "Ahead one tenth of a percent power on all 
engines and all thrusters that can bear aft.. Now!"

	The FSC-956 very slowly accelerated forward, the plasma dispersed, weak, 
from it's acceleration. The torpedoes homing were homing slow; They had to, to 
get the Tachyon sensor returns. Like ones that had brought down a cloaked Bird 
of Prey decades ago over Khitomer, they twisted through space for their target.

	Still, Elise had given the order at the right time. The FSC-956 had 
started moving, accelerating, right after the tachyon returns had come back from 
her. That meant that the torpedoes were homing in on her last known course and 
speed. She was moving faster, now, a different course, and had almost a full 
minute in which to slowly build up speed.

	The torpedoes passed the FSC-956 without detecting the plasma, reaching 
the location where she should have been. They were beyond her; Even another two 
tachyon pulses wouldn't have helped them now. One and a half seconds later, the 
four torpedoes detonated.

	"Four torpedo explosions, Captain, Portside Aft," Lieutenant Nevarr 
reported, calmly. They'd evaded once again.

	"Excellent," Elise said, as she let out a low sigh, and took another drink 
of her kaff. "Next time... We find a way to shoot back. Try to find a pattern, 
sensors, to their movements. You must. Predict them, so we can hit them. Torpedo 
Officer, stand ready!"

	The voices in acknowledgment were as resolute as they had ever been. As 
resolute as they ever could be.  USS Defiant, Bridge.

	"Ops.. Why'd we miss?" Burke asked simply. He'd heard the report of the 
harmless detonations.

	"I can guess sir, that they moved between pulses.... We have to make more 
of the pulses. One burst of two, every two seconds, at least," the operations 
officer responded, coolly.

	"And then they can detect us," Burke spoke back. Tempers were getting 
frayed. "Detect, yes, but not hit, sir," the helmsman weighed in.

	"We can evade, maybe fire again if they fire... The sensors have to be 
able to detect their torpedoes, too," the helmsman finished. The Operations 
officer nodded in agreement.

	Burke sighed. "Very well. The next time you have them... Twin pulses every 
two seconds to help the torpedoes. Extrapolate, based on their avoidance, try to 
help the tachyon sensors... Get me a target."

	He settled back to wait. Mind awash.. He didn't like this, but he'd have 
to trust the Defiant's maneuverability. He knew the enemy would fire back.. But 
if they didn't outguess him, or they didn't have the capability to match all the 
probables... He could do it.

	Four quantum torpedoes on an unshielded ship, however well armoured... 
Coming in simultaneously. That would be sure to cripple it, he thought.

	It was about eight silent, tense minutes of waiting. And then the word 
came through. The Operations officer virtually cried out with the pride of it. 
"Sir... I've got her again!"

	"Weapons, stand by to fire. Helm, ready your evasive pattern. Ops, on my 
mark, switch to your two-second interval pattern for the tachyon pulses." The 
responses chorused across the bridge; It was starting to sound like a Starfleet 
ship in combat, once again.

	Less than a minute later, all was in readiness. It was time. "Weapons... 
Fire! Helm, Ops... Commence!"

	FSC-956.

	"Captain," Lieutenant Nevarr reported. "I think we've established some 
kind of pattern for their evasives.."

	"Very well, Lieutenant. Let's hope we have a chance to..." She trailed off 
as the CPO gave out the report. "Torpedoes incoming.. Four!"

	And then a junior sensor operator reported fouler news. "Enemy ship has 
gone to two-second interval between pulses! I repeat, two second interval 
between pulses!"

	"Torpedoes closing with our position!" So was the next report. Elise 
tensed.

	She slammed down on the button to open the channel to engineering. 
"Klif... Activate the flushing protocols on the thrusters and engines.. Now! And 
transfer every erg of power to them!" She didn't have time for the response. "Do 
it!"

	Then she looked to the helmsman. "All ahead, emergency flank, everything, 
pull at the stops, main engines and thrusters, for precisely one-half second!" 
The helmsman brought everything to ready.

	"Torpedoes closing! Torpedoes closing!"

	"Captain, we're ready," came Klif's confused voice. Elise grinned. "Helm, 
Ahead Flank!"

	For one half of a second, the awesome engines of the FSC-956, aided by 
every thruster that could bear, fired aft, accelerating the ship impressively 
before cutting out. With the flushing protocols activated, they were very plasma 
hungry while being fired. It was very bad for the engines, as well, but so was 
getting it.

	The simple fact was that Tachyon Sensors were designed to detect cloaked 
matter and energy. However, the difference between the detection of cloaked 
matter/energy and relatively dispersed plasma, which is energized matter, is a 
very fine one, indeed, at least to these short bursts of sensors.

	The passive sensors on the Quantum Torpedoes had two targets to choose 
from, both identical to their homing systems. They chose the wrong one.

	"Torpedoes decoyed by plasma cloud!" The CPO shouted. "Coming about, 
attempting to acquire..."

	Elise leaned back, and smiled dangerously. "Torpedo officer, do you have a 
lock on the source of those Tachyons?" Mystrela's voice was laced with deadly 
pride. "Aye, Captain. All eight torpedoes show good solutions."  "Return the 
favour! Fire tubes one through eight!" And then, to helm. "Thrust again.. One 
tenth of a percent, all engines and thrusters." Klif had already disengaged the 
flushing protocols.

	The FSC-956 was already traveling at a good clip; It was slowly added to. 
The torpedoes came around, increasing speed, new target found.

	USS Defiant.

	"We've got the target again.. And their new heading!" Wilkens was smiling. 
"Fire aft torpedoes! High-speed homing settings. Helm, evasive."

	From the Defiant, another four torpedoes came, racing in towards the FSC-
956.

	And then the Tachyon sensors detected them. "Incoming torpedoes.. Eight.. 
They're homing in on us fast!" The ops officer cried.

	Wilkens wanted to gut the officer. "Secure from Tachyon Sensor pulses 
immedietly! Helm.. Another evasive pattern! Now!"

	He held on, and waited.

	FSC-956.

	Without active tachyon sensors to aid them, the Quantum Torpedoes homing 
in on the FSC-956 lost their ship. They couldn't tell it's movement precisely, 
nor heading. There wasn't enough plasma, there wasn't enough data.

	The torpedoes missed. Barely. One and a half seconds later, they went off. 
Slow-homing, they were still very close to the FSC-956.

	The explosions were close enough to rock the ship slightly, everyone 
sweating, now, tensely. It was like the first near-miss; Singed, but nothing 
more.

	"Other torpedoes detected from the Defiant.. Four more! Ours are still 
homing.." Elise nodded once. And then the dread gripped her.

	The four incoming detected the non-perfect shape of the detonations of the 
first four. They were very close in, already, and adjusted course.

	Three of them missed, two low, one high. The fourth struck the FSC-956 
amidships, slightly above the modular section holding her torpedo bays.

	The explosion was abruptly, slamming the FSC-956 sideways to port at 
70m/s, the explosion gouging a crater in the armour, penetrating, opening 
several compartments to vacuum.

	The blast doors slammed down, one crushing a man into three; Two pieces 
and the smashed bits under the door, as they closed to safe the ship, and 
sacrifice the unfortunates on the wrong side, vented the vacuum, those who 
survived the explosion.

	Fires broke out from secondary damage, as, on the bridge, the ship heeled 
slightly up and to the port, the inertial dampers briefly loosing control, the 
series of conflicting forces on the vessel sending some personnel flying, others 
grabbing onto the straps or hanging into their seats like Elise, as the kaff mug 
rolled on the floor.

	A few did, actually. She ignored the mess. There were far, far more 
important things. "Damage report, now!"  USS Defiant.

	The torpedoes had homed in towards their target, following the course 
towards the last position of the Tachyon pulses. From there, the eight spread, 
homing on patterns, guesses, really, based on the Defiant's earlier movement.

	The Defiant desperately evaded, the torpedoes swinging as their fuel, from 
their unstable power sources, ran lower and lower, tracking, lashing with active 
sensors.

	Finally, the torpedoes began to run out of fuel and detonate. The Defiant 
shook mightily with a near miss from the cone of fusion energy of one.

	But the last of the eight torpedoes found the hot plasma trail of the 
Defiant.

	"INCOMING!" screamed the Ops officer, as it was realized that the torpedo 
had locked on.

	That torpedo, though, like it's brethren, ran out of power. It still had 
an optimal shot, and detonated, slightly below the Defiant, directly astern.

	The cone of energy slammed into the ventral/stern area at a relatively 
close range.

	The awesome explosion sent personnel flying from their chairs as panels 
exploded from the plasma conduits, debris showering the bridge as the ship 
tumbled end over end, out of control, under Commander Wilkens himself reach the 
helm, tapping in the commands to stabilize, as the alert and warning sirens 
wailed and the helmsman and the others staggered to their feet.  FSC-956.

	"Damage limited to personnel and storage areas, mostly, Captain, but the 
torpedo hit penetrated through the armour nearly to the torpedo mags, Captain," 
the Damage Control officer reported, as soon as he had a chance from the chaos 
he was trying to coordinate.

	"Are the Torpedo Magazines compromised!?" Elise asked, very sharply. It 
was the worst possible thing if they were...

	"Negative, negative. They're intact. It came damned close, but they're 
intact. We're directing teams to the area now, Captain."

	"Captain, sensors indicates we may have gotten a hit on the Defiant, but 
we're unsure," Nevarr reported, almost before the DCO could finish. Elise looked 
up. "Any idea of the extent of the damage inflicted on her?"

	"None. We don't even know for sure if it was a hit or not." A nod from 
Elise. "Very well. Carry on."

	"Captain, course and acceleration stabilized," the helmsman reported. 
Elise was silent. She knew what was going on below decks.

	There, indeed, the firemen in their vacuum suits fought the fires, the 
suits that gleamed silver, with the oxygen masks and tanks, directing hoses of 
fire-retardant foam against the flames, as corpsmen hauled away the wounded, and 
the dead, from the areas that were burning.

	In other areas, Damage Control parties did the same, as they brought cans 
of sealant to deal with micro-fractures in the hull leaking out air into space, 
and larger ones, beams and pieces of durasteel, to shore up blast-doors weakened 
by the explosion, to prevent further violent outgassings of atmosphere, to keep 
the ship from losing more sections.

	Steadily, they gained control of the damage, as the casualties were 
brought to the medical bays. Bashir, still staggered from the impacts, was led 
away to help, once again, to carry on that grim task of accounting the butcher's 
bill.

	On the bridge, Elise had made up her mind. There had to be a way. Two 
would play this game. She keyed the button to the channel to engineering. "Klif, 
this is the Captain. How are you holding down there?" A pause. "To many damned 
bumps, Captain, but we're holding our own. What do you want?"

	"Find a way for us to transmit tachyon pulses like they're doing. Fast."

	Then she looked around the bridge slowly. "We can't let them detect us 
again. Shut down everything you can. Emergency, maximum silence protocols. 
Energy conservation protocols. Everything you can turn off, do it. We have to be 
nothing, nothing at all, until we can counter them."  Elise continued. "Sensors, 
retract the mast below the third cloak. It might be what they're picking up on, 
mostly. Our cloak might fully protect us with the mast lowered." Nevarr looked 
to her. "We'll be blind, deaf, and dumb until we raise it again, Captain." A 
sharp nod. "I know. But we have to. Do it."

	USS Defiant, Bridge.

	"All weapons systems still operational, sir, but the shuttlebay is 
disabled, and both the impulse engines have damage. The ablative armour is also 
cracked in places... We have eight dead, sir, and nine wounded enough to be in 
sickbay. We're limited to one-half impulse, but otherwise, full combat 
capabilities."

	As Commander Wilkens heard the report, he could only nod. It had been a 
close call. To close. And the death toll.. Well.. That was to be expected. Damn. 
At least they knew they had the enemy.

	"Very well... Do we still have them?" That answer was quick enough, from 
the now subdued Operations Officer. "No, sir."

	"Then we wait. Same, nice, slow, undetectable tachyon sensor regimen.. 
We'll hunt them down. Steady, everyone. We can still win this. We've hit them, 
hurt them. Direct hit.. They only got a graze on us."

	The helmsman, though, muttered something that didn't sit well with 
Wilkens. "God help the ship that takes a direct hit.."

	FSC-956, Bridge.

	"Captain," the DCO began, "Damage Control Parties report that all damage 
has been fully contained. Damage estimates coming in shortly, as are casualty 
reports. No major systems compromised, no weapons mounts lost."

	Elise was standing, now, beside him, reviewing the reports as they came 
in. She just nodded once, in concentration, absorbed with thoughts. How she 
could have done better, a myriad of others, all pointless.

	She cleared her head, when she realized the intercom on her chair was 
shrilling. From engineering. She jogged down and slapped the button. "What do 
you have, Klif?"

	"We can modify the backup Hyperdrive to emit tachyon pulses just like 
theirs, Captain. I can have it done in twenty minutes."

	That was an easy enough calculation. "Can you modify it back if we 
survive?"

	"Yes," When Kliff said that, it got easier. No, it got obvious. "Do it."

	USS Defiant, Eighteen Minutes Later.

	 "Still nothing, sir.. Nothing at all. You don't suppose we left them dead 
in space with one torpedo hit, do you, sir?" The Ops officer was speculating. 
Hopes getting up. Unfourtunately, Wilkens knew better.

	"And their cloaks would still function? No. They're still out there. Keep 
scanning. Helm, maintain course."

	The Defiant moved on, slowly, through the darkness of space, two tachyon 
pulses, each a milisecond in length, coming in bursts, once a minute. Searching 
for their enemy. Their dead, in sickbay's morgue, in space, where their comrades 
from Deep Space Nine now drifted as pieces.

	And their enemy still lurked. But they had the advantage... Advantages are 
temporary things.

	FSC-956.

	Commander Kalar-Leben read silently through the reports. The lists of the 
dead, of the wounded, of the ones who's bodies had been atomized or blasted into 
space and hence were listed in the report as 'missing'. It was getting cold, the 
atmosphere controls down to minimum, the bridge utterly dark.

	They were blind, deaf, and dumb, by their own choosing, as they licked 
their wounds, and waited. The waiting was slowly driving Elise insane, she 
thought.

	Something for the bridge crew, now largely fifth wheels, to concentrate 
on. She started to sing, quietly.

	"Oh Empire, glorious Empire, protector of the motherland, guardian of the 
millennia of history, we salute you, we salute you with our service... Oh 
glorious galaxy, home to civilization. We protect you, in our service, we think 
of the gems of our worlds, coruscating in the night's sky. We shall die for 
thee, and we shall fight for thee. Oh Emperor, glorious Emperor, you have saved 
us from the perils of the dark, and so we serve you, and we fight for you, and 
at your command, our lives are but nothing, to save the Empire, the glorious 
Empire, protector of the motherland, glorious Empire...."

	As she finished the song, the song of hollow, half-truths, she smiled, 
bitterly, and wished for the coruscating jewels that were the stars of her home 
galaxy.

	Then she realized the bridge crew had been singing along with her. It 
filled her with pride; Not in the Empire, but in her crew. her men.. The best. 
They would not be beaten!

	It was then that her intercom to engineering came on, beeping. Her eyes 
widened. She tapped it on. "Go ahead, Klif." The response was one of a maniac 
unleashed. "Captain! You have your Tachyon sensors.. At your command, activated 
for twin millisecond pulses every minute!"

	Her Engineer might have been borderline, but she was always the huntress. 
The grin returned, and so did the strength. "Officer of the watch! Signal the 
ship... Return to standard cloak regimen! All hands are to prepare for Imminent 
Action!"

	"Aye, sir! Returning to standard cloak regimen, prepare for imminent 
action." He opened the shipwide com. "All hands, all hands, return to standard 
cloak regimen... Prepare for imminent action!"

	"Lieutenant Nevarr.. Raise the sensor mast to standard height!" The man 
grinned. "And shall we be looking for, Captain?" The grin was returned. "Returns 
from tachyon sensors, Lieutenant."

	"Torpedo Officer, are the tubes ready?" Mystrela took one sweeping look 
over her board. "Tubes one through eight loaded and ready, Captain."

	Elise leaned towards the armrest of her chair, and clenched a gloved fist. 
"Chief Engineer, activate the tachyon sensors!"

	The Correspondent was a silent watcher of all this, recording, from a 
position now to the far side of the bridge; Unobtrusive.

	The FSC-956 came alive once more, a deadly predator, again. She was still 
a hunter, and still led by the huntress.

	USS Defiant, Bridge, that same time.

	"Sir... I'm picking up something..... Damn..." The Ops officer muttered 
softly. Wilkens tensed. He didn't like that tone.

	"What is it?" A pause. A long one. "We're being pulsed. Tachyon sensors.. 
Two millisecond bursts every minute." The blood in Burke's veins ran cold.

	"Can you locate?"

	"Only within a sphere twenty thousand kilometers in diameter. No way to 
target.."

	A stiff nod. "Keep scanning with our own. Whoever finds the other 
first...."

	"I understand, sir."    


	The Long Patrol: Chapter Eleven.

	"Black Victory"  

	FSC-956, Bridge.

	Elise sat on her bridge, and waited. It was a slow and steady descent into 
hell. And now it had reached a point. They were fighting back. Well, they should 
be. It was once again a waiting game.. But one with a chance of working. Their 
tachyon sensors against the enemy's.

	Deadly game.. Deadly game, indeed. So far, she'd played it well, but had 
taken far more than her enemy. She couldn't tolerate that, she wouldn't tolerate 
that. "Sensors, any returns, yet?" A pause.

	"Could be, Captain. Starboard, nearly broadside with us... But... We can 
barely pare it down to a sphere smaller than the one produced by their own 
sensor pulses. Trying our best to focus on it now, Captain." Lieutenant Nevarr 
knew his duty, he was good at it, but this was straining them all.

	Out there was the target. Defiant. Cloaked as they were, hunting them, as 
she, as her ship, as her crew, hunted that opponent. A worthy one if there ever 
was.. But the worthy ones were often the ones that were fatal to you. Still, 
one's blood churned at this. The helplessness had gone on long enough. They 
could.. And would, fight back, now.

	"Turn, ninety degrees starboard. Bow angle, down two degrees. Initiate 
maneuvering thrusters in continuous burn at one third thrust for direct 
acceleration down new bow heading."

	"Understood, Captain. Shifting heading. Heading shifted as ordered. 
Maneuvering thrusters to one third, ordered acceleration," the helmsman 
responded, calmly. There was a nervous sweat, though. It was risky. But then the 
entire venture was.

	Elise tapped on the line to engineering. "Klif. How long until we have 
shields again? We need those shields back. Operational... The sooner the better. 
How long?"

	"I know, Captain, I know," the weary voice came back. "Twenty minutes, 
minimum. I'll try for sooner. I also need to get right to it. Chief engineer 
out." The voice cut off. Elise sat back and sighed.

	Another channel beeped for her attention; She activated that one. "Yes, 
Number One?"

	"I'm monitoring the situation of course, Captain..." Elise leaned down 
slightly, also turning down the volume. "We risk detection.."

	"Yes, we risk detection, but we also move. Uncertainty.. I want them 
uncertain. Anyway.. We can detect their incoming. They have much more trouble 
with our own. And not the hull strength."

	"We take another hit like that, Captain.."

	"And we might get early shore leave," Elise responded, dryly. "Don't, 
number one. We're just mutually stalking. The stakes are equal, but not the 
fight. I need to cut the channel now... I need to concentrate."

	"Understood, Captain." The line fell silent. Elise straightened, leaned 
back.

	The minutes ticked by, as the two ships searched for each other, through 
the blackness, the empty vacuum of space, both invisible, both sending out 
invisible energies in search for the other.

	"Thrusters off. Disengage thrusters," it was a weary voice.

	"Disengaging thrusters, Captain," The Helmsman replied, weary, too.

	"Shift bow angle three degrees port. Then engage main engines to bring us 
down that bow heading at five percent acceleration."

	There was a pregnant silence on the bridge. Five percent accelerate with 
the main engines risked detection. Finally the helmsman answered.

	"Bow angle shifted three degrees port. Engaging main engines.. Main 
engines to five percent acceleration."

	"Anything yet, sensors?" Elise asked, as the helmsman reported.

	"Negative, captain. We can't make the circle much.. Wait.." One of the 
Chiefs had motioned to the Lieutenant. He bent down over one of the screens.

	"We must be getting closer; Increasing sensitivity. We've reduced the 
circle size by three thousand kilometers in radius." There was certain amount of 
excitement in Lieutenant Nevarr's voice.

	"It's not enough even for a full pattern spread," Mystrela spoke from her 
station. Elise nodded once. "But we're getting close. Not much longer."  
"Lieutenant Nevarr, make sure your men on passives are listening with the very 
best of their senses; If they launch first, we must be ready. Torpedo officer, 
ready all torpedo tubes for a quick reaction launch. As fast as we can, if we 
need to fire, I want to be ready. No preparations; Just shoot."

	"Understood, Captain. They'll be ready.. Yesterday."

	The Hunteress' smile returned.

	There was something sickly pleasureful about this all. But then, that was 
what the Empire thrived on, wasn't it? The very basest of instincts and events, 
refined to a sharp, mechanical edge. The stalking. The hunt. It could not be 
denied.

	Deep Space.

	The silence from Bajor and Deep Space Nine had gone on long enough for the 
attention of the nearest patrolling ship to be garnered; The ship was now on 
it's way, racing at it's maximum warp speed towards the Bajor system.

	It was an Excelsior-II model ship, the same as the Enterprise-B had been, 
modified to Lakota-type standards. The USS Good Hope was certainly a warship, 
but there was omen in the name. It would have reeked of Coronel and Admiral 
Cradock's stand there to an old salt.

	But then, they didn't have those anymore, and the Federation had not 
lasted long enough to garner spacefairing traditions. It was now fighting a 
silent war, not even very old, that it did not know it was fighting. One for 
survival.

	USS Defiant, Bridge.

	"Sir... I think we're getting a clearer signal. The computer is narrowing 
down the location to more of a cylinder shape. I think they might be moving, 
sir, the tachyon scans are picking up plasma trails, maybe, but too diffuse or 
in the wrong angle to get a fix."

	The Ops officer was exhausted, but continued to work, of course. They had 
no choice. Onward. The goal of survival, and defeating the enemy. They could do 
it. The Tachyon pulses they were regularly sending out were their hope.

	"Try to get me a predicted course. The sooner the better.. Lieutenant 
Commander. Consider it a field promotion if you can find that damned ship," 
Burke replied, a faint grin on his face.

	That heartened the Ops officer to continue the challenging work of sorting 
through the piles of possible signals and 'hits' that the computer recorded with 
each pulse of the tachyon sensors. They were closing in.

	Then it was realized that it was not just the Defiant's sensors that were 
closing in on a lock. The enemy was moving towards them. Steadily, ominously; 
But surely they did not know their position.

	"Captain, rough traces seem to indicate that the enemy craft is 
maneuvering towards our position... And getting closer. No evidence that they've 
detected us."

	"Alright," Burke replied. "Just hold steady."  "Sir! We're getting 
subspace communications from the USS Good Hope; General transmissions. They're 
trying to contact any intact subspace communications facility in the Bajor 
system... They're headed this way at maximum warp."

	The blood ran cold in Burke's veins, then. The Good Hope would be charging 
straight into the Viper's nest, or worse. And if they tried to warn them.... The 
Defiant was as good as dead.

	"How far out are they?" he asked the communications officer.

	"Based on the transmission, sir, not more than ten minutes... Maybe 
twelve, but I doubt it, sir."

	"Ops, you heard him. Find that ship now.. Or at least try to narrow down 
the circle as best you can. At the same time, order the computer to search for 
any anomalies.. When the Good Hope enters the system."

	The Ops officer looked back to Burke. The Commander just smiled. Tensely, 
perhaps sadly. "We can't keep the Good Hope from receiving the first salvo from 
that cloak ship, but when they fire at her, I want to stuff eight quantum 
torpedoes up their damned engines!"

	There was a whoop from the helmsman, quickly cut off. Burke ignored it.

	FSC-956, Maneuvering in Bajor System.

	The silence was again growing oppressive, Elise realized. Oppressive, 
indeed. Euphoria was a drug that faded quickly and did not leave much behind in 
one's veins with which to fight.

	But she hadn't gotten this command out of adrenaline and instinct alone.

	The minutes ticked away. They seemed like hours. Or even days. It was hard 
to believe that they had only been fighting for days. It was like the books that 
the Grand Admiral had provided her; The U-boats, attacking the convoys, 
viciously, the wolfpacks, day after day, mauling them, getting mauled in return; 
the harrowing ordeal of extended combat.

	It turned days into centuries for the commander. Elise was sure of that; 
She felt sympathy for long dead men. Gunther Prien, Otto Kretschmer, and Erich 
Topp. Had they felt this way; This feeling of the waiting of eternity, of the 
dreadful responsibility for one's crew, of the few estactic moments of the 
attack, and then the waiting, the waiting, as the covering escorts had pounded 
them and they had no recourse?

	Thank the gods that she, at least, could fight back. One could not envy 
the men in those histories the Grand Admiral had provided her. They did not even 
have that luxury. They would have sold their souls for it, most likely. She 
would have sold hers for a solid lock on Defiant, at that moment.

	"Captain," Lieutenant Nevarr turned to her, surprised, concerned. "Unknown 
contact entering system and closing with original location of Deep Space Nine at 
warp speed."

	Elise tensed in her chair, felt her fists clench, looked towards 
Lieutenant Nevarr. "We couldn't detect them sooner using passives?"

	"No, sir, not a chance of it. Communications check confirmed they had been 
broadcasting; They've stopped now, though. We weren't scanning those subspace 
channels; They're unused for us and we didn't know the Feds used them either, 
Captain."

	"Very well, Lieutenant Nevarr. Any other data on this contact?"

	"After they stopped transmitting, it seems like the energy data suggests 
that they are now running with shields up...."

	"Lieutenant, sir," a Chief Petty Officer with headphones spoke up. 
"Contact has just dropped out of warp. Passive sensors and tachyon scans cross-
check and confirm Excelsior class. Variant unknown."

	Nevarr didn't need to relay the inform. Elise just nodded once, and leaned 
back, taking a single deep breath.

	She punched the button that opened the general shipwide com. "All hands, 
all hands, this is the Captain speaking. Stand by for imminent action and 
weapons fire against the hull. Evacuate all nonessential outer areas of the ship 
and seal them off with blast doors immediately. Stand by for immediate damage 
control reaction."

	She cut the channel, and activated the other one; Waiting a moment, until 
Klif came through. "Chief, any luck with those shields?"

	"Five more minutes, captain, and shielding will be restored."

	"We don't have five minutes, Klif! I need those shields now!"

	"Captain, I wish to hell I could give them to you, but that just doesn't 
change reality," came back the grim response.

	"Alright. Just get them for me. We have some wits left up here. We'll use 
them well. Out." She cut the channel.

	One last channel. She opened it, to her Number One, on the emergency 
bridge. "XO, are you there?"

	"Yes, Captain, of course," a tired laugh. " I understand... I think I know 
what you were calling to ask me of."

	"Indeed, XO. If we lose the bridge.. Well.. Good luck. I'll try to avoid 
that from happening."

	"I know you will. Everything is prepared.. But I don't expect to use it. 
Good hunting, Captain."

	Elise nodded curtly to herself, and to a man in another section of the 
ship who could not see her, and cut that channel as well.

	"Mystrela.. Set the torpedoes to run at acceleration levels comparable 
with the maximum acceleration of this ship. All eight tubes. Torpedo runs are to 
be directly ahead and in tight formation. Four hundred and fifty meters of 
spacing lengthwise, so stagger the launches when I give the order. And disengage 
the baffle protocols. Understood?"

	The Torpedo Officer, surprised to be called by her first name, looked up. 
"I can do it, Captain.. I know what you're getting at."

	Elise smiled, and steepled her hands.

	"Torpedo launches detected!" one of the Petty Officers on the sensor banks 
called out. "Four quantum torpedoes from cloak target.. Negative.. Eight! Homing 
for our position!"

	"Sound Collision!!! Helm! Burst of maximum thrust on the engines, baffles 
off, for four hundred and fifty meters of plasma trail, then cut engines. Silent 
drill!"

	The officer of the watch sounded the collision alarm and broadcast the 
solemn warning. "Silent Drill! Silent drill! Ship to silent drill!"

	The helmsman responded, used to that trick, swiftly. Elise tensed.

	"Torpedo Officer, fire as ordered!"

	"Captain, incoming from Excelsior type. One torpedo a second from two 
tubes.. Quantums. It's a Lakota sub-type! Also homing in our general direction. 
Other torpedoes closing on final attack vectors!"

	"Torpedoes away!" Mystrela cried.

	The salvo raced out in front of them; The 450 meter long plasma trail had 
been left behind them, as dense as the FSC-956 could make it.

	"Helm, random course, engines on five percent acceleration, maneuvering 
thrusters at one third maximum! Torpedo officer, reload all tubes!"

	The FSC-956 twisted and dived from her current course. The Quantums from 
the Defiant caught up with the plasma trail; They had locked onto it initially; 
So had the Good Hope, firing blindly as she was.

	The Quantums from the Defiant, set to home, recognized the decoy; they 
shifted towards the next most obvious target, the burning flares of the drives 
of the eight torpedoes, and accelerated. They had the acceleration advantage 
there, by design.

	The Good Hope switched it's pulse fire quantums to the torpedoes fired in 
formation by the FSC-956, as well. The torpedoes missed the FSC-956, maneuvering 
clear, and homed in on the decoy created by the drive tails and energy 
signatures of the cloaked heavy torpedoes.

	The first of the Quantum Torpedoes raced through the area where the FSC-
956 should have been; If she were her own torpedoes. One of them from the Good 
Hope, still out of phaser range and having trouble determining which 'ship' was 
real, even with active sensors, collided with one of the torpedoes of the FSC-
956.

	The explosion triggered explosions among the other torpedoes, both 
Imperial Heavies and Quantums, until a maelstrom of fire and plasma in space 
consumed the torpedo salvoes of three ships in brilliant explosions; Barely 
visible in the massive reality of space, but the huge radiation backwash was 
more than enough to send the battlefield to hell.

	"Captain," Lieutenant Nevarr reported, with excitement in his voice. 
"Tachyon sensor pulses confirm last passive sensor record of the Defiant's 
launching position for those torpedoes. With that small of an area to focus in 
on.. We have them!"

	"Feed the coordinates to torpedo control. Torpedo officer, fire a full 
salvo, maximum sublight run cloaked, at the target.. As soon as you have those 
coordinates. Then reload and standby."

	"Data coming through.... Firing tubes one through eight!" Mystrela cried 
out, as she did so, a certain predatory gleam there, as well. The 'fish' of the 
FSC-956 were on their deadly course, unseen, towards Defiant.

	"Helm, swing us around on intercept course with the Excelsior class!" 
Elise barked the order.

	The FSC-956 responded smartly, as she always had. The torpedoes ran hot 
and true.

	"Captain, Tachyon Sweeps, full ones, from that Excelsior... They've got 
us!"

	"INCOMING!"

	The cries; Elise didn't even know who exactly among the bridge crew they'd 
come from.

	"Go to active sensors! Decloak.." She slapped one of the buttons on the 
armrest of her seat. "Gunnery control; Commence turbolaser fire at Excelsior 
class target! Light cannons free for Anti-Torpedo fire!"

	And then one of the other channels crackled to life. "Captain, you have 
your shields back. Full power." It was Klif's voice.

	The first two torpedoes slammed into the newly reestablished shields of 
the FSC-956, as did the raking phaser fire that came right behind them, from 
multiple banks. Like an angry god, the Strike Cruiser returned fire, turbolasers 
spitting through the night.

	Behind them, the Defiant decloaked and opened fire with her pulse phaser 
cannons. Shields erupted in energy backwash on both sides, as Quantum torpedoes 
came in to impact the stern, as well. The spitting bursts of the light cannons 
flashed through the stars to intercept some torpedoes, but more got through as 
the two ships used up their stocks to pound the FSC-956 into submission.

	Then the Defiant was consumed in explosions. Her shields had gone up as 
she had decloaked, but against the salvo that the FSC-956 had fired without 
being detected beforehand, they were not enough. Torpedoes overloaded the 
shields and two got through. One blew off a nacelle, two torpedo launchers, and 
two phaser cannons, the other charring through the hull and blasting up into 
crew compartments, killing many.

	Torpedoes were already on their way from both ships, though, as many as 
they could fire, pounding on the FSC-956's shields, now diverted in two 
directions at once. Some of the pulse phaser hits, those heavy weapons bursts, 
had struck home as well; the shields were weakening faster than those of the 
Good Hope were as the Excelsior class vessel pounded at the forward shields of 
the FSC-956.

	But the order to fire forward torpedoes at the Good Hope died on Elise's 
lips when Defiant blew up, as did the one that would have followed to shift 
turbolaser fire to the Defiant. It was now unnecessary; She had the Excelsior. 
The shields were rapidly descending into the redline, but the last of the after 
fire had been absorbed.

	"Shields double-front!" Elise snapped. "Lock torpedoes and concussion 
missiles on that Excelsior. Let's take it out.. The sooner this damned battle's 
over with, the better."

	USS Defiant.

	The Defiant's warp core had been ejected just in time. The system had 
actually worked; Though the core had exploded close enough to the Defiant to 
cause further damage, a blackened and bloodied man, one Commander Burke Wilkens, 
dragged himself to his feet. Thrusters still operational.

	The cloud of plasma concealed the ship; The radiation from the core 
detonation shrouded Defiant as well as her cloak had. Impulse engine power still 
available. He dumped it all into the remaining two pulse phasers and the one 
quantum torpedo launcher that could bear.

	Burke locked onto the unshielded after portion of his target, the sleek 
ship finally revealed after all this time, and fired every weapon left on his 
corpse of a command. The Defiant struck from the dead.  FSC-956.

	On the bridge of the FSC-956, the words shocked them all. Just enough. 
"Torpedoes incoming aft!" There was not enough time.  Even as Elise shouted the 
order to redirect shields, for the CIWS cannons to commence firing, the 
torpedoes of the Defiant, coming out of the maelstrom of radiation and plasma, 
struck home on unshielded hull.

	The phaser bursts did as well. Pulse after pulse slammed into the FSC-956, 
scorching hull, blasting through compartments in deadly precision that was more 
luck than anything else. The torpedoes raced in; The first struck directly aft 
of the Conning Tower, nearly severing it from the ship, while others struck into 
the armour and exploded deep.

	Plasma geysers erupted from the FSC-956 and explosions rocked the craft, 
even as her forward shields, boosted, held against the assault of the Good Hope, 
while the shields of that craft buckled, and the Turbolasers, still firing from 
gunnery control, ripped home with deadly effect.

	Secondary command was severed from the rest of the ship by blasted wiring, 
and the bridge of the FSC-956 was a ruin. The ship was without control at a 
critical moment.

	Elise realized, as she staggered to her feet among the dead and the 
wounded, that the ship had no captain for the moment; Control had not been taken 
over below. She feared the worst, but looked around.. Trying to focus.

	The ship shuddered again, as the engines were damaged by fire from the 
Defiant; Power to the turbolasers was lost. But they had done their work, first; 
Pummeling the Good Hope, they had broken through and blasted and ripped at that 
ship, now severely damaged. The real threat was from Defiant.

	The lighter cannons, with their far smaller energy drains, continued to 
operate on available charges in their capacitors. They served to keep some of 
the torpedoes away; Still others raced on through to slam against unshielded 
hull.

	Elise saw the fires burning by the forward consoles, no, burning in them, 
as well, but that didn't matter; That entire area seemed to be in flame. She saw 
Mystrela stagger to her feet. She felt her ship; She knew the recoil of the 
turbolasers was not there.

	Elise had to act. She leaped forward, into the flames. The heat was 
intense, painful, especially as she brushed aside the body of the helmsman, his 
clothes already in flames, and stuck her gloved hands into that burning console, 
reaching for emergency controls. The fire burned away the gloves as she 
manipulated the ship to swing her around, to face the Defiant.

	Likewise, the controls were manipulated to take over operation of the 
shields; To shift the remaining power to all sides. The fire burned through the 
gloves. The pain was intense. She screamed; It was not something to hold in, not 
that pain. It was impossible.

	The ship was pounded, even as it tried to defend it's self, the gunners 
still manipulating the computers for the CIWS cannons, desperately trying to 
bring turbolasers and Ion cannons back online. Concussion missiles and the heavy 
torpedoes were in Mystrela's hands. She was acting.

	The ship demanded it's captain most of all, though, and Elise answered. 
The angle was adjusted, the shields were adjusted; She staggered back, 
collapsing away from the wall of flame. She felt the liquid; It was an 
instinctive reaction, to roll in it, to douse her hands in it, to put out the 
fire.

	Then she realized, in shock; A literal shock, as the pain and damage set 
in, that the fires burning at her hands had been doused in the blood. The blood 
of Lieutenant Nevarr and the War Correspondent; Both quite dead. She slumped 
back against one of the structural bracings that had fallen.

	Mystrela went about her duty with cold calculation. She didn't need the 
orders, the final approval here. She just acted. The Good Hope was selected with 
the full salvo of eight torpedoes and fired; Maximum sublight settings, cloaked.

	The shields shuddered under fire from both sides again. They were 
collapsing, weakened and just repaired. Mystrela selected the Defiant with 
active sensors, and the Concussion missile launchers. From the two launchers, 
she rapid-fire salvoed off volley after volley, the missiles racing in towards 
the unshielded wreck that was still firing at them.

	She was a brutal woman, raised by the Kuat family to be simply a very high 
level paper-pusher, or perhaps married off to another of the rich families of 
her galaxy. Instead, though, a certain level of desperate cruelty was in her. 
Elise had known that she was a weapon; A projectile to be fired at the enemy 
with her skill. Now that Elise had fallen, Mystrela was unleashed. Her targeting 
skills were exceptional.

	The Concussion missiles reached their target first. Commander Burke 
Wilkens was killed as the first struck home; Without her Warp Core, Defiant 
could not explode, but the ship was reduced by rapid and multiple concussion 
missile hits, first to a floating scrap heap, utterly useless, and then blasted 
to pieces.

	The Good Hope, warp drive out, continued to fire, beating on the shields 
of the FSC-956. Finally; She punched through. Phasers raked along the hull as 
torpedoes again struck home; Killing many, even the Federation prisoners that 
had been taken there to help work the Federation equipment.

	The Torpedoes struck the Good Hope. Hulls were ripped to pieces and 
massive explosions shook the ship as her anti-matter containment failed and the 
Excelsior type blew apart under that awesome force. The pummeling stopped.

	Space around Bajor fell silent again. The crippled FSC-956 spun now, 
imparted momentum from the last Quantum Torpedo impacts, dead in space. Victory 
had become the very bitterest of things.  


	The Long Patrol: Chapter Twelve.

	"The Price of Victory is always paid in blood."

	FSC-956, Bajor System, 18+ hours later.

	The light hurt. It hurt her eyes. No.. It didn't. Or did it. Numb.. Numb 
something. Hands... Hands... She forced her eyes open. Her face was covered in 
some sort of salve; Bacta based. So was the rest of her body, she realized.

	Under a blanket, Elise realized. Mildly embarrassing, that she should have 
this treatment. "The ship?" she whispered hoarsely. Her hands... They were each 
in a small jar, essentially, jury-rigged for bacta direct treatment. The FSC-956 
did not have major medical facilities.

	"The ship?" asked again, hoarsely, from a dry voice, dry, parched. All 
that mattered was the ship. No. The ship and the crew. She was aware of her 
surroundings. Sickbay, stuffed full with wounded.

	Doctor Holiss approached. "I don't know, Captain. Klif is working, despite 
his injuries. Brave man." Elise took a deep breath, sighed, nodded. Holiss 
offered a cup; Filled with water, a straw. Elise limply sipped from it, as best 
as she could. She had drank about half of it and wanted the rest when Holiss 
pulled it back.

	"Not so much, Captain. Carefully. You are suffering from horrific burns to 
your hands. I have not seen the likes of those before. You're lucky you've kept 
them this long."

	Elise just nodded. "Number One... Has command?"

	"Yes, and Mystrela is coordinating the damage control efforts. Doctor 
Bashir and the Counselor from Deep Space Nine were killed in the battle... It's 
hell here, Captain. Atleast he taught me how to operate some of their equipment 
first. The patients survived in that sector."

	Another nod. "How many?"

	Holiss looked tired. Tired, aged, exhausted, pained. "I don't know. We 
haven't been able to reach many sections... They're either smashed.. Or simply 
don't exist.. Or open to vacuum.."

	Her face hardened a bit. "It was madness. Madness, to attack Deep Space 
Nine like that, Captain."

	Elise just groaned; There was no other response she could muster.

	"So few lives.. Saved at the cost of so many. Why?"

	"Would.. Would you rather have faced Defiant, Suzuya, and that Excelsior.. 
In a standup fight, with the Bajorans helping, Doctor?" Elise watched Holiss 
wince at the thought, considering the damage that had been done over time.

	"Better that we do this thing now. Better that we take out everything we 
can... So that others will have an easier time of it. We are all one family, the 
fleet."

	Holiss looked on a long time. "Kill a brother to save four cousins?"

	"Kill a brother to save four brothers. I am an officer. All the men are my 
responsibility. No matter the ship. The others... I pray they have an easier 
time of it."

	Doctor Holiss nodded slowly. Understanding, but not agreeing... Quite. Or 
so Elise thought. She couldn't be sure in this damnable medicated haze.

	"I'm sure we'll find out.. If we get back to our basing facilities. We 
need to, soon, to keep them alive.." The doctor gestured about, wearily. She had 
to be weary to speak like that in front of patients, even if most were 
unconscious.

	"Not... Heading back yet?" Elise tried to sit up, but Doctor Holiss gently 
pressed her back down, looking serious.

	"I am afraid so, Captain. That is why we can't try to rescue those in the 
nonessential damaged areas or much else. We're proceeding out of the Bajor 
system at sublight.. Without cloak. A few of the engines work at partial power, 
a few of the thrusters. Almost everything else except life support and sensors 
is gone. I'm no engineer, but I was told. Warp gone, cloaks gone. Klif is trying 
to get the main hyperdrive operational again by taking parts from the backup he 
modified into the tachyon sensors."

	Elise tensed slowly, then relaxed. "He'll get it to work. I chose him 
well. Drunkard who thinks badly of the Empire.... But does the work of five men 
when it comes to engines. Treat him gently and he always brings your ship 
home...."

	She lapsed into silence. Holiss seemed grim.

	"Federation ships?"

	She got a nod from the doctor; Who leaned closer, whispered, this time. 
"Eight hours out. Klif is not sure.. He told me to tell you.. He'd do his best. 
We've had them on sensors for a while; They know we're here, but we know.."

	"How many, doctor? How many?"

	"Four. Heavies."

	A slow nod from Elise. "Promise me one thing, Doctor. If Klif does not 
have the hyperdrive engines operational in seven and one half hours... Pump me 
full of every damned stimulant you have and get me on the bridge. I will not see 
my command fight without me. Even if it means my life..." She trailed off, and 
simply mouthed the last words: 'Like it would matter then, anyway.'

	Doctor Holiss' expression stiffened, as she straightened. "Don't worry, 
Captain. You're not that bad off... I hope.. And Klif... Let us hope your trust 
is well placed. I must tend to the others, Captain, now. Rest."

	Elise settled back, sighing again, heavily, as the doctor moved off. Dread 
filled her. Dread and waiting. The euphoria had fallen.

	They had to get the FSC-956, battered hulk that she was, back to base. 
Back home. They must survive... And surrender was never an option in the 
Imperial Navy. With FSC-956 in this condition, neither was facing down four 
heavy Federation ships.

	It probably wouldn't have been with the Strike Cruiser fully operational. 
Elise prayed, alright, to deities no longer really believed in, for a man that 
she trusted with more than her life. A man entrusted with engines, ship, and 
crew.

	FSC-956, Hyperdrive Operations Room, around that time.

	Lieutenant Commander Harlann Quir, Imperial Navy, Acting Captain of the 
Strike Cruiser FSC-956, was in the very bowels of the ship, now, and they looked 
every bit a piece of grease and machinery unequaled in the universe. Modern 
reactors were clean, sanitary, and decently small, but torn metal, melted metal, 
overloads, fires.. The result of battle was plain, and would have been familiar 
to any sailor of any age of iron ships on any planet.

	Harlann had to admit of himself a bit of jealousy. It had been his proper 
duty on the second bridge to take over control of the ship when the primary 
bridge was damaged, but the control systems there had been lost when quantum 
torpedoes pounded into the hull to destroying the wiring linking those consoles 
with the thrusters and computers and systems that made the ship live, as it 
were.

	And so Elise had her moment of glory, and his captain was nearly dead for 
it. Harlann suspected that despite that act of diving into the flames to save 
the ship, she would have much rather preferred giving the glory of those two 
kills to secondary bridge. He hadn't seen her, but Doctor Holiss' statements of 
the Captain's condition were clear enough.

	Mystrela was following him, acting rather as an advisor in this; His first 
tour on a strike cruiser, while she knew this one intimately, even with the 
modifications. It was perhaps the only thing the Torpedo Officer had ever known 
intimately. If there was anyone more obsessed with weapons and the ships that 
carried them into battle, he did not know that person.. Nor did he really want 
to.

	In this situation, though, her value was totally beyond measure. The FSC-
956 was in serious condition, but not as serious as a normal Strike Cruiser 
might find it's self; The reason for that was her dual reactors. Though one had 
a containment failure and had begun to melt down, leaking radiation into the 
reactor room and forcing it to be evacuated, the emergency systems had worked 
perfectly.  The hypermatter pile had been SCRAMed automatically by the computer 
designated to monitor it for just that reason and prevented a runaway meltdown 
of the reactor; likewise, it had secured the reactor room and prevented 
contamination from spreading, though that room was definitely off-limits now. 
The other reactor was fully operational, and hence the ship had the same power 
availability of a normal Strike Cruiser.

	It was in here that Chief Engineer Klif Einhauser, despite being wounded, 
and Harlann suspected dosed from a secondary fusion reactor for one of the 
turbolaser batteries, worked like a fevered madman to insure that the ship would 
be escaping from it's latest trial.

	Long range sensors had confirmed Harlann's worst fears. The Communard 
Federation had finally gotten it's act together; Four warships, including one 
Sovereign class, two Akira class, and one Norway class, were heading towards the 
Bajor system and them.

	In this condition, a Corellian Corvette could blow them out of the stars, 
and though Federation technology was primitive, the force bearing down on him, 
with their slow but realspace FTL drives, was packing a hell of a lot more 
firepower than a single Corellian Corvette.

	It had taken less than a minute to make their way through the debris to 
wear Klif was working on the precious Hyperdrive Motivator, trying to get it 
operational again; an assortment of Warrant Officers and Chief Petty Officers 
were helping him, with ratings bringing parts and equipment and taking away 
parts and equipment, some obviously damaged, some not obviously damaged.

	The rest of the engineering watch was on the main reactor and working at 
subsystems, and, of course, they also had other teams with damage control in 
sensitive spots and one monitoring the SCRAMed reactor from safety just outside 
that reactor room. Here, though, was the resource that Harlann relied upon, and 
ultimately their only real hope.

	Klif stopped his worked, looking to Harlann, standing up; wiping the sweat 
from his brow. "Lieutenant Commander. I assume you want a situation progress 
report?"

	"Yes, Chief, we could use one about now. Any good news?" Harlann knew he 
betrayed his concern; A Lieutenant Commander, he had not expected this 
responsibility, certainly not under these circumstances. But he served the 
Emperor and his shipmates, even if he could not wear a mask over his own fears 
and concerns.

	Klif saw that. The work was exhausted; The pain numbed by medication, of 
course, the wounds dealt with as hastily and probably rather carelessly, as was 
necessary. He shook his head, slowly. "Eleven hours, Lieutenant Commander. In 
eleven hours you'll have your hyperdrive."

	"I need it in eight. It doesn't matter what else you do; If you repair 
that hyperdrive enough that we can escape the Federation, it doesn't matter. But 
we need it done in eight.. Less than eight, now. Is there any way?" Harlann 
appealed.

	The conversation was silent, but the CPOs, the Warrant officers, they 
heard, they understood. It was the grim task of reality and fate. They would not 
survived. Klif summed it up for them, in his usual fashion.

	"Sir, if I could make this Hyperdrive work in eight hours, I could also 
wave my hands and the entire damned Federation would disappear." With that, he 
turned, as to go back to his work.

	"What about Warp Drive, then, Chief? We can't outrun them, but we could 
stay ahead of them long enough to complete repairs to the Hyperdrive..." Harlann 
watched as Klif turned tiredly back around; He shook his head grimly.

	"I guess I didn't make it clear in my damage report, sir. The warp drive 
is not just knocked out.. It is blown up. Kaboom. Gone. Shrapnel and space 
wreckage and plasma," he said, gesturing with his hands. The irritation was 
reaching Klif. Harlann had never really approved of the man, but at least he had 
never been known to drink and duty; And it was clear enough that Klif's 
irritation here was not caused by alcohol.

	"But we do have other operational warp drives, sirs," Mystrela spoke 
abruptly. Klif and Harlann both stared at her; The predatory look was gone. 
Without it, she looked almost waifish; more appropriately a scientist.  Mystrela 
of Kuat. She knew spaceships just as well as either of them; It was in her 
blood.

	Klif caught on the instant she had said it, though. "The torpedoes! Each 
of the torpedoes has an independent warp drive, and we still have a lot of them 
left. Brilliant, Mystrela, damned brilliant!"

	Harlann blinked. Repeatedly. "Chief, Lieutenant, granted, the Torpedoes 
have warp drives, but, we need them braced, and they'll run out of fuel 
quickly... It would buy us a few minutes, nothing more."

	"No, sir, more than that. We can wield the torpedoes in their bays; 
Structural support. Hell, pour duracrete to support them if we have to. Old 
warships in the Republic used it to back their armour plate sometimes, you know. 
Doesn't matter how." He paused.

	"We could do it.. The problem is power supply though, you're right. We 
could hook them up to the reactor, but it would take more heavily cabling than 
we have on the entire ship." The look on his face fell. "I suppose you're right, 
sir.."

	"Wait," Mystrela spoke again. "We have lots of EVA suits left, yes? And 
gravity boots?"

	Harlann nodded. "I don't understand.. Nevermind, go ahead." Foolish of 
him, he thought. There was clearly more behind Mystrela's thoughts there.

	"Chief," She addressed the engineer in this matter of engineering. "The 
torpedoes' warp drives would be more effective outside the hull.. We could use 
fewer of them, yes? Like the nacelles on Federation Starships; away from the 
hull, improved efficiency, hell, they have the rough shape of nacelles, and we 
can send out EVA teams to wield them in place."

	Klif nodded.. Then paused and shook his head. "It's a good idea, Mystrela. 
Damned good. The problem with it is that we still don't have enough cabling; 
Fewer torpedoes, but greater distances from the remaining reactor. We just don't 
have enough cabling capable of conducting high energy levels."

	Mystrela regained that predatorial look. "Chief.. We don't need hardly any 
at all. Two torpedo warp drives to each turbolaser battery, tractor beam, and 
ion cannon mount.. Or former mount, anyway. For the ones lost, we just need 
cabling to replace the breaks. One Torpedo at each of the CIWS turbolasers as 
well. That's eighty torpedoes, all with cabling provided."

	Klif was grinning by the time she had finished. "Damnit, you're right. 
Outside the hull, no interference, and the cables provided for us! Hell, with 
that many drives outside the hull, we'll make our best speed yet. The main 
computer is intact.. It can coordinate the warp fields. Much easier than the 
hyperdrive it was designed for, even eighty!"

	Harlann had to play the devil's advocate, with that grim question. "Can 
you do it in less than eight hours, Chief? And moreover, with enough time to 
spare that we can stay out of weapons range of the Federationers for eleven 
hours afterwards, so we can repair the Hyperdrive?"

	Klif paused for a moment in his jubilation, thinking. The answer came 
after perhaps a minute, nothing more, and he was grinning again. "I'll need 
every man I can get my hands on, sir, but... I'll give you a fourty minutes head 
start over those buffoons!"

	Harlann's eyes lit up at that; Combined with Klif's mood, it was quite 
infectious. "Then let's get to it, Chief. Not a moment to waste. We'll beat that 
Federation Task Force yet.. By living to kill them another day. Come on!"

	FSC-956, Secondary Bridge, 19 hours later.

	"Enemy squadron will be within torpedo range in one hour, fifty-three 
minutes. Time to repair hyperdrive is currently two hours, four minutes," the 
woman, a Warrant Officer, rattled off calmly, at the request of Harlann.

	They had gotten the warp drives operational on schedule; But only barely. 
Now, with power feeds going to them, and an exhausted damage control party, work 
on the Hyperdrive had fallen behind. Eleven minutes to far behind. With no 
operational battle shields and no operational weaponry short of their torpedoes, 
eleven minutes under torpedo fire would make them just as dead as it would have 
before.

	Elise was still recovering, of course, thankfully not taking the course 
she had admitted to him; The woman, his Captain, could be so damned stubborn 
sometimes. But that was a thing of joy now. Laced with dread. A simple matter of 
eleven minutes. Had they only delayed death, instead of avoiding it?

	Warp drive made things so deadly interesting. It had once been a sang 
among maritime warriors on their sailing ships.. 'A stern chase is a long 
chase.' That was the same with Warp Drive; The differences in speed between what 
the FSC-956 was achieving currently on those desperately balanced, many small 
warp drives and the pursuing squadron was not much, meaning that the relative 
distance between the ship and the squadron was small.

	However, so too was the closing speed. It was also a horrible thing; To 
watch the enemy, steadily, inexorably approach you, closing. Steadily closer. At 
least the Sovereign had not gone ahead, Harlann mused. With it's superiour 
speed, it could have already brought them to battle.

	Of course, they were, as far as they knew, chasing a ship with the power 
to devastate the surface of Bajor, at least by their standards of 'devastate', 
not Imperial ones, destroy Deep Space Nine and the Suzuya, one of their most 
powerful armed stations and an impressive ship, then annihilate the Bajoran 
fleet, and then the Defiant and the Good Hope.

	Considering the usual result of hits on Federation starships that Harlann 
had seen once their shields failed, they probably suspected that the only thing 
wrong with the Strike Cruiser had been it's warp drive, and now that it had been 
repaired, they were facing a fully operational and deadly combatant.

	He was very, very glad that information was the most important part of 
warfare. They had destroyed Deep Space Nine with explosive charges after 
capturing it using guile, and captured the Suzuya with guile as well. And now 
they were not a fully operational, deadly supership. They were a battered hulk, 
barely held in one piece, and powered by probably the most bizarre warp drive in 
the history of this galaxy.

	"Sir, we're picking up something on sensors ahead.. About two hours ahead, 
sir, a little less," came the report from one of the Chief Petty Officers, one 
who had survived the catastrophe of FSC-956's bridge. Far easier, indeed, to 
repair the secondary bridge than the primary.

	"Any identification on it, Chief?" Harlann asked, standing.

	"It... It's just like Deep Space Nine. But it has no power signatures.. 
Except radioactive ones. Decaying reactors, maybe. Dead in space," the man said, 
rather confused.

	"Lieutenant," Harlann said to one of the men on the bridge manning one of 
the computer consoles aft. "Dig up anything you can on that station ahead."

	Harlann paced, and waited. The answer came back in a few minutes; Too long 
for Harlann's mind, but fast enough for the ship.

	"Empok Nor, sir. Cardassian Space Station of identical design to Terok 
Nor.. Deep Space Nine's Cardassian designation. Abandoned and occasionally used 
for spare parts by scavengers."

	"And it has the same reactor types?"

	"Yes, sir."

	"Lots of Radiation there..." Harlann smiled. The reactor that had been 
SCRAMed was the one in the modular sections; It could be jettisoned, that entire 
radiation permeated room that held it, and core with it.

	"Send for Lieutenant Mystrela immediately."

	He had joined the service, risen through the ranks, following the duties 
of an Imperial officer, and doing them well. During this mission, he had been 
surprised, disgusted, and stymied at times, gloried at others.

	But that had all been conventional tactics. And guided by Elise the entire 
time, really, from the captured Suzuya. Now it was his own tactics; He had his 
own chance. He hoped he could fulfill his duty. That was the only desire that 
counted.

	FSC-956, Secondary Bridge, 1 hour and fourty minutes later.

	 "Sir, we are now approaching Empok Nor. Two minutes until we should drop 
out of warp," the new Astrogator announced calmly; he was actually from 
the third watch, serving on the secondary bridge at the moment.

	Harlann was as tired as hell, but the kaff and the stimulants kept him 
going, and that was what mattered. Once the ship entered hyperspace.. Then they 
could rest. If they ever got the chance to enter Hyperspace.

	Of course, another of those fine Tabaccs was in his mouth; He couldn't 
help it. The smoke of the Tabacc, Cigar, more properly, in this case, booty, was 
helpful. Concentrating, reassuring, somehow.

	"Chief," he spoke directly; Klif was on the bridge, monitoring this. 
"Stand by to drop out of warp. Stand by to jettison modular reactor section... 
And.. I trust your engineers will have the Hyperdrive ready on time?"

	"Understood.. Sir. Preparing on both counts. And yes, sir. They have the 
skill.. And I have done all I can. So have you, sir."

	Harlann smiled faintly. "You can say that when we're in hyperspace, 
Chief."

	"Two minutes and counting until enemy squadron is within torpedo range," 
came the ominous report from the current sensor operator.

	Harlann just nodded, and waited out those two minutes. Second hands 
ticking by on a clock. Nervousness growing. Lots of tired, sweaty people on this 
ship. After ninety seconds, another order to give, as the thirty second report 
was given to him.

	"Mystrela, stand by tubes one through eight with our remaining torpedoes 
and the concussion missiles. As planned, of course. Fire as soon as you get my 
order."

	Then, to the helmsman, steady in his job; Same job he had always held, but 
the man on the watch before him was now dead.

	"Helm, stand by for sublight maneuvering."

	"Sir," the Astrogator spoke. "We should now disengage warp drives."

	"You heard him, Chief. Drop us out of warp!"

	There was a shudder through the ship. "Warp drive disengaged, sir," Klif 
reported.

	"Helm.. Maximum acceleration for Empok Nor!"

	"Flank acceleration, manual guidance towards Empok Nor, aye."

	"Enemy ships now within torpedo range.. They're dropping out of warp and 
raising shields.. Splitting formation as well, sir," the sensor operator 
reported.

	"Fifteen seconds until Empok Nor," the Astrogator reported.

	"Chief, be ready to jettison the modular reactor core... On my mark. 
Four.. Three.. Two.. One... Mark!"

	"Reactor core jettisoned, sir! Path is stable!" Klif announced jubilantly. 
The core tumbled towards the dead space station they accelerated for, overtaking 
it as they continued to accelerate. The space station was easily visible on the 
holo-projector; Other sections of it, though, showed the enemy ships.

	He saw quantum torpedoes being fired; Lots and lots and lots of them.

	Harlann didn't need the report, but he got it, that cry of 'incoming 
torpedoes!'. They'd take a moment to home in, though.. Just seconds, now.

	Seconds. They raced passed Empok Nor; the tilted, dead space station 
flipped to indicate their passage on the holo they were observing. Harlann 
acted.

	"Helm.. Cut all acceleration. One hundred and eighty degree rotation of 
the ship!"

	"All acceleration cut. Rotating now!"

	The torpedoes raced in. Seconds. Precious seconds.

	"Torpedo Officer, fire as planned!"

	Mystrela let loose her salvoes as the FSC-956, still racing through space, 
presented her bow towards her attackers. Eight heavy torpedoes homed in towards 
Empok Nor, two Concussion Missiles torpedoes the jettisoned modular reactor 
room.

	The screen turned white with fire. The explosions caught the incoming 
quantum torpedoes, annihilating them all; They had been launched at very long 
ranges, after all, and it had taken time. The Stern Chase was the Long Chase for 
anything.

	The Heavy Torpedoes had slammed into Empok Nor in such a fashion as to 
breach it's reactors and spread hot radiation throughout the field of combat. 
The two Concussion Missiles that struck the jettisoned Hypermatter reactor did 
the exact same thing.

	As that blinding white explosions overtook the screen, and the screens of 
the approaching Federation ships, though they were still far enough out to be 
unharmed.. So did something else. Radiation, and lots of it, including lots and 
lots of subspace radiation courtesy of the detonating hypermatter reactor. 
Sensors went blind.

	"Helm, one hundred and eighty degree rotation, now! Chief, stand by for 
warp speed!"

	The FSC-956 spun about, still nimble on her remaining maneuvering 
thrusters, the vicious cloud of plasma and radiation behind them masking them to 
the Federation sensors.

	"Rotation complete, sir," the helmsman announced.

	"Chief.. Maximum Warp!"

	The FSC-956 once again shot off into warp speed.

	As Klif finished his adjustments, he looked up. "Five minutes until we 
have hyperdrive, sir. Sorry if it's a bit late."

	Harlann grinned. "We have five minutes now, Chief. We sure as hell do."

	USS Argyll, Bridge. Sovereign class Starship.

	It had been a hellish four minutes. That, Captain Maximillian Reynolds was 
sure of. The newest of the Sovereigns, they had been hunting cloaked raiders in 
an impressive task force; Small hits at first, though they had lost a Galaxy 
class starship, or so he had heard.

	He feared about that, badly. He didn't know which one, and his younger 
brother commanded the USS Zealandia. And the USS Zealandia patrolled in the same 
general area, though distant for a warp drive ship. There were rumours, however, 
of other drives on this mysterious cloak-attackers.

	The four ships under his command had far more firepower than that, though. 
The enemies had concentrated on commercial shipping and this area of the 
Federation was in havoc for it. Definitely multiple ships, but his task force 
had found one at Bajor.. After it had trashed the entire system, and incredibly 
so.

	They had been sure to get one, even when it had gone to warp, they had the 
advantage. The blasted sensor blind caused by the radiation, though. The enemy 
had used the dead station brilliantly. Finally, now, as the radiation dispersed, 
as they moved onward, their sensors cut through.

	"We got them, Captain! Same Warp Speed as before.. Different heading."

	Maximillian made his decision in seconds, without waiting for the advice 
of his Number One, Commander Leah Johann. The Commander understood that well.

	"Pursue. Maximum warp speed." They might have to bring the enemy to battle 
on their own, but the two Akiras and the Norway would follow swiftly and 
Maximillian expected to last at least long enough for them to arrive against 
that four hundred and fifty meter powerhouse.

	In the visuals, he had seen the awesome amount of damage done to it, 
before the explosions and they had lost contact; He expected that the act had 
been one of desperation. They might not even need to help. Still.. He would play 
it halfway safe.

	"Signal the rest of the squadron to follow us as well. Maximum warp. 
Everything they've got!"

	Max's style was quite different from that of the average Starfleet 
captain. He had been tempered by Borg invasion, interdictions against the 
Romulans, and then the Marquis Rebellion, of which Maximillian had always had a 
rather soft heart for, unfortunately. Not only that, but in his early years, the 
later part of the Cardassian war. Then the Dominion War had come and he had 
proven himself. The Argyll was certainly part of that proof.

	He was perhaps one of the most battle hardened captains in the Starfleet 
of the United Federation of Planets, and this string of attacks had done it's 
very most to get to him, as he dried to divine the 'why' of it all.

	The USS Argyll raced towards the FSC-956. The minute counted steadily 
away. Onboard the FSC-956, Lieutenant Commander Harlann Quir received news that 
the Hyperdrive had been repaired.

	The order was given, and the FSC-956 dropped out of warp. The Astrogator 
was already preparing the first jump, had it largely prepared, in fact. Just the 
final calculations.

	Still, once out of warp, the Argyll was on them in a split second, 
dropping out as well, nearly paralleling the FSC-956. It's quantum torpedo 
turret spat torpedoes at the unshielded Strike Cruiser.

	The Strike cruiser shifted on it's maneuvering thrusters.. And with a 
flicker of psudomotion, it was gone, the torpedoes racing off harmlessly into 
space towards a target that was no longer there.

	On the bridge of the Argyll, everyone was in stunned silence. Finally, 
Captain Reynolds spoke.

	"Well, that explains the delaying tactic. Signal the squadron that we're 
to head back to Bajor and provide assistance with planetary clean up from those 
nuke hits and piece together what happened until we receive further orders. 
Stand down to yellow alert, but keep the shields on. I have a feeling we'll see 
that thing again. And that time we'll have it."

	FSC-956, Hyperspace.

	The Frigate, Strike Cruiser type, raced on. It's destination was the 
wormhole facilities that the Empire had built in this galaxy, though it would go 
through a series of eleven hyperjumps to throw off any pursuers. Despite damage, 
despite the crazily crooked course they took, thanks to it's Hyperdrive, it 
would arrive some three weeks before the USS Suzuya, their war prize, did.

	Though heavily damaged, battered, smashed, wrecked and ruined in the worst 
of ways, Ship, Captain, and Crew would fight again. Duty to the Empire would 
demand it. And, ominously, far more. Survival would also demand it. 


[end act I]