Subject: [FANFIC] A New Balance Date: 30 Sep 2001 17:19:16 GMT From: nitramtahalshia@aol.comAntiSpam (Sir Nitram) Newsgroups: alt.startrek.vs.starwars Milky Way Galaxy, Deep Space. Across the void of space the fleet swept, travelling at relativistic speeds. The huge convoy sped through the gulf between stars, it's navigators locked onto the planet they had chosen after venturing through the Anomaly near Home. The Conquest Fleet as the Race called it, had been ressurected once again, now with lessons learned in the distant history of Tosev 3. There was flexibility.. Of a sort... taught to those of a Soldier's Time. It made them eternally seperate from the rest of the Empire, but such was the price to serve the Emporer well. "Exalted Fleetlord, we are approaching the world we have been sent to bring into the Empire." The sensor operator intoned, sounding like a kettle that was boiling. The Fleetlord, a short, lizard-like creature, skittered over to a holograph projector and touched a button with his fingerclaw. "It is Rabotev II, according to it's place in the Galaxy. We have not yet located the equivalent of Home, but it is out there. First, however, we will conquer this world for the second time in our history, and prepare to bring another world under the command of the Emporer." The Fleetlord, and every other of the scaly lizards of the Race on the bridge, swung their eye turrets down in respect for the name of their sovereign. "We will be arriving in orbit in ten days, Exalted Fleetlord." Intoned Gnik, the Shiplord of the 206th Emporer Yower, the Flagship of this Conquest Fleet. The irony was not lost on the Fleetlord Breltan, that such was the name of the Shiplord Straha, who, thousands of years before, had betrayed the Empire for the Tosevites. Such would not happen a second time. "Prepare to awaken the soldiers and killercraft pilots from cold sleep. As a precaution, I want a full escort of killercraft when the Conquest Fleet enters orbit. We were unfortunately surprised with the last Conquest. We will not have this happen twice." "It shall be done" Echoed the reply of his bridge staff. Five days later, Federation Member World Angosia, Sensor Station Alpha. "What the hells that?!" Cried Edgar, as he watched the subspace radar's screen. There had to be hundreds of craft, huge, collosal things, sweeping towards the planet. It was impossible. The Dominion had been beaten back to their homeworld. The ships weren't even at Warp! But moving at an incredible subliminal velocity, they were coming. "No Warp signatures... Apparantly fusion reactors... Christ, there's hundreds of them, Ed! How could pre-warp ships get so big, and so fast?" The implications were frightening. Without a warp signature, those ships were going that fast because their engines were incredibly powerful. "ETA.. Five days. The nearest starship is the USS Prometheus, but it's in drydock. Even if it wasn't, it wouldn't get here for a week." "Then we're sitting ducks." Replied Edgar. One of the few fully populated worlds in the Federation, Angosia was now a sitting duck for whoever's fleet this was. The Starfleet personnel would have to be ready to protect the citizens. "Prepare transporter-scramblers and shuttlecraft. We'll have to try and fight them off on our own." "Maker us all...." The next day, Federation HQ and Starfleet Command, Earth Orbit. "Dammit, Dalton, I don't care what you want, your leave is - cancelled-. Angosia is about to be beset by hundreds of unidentified starships, and you are the most reliable man we have for the job." The Admiral leaned back in the plush chair, smoking a cigar of some kind. Probably a Klingon blend, by the smell. "When the USS Prometheus leaves drydock in three days, you are to be on board and push the core to the max, and find out how the hell a bunch of Pre-warp primitives can build like that. And you're to blow the hell out of anything they use to threaten the people of that planet." "The Prometheus, sir? But I thought it was still in prototype..." The Admiral cut him off. "Of course it's still a prototype. But dammit, Robert, it's the only ship we've got with the speed and the firepower to do this mission if the aliens turn out hostile. Your Runabout leaves in three hours. We've got a crew there already, but they need you at the head of it." "So what are you expecting? Go in, blow up everything, leave?" "We don't have the opportunity for your Rob Smash! diplomacy. If these things are peaceful, you're to find out where they came from and fast. Now get going before I throw you into a Class 1 Probe and ship you there third class." Chapter 2 Angosia orbit, two days later. "Our forces are ready, Exhalted Fleetlord. We have detected numerous radio and other singals, probably communications, on the planet. Precedent set during the Tosev 3 campaign is to deploy atomics against the centers of communication to ensure the disruption of it." Reported one of the officers on the Emporer Yower's bridge. Skittering forward to examine a hologram of the world, the Fleetlord hissed a sigh. "And Tosev 3 also taught us that does not always work. Yet these creatures seem more advanced, even if they are alike to Tosevites in structure. Very well. Deploy two atomics above the largest concentrations of signals and begin dropping troops. Let us hope this does not resemble the Tosev campaign in our losses as well." One by one, the huge starships began to enter the atmosphere, their hull plating glowing as they dropped like rocks. Numerous killercraft went with them, and, if the male squinted carefully, he could fancy seeing the two bombers which prepared to unleash nuclear fire miles above of cities, to render the Empire's enemies defenseless against the upcoming onslaught. Angosia, Starfleet Garrison, same time. The personnel that were assembled were not, Edgar realized, the best for the job. Each held their phaser rifle in a worried fashion, as if they weren't sure they could handle it. None of them expected to have to face anything worse than a mugger who had somehow replicated a weapon. Now they were likely to face real invasion from an unknown enemy. It was enough to shake anyone's moral. Edgar opened his mouth to deliver a morale-raising speech, but was immediately cut off by the blinding light that seemed to burn the atmosphere apart. As the brilliant light faded, a few of the men gasped. One dropped to his knees and began to pray. Rising in the upper atmosphere was a mushroom cloud, a phenomenon not see by anyone up close for centuries... And beyond them, came the Starships, and their squadrons of killercraft.... "To the shuttles! HURRY!" Bellowed Edgar, and the unlikely defense force ran for the hangar. The shuttles weren't true weapons of war, but they had shields and phaser arrays. Hopefully, they would be able to slow the incoming invaders. Angosia atmosphere, Killercraft 203. "This is Hassov. We are preparing for our bombing run on the prepared landing site, Shiplord." The pilot spoke as he punched the throttle, his engines slowly shifting to atmospheric mode, ready to propel him to the target. He had practiced this maneuver endlessly in the simulators, against the most lethal of the Tosevite killercraft from the last Conquest. He was confident there would be no problem. "Flight Leader, I have contacts rising for defense. They... Don't look like killercraft, Superior Sir." Hissed the voice of one of his wingmales. Glancing on his radar and with his eyes, the rising craft certainly did not. They moved more like helicopters, but lacked propellers. Pulling on the stick and warming up his cannon, he turned to accelerate towards the new threats. "Let us remove them before they gain enough altitude to be a threat." As the chorus of 'It Shall Be Done''s echoed over the channel, he tried to gain a lock on the rising craft. Odd... They didn't seem to have a radar signal to track. Still, as they were so unmaneuverable by appearance, they should be no problem for the missiles heat-attracted warheads. Two streaked ahead on colemns of vapour from the killercraft towards the first of the lumbering targets... And a meter before they hit the nose the craft, they detonated, a bubble around the ship appearing. Several excited and appalled hisses filled his ears, some his own. "The enemy killercraft has prevented the missiles from reaching the target!" He exclaimed in dismay. The wretched creature would be taken out with his cannon, then. Shuttle Mayflower, Angosia atmosphere. "Shields holding at 53%! I hope they don't have too many of those things..." Reported Edgar's copilot as he pushed the throttle up, ready to engage the enemy ships. They looked... They looked like twisted versions of fighters. They maneuvered like them as well. Alright, focus, and hope your phaser works on them.. "Firing main array!" Edgar cried as the beam coalesced and stabbed out from the shuttle, striking the second fightercraft and slicing it's wing off in a dramatic display. The fighter flailed, stabbing skyward with it's missiles in a last defiant measure as it crashed to the ground. The rest of the small shuttle force had done similarly well, taking down a total of four fighters and steaming onwards, towards the much larger ships. The mini-Quantum torpedos they had loaded would have to be enough to bring the big bird down, or Angosia would be dead meat. 67th Emporer Sohrheb, Angosia atmosphere. "Sir! Killercraft escort is suffering losses! Missiles failed to impact with the enemy craft and they are now closing rapidly!" The excited hiss of a communications officer upon receiving the reports from the squadron. The incoming enemy killercraft were moving on principles the Race did not fully understand, with no visible exhaust. "Arm the defensive turrets, we will yet make it to the landing zone." Spoke the calm voice of Rolsvar, the Shiplord of the craft. He had studied the actions of the Tosevites in the first Conquest of their world. Here they were again... And with new toys. Still, no sign of massed armour. The rapidly approaching killercraft began to fall back as the defense turrets chattered, spitting walls of lead at them. The air in front of one glowed in the shape of an egg, as if there was a semivisible barrier between them. "Strange..." The male watched, studying as the intensity of the glow faded with each shot fired into it, until at last there was no glow, and the enemy killercraft rapidly retreated as holes began to appear. Another event, however, drew his attention. A glowing point of light, accelerating away from one of the craft.. "Missile! Incoming missile!" Seemingly an endless wall of lead was flung near the incoming warhead, but they couldn't hit fast enough, or hard enough, and it kept coming. The entire Starship rocked violantly as it impacted, sending shockwaves through it and damaging parts. Warning sirens were going off on all decks now. "Emergency landing procedures engaged." Spoke the calm voice of a computer. The rest of the crew were not as calm as the computer. The Emergency Procedure was obviously never intended to be used with real, live crew, as the Starship plowed through a forest in it's semi- uncontrolled slide. When the slide stopped, however, the worst was planned for. From a dozen ports on the hull, soldiers, landcruisers, gunships, and killercraft emerged, ready to defend the huge, damage ship. The shuttles turned and ran, killercraft throttling up after them. The invasion had begun. Starbase 74, main docking bay. The USS Prometheus, only partially complete in it's latest refit and remodel, sat on launch struts. The transporters were still not good enough for moving living material, but they could move materials, and so they did, loading cargo. Two Federation Jeeps, their rear mounted phaser cannons on prominent display, vanished into thin air as they were loaded. The replicators, in much the same state, sat dormant. Shuttles and Peregrine fighters were loaded carefully into the docking bays. The starships of the Federation had always had creature comforts, and the Prometheus' bridge was no different. Upon inspection, Dalton found the chair equipped with no less than three different massage settings, two heat settings, a subspace radio tuned to a variety music station, and on the other arm, a cupholder. One of the gyroscopic no- spill cupholders, patent pending. It was a chair one could truly command from. The telltale sound of an incoming transmission sounded. Practicing his Captain pose, Rob swung his chair around to face the main viewscreen as Admiral Strowbridge, apparantly with yet another cigar, looking angry. "Dammit, Dalton, stop playing with yourself in that chair and pay attention. We just lost all contact with Angosia. The last images in report what looks like a pair of atomic explosions. Once your crew is aboard, you /launch/. As long as that thing can fight, you go, you blow those bastards to kingdom come."