Star Trek: Mariner
Episode 010:
Troubled Waters, Part 1
by Bodie A. Ashton
(uss_mariner_01@enterprise.startrek.org)

Episode 010: Troubled Waters, Part 1

PROLOGUE

USS Graf Spee
NCC-1918, Miranda I-class

Captain's Log, Stardate 56849.9
For the past hundred years, Starfleet has heard rumours-or more accurately, old spacefarers' legends-of a mysterious race of people, who use arrow-shaped ships, and who have fleetingly crossed the trade lanes between the Romulan Empire and Tholian space. As the Federation has never had close relations with either Romulus or Tholia, we have been unable to investigate this. However, the peace initiatives from the Romulans, coupled with a thawing of the mutual mistrust between us and the Tholians, has allowed the Graf Spee to be sent to conduct a full scientific analysis of this supposed race.
The Romulans have some interesting references in their historical texts; during the so-called Age of Expansion, about a hundred and ten years ago, a fleet was sent into the Kosparan Sector, in order to seek out viable worlds for the Romulans to populate. They were never heard from again. The feeling among Romulan historians is that the Romulan fleet was not greeted warmly by an indigenous species in the sector (but then, they were there for conquest, not tea), and they subsequently lost a battle. That an entire fleet of twelve vessels, including the flagship Ranal, could be swept aside convinced the Senate not to send more ships to the sector, and it was later forgotten.
If there is, indeed, indigenous, warp-capable life in the Kosparan Sector, we intend to find it, communicate with it and create a friendship with it. Let us hope that they like us more than the Romulan invasion fleet.

Captain Maruaha Koji sat in the captain's chair of the Graf Spee's bridge, a seat he had occupied for six years. Koji was Andorian, but unlike the stereotype of his race, he was not instinctively belligerent, but was far more interested in science. He had personally presided over twelve first contacts, and the experiments he and his ship had undertaken over the years had done wonders for Federation science. The Graf Spee, one of a dwindling number of first-generation Miranda-class ships in service with Starfleet, was the oldest Federation vessel still cruising the galaxy. To be sure, she had been refitted more than once, but she was getting on, and Koji had to admit that her days were almost numbered. Already, Starfleet had suggested retiring her, and replacing her with a New Orleans or Nova, but Koji had fought tooth and nail for his stoic little ship. If the Graf Spee could find the elusive Kosparan Sector race, it would be another feather in Koji's cap, and a fine way to end the Graf Spee's career.

First, though, they had to find that species.

"Captain, we have entered the Kosparan Sector", reported Prochonolikov, the helmsman of the Graf Spee. The Andorian nodded.

"Analysis, Lieutenant-Commander Prochonolikov."

"It's pretty standard", the human replied. "I am reading four star systems, one of them a binary, and..."

He trailed off. Koji leaned forward.

"And what, Lavrenti?"

"There's a nebula on a bearing of zero-seven-five, approximately four light years in diameter. It seemed fairly normal, but I'm now detecting various energy surges."

Koji turned to the science station.

"What's your interpretation, Cesmo?", he asked the science officer, Lieutenant Tris Cesmogojen.

The unjoined Trill thinned his lips.

"I'm not exactly sure. I would hazard a guess that it could be a pulsar; it's a throbbing energy signature."

"Could it be artificial?"

"Maybe", Cesmogojen answered. "The readings aren't constant. I think the nebula is distorting our sensor sweeps."

Koji thought about this.

"Right, then", he said after a moment. "We might as well take a look. Lavrenti, alter course for the nebula."

Prochonolikov tapped commands into the conn.

"Yes, sir", he said as the Graf Spee gently banked into a starboard turn, and headed at full impulse for the cloud of gas with the anomalous power readings.

* * * * *

"Bridge to Captain Chambers."

The comm. system woke Captain Greg Chambers from his slumber, which irked him more than a little. He had not been sleeping well recently. As captain of the USS Guardian, he was the chief Federation diplomat in the Romulan Empire, which he did not relish. Chambers was a scientist, first and foremost. It was why he had joined Starfleet in the first place.

He would be glad when the Titan got to Romulus; he had heard rumours that Captain William T. Riker would be heading up the Romulan relief effort, which suited Chambers down to the ground. He had been deprived of sleep many times over the past couple of weeks, and last night he had hosted a diplomatic function on board his Galaxy-class ship. His head throbbed with the headache that came from over-consumption of Romulan ale.

"This better be important, Mr Mellows", he said into the comm.

"Sorry to disturb you, sir", Mellows replied, "but we're picking up a Priority Two message from the Graf Spee. Should I patch it through?"

Chambers sighed. Koji was probably reporting unusual amounts of space dust, or something else unimportant. Koji was a brilliant scientist and a great captain, but he could be overzealous.

"Okay Mellows", he exhaled wearily. "Let's have it."

He propped himself up on his bed, and turned to the console on his bedside table.

The screen flickered. Then, Koji appeared. At once, Chambers knew that he would not get to sleep again.

The background to the Starfleet officer was filled with wafting smoke, and alarms could be heard. Koji himself was bleeding from the mouth, and when he opened his orifice to speak, Chambers could see that he was missing several teeth.

"Greg, we're...attack", Koji hollered, but the signal was degrading and Chambers could only make out a few words. "..Found them, but...active scans were weapons. We can't communi...we don't think...use...bandwidth."

"Hold tight, Maruaha", Chambers said, removing himself from bed. "We're on our way."

"No! They'll...invasion force. That's...attacked us. Stay..."

The screen abruptly turned to static. Chambers stared.

"Chambers to Koji", he said. No answer.

Again he pleaded with the screen. "Koji, answer me."

Hoping against hope that the Graf Spee's comm. was down, and that was the extent of it, Chambers hit the comm. panel.

"Chambers to bridge. Set a course for the Kosparan Sector and engage at maximum warp. Sound general quarters."

Mellows answered.

"Aye, Captain. At maximum speed it will take us two hours to reach the Kosparan Sector."

Chambers felt the ship surge as she powered away from Romulus, but his gut told him that he was already too late.

* * * * *

When the Guardian arrived in the Kosparan Sector, she dropped out of warp to gather her bearings and find the Graf Spee. Chambers was surprised, therefore, when the ops officer informed him: "Captain, there's no sign of her."

"What?", Chambers questioned. "Surely there's an impulse or warp trail, something to tell us where she is!"

"No, sir", the ensign replied. "I'm reading a few star systems and a nebula, but nothing to suggest starship activity."

"Any power signatures? That could denote the Spee or their attackers."

The ensign looked over his consoles.

"Negative, sir", he answered at last. "It's dead out there."

Chambers turned to the screen, and wondered how a Starfleet vessel could simply disappear.

CHAPTER ONE

On one of the top floors of Starfleet Command Headquarters in San Francisco lies a large office, which has huge windows looking over the beautiful bay. Kathryn Janeway liked the office given her as Officer of the Flag. From her desk she could look out on to a beautiful starscape at night; in a way, the office reminded her of her ready room back on Voyager. In the meantime, Voyager was being decommissioned, a fact that saddened Janeway, if not for the fact that she was to be preserved in the Starfleet Museum.

Janeway sighed. It was three in the morning, and she hadn't had sleep for two days. In front of her was a report from a Lieutenant Garrun Tahbor, the squadron leader of the Fighting Eight Squadron. Tahbor's report was pretty standard, detailing the trials his new Stormwind-class space fighters had been put through. A starship had been refitted to embark the Fighting Eight, but she wasn't yet ready to put to space; while her warp and impulse drives were state-of-the-art, and she now had enough hangar room to carry all eight of the Stormwind fighters, as well as her own complement of shuttles, her weapons systems required an extensive overhaul. Besides, she didn't even have a captain yet.

As far as Tahbor's Fighting Eight were concerned, they had been flying training missions on the brand-new ships for five weeks, and all results had been exemplary, but, Tahbor had said frankly, his crews were getting stir-crazy. The conclusion was inescapable: either Janeway commissioned the Fighting Eight and their carrier ship, or she would have to stand them down. She wanted to do neither.

Her computer beeped. Janeway wiped her bleary eyes, noticing that the message awaiting her was Priority One. She needed her wits about her.

"Computer, open a channel, authorisation Janeway Two-One-Oh-Five."

The screen blinked, and Captain Greg Chambers appeared. Janeway hadn't met Chambers in person, despite the fact that his ship, the Guardian, was a flagship and thus fell under her jurisdiction.

Chambers jumped in before Janeway could say anything.

"Admiral, we've got a situation in the Kosparan Sector", he said.

Janeway nodded.

"I've read your report about the disappearance of the Graf Spee, Captain."

Chambers shook his head.

"Sir, it's a bit more serious now. We've detected a massive build-up in energy readings from the Kosparan Nebula. About five minutes ago, an armada of twelve ships emerged from the nebula. I've never seen anything like them. They're arrow-shaped, and from our readings, have some tremendous powerplants; their energy output is massive.

"We've tried to contact them, but without success. They just don't answer. Now I've been told that they're charging weapons. We could really do with some help."

Janeway frowned. She didn't need this right now.

"Understood, Mr Chambers. I'll see what I can do. Transmit your coordinates to this terminal."

Chambers did so. Then, unceremoniously, he signed off. Janeway rubbed her head.

"Computer, display the current positions of all Starfleet vessels in proximity to the Kosparan Sector", she commanded her workstation. It complied, and soon there was a starchart on the screen. She traced the positions of various ships. Then, she smiled, as her gaze landed on one ship in particular.

"Computer, what is the current status of the USS Mariner?"

The computer buzzed.

"The USS Mariner is currently deployed in sector zero-two-one, collecting data on hyperspatial wake systems in proximity to the NSC-Two-Three neutron star."

Janeway nodded her head.

"Open a channel to the USS Mariner, on Starfleet Emergency Frequency One-Four."

* * * * *

Captain's Log, Stardate 56850.3 We are studying some anomalous reading detected by a humanitarian convoy en route to Romulus, as they passed the NSC-23 star in sector 021. Current analysis suggests that it was a false alarm, as we have noted nothing out of the ordinary. On the ship, however, normalcy has still not returned.
In retrospect, I believe I may have been too quick to judge Henry Davies, though as captain, I cannot remedy this by admitting an error. First rule of Starfleet captaincy: keep a distance with the crew. I find that Davies is withdrawn now, and though he would never say it, I suspect he is depressed. Then again, who wouldn't be in his situation?
Starfleet has not yet provided a second engineer to replace Toby Garrick. Luckily, this mission the Science Directorate has sent us on is not taxing, but nonetheless, I would prefer to have another senior engineer. All of the senior officers are of the opinion that none of our junior engineers are ready yet to step up to the plate.
Tomorrow, we return to Earth. Hopefully then we'll have this problem rectified.

"Captain", Lieutenant Alexandra Lane called from the ops station. "I am receiving an emergency call from Starfleet Command. It's on Frequency One-Four."

Captain Simon Anthony looked up from the command chair. Frequency 14 was a 'rush' comm. channel. It indicated that whoever sent it had no time to send it through a proper coded frequency, which would delay the process of sending the message.

It also meant that whatever the situation was that Starfleet was communicating, it required immediate attention.

"Patch it through."

Anthony turned to the screen. Abruptly the face of Admiral Kathryn Janeway blinked on. Anthony smiled, but knowing the urgency of the communiqu‚, he said nothing.

"Captain Anthony, you are to proceed to the Kosparan Sector immediately", she ordered without introduction. "The USS Guardian is requesting assistance, and you're the closest battle-ready starship."

"Admiral", Anthony protested, "I still don't have a full crew complement. I'm missing a second engineer."

"Simon, this is urgent", Janeway emphasised. "There are three ships in the area. The Steamrunner is the closest, but she's not as fast as Mariner, and she's not the most powerful ship in the fleet. Now go!"

Anthony needed no further encouragement.

"Lon, set a course for the Kosparan Sector, maximum warp. Tasek, go to red alert."

Lon Tanier thumbed his console, and the Mariner blasted away from NSC-23. Tanier turned to his captain.

"Sir, at maximum warp it will take us two hours, six minutes to get to the Kosparan Sector."

Janeway looked down on the Mariner bridge from the screen.

"Do better. Janeway out."

Anthony stood from his chair. He patted Tanier's shoulder.

"You heard the admiral. Lon, see if you can find any course corrections that can get us there any faster. Alex, scan ahead for any subspace slipstreams, anything that will increase our speed."

He tapped his commbadge.

"Mr Davies, we need to go faster. Is there anything you can do down there with your engines?"

There was hesitation.

"Maybe, sir", Davies responded. Anthony frowned. Did the 'sir' sound just a little forced? "I'll try to enrich the dilithium flow. I don't know whether there'll be a discernable effect."

"Try it anyway, Commander. Sickbay, prepare for possible casualties."

"Understood, sir", Doctor Taryll answered.

Anthony turned back to the screen. The stars were zooming past at great speed, as Mariner streaked towards the Guardian. There was a nagging doubt at the back of Anthony's mind, as to whether they would be too late.

The doubt was offset, though, by the knowledge that this was the best ship in the fleet, with the best crew in the fleet. And he, the captain thought with pride, was their captain. If anyone could do it, it was this crew.

* * * * *

The helm console exploded, and Lieutenant Mellows was thrown from his chair by the force. Chambers did not check on his conn officer, though. He knew that he was dead.

"The port nacelle has been shattered", Ensign Argoren at ops shouted. "Hull breaches are being reported on every deck. Emergency force-fields are only partially holding."

Another blast tore through the ship. Argoren almost lost her footing.

"There's been a massive explosion in Main Engineering!"

Chambers punched his commbadge.

"Bridge to Engineering."

Static.

"Chambers to Engineering."

Still naught.

Chambers turned to Argoren.

"What are you reading down there?"

Argoren studied her readouts, as the ship shuddered again. Her eyes widened, and her face paled.

"Captain, the warp core is racing away! We're looking at a core breach in about five minutes!"

Chambers called over his shoulder to the tactical station.

"Paktall, fire a salvo of photons. Argoren, sound the evacuation alarm for the secondary hull."

Argoren nodded in acknowledgement, keying the sequence as three photon torpedoes leapt out of their tubes, speeding towards the enemy vessels-and missing them.

Chambers swore. These arrow-shaped ships, most of them as big as his Galaxy-class dreadnought, still hung in space, and despite volleys of phasers and photons, seemed not to have even been scratched. Chambers knew, however, that he had been dividing his fire among them, which had minimised the effect.

The ship rocked again. The ops console blew up, flinging Argoren over the panel. Paktall, the tactical officer, left his station to check on his crewmate. Both he and Chambers were relieved when the young woman coughed, an obvious sign of her continued life.

From the look and feel of the ship, none of that would matter soon.

The comm. sounded then.

"Bridge, this is Doctor Laremette. As far as I can tell, everyone's evacuated from the engineering section. Everyone who's still alive and had access to a working comm. is now in the saucer."

Chambers did not bother acknowledging this. Instead, he stumbled over the dead body of Mellows, hoping that the helm still worked. At least partially, it did. Hurriedly, he activated the saucer separation sequence. The ship shuddered again, but this time the weapons fire from the unidentified ships was not to blame. Instead, the giant main hull of the USS Guardian wrenched itself away from the secondary section, accelerating to full impulse as the warp core in Engineering began to go critical.

Chambers was thrown over the helm station as the core exploded while in close proximity to the saucer. The saucer was turned on its ends, cart-wheeling through space as a result of the great detonation. Somehow, the inertial dampers kicked in, and she began to right herself, but not before everyone on board had been thrown head over heels from wherever they happened to be. Paktall clawed back to his station.

"Shields are down!", he yelled. Chambers' heart sank. They had survived the core breach, but now they were defenceless, at the mercy of the fiends from the nebula.

The deathblow did not come.

"There's another starship, just dropping out of warp to starboard of us", Paktall reported excitedly. "It's the USS Mariner!"

A glimmer of hope illuminated itself to Chambers. He had met Captain Anthony a couple of times. The man was a terrier. He would chase the enemy away, or he would seek vengeance.

Unless he gets himself killed first, Chambers realised.

* * * * *

Simon Anthony was speechless.

He had just witnessed the destruction of the secondary hull of the USS Guardian, but incredibly, the saucer had survived. It was now awaiting its own destruction, which was to be delivered by an armada of twelve sleek but deadly ships, the likes of which he had never seen, but which reminded him vaguely of Tholian vessels.

"Tasek, show them we mean business", he ordered. "Fire a full spread of quantum torpedoes at the lead ship of that formation."

Lieutenant-Commander Tasek, the Vulcan tactical officer, targeted his weapons on the lead vessel, and fired. The four quantum torpedoes shot from their launchers, and within seconds had impacted against the enemy's shields. The ship seemed to stagger, then recovered. Then, she looped into a 180-degree turn, and the rest of the fleet followed suit. Simultaneously, all twelve enemy ships jumped to warp, flying towards the Kosparan Nebula.

Anthony did not waste time.

"We'll let them go. Tasek, secure from battle-stations. Mr Lane, send a Priority One message to the USS Steamrunner, ordering them to this sector."

Again he contacted Engineering.

"Mr Davies, well done with those warp core improvements. Without them we wouldn't have gotten here in time. Standby to slap a tractor beam on the Guardian saucer."

"Yes, sir."

Anthony smiled. The chief engineer sounded almost pleased with the praise he had just received. It was a start towards reconciliation.

"Captain", Jakob Ramelow said from the seat next to Anthony. "Scans indicate that there are three hundred and seventy-four lifesigns on the Guardian."

Anthony's face fell.

"Three hundred and seventy-four", he repeated slowly. "Good God, Jakob! That ship had a crew of twelve hundred."

Ramelow nodded.

"I guess most of them didn't make it."

* * * * *

Captain's Log, Supplemental Mariner has intervened on behalf of Captain Chambers of the USS Guardian in a battle against an unidentified enemy. The minimal scans we were able to take of the other ships suggested some form of commonality with standard Tholian designs, although I firmly believe this race is not intrinsically linked to the Tholians. The fighting tactics were very much different to what we would expect from the Tholian fleet; I would not expect the Tholians to retreat from a battle where they have such clear numerical superiority.
The Steamrunner has arrived on station, and the USS Acrux is due to arrive in three hours. On the other hand, we are towing the severely damaged remains of the Guardian's saucer to Starbase 204, near the border of the old Neutral Zone. The close proximity of this location to the Magnitogorsk Shipyards made it an obvious choice. In the meantime, the survivors are being accommodated on board Mariner. I plan to interview Captain Chambers, but at the moment, he is confined to sickbay, on the orders of Doctor Taryll.

Captain Simon Anthony stood in sickbay, next to the biobed upon which Captain Greg Chambers lay. Anthony's opposite number from the Guardian had taken a beating, he could see, but Taryll had said that he would regain consciousness on his own accord shortly.

The current state of affairs in the region was a mystery to everyone on the Mariner. None had ever heard of a race in the Kosparan Sector, much less one so apparently belligerent as to destroy the starship Graf Spee, and pursue the Guardian to the brink of destruction.

Patrick Coleman, who was in charge of Mariner's theoretical mathematics department, was busy crunching the numbers in one of the science labs, working out what Starfleet were potentially facing. Some of the Guardian's computer logs had been retrieved, and Coleman was noting the frequency of weapons fire, as well as the scans of the enemy powerplants, to determine the capabilities of the enemy fleet.

Then, of course, there was the question of whether they were the enemy. Chambers had reported that the fleet did not communicate with the Guardian. Could it have been communicating of a bandwidth out of the range of the standard Starfleet comm.? Could they have been using a system of communication that would not normally have been recognised as a line of communication? Ensign Tolian Brenkar was studying various logs and scans to work this out.

Two officers were having it particularly tough: Counsellor Rebecca Gregory and Lieutenant Alexandra Lane. While Gregory was busy, counselling members of a ship that had lost almost three-quarters of its entire complement, Lane was running communiqu‚s between Starfleet Command and the Romulan Task Force, as well as scanning the ship's library, looking for anything resembling the Kosparan aliens.

Chambers coughed, and Anthony turned to the captain. The older man looked up to the master of the starship Mariner.

"Captain Anthony?"

"Yes, Captain Chambers", Anthony assured him with a nod. "You're on board the USS Mariner."

"Thank you", Chambers said weakly. "You must have arrived just in time, or else I would be dead."

Anthony wanted to let his compatriot rest. Expediency did not allow it.

"Captain, what happened? Who started it: you or the aliens?"

Chambers wheezed, tried to sit up, and then worked out that he did not have the strength to do so. He collapsed back on to the bed.

"It was the Graf Spee", he whispered. "The Graf Spee came out of the middle of the fleet, and she fired first. Before we could return fire, she was gone, and the other ships started pounding us."

Anthony knitted his brow. Maybe Chambers was not fully awake yet. He would try again later. As he made to leave, though, the Guardian captain grabbed his sleeve.

"Captain, I assume you will be going back to the Kosparan Sector."

"That's right", Anthony affirmed. Chambers shivered.

"Watch yourself, Anthony. They're a very powerful enemy. If they send a fleet after you, like they did with us, you'd better be able to run.

"I've seen their weaponry, Captain. It's as if, all of a sudden, one huge blast smashes your shields to pieces. It's only a matter of time before the ship does the same thing."

Chambers let go of Anthony's uniform jacket. Anthony pondered this for a moment. Then, he strode out of sickbay, leaving Captain Greg Chambers to get some well-needed sleep.

CHAPTER TWO

The USS Mariner docked at Starbase 204 at 0400 hours, two days after her battle in the Kosparan Sector. Her slow speed could be attributed to the giant mass that was the Guardian saucer; it had been towed by the Sovereign-class ship all the way out of Romulan space.

After setting the saucer adrift, to be taken by Starfleet tugs to the shipyard, the battleship docked on Ring Two. Anthony had noticed shortly before docking that the Nebula-class starship Phoenix was docked on Ring Three, but he attributed this to a scientific expedition that was due to take place near Romulus. The schedule would, of course, have to be altered, if these Kosparan ships were still an issue.

Anthony disembarked his ship from Docking Station Beta, on deck six. He was surprised to be met on the other end of the umbilical bridge by Tom Paris.

"Look what the selat dragged in", the former helmsman of the USS Voyager said with a smile as he saw his friend arrive on the station. Anthony smiled, and the two embraced.

"Tom! What the bloody hell are you doing here?"

Paris shrugged.

"Admiral's prerogative. Ask Janeway. She got me to come along with her on the Phoenix, but I don't know why."

Anthony frowned, but Paris punched him lightly on the shoulder.

"Come on. We're due for a meeting with her in the conference room."

* * * * *

The meeting with Janeway lasted some four hours. When it was over, Simon Anthony did not stay on the starbase. Instead, he made his way back to his ship. He went to his quarters, before clicking his commbadge.

"Anthony to Ramelow. Jakob, come and see me in my quarters immediately. Also, could you ask Lieutenant-Commanders Tasek and Davies to report to me in one hour?"

He closed the channel and sank into his sofa.

"Computer, play music file Anthony Echo-Charlie, subfile 'Chronicles'."

The music began, and Anthony tried to relax.

* * * * *

Jakob Ramelow arrived at the door to the captain's quarters five minutes later. He pressed the chime, and the door promptly opened. Inside, he was greeted by music.

"Can you pick it, Commander?", Anthony asked, knowing that Ramelow was familiar with Twentieth Century popular songs. Ramelow rubbed his chin.

"The guitar work is masterful", he commented. "I would guess Beck or Clapton."

"Clapton", Anthony confirmed. "This is a live version of his hit Layla. I found it a few years ago on what is known as a 'compact disc'. It's a wonder that there are still some of those CDs around. I converted it to a standard LCARS file."

"You should let Patrick listen to your collection", suggested Ramelow. "After all, he lived during this general era."

"You know, that's a good idea", Anthony nodded. "I'll consider it."

Ramelow shifted.

"You didn't invite me hear so I could listen to Eric Clapton", he stated bluntly. Anthony smiled. One of the things he had most admired about his First Officer was that he never hesitated to speak his mind. It made him an invaluable member of the crew.

"True. Computer, pause music."

Clapton's voice and guitar abruptly stopped, and the room was silent. Anthony gestured for Ramelow to take a seat, and he poured them both a glass of iced tea from a decanter on the coffee table.

"Commander, there is a ship at the Magnitogorsk Shipyards that has been refitted as a carrier. Embarked at the moment is the Fighting Eight Squadron, and their new Stormwind fighters. The starship is the USS Excelsior, and Admiral Janeway wants to deploy her, with us, along the border of the Kosparan Sector.

"There's one problem, though. She doesn't have a captain."

Anthony removed a small box from his pocket. He opened the lid, and turned it in his hand so Ramelow could see the contents. Inside was a single gold pip.

"Congratulations, Jakob", he said smiling. "By order of Admiral Kathryn Janeway, and with the express recommendation of myself, you have hereby been promoted to the rank of captain, effective immediately."

Ramelow didn't know what to say. He took the box from Anthony, and removed the pip. He stared at it for a moment, rolling it in his palm. Then, he slowly raised it to his collar, and fastened it alongside the other three pips.

"Thank you, Captain", he managed.

"No, Captain. Thank you", Anthony replied. "It has been a pleasure serving with you as my executive officer."

"Speaking of which", Ramelow interrupted, "who's the new Mariner XO, and who is mine?"

Anthony smiled.

"I'm going to promote Tasek to the position of First Officer. As for the Excelsior, your First Officer is Lieutenant-Commander Tom Paris, formerly of the starship Voyager."

Ramelow beamed. He had expected gaining a command, but not this early in his career, and certainly not of a legendary Starfleet ship like the Excelsior. To think that he would be commanding Sulu's old ship, and that he would have such a great officer as Tom Paris as his XO...

He stood.

"I'm assuming that this is an urgent appointment."

Anthony nodded.

"I'm afraid there's no time for the usual disembarking ceremony. You are to report to Admiral Janeway on the USS Phoenix within the hour, and from there you will be taken to Magnitogorsk, where you will be given your ship."

Anthony ascended from his sofa. He shook Ramelow's hand.

"Goodbye, Jakob. Good luck. With you and Tom in command, that ship is in safe hands."

Ramelow gulped.

"Request permission to disembark, Captain."

"Granted, Captain. Your personal belongings will be packed up by the quartermaster and transported to the Phoenix immediately."

With one last nod, Ramelow exited the living quarters. Barely had he gone, when the door chimed again.

"Enter", Anthony said.

The portal opened, and Tasek and Davies stepped inside. They stood to attention.

"At ease, gentlemen", Anthony gestured. "I'll cut straight to the point.

"Commander Ramelow has been given command of the Excelsior. That takes effect immediately. That means I need a new First Officer. Tasek, you're the most senior officer on board besides me. You're the obvious choice."

If Tasek was surprised by his sudden assignment, he didn't show it.

"I would be honoured, sir", he said. "Does this mean I will be stepping down from the post of tactical officer?"

Anthony shook his head.

"Not necessarily. If you want to, we can place Ensign Miklos as our chief tactical officer, but if you think you can deal with the workload, I'm more than happy to have you performing both duties."

"In that case, I shall remain as tactical officer."

Anthony smiled. Then he turned to Davies.

"That means you're now the second officer, Henry, should you choose to accept it. Is that fine with you?"

Davies grinned.

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."

Anthony nodded.

"You've earned it, Mr Davies."

He hesitated. The smile dissolved.

"In retrospect, I believe I was a bit hard on you after your court-martial. As far as I am concerned, you are an honourable man, as well as the best engineer I've had the pleasure of working with."

Davies laughed quietly.

"Permission to speak freely, sir."

"Granted."

"Sir, I definitely thought you were too hard on me", Davies said. "However, I realise that you were in a difficult situation. I assure you that no apology is necessary."

Anthony's smile returned.

"Well, you've got one anyway."

He paused.

"As regards the situation with our second engineer, Starfleet has named Lieutenant Uys Retarax as Toby's replacement."

Davies' expression soured. He shook his head.

"Uys Retarax of the Thunderchild?", he breathed, referring to Retarax's previous ship, which was destroyed in the Battle of Bajor. "Captain, he has a disciplinary record as long as the nacelles. He's known to be drunk and disorderly, insubordinate, occasionally violent-"

"-not to mention a damn good engineer", Anthony finished. "Believe me, Henry, he wasn't my first choice either. But Starfleet needs to put him somewhere, because he's too good to waste away in a civilian job. He's even been slated as a member of SCE, but that application was turned down because of his...undisciplined past. Admiral Janeway believes that we can tame him."

Davies sighed.

"And when are we getting this wonder engineer whom we don't want?"

"He is due to arrive on the starship Appalachia in a week. We're not waiting around for that, though. We are to depart Starbase Two-Oh-Four in seven hours. Providing all goes well, we'll return here in two weeks, and we'll pick up Lieutenant Retarax then."

He turned back to Tasek.

"I want this ship on battle alert the moment we leave dock. All weapons systems, shields, and personal weapons must be at full capacity."

"Captain, is not our purpose in returning to the Kosparan Sector to try and contact the alien race?", Tasek pointed out. "Are we not to try and resolve the situation diplomatically?"

It was Anthony's turn to sigh.

"That's true, Tasek", he conceded. "But Starfleet does not believe this will happen. Sure, we'll fly the flag of peace and diplomacy, but behind the flag is a quantum torpedo. It looks as if they're warlike, and we cannot allow them to think we're weak. The Federation cannot afford another war.

"When we rejoin the fleet, Starfleet numbers will be us, the Acrux, the Steamrunner, the Excelsior and her eight fighters, and the Phoenix, which is leaving Admiral Janeway on the starbase, and is joining our fleet. In addition, the admiral has requested to Starfleet Intelligence that Commodore Sevaro and the Eximius be released from space trials, and the starships Appalachia and Bellerophon, once they've arrived, will also join the fleet, in order to lend support. This is the biggest battle fleet assembled since the end of the Dominion War. Starfleet wants to nip this threat in the bud before it gets out of control."

"What about the Titan?", Davies asked. "I thought Captain Riker and the Titan were supposed to be heading up the Romulan initiative."

"The Titan was supposed to have", Anthony said. "However, she has instead been sent to the Bajor system, to complement the Defiant and the Vigilant. Starfleet is also concerned that, despite the influence of Odo, the Founders may think that the Federation is again a prime target, now that we have difficulties in Romulan space."

The captain sighed, and flopped back on to his couch.

"Make no mistake, gentlemen. We may have the appearance of diplomats, but we are about to go to war, and unless we can work out what on Earth these aliens are trying to accomplish, I cannot see a way to avert it.

"Dismissed."

Davies and Tasek stood to attention, then spun on their heels and left, Tasek preceding his subordinate.

Anthony mopped his brow.

"Computer, replay musical selection 'Chronicles', starting from the song Change the World."

The music began playing, and Anthony hoped against all hope that Mariner could be that sunlight in the universe that Eric Clapton sang about. He hoped that that sunlight would be stabilising and peaceful.

He continued hoping as he drifted off to sleep.

CHAPTER THREE

The Magnitogorsk Shipyards had been named after a town in the Soviet Union that had been built as a symbol of Russian industrialism. Literally translated as 'Magnetic Mountain', Magnitogorsk had been an incredible achievement.

The shipyards were fairly nondescript as far as shipyards went. Ramelow could see two ships-a Norway and a Saber-being refitted, and that was about the extent of it. Except, of course, for the Excelsior.

She loomed large in front of the shuttle he, Janeway and Paris had taken from the Phoenix. She looked no different to the holoimage of her in the halls of the Academy.

"The redesign of Main Engineering has freed up enough space to fit all eight of the Stormwind fighters in there", Janeway was saying. "That leaves the Main Shuttlebay open for the standard shuttles.

"Unfortunately, there's no direct space access from the Fighterbay, so Magnitogorsk has built a huge transporter in there. Basically, when you want to deploy the Fighting Eight, you need to beam it out. That means you'll have to do some forward planning, as you'll have to lower shields to do that, and that's usually not so prudent in combat, but I'm sure you two can work something out."

Paris was open-mouthed.

"She's beautiful", he murmured.

"Don't let B'Elanna hear you say that", Janeway said, "although she'd probably be inclined to agree."

The shuttle banked through the nacelles, and under the prominence of the stern. The Main Shuttlebay doors were open, waiting for them. The shuttle pilot expertly guided his little craft in, until she was firm on the deck, and the doors were closing behind them.

As the three officers disembarked, they were met by an equal number of Excelsior crewmen.

"Admiral on deck", announced the one closest to them. Janeway smiled.

"At ease, Lieutenant."

She turned to Ramelow and Paris.

"I won't keep you, gentlemen. I had better be off. You'll need to get going soon."

Ramelow looked at the flag officer. It was common practice for an admiral to escort a new captain through his command.

Janeway smiled.

"Congratulations, Mr Ramelow. She's all yours."

Then she embarked the shuttle, and the five officers remaining in the shuttlebay had to run to the hatch, and then out into the corridor, before the hangar doors opened again.

Catching his breath, Ramelow looked over the three officers who had come to meet them. The first one, the one who had first spoken, was a human, Asian in appearance, with a yellow tunic and two gold pips. Also with two gold pips, but with a red tunic, was a hulking Trill, who must have stood six and a half feet in height. The other officer, also a Trill with a cranberry tunic but only a single pip, was far smaller, and his litheness almost reminded Ramelow of Lieutenant-Commander Davies.

The Asian snapped to attention quickly.

"Welcome aboard, Captain. I am Lieutenant Ai Daming, the chief engineer. This"-pointing to the gigantic Trill-"is Lieutenant Garrun Tahbor, the commander of the Fighting Eight Squadron, and this"-now to the smaller Trill-"is Ensign Benezia Kal, our helmsman."

Ramelow frowned.

"I assume, Mr Daming, that we have an operations officer, a tactical officer, a CMO, a counsellor and a science officer."

"With the captain's pardon, sir, it's 'Mr Ai'", Ai corrected. "I am Chinese; like the Bajorans, my surname comes first."

Ramelow nodded his apology. Ai continued.

"We have an ops officer, a CMO and a science officer", he informed his commanding officer. "We don't have a counsellor yet, and nor have we a tactical officer. Our tactical systems have not been overhauled since 2298, so we haven't been assigned a weapons officer, because we're not going anywhere soon."

Paris sighed.

"That's about to change. We've been ordered to join the USS Mariner and her fleet on the border of the Kosparan Sector. Mr Kal, I hope your expertise is not solely limited to the helm."

Kal shook his head.

"No, Commander. I have had advanced scientific and tactical training."

"Good!", exclaimed Tom. "You just volunteered to be the tactical officer. Captain, with your permission, I'd like to take the conn."

"By all means, Mr Paris", Ramelow smiled. "Mr Ai, get your engines ready. Lieutenant Tahbor, take your squadron to standby. We're probably going into combat."

Tahbor rubbed his hands enthusiastically. Kal appeared downcast.

"Captain, we have phaser banks, not arrays", he protested. "We have photon torpedoes, but no quantums. We're outdated."

"Deal with it", Ramelow growled. "Whether you like it or not, Ensign, we're needed."

Paris began walking to the turbolift.

"Come on!", he called over his shoulder. "It's time to make a difference!"

* * * * *

The running lights of the USS Excelsior NCC-2000 blinked on for the first time in many years, and it was a glorious sight for all who saw it. From the captain's chair on the bridge, Captain Jakob Ramelow looked on the screen, as one by one, the mooring clamps at Maintenance Depot Six were disengaged, and Excelsior began to float freely.

"Mr Paris, ahead one-third thrusters, please", he ordered his XO. Paris smiled.

"With pleasure, sir."

Slowly, the Excelsior drew away from her safe haven. Once she was clear, the ship went to impulse power, and she started in the direction of Starbase 204.

"Captain", called the ops officer, a very young Vulcan named T'Jan. "I am detecting the USS Mariner approximately five AU away. They are at impulse and have cleared the station."

Ramelow grinned.

"Ensign T'Jan, hail the Mariner."

The screen changed, and Simon Anthony sat in his command chair on the bridge of the USS Mariner. Ramelow saw that his old chair was vacant; evidently, Tasek was continuing as tactical officer.

"Captain Ramelow, long time no see", Anthony began.

"Captain Anthony, I'm willing to bet you three bottles of Romulan ale that we'll get to the Kosparan Sector before you."

A mischievous glimmer sparkled in Anthony's eyes.

"You're on, Excelsior. May the best ship win. Anthony out."

Ramelow's former commanding officer disappeared from the screen. Ramelow clicked his commbadge.

"Lieutenant Ai, you're about to work your engines like never before."

He closed the channel, and crossed one leg over the other.

"Commander Paris, set a course for the Kosparan Sector and standby to activate warp engines."

The Excelsior drew level with Mariner, which had drawn to a stop to allow the older ship to catch up. Ramelow smiled indulgently.

"Engage, Mr Paris!"

* * * * *

On the Mariner, Alex Lane and Rebecca Gregory had been given some well-earned rest. At present, they were spending the few peaceful hours before arriving in the Kosparan Sector in the Lipton Room. Lane was sipping on a cold Jaroc Cola, while Gregory had opted for an Andorian synthohol which, while tasting terrible, had the advantage of keeping her awake. Both had been very quiet in the two hours they had already been in the lounge. The silence had only been punctuated when Patrick Coleman had delivered Lane a report on transmission variables in the Kosparan Nebula, should they have to enter it and communicate with Starfleet.

Gregory sighed.

"Why can't Starfleet give us a milk run for once?", she moaned. "Why can't we deliver the mail to Frocus III, or analyse space dust near Rigel, or do something that doesn't involve us almost getting killed?"

Lane patted her hand.

"Hey, we've been trained for this, Bec. This is our job."

Gregory nodded, trying to hold back tears.

"I'm just worried I'll screw up, you know? Or that someone I care about is going to die."

Lane smiled lightly.

"Captain Anthony knows what he's doing", she reassured her companion. "He always does. As for you, you've never screwed up before, and you're not going to. You do your best, and that's all anyone can ask of you."

She chuckled.

"And when you are the best, doing your best is pretty damn good in my book."

Gregory looked into the face of the ops officer.

"I wonder...", she began. Then, unexpectedly, she leaned forward, and kissed Lane lightly on her lips. The counsellor's eyes widened, and she recoiled.

"Oh God. I'm so sorry, Alex. I don't know what came over me. I..."

Lane stroked her hair.

"Just shut up", she whispered as she grabbed Gregory around the shoulders and pulled her tight to her own bosom. They stayed that way for several minutes.

"Don't let the moment end", murmured the Lunan.

Suddenly, Captain Anthony's voice blared over the comm.

"Attention all hands. We are entering the Kosparan Sector. All crew to battle-stations. Repeat: all crew to battle stations."

Reluctantly, Lane withdrew her arms. She smiled at Gregory.

"Duty calls, I guess", she said with a wry smile. She got up to go, but Gregory grabbed her sleeve.

"Just look after yourself, okay?"

Lane nodded.

"You too. As for me, I always do."

Lane ran from the Lipton Room, leaving Gregory with her Andorian synthahol. She thought for a moment, and then got up from her chair in the empty lounge, and made for the doors. Her destination: sickbay, where she would undoubtedly be needed before the day was out.

CHAPTER FOUR

The gases of the Kosparan Nebula swirled as they had for millennia. Inside, as millennia past, vessels plied the space between clusters of planets and stars. All these worlds were united under one single race, the Buna, a species known in the nebula for its single-minded, ruthless nature. The races who were not Buna knew fully the warlike traits of this master species; one of the planets in the nebula had survived under independent rule for countless thousands of years, until one day the entire Buna fleet converged on it, laying waste to every single city, town, village and outpost. Who that race was had been lost to history, for they were all butchered. Ironically, the Buna did not need the planet at all, but used it to set an example; after this, most other independent worlds ceded themselves to the Buna.

For two hundred years the Buna had prepared themselves for expansion outside the nebula. Their arrow-shaped ships had interdicted many times into Romulan and Tholian space in order to find weaknesses. While the Buna had captured some Tholian ships in the past-this having influenced their starship designs-it was the Romulans who held such promise. One hundred and fourteen years ago, an entire Romulan fleet had entered the nebula. The Buna retaliated.

Of the twelve vessels that had entered the nebula, nine were destroyed. The remaining three were captured and pressed into service, their crews indoctrinated using a kind of hypnotic technology the Buna had developed. Although now elderly, these Romulan ships were still serving the Buna fleet, as was a newer ship, one from the empire known as the Federation. The Graf Spee had also been captured, and her crew had been put through the same brainwashing treatment as the Romulans a century before them. Captain Chambers had not been delusional when he claimed that the Spee had been the first to open fire on him.

The flagship of the Buna fleet, however, was an indigenous design, and it was on the bridge of this ship, the Bunara, that the commander-in-chief of the Buna fleet stood, fielding reports from his subordinates.

"Grand Admiral", one said to him. "Our most recent scans indicate that the Federation has moved another few ships into the area. One of them seems to be using some kind of stealth technology, but it is too primitive to fully affect our sensors."

Grand Admiral Jah studied the scans, as displayed on a console in front of him. He could not have known, but the ship he was looking at was the USS Eximius, under the command of Commodore Aureliano Sevaro of Starfleet Intelligence. Otherwise, the admiral could see the starships Acrux, Steamrunner, Mariner and Excelsior.

Jah smiled.

"Tell echelons four and five to come into formation abreast of us", he ordered the man who had given him the scans. "We shall move to the perimeter."

As the mighty ship began to edge towards the rim of the nebula, his lips curled into a wicked grin. The Federation ships were to die today.

* * * * *

The USS Excelsior dropped out of warp just four minutes after the Mariner had done so. Ramelow had lost his bet, but he guessed that Anthony wouldn't care. For Ramelow, though, his mind was on other, more important issues.

He spoke into the comm. grid.

"Ramelow to Fighting Eight Squadron. Prepare for immediate launch."

He turned to the ops officer.

"Mr T'Jan, sound launch stations. Prepare to transport the Fighting Eight in a line abreast formation above us."

"Aye, Captain", the Vulcan replied as he fingered a panel. The light panels along the bridge began to glow amber, and an alarm sounded throughout the fine vessel.

"Tahbor to Ramelow", came the gruff voice of the squadron leader. "All fighter crews are embarked. We are ready to launch."

Ramelow nodded.

"Mr T'Jan, launch all fighters."

* * * * *

The space above the Excelsior glowed a brilliant blue. In a matter of seconds, eight Stormwind fighters had materialised.

In the cockpit of the lead Stormwind, Lieutenant Tahbor checked that all systems were operating normally. Then he keyed the comm.

"Red One to all Fighting Eight. Begin orbital flight of the fleet now."

The fighters peeled away, to begin their elliptical course around the entire Starfleet armada.

* * * * *

"Captain", Lane called to Anthony. "We are receiving a transmission from the Eximius."

Anthony rose from his chair in the centre of the bridge of the USS Mariner. He smiled.

"Put Commodore Sevaro through."

Abruptly Commodore Aureliano Sevaro appeared on screen. Anthony was glad to have Sevaro and the Eximius on his side. Just recently, it had been that ship and the quick thinking of Sevaro that had saved Mariner, Anthony and Patrick Coleman from a callous assassin. The Eximius was a stealth vessel; the only reason Anthony knew she was there was because Sevaro had activated the Starfleet transponder. Otherwise, she was invisible to sensors. If this new enemy tried anything, they would get a nasty surprise.

"Captain, it's a pleasure as usual", the sexagenarian said. "I hear that Jake got promoted. Hope he hasn't left you short-handed."

"We'll survive", Anthony assured him. "I hope you don't mind, Commodore, but I'm taking command of this fleet."

"Not at all, Captain. Officially, I'm not even here, so how can I take command?"

Anthony laughed.

"Thank you, sir."

Tanier called from the helm station.

"Captain, one of the Fighting Eight is reporting engine difficulties."

Lane tapped her console.

"Confirmed. Red Four's impulse drive has failed. It's adrift."

Anthony exhaled with impatience.

"What's the closest starship to Red Four?"

Lane consulted the sensors.

"The Acrux, sir."

"Signal them to take Red Four on board."

* * * * *

The Bunara had taken up position at the edge of the nebula, and Jah waited with mounting impatience as the rest of his ships caught up with him. He was disturbed from his reverie by his sensor operator.

"Sir, one of the Federation ships has dropped its shielding, in order to take a smaller craft on board", he reported. Jah started.

"Can you target with accuracy through the nebula border?"

The sensor man nodded forcefully. Jah smirked.

"Then get a lock on that ship, and tell our armoury to fire torpedoes at that ship when you do."

* * * * *

"Captain", Ensign Tolian Brenkar said from his science station. "I am reading a large energy build-up close to the edge of the nebula."

Anthony turned.

"A natural phenomenon?", he ventured. Brenkar shook his head.

"I don't think so, sir, and..."

He stopped, frowned, and squinted at his screen.

"Captain, the energy has just spiked!"

Anthony turned to the screen, in time to see three glowing yellow projectiles tear through the gas of the nebula, out into normal space. They arced towards the Acrux, still without her shields.

Anthony cringed as all three torpedoes hit the Acrux squarely on the underside of her saucer. The Miranda-class light cruiser pitched backwards, crashing into the Stormwind fighter and disintegrating the smaller craft. Plasma fires billowed out of the crippled Starfleet ship, as she struggled to right herself.

"Sir, I'm detecting another spike", shouted Brenkar. Anthony leapt up.

"Lon, take us in between the Acrux and the nebula, quickly!"

Tanier's hands thundered over his console, and the ship accelerated to the aid of her comrade. As she did so, three more weapons burst out of the cloud, intent on destroying the Acrux in one enormous holocaust. Anthony was not prepared to let that happen. He remained standing, his hands braced on the back of Tanier's seat, as the Sovereign-class ship drew closer, closer to the Acrux and to the incoming torpedoes.

The three warheads collided with the starboard bow shields. They exploded with a mighty force, causing the Mariner to convulse at the blow.

"Forward shields are down to ninety percent", reported Tasek, but to Anthony, they had already won a victory. The enemy would not destroy a Starfleet ship today, not on his watch.

"Alex, tell the Acrux to get the hell out of here", he yelled. "I don't care how they do it!'

Lane hurriedly tapped her controls, speaking into the comm. After a moment, she looked up.

"The Acrux reports they have minimal warp power. They're retreating."

On the screen, the Miranda-class ship wheeled around drunkenly, and then streaked away, back in the direction of Starbase 204. Anthony hoped they would make it.

"Captain, there's activity at the nebula", Tanier warned.

Anthony looked up again to the screen. The gases and dust of the nebula swirled, and suddenly a very large, diamond-like ship emerged. Then, directly behind her, in a line, some nine more, smaller than the first, appeared. Anthony's face fell.

"Alex, open a channel to the fleet."

The comm. chirped.

"This is Captain Anthony to the fleet. Concentrate your fire on the lead ship. If we divide our fire we'll be destroyed. Good luck."

The comm. channel closed. Then, Anthony spoke to his new First Officer.

"Mr Tasek, commence firing."

* * * * *

Jah did not expect a total of ten torpedoes to smash into his ship within seconds of the Bunara emerging from the nebula. He had pitched forward from his chair, but had managed not to fall on his face.

He rubbed his hand over his hairless head, where a myriad of small indentations pockmarked his cranium, as they did with all Buna males.

"Our forward shields are at fifty percent", the armoury officer reported. Jah growled.

"Order echelon four to engage that stealth ship", he said. In the meantime, echelon five can cover us while we capture the carrier ship."

The Bunara glided forward. Then, she fired. Three torpedoes collided with the forward shields of the Excelsior.

* * * * *

"Jesus Christ!", Ramelow shouted as his ship flipped on to her back. Luckily, the artificial gravity held, and he managed to stay in his chair. One of the other officers on the bridge was flung from her chair, and landed heavily near the tactical station.

"Our shields are at twelve percent", Kal reported nervously from that station. Ramelow gritted his teeth.

"Return fire with forward phasers and a full spread of torpedoes. Helm, come about. Keep out bow away from them."

Paris complied, and the ship began banking, even as the two photon torpedoes shot away from the ship towards the Bunara. The phaser banks spewed energy at the oncoming vessel. But still she came.

* * * * *

The Eximius rocked with the twin explosions of torpedoes from the four ships that were engaging her. Sevaro was furious. The Eximius had been designed to be undetectable, and yet the enemy had come straight for her.

"Lieutenant Hamer", ordered Commander Alan Foyle, the executive officer, "fire your pulse phasers. Arm the gravimetric torpedoes."

Bolts of concentrated energy billowed out of the bow of the great ship, smashing into the lead ship of echelon four. One round managed to penetrate her shields, and her entire forward section was torn apart. She flew on, straight towards the Eximius. Frantically, the Eximius' helmsman tried to take evasive action, but to no avail. The crippled Buna ship hurtled straight into the forward shields of the Starfleet vessel, tearing through them, before exploding against the hull.

On the bridge, pandemonium ensued.

"Hull breaches are being reported on decks three, four, five and six!", the ops officer, Ensign Branados shouted. "Emergency force-fields are in place."

"Our forward torpedo tubes are offline", reported Hamer.

"Bow thrusters have failed!"

"Pulse phaser number three has overloaded!"

"Continue firing!", bellowed Sevaro over the racket. "There are still three of them gunning for us! Helm, bring us about."

"Captain, the other six ships are going for the Excelsior", reported Branados. "She's outgunned."

Sevaro suddenly felt sick. That was Jake's ship.

And there's nothing we can do about it.

* * * * *

Mariner and Phoenix had taken a belting trying to get close to the Excelsior. The Fighting Eight weren't having any effect, either. Of the original eight, three were left, one of whom was Tahbor. The Stormwinds were simply being blasted away at the Buna's convenience.

Only the Steamrunner was so far untouched. Her captain, Captain Lakal Haru, was using his ship's superior handling to dart in between the enemy ships, while firing his phasers, desperately trying to get them away from the Excelsior. The Type IXs weren't having much effect, though.

He turned to his tactical officer.

"Reroute power from the aft shields", he ordered. "Let's try and put a bit more oomph into our weapons."

The Steamrunner came around again, tearing through the Buna's fifth echelon at breakneck speed, her phasers blasting away.

Then, the Buna replied.

The Buna captains had been waiting for such an opportunity. They had judged Captain Haru well. His redistribution of power had been impulsive, and now he would realise that.

The Buna energy weapons chewed through what little stern shielding there was. Then, they attacked the impulse drive, like a crazed predator devouring injured prey. The impulse reactors overloaded, and the Steamrunner was tossed stem over stern by the tremendous explosion that resulted.

Captain Grennock of the USS Phoenix was the first to see the damaged Steamrunner hurtle towards his ship.

"Hard to port!", he screamed at his helmsman, but it was too late. The other Starfleet vessel caught the Nebula-class ship on the underside of her saucer. The detonation ripped the smaller ship apart, while the Phoenix's saucer blew apart. She somersaulted away, fatally damaged.

* * * * *

The Mariner bridge was hazy with smoke from exploded power couplings. Nonetheless, Anthony was determined to fight on.

"What's the status of the Excelsior?", he demanded of Alex Lane. The Lunan checked her console.

"She's being boarded", she called. "There's some kind of radiation that I think was caused by the enemy's beam weapons. It's bathed the hull of the Excelsior, and as far as I can tell, it would render energy weapons like phasers useless."

Anthony frowned. If that were the case, then the opposition would not have an advantage, unless they used weapons other than firearms.

An image of a Klingon flitted through his mind, and he suddenly understood. Almost certainly, the aliens had knives, swords or other weapons like that.

He clicked his commbadge.

"Crewman V'Nushku, prep your security team", he ordered the leader of Security Team One. "We're going to board the Excelsior."

Tasek raised an eyebrow.

"Captain, it would be ill-advised to lower our shields long enough to transport a security team to the Excelsior", he stated. Anthony smiled.

"Then we'll lower the port shields and present our starboard side to the enemy ships. Whatever, I will not allow the Excelsior to be captured by the enemy. I shall be leading the away team, so you're in command, Mr Tasek."

Anthony left his command chair and sprinted to the turbolift door. Before embarking, he turned.

"Tasek, whatever happens over there, your orders are to keep this crew safe. Understood?"

Tasek had descended to the centre of the bridge, leaving Ensign Miklos to take the tactical station.

"Understood, sir", he said. Anthony nodded, and entered the turbolift. As the doors swished closed, Tasek took command.

"Ensign Miklos, fire a full spread of quantum torpedoes at the lead vessel. Continue firing our phasers at all of them. Lieutenant Tanier, manoeuvre us close to the Excelsior."

* * * * *

Captain Jakob Ramelow, Lieutenant-Commander Tom Paris and Ensign Benezia Kal were the last three officers alive on the Excelsior bridge. The bodies of T'Jan and the science officer were lying dead on the floor, a result of exploding conduits and consoles. The computer had announced that Excelsior was being boarded, so Ramelow had removed the hand phasers from the station under the helm. The three officers-for all they knew, the last alive on the entire ship-prepared for a fight to the death.

The turbolift doors at the back of the bridge opened, and three tall, bald and pockmarked men emerged. Each was clothed in a skin-hugging emerald green jumpsuit, and each was carrying a device that looked suspiciously like a phaser.

Ramelow aimed his weapon and fired. Nothing happened. He checked the setting, while Paris and Kal attempted to subdue the intruders with their weapons. None of them functioned.

Ramelow looked up, just in time to see the blue beam strike him in the chest. He fell back. At once he could hear a terrible screeching noise, as if the hull was being torn apart by giant claws. He covered his ears, but the sound only intensified. He began convulsing, and images, foreign images, flashed through his mind. He closed his eyes and screamed.

* * * * *

Anthony and the four security officers materialised on deck two of the carrier ship. Immediately, Anthony relayed orders.

"Yebett, Xavier and Kaspall, go down to Engineering and try to find any survivors. Beam them back to the ship. V'Nushku, you and I shall try and get to the bridge. Let's go!"

Anthony and the Denmaran security officer had barely started out, when Anthony was hailed.

"Tasek to Anthony", Tasek called over the comm. "Captain, the Excelsior has begun moving towards the nebula, along with the other ships of the enemy fleet. We will follow, but your team will have to be evacuated before the ship enters the nebula."

"Understood, Tasek", the captain replied. He looked around the corridor. He dare not use the turbolift to get to the bridge, because turbolifts were prime targets for sabotage or ambush. Instead, he and V'Nushku would have to go through the Jeffries tubes. In this, they were lucky, because Anthony had served on two Excelsior I-class ships before, and knew the tube system like the back of his hand. The Excelsior's Jeffries tubes were spacious, but were also labyrinthine. One could easily get lost in the system.

He found a cover for one of the tubes, and quietly removed it. He gestured for V'Nushku to go through first, then he followed. As they entered, they unsheathed their Starfleet-issue survival knives; there had been no time to replicate six swords for the away team. Cautiously, they walked, hunched over, through the tube, until they came to a junction, where they could stand up to their full height. Anthony pointed upwards, to the hatch above them, and V'Nushku pressed the button next to it, causing it to open.

Abruptly, a tall man in a green one-piece garment jumped from the opening, landing on his feet and catching both Mariner crewmembers off guard. The newcomer was bald, and he brandished a mean-looking sword, which reminded Anthony of an old-style cutlass. V'Nushku had fallen backwards when the intruder had surprised them, and she now found that her survival knife had been dropped in the junction. The Buna thug took advantage of the opportunity, and lunged at the Starfleet woman.

In doing so, however, he ignored the movement of Anthony, who happened to be right at the side of the junction. As the soldier prepared to land a deadly strike at V'Nushku, Anthony tripped him. As he barrelled past, the captain reversed his grip on the knife, and plunged it into the Buna's neck. The thug went as limp as a rag doll, and fell to the floor.

V'Nushku whimpered then, and Anthony realised that she had been caught by the cutlass. She was bleeding from a wound to her stomach. Anthony rushed to her side.

"Don't worry, Crewman", he reassured her. "The doctor will take care of this."

He clicked his commbadge.

"Anthony to Mariner. Beam Crewman V'Nushku directly to sickbay."

As V'Nushku sparkled and dematerialised, Tasek came over the channel again.

"Captain, the ship will enter the nebula in approximately one minute."

"Okay, Tasek", Anthony sighed. "I'll hurry it up."

The captain vaulted up to the rung above him, through the open hatch, and he hauled himself up the tube, towards the bridge.

* * * * *

When Simon Anthony exited the Jeffries tube, he found the Excelsior bridge to be almost empty. There was only one officer there, and he was Starfleet. He also had his back to Anthony. But Anthony could guess who it was.

"Jakob", he called, barely two feet behind the captain of the NCC-2000. Ramelow turned, his eyes in a blank stare. Then Anthony noticed the sword.

Ramelow raised the cutlass over his head. Anthony's eyes widened as the weapon swung, aimed at his neck.

He felt a tingling sensation all around him. He saw the blade cut through where he was, but he did not feel it. Then, his vision went blue.

When his eyes refocused, he found himself on a transporter pad, along with the three other security team members. He wiped his brow, and found that he was perspiring profusely.

"Chief", he said to the transporter operator with an exhalation of relief, "I owe you six."

Then he clicked his commbadge.

"Anthony to bridge. Get us the hell out of here."

EPILOGUE

The conference table was buzzing with noise. On one side, the Mariner officers, sans Anthony, chatted with their associates on the other side of the table, from the Eximius, also without their commanding officer.

The room hushed as the doors swished open, and Simon Anthony and Aureliano Sevaro appeared. They took their seats at the head and bottom of the table respectively.

"Gentlemen", began Anthony. "I think we can all say that today was an unqualified disaster. Two starships destroyed, two severely damaged and one captured. It doesn't get much worse."

"The Eximius will be back on her feet in two days", promised Sevaro. "It's going to need maximum effort from our engineering staff, but I'm sure they can do it."

"We're up to it, sir", assured the chief engineer of the Eximius, Lieutenant-Commander Aragus. "At least we nailed three of the bastards."

Sevaro smiled weakly, and nodded.

"Captain, what are we going to do about the Excelsior?", Lon Tanier asked Anthony. There was a murmur around the table. Anthony shook his head and sighed.

"There's not much we can do, Lon", he said. "At the moment, Mariner is the only ship that is in any condition to pick a fight, and we wouldn't last very long, would we? Even the Fighting Eight no longer exists; the surviving three were beamed aboard the Eximius a few hours ago. I would say that we can wait until the Bellerophon and the Appalacia get here, and then we can mount an operation with them and the Eximius, but we had a better task force than that today, and we were thoroughly trounced. It seems that the Excelsior and her crew are a lost cause."

"In more ways than one", put in Sevaro. "From Captain Anthony's description of events on the Excelsior, Captain Ramelow has gone mad, or has been brainwashed, or something like that. It's fair to assume the same has happened to the rest of the crew. Whether that's reversible is debateable, but we don't have the resources to do anything about it."

"With all due respect, sir", Counsellor Gregory said, "I don't think you're taking the morale of both our crews into account here."

Sevaro looked at her quizzically.

"Really, Counsellor? How would you know what the morale of the two crews is?"

Gregory made to answer, but Lon Tanier cut her off.

"Counsellor Gregory may not, Commodore, but I do; I'm a Betazoid. That means I'm empathic, and I can detect emotions.

"On the Mariner, there is a deep sense of loss, because we have lost Commander-I mean, Captain-Ramelow. Among the officers who know Captain Anthony, it's more acute, because we also know that he is friends with Lieutenant-Commander Paris, the XO of the Excelsior."

Anthony cringed. Tanier noticed.

"The captain is under the most strain because of those two friendships. As for the Eximius, Commodore, you are anguished because of Captain Ramelow, who used to be one of your most trusted officers and friends. Your crew are also deeply troubled, because if they don't know that Ramelow was your friend, which would hurt them even more, they know that they just saw one of the most legendary ships in Starfleet history get captured.

"Commodore, Captain-if we do nothing, both of these crews will be devastated."

The room was silent. Then Tasek raised his hand.

"Mr Tanier, neither the captain nor the commodore can be held to ransom by emotion", he pointed out. "They must do what is best for their ships and the Federation, and it will do no one any good if we die running a fool's errand."

Anthony was leaning forward, his hands cupped over his mouth, his mind turning over at great speed. At that moment, the comm. chirped.

"Bridge to Captain Anthony."

Anthony groaned.

"Go ahead, Lieutenant Reshir."

"Captain, you have a Priority Blue message from the Office of the President of the United Federation of Planets."

Anthony looked up, startled. A Priority Blue meant that it was a text message of the utmost urgency.

"Put it through to my workstation in here, Lieutenant."

A retractable screen raised itself out of the tabletop in front of him, and a computer voice asked for his authorisation.

"Recognise Anthony, Captain Simon, authorisation Anthony Theta-Pi."

The message blinked on the screen. Anthony read it, his expression impassive, as the others waited for him to inform them of the contents. Finally he looked up.

"President Jaresh Inyo has ordered us to withdraw to Starbase Two-Oh-Four", he told them monotonously, with a quiet tone. "He says that he does not believe the Federation can be embroiled in a war so soon after the Dominion War. Accordingly, we are to strengthen our own position at the edge of the old Neutral Zone, and leave the Romulans to deal with these aliens."

There were gasps of shock on all sides of the table.

"Captain, according to our data, the Romulan fleet still had not recovered from the Dominion War when Shinzon led them into a civil war", Coleman protested. "Without knowing exact figures for the alien fleet, it's hard to tell what their strength is, but from rough estimates, I'd only give the Romulans a thirty percent chance of success."

"The Federation has been striving for peace with the Romulans for centuries", Davies said. The South African was seated next to the mathematician. He had gone very pale. "If we pull back, and allow them to be destroyed, after we've finally built up a rapport with them, the morale in the Federation, let alone on the Mariner and Eximius, will suffer a great deal. It would be like us letting the Cardassians take Bajor all over again."

"We've seen that this new race is expansionist", Commander Foyle put in. "They're wanting to destroy us so they can take the entire Kosparan Sector, and then Romulus and the Star Empire are easy meat. It's only a matter of time before they go for us."

"Which is why we have been ordered to withdraw", observed Tasek. "It is logical."

"So that's it, then", Lane breathed. All eyes were now glued on the operations officer. "We'll never see Captain Ramelow again, and we have to cover our own backsides."

Anthony leaned back in his chair. He thought for a moment, turning all of the opinions of the officers in the room over in his head. Then, he leaned forward again.

"Lieutenant Reshir", he said into the comm. "Take down the following message and send it to the president, Priority Blue:

"Mr President, your message has been received. It is my duty, however, to inform you that I have no intention of withdrawing."

Everyone looked at Anthony with great surprise. He continued earnestly.

"It is my firm belief that to abandon the Romulans would be to abandon our morals because it suits. Sir, it is only three years since we fought a great war to protect the sanctity of those morals. I cannot believe that the huge sacrifice the Federation has endured can so easily be disregarded.

"It is my intention to enter the Kosparan Nebula to retrieve the USS Excelsior and her crew. If we succeed, then we will have given the enemy some second thoughts about invading the rest of the Beta and Alpha Quadrants. If we fail, then we will die knowing that what we are doing is right and just. If you disagree, sir, then I apologise, but this must be done.

"This crew is proud to serve the Federation to our last breath. Today we aim to safeguard it her for future generations.

"Anthony out."

Anthony turned to look at all the faces at the table. Everyone-except Tasek, of course-was staring in admiration. Anthony addressed Sevaro.

"Of course, Commodore, the Eximius should return to Starbase Two-Oh-Four immediately. You're in no condition to fight."

Sevaro grinned.

"To hell with that. In two days, when we're up and running again, we're following you in, Captain."

Anthony smiled.

"Thank you, Commodore. You'd better get back to your ship."

All the Eximius officers stood, and each made a point of shaking Anthony's hand before leaving. Once they had all departed, Anthony turned to his crew.

"I know I took a liberty speaking for you all..."

"Sir", Tanier said. "You did the right thing."

The others nodded. Even Tasek did not protest. Anthony nodded.

"Very well. Let's get back to the bridge. Mr Tasek, take us to battle-stations."

As they walked out of the conference room and into the command centre of the USS Mariner, each had a new sense of purpose. They took their stations, and Anthony stood in the centre of the bridge, staring at the screen, which depicted the maelstrom of the nebula before them. He pointed to the cloud.

"Mr Tanier, take us in, full impulse", he ordered. He took to his chair. "Engage!"

TO BE CONTINUED...