Star Trek: Mariner
Episode 011:
Troubled Waters - Part 2
by Bodie A. Ashton
(mariner01@gmail.org)

Episode 011: Troubled Waters - Part 2

PROLOGUE

Sunlight.

Pale, bright sunlight filtered unabated through the large windows, into the office of Kathryn Janeway. The admiral was asleep on the couch in the room, having worked into the wee small hours of the morning. The glow of Sol reflected off the screen of the desktop computer, shining on to Janeway's face, illuminating her features in the early morning light.

Janeway squinted, trying to snatch a few more moments of sleep from a day that doubtlessly promised more work, more stress, and maybe even more disaster, than the day before.

The doorbell chimed. Janeway groaned, ignored it. Barely three seconds later, it sounded again. Then, again. Then, again.

"Come in", Janeway croaked, straightening as she rose to a seated position and idly brushed her hair back. She grimaced, supposing that she looked exactly like she felt: as if she had been up all night.

An ensign entered the office, hurrying towards the couch. He seemed to hesitate when he saw the Officer of the Flag's dishevelled state.

"Admiral Janeway", he said at last. "You've been asked to attend the Conference Room immediately."

Janeway rose from her chair, ambling uncomfortably to the replicator.

"Coffee. Black", she ordered, and the beverage materialised on the replicator platform before her eyes. She took a sip.

The junior officer seemed agitated.

"Admiral", he pressed. "The Commander-in-Chief was insistent that you come immediately."

That got Janeway's attention.

"The C-in-C?", she repeated. "What's this about, Ensign?"

The young man shrugged.

"I don't know, sir."

Janeway sighed.

"All right, Ensign. I'm going."

* * * * *

By the time Janeway arrived at the Conference Room at Starfleet Command headquarters, five others were also present. As she entered, Janeway nodded her greetings to all of them. At the head of the large conference table sat Admiral William Carver-Phillips, the Commander-in-Chief of Starfleet. To his left sat Admiral John Harriman of Starfleet Intelligence, as well as Admiral Owen Paris. Janeway noted that Paris also had dark circles under his eyes, and she could understand why; his son, Lieutenant-Commander Tom Paris, the executive officer of the USS Excelsior, had gone missing the day before. To the right of Carver-Phillips sat Admiral Demora Sulu, formerly of the USS Enterprise-B, who had served under Harriman on that ship, and was now the new head of Starfleet Tactical after the death of Admiral Braank. Janeway smiled as she saw the final man at the table. Captain Chakotay, who was due to be given command of the soon-to-be-launched USS Jaguar in the near future. Janeway habitually took the seat next to Chakotay, and he gave her a warm grin.

"Well, now that we're all here", Carver-Phillips began in his rumbling voice, "I'm sure you're all up to speed with the developments in the Kosparan Sector over the past day or so. You've all been called here because of your particular interests in the area."

Janeway nodded, knowing that Chakotay's interest was that the Jaguar was to be sent to Starbase 204 the moment she was launched, in order to strengthen the front.

Carver-Phillips continued.

"This morning, at 0430, Standard Earth Time, Federation President Jaresh Inyo sent an official order to Captain Anthony, who is in charge of the fleet in the sector. This order commanded Anthony to withdraw all of his remaining forces to Starbase Two-Oh-Four."

Again, the heads at the table bobbed. They had known of the order. In fact, Sulu had been advising the president on the situation.

"At 0600 hours this morning, just twenty minutes ago, the president received a reply from the captain. Anthony has disregarded his direct instructions, and has instead set a course into the Kosparan Nebula. Seven minutes ago, a similar response was received from Commodore Aureliano Sevaro of SI, whose ship is currently damaged, and will join Mariner in two days."

Janeway's eyes widened. As she looked across the table, she saw that Harriman, too, had been taken by surprise. Their subordinates and friends had disobeyed orders from President Jaresh Inyo himself. The situation was unheralded, to say the least.

Carver-Phillips distributed a pile of PADDs around the table, each outlining the presidential decree and the two responses. As Janeway read, she found herself in sympathy with her lover. Granted, disobeying the president was a big step, but the United Federation of Planets had gone through hell to achieve a lasting peace with Romulus, and to withdraw now and leave the Romulans to their fate would deny everything that the past centuries had done to make an entente a reality.

"The question", Carver-Phillips posed to the group, "is what Starfleet's position is."

Demora Sulu was the first to proffer her opinion.

"Sir, the president is the supreme commander of all UFP forces, including Starfleet", she pointed out. "Surely starship captains cannot simply disregard a presidential order, simply because it doesn't suit them?"

"That isn't the issue", Janeway rebutted. She gestured to her PADD. "This doesn't look at all like Captain Anthony's pursuit of his own self-interests. On the contrary, it sounds like he thinks that abandoning the Romulans will lead to destructive repercussions."

There was a murmur of agreement from Harriman. Sulu shook her head.

"Admiral, with all due respect, I think your personal feelings for Captain Anthony are clouding your judgement."

Janeway recoiled as if slapped. She hadn't realised that others knew of her relationship with the Mariner captain. Sulu flashed her a look which conveyed one word.

Sorry.

"We know that Captain Ramelow and Commander Paris are both good friends of Captain Anthony", the daughter of the legendary Hikaru Sulu continued. "From where I sit, this is a misguided attempt to rescue his friends, and while I find his loyalty heartening, I think Anthony's bent the rules too far in this instance."

"Remember that we're not entirely innocent on that charge, Demora", Harriman challenged quietly. "Don't forget the Tomed Incident."

Janeway had only recently been briefed on the classified reality of the infamous Tomed Incident of 2311. So the history files said, Starfleet outposts along the Federation-Romulan Neutral Zone had been attacked by Admiral Aventeer Vokar of the Imperial Romulan Fleet, as a terrorist action. In actuality, however, the destruction of the Foxtrot outposts had been orchestrated by then-Captain John Harriman of the Enterprise, in order to create the very real threat of war between a Federation-Klingon alliance and the Romulan Empire, thus forcing the Romulans to back down, and hence averting war. The mission had gone ahead without the knowledge of the Federation president.

"Tomed was different", argued Sulu. "We were trying to stop a war."

"Isn't Anthony doing the same? By striking deep into enemy territory, showing that we're ready to fight, exactly the same as what we did with the Romulans sixty-eight years ago?"

Admiral Carver-Phillips shifted in his chair.

"Captain Chakotay", he addressed the former Voyager XO. "You're the fleet officer who's going to be sent to the area. Your neck will be on the line. What do you think?"

Chakotay rose slightly, turned and studied Janeway, then turned to Sulu and studied her too. Finally, he answered.

"Admiral, I disagree with the principle of disobeying a direct order from a superior", he articulated slowly. "However, I agree with Captain Anthony's sentiment that to withdraw and allow the Star Empire to be overrun would be criminal negligence.

"I missed the Dominion War, but as all of you know, I was a member of the Maquis. When I was in the Delta Quadrant, we received news that the Maquis had been destroyed by the Jem'Hadar and the Cardassians. You've got to understand, we in the Maquis always knew that we'd probably be destroyed. Success seemed an impossible goal. Even so, it was devastating to find out that our comrades had been killed. One of my officers almost killed herself after finding out.

"The point is, if that kind of reaction happens in a group of people who never thought they would succeed, imagine what's going to happen to billions of Federation citizens when they find out that the mighty Starfleet, the always-victorious protector of the UFP, has been rolled back behind the Neutral Zone, having lost thousands of crew, and having sacrificed a potential ally.

"I've met Captain Anthony. In fact, I think of him as a friend. I'd back him on this one."

A silence ensued throughout the room. Owen Paris slid to one side of his chair.

"Bill", he sighed to the C-in-C, using his given name. "In the end, this doesn't matter, does it? Starfleet can't have a different line to the Federation president and Council."

"Usually I'd agree."

Carver-Phillips opened his hands in a thankful gesture.

"However, I have to agree with Admiral Janeway and Captain Chakotay. For Anthony to withdraw would have been a disaster for morale, as well as bad policy.

"Now we have to decide what we're going to do about it."

Sulu had disagreed with Anthony's decision, but she would not also jeopardise the captain and his chances of survival. She raised her hand.

"Starfleet Tactical has been testing faster-firing phasers out on Bonneville Flats, using the starship Firebrand. Captain Mendoza is a personal friend. I can have her and her ship in the Kosparan Sector by midnight."

The C-in-C raised his hands.

"Now hold on a second, Demora. Even if we ratify Anthony's decision, can we justify our own military build-up in contravention of the president's directive?"

"If we're going to support the man", Paris interjected, "we can't just leave him to the wolves."

Carver-Phillips mulled over his options. Then he stood.

"Thank you, everyone, for your input. I'd better get to drafting a letter for Jaresh Inyo."

He turned to the door, but did not immediately leave.

"Demora, call up the Firebrand. Kathryn, if there are any other starships you can divert, do it. Captain Chakotay, when will the Jaguar be ready to leave Spacedock?"

Chakotay sucked in a breath.

"Well, she won't have had space trials, and we'll have to work out teething problems as we go."

"You were Maquis", Carver-Phillips reminded him. "It should come naturally. So when are you putting to space?"

Chakotay did not hesitate.

"By 1900 hours, sir."

Carver-Phillips nodded.

"Make it so, people."

CHAPTER ONE

The pagodas shimmered in the early morning mists, but that did not distract him from his quarry. Across from him, barely twenty paces away, stood the assassin known as "Crimson Swift". Swift's traditional Chinese sword was held before him, in the ready position, mirroring Provincial Prefect Zhou's stance.

Swift broke the stand-off first, suddenly beginning an unexpected sprint towards Zhou. His sword sliced round in an arc, but Zhou sidestepped the attack, parrying the weapon away with his own foil. Swift grunted in rage, leaping past before Zhou could counterattack. Zhou was back on his feet, advancing on the renegade. Swift spun, and Zhou barely dodged the deadly blade; it swished though the air barely a centimetre from his throat. Again Zhou parried. He took one step back, raising his sword in an attacking pose. Swift lunged. Zhou sidestepped, and as Swift drew level, he plunged his sword into the assassin's chest. Swift grunted, continuing to stumble past, so that Zhou lost his sword. It didn't matter, though; Swift collapsed on the ground, and took his final gasp.

"Bridge to Captain Anthony."

Zhou paused, irked by the interruption.

"Computer, exit program", he commanded wearily, and abruptly, his ancient Chinese attire and facial featured dematerialised, replacing Provincial Prefect Zhou with Captain Simon James Anthony, resplendent in standard Starfleet uniform sans jacket and waistcoat.

He clicked his commbadge.

"Anthony here."

"We are approaching another nebulous disturbance", Tasek reported. "I believe it is in order for me to report this to you."

Simon Anthony sighed.

"Understood, Mr Tasek. I will be with you momentarily."

* * * * *

Anthony entered the bridge just as Ensign Tolian Brenkar gave a report to Lieutenant-Commander Tasek, the First Officer of the USS Mariner.

"The disturbance is now two AU away, dead ahead, plus-thirteen bubble."

"Red alert", ordered Anthony as he breezed past the ops and science consoles, to take his place as captain of the ship. "Commander Tasek, I relieve you."

"Acknowledging the captain has the conn", the Vulcan replied, relinquishing the captain's chair, and returning to his tactical console.

Anthony looked up at the screen. The kaleidoscope of colours that made up the Kosparan Nebula swirled in ever-changing contortions. But there, less than two Astronomical Units away now, the gases and dust seemed to be billowing out of phase with the rest of the nebula. Could it be...?

"Mr Tanier", he said to the helmsman, Lieutenant Lon Tanier, "take us up, plus-thirteen."

Tanier nodded, and his fingers relayed orders to the manoeuvring systems. Mariner pitched upwards thirteen degrees, with only a tiny cant of the deck before the gravity plating compensated. Brenkar called from his science station.

"Captain, the disturbance is now fifty thousand kilometres away."

"Analysis."

Brenkar shook his head.

"Sorry, sir. The nebula's interference is too thick on our sensors. I can't give you an accurate reading of what it is."

"It could be the enemy, or maybe the Excelsior", Anthony persisted, a statement rather than a question.

"Yes, sir", Brenkar replied, "but I can't say for sure."

Anthony frowned.

"Mr Tasek, prepare forward phasers, minimum power."

"Two thousand kilometres", Brenkar updated.

Tasek thumbed the controls at his fingertips. He looked up, which was signal enough for Anthony.

"Fire", he ordered.

A bright orange beam lanced through the dust and gases of the space around them, biting into the disturbance in front of them. There was a flash, and then Mariner rumbled as the disturbance exploded into flames. Anthony grimaced.

"Sir, it was a pocket of unstable metreon gas", Brenkar reported after a few seconds. "Even on minimum, our phasers destabilised it."

"Lon, get us out of here", Anthony commanded quickly, knowing that the detonation of a metreon gas pocket could well light up the sensor display on an enemy ship, and while he was indeed searching for the enemy flagship, or even the Excelsior herself, he preferred to do it on his terms, not theirs.

Tanier engaged the warp drive, and Mariner thundered away at warp three.

"It's damned useless", the Betazoid grumbled. "This nebula is as thick as pea soup. As far as the forward sensors know, we could hit an asteroid in the next ten seconds."

"But not a planet or a star", Anthony pointed out with a wry smile. "We'd at least detect the gravity."

"Lieutenant Tanier brings up an important point, Captain", Tasek said. "At this rate, we will not find what we are looking for on our own accord."

Anthony had to admit that that seemed true. In the past thirteen hours, he had been called to the bridge seven times, because a disturbance that 'could be' the enemy had been detected. In each case, it had instead been a pocket of metreon gas, or an irregular space dust count, or a rogue, uninhabitable and tiny planetoid. Once, they had even come across an ancient satellite of Romulan origin, probably a millennium of age, drifting through the void. In essence, though, the Mariner and her crew were flying blind, jumping at every sensor ghost because they were just as substantial as reality.

"If anyone has any ideas, I'm open."

No one answered Anthony's offer, so he stood up from his chair.

"Commander Tasek, you have the bridge. If you need me, I'll be on the holodeck."

* * * * *

Again, Prefect Zhou lunged at his quarry. Again, his blade was parried away. Anthony was working up a sweat, both through physical exertion and frustration; this enemy, Spirit, seemed to get the better of him every time he tried to land the death blow.

But was that really the reason, he wondered idly. Yes, Spirit was a worthy foe, but he was merely a hologram. Perhaps the frustration lay in his inability to find the enemy in the real world. Flashes on the sensor arrays would find useless junk in space, and yet he could not find an entire fleet of ships.

Spirit's sword glinted in the sunlight, giving Zhou just enough warning to dive away to his right. Spirit halted his swing, heaved his leg up, and in an athletic display, spun it in a kick that landed squarely against Zhou's chest. Anthony cried out in pain, collapsing in a heap. Then, he felt the burning sensation, and saw the blade of his opponent's sword lance into his belly. He was dead.

"Computer, reset program", he ordered. He teetered wearily to his feet. The holodeck doors behind him whirred open suddenly, and Anthony wheeled around.

Patrick Coleman stood in the doorway, barely able to contain the reaction of laughter upon seeing his captain in traditional Chinese garb.

The captain nearly blushed, but waved off the flush coming to his cheeks.

"Patrick. What can I do for you?", he asked.

The mathematician was grinning before, but now his face reverted to a businesslike expression.

"Captain, I want to bring up two issues with you."

Anthony laid down his sword and removed the black headband from above his eyebrows.

"Shoot."

Coleman nodded.

"First of all, sir, I'm aware of the problem we have with the sensors. I've been in Stellar Cartography, trying to get some better resolution, but it just isn't happening. Then, I had an idea.

"We could have a group of small craft-shuttles, maybe-flying ahead of us, reconnoitring, so we have a better picture of what's going on."

Anthony shook his head.

"The shuttles are too slow. I want to be getting through the nebula at warp, and only the yacht can travel at high warp speeds. Besides, the sensors on the shuttles aren't going to make a dent in the interference."

A thought suddenly occurred to him.

"The Fighting Eight", he whispered under his breath. Coleman raised an eyebrow. Anthony explained.

"The Fighting Eight Squadron uses Stormwind fighters, which are basically the size of shuttles, but with warp capability and finely tuned sensor arrays. There are only three of them left now, but they're aboard the Eximius. I wonder if we shouldn't go back the way we came and take them along for the trip..."

Coleman smiled again.

"We'll lose a bit of time, but at least we might be able to see."

Anthony nodded.

"Yes."

He stopped.

"There was something else you wanted to speak about."

"Captain", Coleman said as he leaned closer, "the crew is at breaking point about now. Most of us, including you, have been on duty now for almost twenty-four hours. If we're leaving the nebula, can't the night shift take over, at least long enough for us to get some sleep?"

Anthony thought.

"Fair enough", he said at last, "although I doubt I'll get any sleep. Thanks for bringing it to my attention."

Coleman nodded again, and turned to leave. As he did, however, he fired off one parting comment.

"Captain, I was watching your swordfight on the internal sensor display just outside the holodeck. You're dropping your elbow too much."

Then he left. Anthony chuckled quietly, before clicking his commbadge.

"Anthony to Tanier. Alter course, and take us out of the nebula to rendezvous with the Eximius, maximum warp. Anthony to all beta shift personnel. Report to your stations."

He thought again for a second.

"Anthony to Gregory."

"I'm just leaving for the bridge now, sir", the counsellor answered.

"Don't worry about it. Give night watch command to Reshir. You've earned a rest."

* * * * *

Lieutenant Alex Lane turned down the corridor towards her quarters, looking forward to the opportunity to sleep. It had been a very tiring day.

As she approached, she saw a familiar figure waiting outside her lodgings. She smiled, recognising Counsellor Rebecca Gregory. She came quietly alongside her, and before Gregory knew it, Lane had kissed her lightly on the cheek.

"Miss me?", she purred seductively. Gregory smiled.

"Always."

The door to Lane's quarters swished open, and the two officers entered. Lane realised that she was unlikely to get any sleep tonight. It just wasn't that high on her list of priorities anymore.

CHAPTER TWO

Captain's Log, Supplemental
I have ordered Mariner to leave the Kosparan Nebula, in order to rendezvous with the USS Eximius under Commodore Sevaro. In the meantime, all alpha shift crews have been relieved of duty, so that we're all at our best when we return to the fray.

The simulated dawn of a new day found Alex Lane, curled asleep on her bed, sheets draped loosely over her. An arm arched over her midriff, and a second later, Rebecca Gregory emerged from behind her companion. Lane stirred, looked back and smiled.

"Good morning, sunshine", Gregory whispered with a wide grin. Lane stretched her arms, causing Gregory to fall, naked, back on to the sheets.

"It is, isn't it?"

"What is?"

"This morning", Lane laughed quietly. "It's good."

"Very good."

Lane pulled the covers away, and unconcerned about her lack of clothing, she walked over to the replicator.

"Computer, one cup of hot English Breakfast tea, white with two and a half sugars, and one..."

She looked to Gregory.

"...and one Terran orange juice, chilled", the counsellor said.

The replicator glowed, and there stood the two drinks. Lane took both, returning to the bed, where she handed over the juice to her lover. Gregory made a face.

"Two and a half sugars? Why do you need that much?"

"I like sweet things."

"No wonder you're bunking with me", Gregory replied with a mischievous smile. Lane laughed as she sipped her tea.

* * * * *

"Okay, let's try this again", Commodore Aureliano Sevaro said into his commbadge. "Aragus, standby to activate main power."

In Main Engineering, Lieutenant-Commander Aragus, the chief engineer, nodded. He began barking orders to his subordinates.

"Loman, energise the primary field matrix. Anderson, open the vents to space. Umbresnik, initialise the secondary core modulators."

He ran across to the lift, and ascended to the second engineering deck. Once there, he hurried over to the computer banks.

"How does it look?", he asked his second engineer, Dabrogia Xinmei.

"Pretty good so far", the lieutenant replied. "We're almost ready to begin the power conversion process."

Aragus clicked his commbadge.

"Aragus to Sevaro. We're awaiting your orders down here. All systems are green. We can fire up the quantum subspace drive anytime now."

Sevaro responded quickly.

"Do it, Chief."

Aragus smiled.

"Right, Lieutenant. Begin extracting ions from space."

He leaned over the railing, in order to see the rest of his engineering staff.

"Divert all ion flow to the core infusers. Loman, ramp up the power to the field matrix."

The column in front of him began to glow, dimly at first, but then brighter and brighter. Soon, he could hear the reassuring pulsations, which indicated that, finally, main power was throbbing through the great body of the Eximius once more.

Aragus smiled.

"She sounds good", he commented to Xinmei. Xinmei nodded his concurrence.

"Looks good, too", he replied. "The ionic deviation is only zero point one-eight-two, just point zero-zero-six over specs."

Aragus frowned. The deviation meant that 0.182% of all the ionic energy the Eximius' mighty core was sucking from space was being wasted. Sure, Xinmei wasn't unhappy with that. Then again, Xinmei wasn't the chief engineer.

"Sevaro to Aragus. We're reading some substantial ionic deviation down there."

And Xinmei wasn't directly answerable to the captain, who was a stickler for efficiency. That's why he was so good.

"Yes, Captain, I've noticed it too. The core's been offline for almost thirty-eight hours. I think the containment field has a flaw somewhere, but it will take me at least eight hours to find it. My suggestion is that we power down all equipment and systems that are not vital to the running of the ship. That was, we can negate the power drain."

"Good idea, Chief", Sevaro replied. "Divert power from the hologrid, the replicators and the sonic showers."

Aragus sighed. He had been looking forward to taking a shower after his shift was over, and relaxing with a good Narkasdian tonic. Maybe he now had extra incentive to find that fault.

"Aye, sir."

* * * * *

On the bridge of the Eximius, the ops officer, Ensign Branados, looked up from his console.

"Captain, I'm reading a starship coming in, bearing one-oh-three mark four."

Sevaro turned.

"Identification."

"She's a Prometheus-class, registered as the USS Firebrand."

"Can they see us?"

Branados nodded.

"Yes, sir. Our transponder has been operational the whole time we've been here."

Sevaro swore. Starfleet Command would know by now that Anthony and he had defied orders. The Firebrand was probably here to escort the Eximius back to Starbase 204.

"Mr Aragus, can we go to warp yet?"

"No sir", came the immediate response. "The core won't be ready for another three hours at the earliest."

"The Firebrand is entering short-range scanning capabilities", Branados reported.

"On screen."

The streamlined white hull of the USS Firebrand blinked on screen, approaching at full impulse.

"Captain, there's a disturbance in the nebula", Branados warned.

Sevaro grimaced.

First a chaperone, now an enemy attack, he thought. Aloud, he ordered his crew.

"Red alert. Raise shields and charge weapons. Mr Aragus, tell me we have impulse power."

"Yes, sir. All impulse reactors are operating normally, as are manoeuvring thrusters."

Sevaro clapped his hands.

"That's a start. Mr Hamer, target all forward pulse phasers at the disturbance. Mr Qabal, bring us to a heading of three-oh-five mark two-two, and take us to one-half impulse."

The Eximius began moving away, towards the nebula, awaiting her prey. On the bridge, Branados provided estimates of the distance of the vessel inside the nebula from its perimeter.

"Two thousand kilometres...one thousand..."

"Ready phasers. Fire on my mark."

Sevaro was about to order Hamer to fire, but then Branados shouted from ops.

"Wait! It's the Mariner!"

Sevaro turned to the screen, to see the beautiful Sovereign-class starship emerge from the dust and gas. He exhaled in relief that he did not open fire.

"Stand down red alert. All stop."

"Sir", the ops officer said. "We are being hailed by the Firebrand."

"Open a channel."

Again the screen changed, to be replaced by the face and shoulders of a Starfleet captain.

"Commodore Sevaro, I am Captain Felicia Mendoza of the starship Firebrand", she introduced. "I see that Captain Anthony has joined us; we're here to lend some help."

Sevaro must have looked confused, because Mendoza laughed.

"Starfleet Command has ratified your decision, sir. Admiral Carver-Phillips believes that Jaresh Inyo is in error. We're here to make sure that error does not happen."

"That's nice of you, Captain", Sevaro said, "but you alone are not going to win this."

If Mendoza was insulted she didn't show it.

"Maybe not, sir, but by the end of the day we will not be the only three ships in the sector.

"Starfleet Command has put together a task force, to be led by the Mariner, which will enter the nebula and find the Excelsior. The Bellerophon will arrive within the hour. The Appalachia has increased speed, and will be here in four. Finally, the Jaguar will arrive at approximately 2000 hours. Command wants to take the fight to them."

Sevaro grinned.

"Are you up to it, Mendoza?"

"I've got over twenty years of experience at Starfleet Tactical, Commodore", she answered, a little too coolly. Sevaro's comment had nettled her. "Plus, I was one of the highest-ranking members of the Cardassian Occupation Force until March. I know my way around a battlefield."

Sevaro opened his hands.

"That's good enough for me. Welcome aboard, Captain."

CHAPTER THREE

President Jaresh Inyo was in shock. That was the only way he could describe the feeling he had at the moment. He slowly placed the PADD on his desk and looked out the window, focusing on the Eiffel Tower.

"Admiral, are you certain you mean this?", he asked distantly. Carver-Phillips, in the seat opposite him, nodded.

"Yes, sir. Starfleet has no wish to undermine your authority, but in this case we completely support both Anthony and Sevaro."

"Anthony's a rogue", the president pleaded, "and Sevaro has been known to bend the rules before. Are you sure you should side Starfleet with those two?"

Carver-Phillips hesitated.

"Sir, I'll admit that the two of them are unconventional to say the least. However, I think they're doing the right thing."

"How sure are you?"

This time, the answer was immediate.

"I'd stake my career on it."

Jaresh Inyo turned to the flag officer. His eyes bore into him.

"You are, Admiral", he muttered. "From where I sit, you've set Starfleet up for one big disaster. If this little sojourn of Captain Anthony's fails, I expect your resignation immediately."

Carver-Phillips sighed.

"Aye, sir."

* * * * *

Lieutenant Garrun Tahbor sat, shaking his head in amazement as Simon Anthony spelt out his plan for Tahbor's squadron. The Trill's occasional grunts also served to underscore the apparent opinion that he was being asked to run a fool's errand. Next to him, another Fighting Eight pilot, Pilot Officer Nakatsu Finn, sat impassively, the only indicator to any emotion within him being the wry, mischievous grin which was permanently found on his face. Finn was one of the best fighter pilots in Starfleet, despite being still only nineteen years old. He had passed his Academy Advanced Spaceborne Fighter course with the highest mark ever achieved by a cadet-one hundred and eight out of a possible one hundred and ten.

This technical brilliance, however, was almost offset by his youthful, roguish looks. Despite his given name, implying a Japanese background somewhere in his blood, he sported a crop of messy strawberry blond hair and a pair of deep blue eyes, which seemed to burn with the cold fire of intelligence and, at the same time, playfulness. His small nose came to a pronounced point, which overhung his lips, the lips that almost always carried that ubiquitous smile. That smile had earned him the nickname "Loki" at the Academy-Loki being the ancient Norse god of mischief-but on duty, he preferred to be called by his full Christian name of Nakatsu.

A further member of the squadron, Pilot Officer Gomel Patree, was not present; instead, he was lying on his back six decks beneath the Eximius conference room, with machines regulating his autonomic functions. During the fight with the Buna fleet, Patree had been caught in the shockwave of a torpedo detonation just thirty feet from his Stormwind fighter. He had stayed with his craft until it was retrieved by the Eximius, despite the fact that the cockpit was depressurising, and by the time he was extracted from the craft, his lungs had imploded. It was still uncertain whether he would survive to fight another day.

As much as Tahbor wanted nothing more than to strike back at the enemy who had so critically wounded Patree and killed the other five pilots of the Fighting Eight Squadron, he was also governed by rationality, and a duty to what was left of his squadron. The Fighting Eight had three spacecraft left, only two of which were serviceable. Hell, sending an entire fighter group of two hundred into the Kosparan Nebula would have been suicide. Now, Anthony was asking the Trill to provide one one-hundredth of that force to guide and escort the Mariner, Eximius and Firebrand to their targets. Surely, the captain was joking.

Captain Simon Anthony was not joking. That much was apparent from his grave facial expression as he spoke. Anthony knew that sending two small and lightly-armed ships into the nebula, within which an entire enemy fleet awaited them, was tantamount to ordering their destruction, but by the same token, Mariner needed to find Excelsior, Jakob Ramelow and his crew. If two pilots needed to be sacrificed to do this, then so be it. Like the Vulcans said, the needs of the many...

But it wasn't that simple, it rarely is. Anthony had ordered and led people to their deaths before, and it was by no means a pleasant experience. Command officers were chosen to make the tough decisions, and this was one of those command decisions, but the fact that Anthony was a captain of some nine years' experience in the Big Chair did not make the choice any easier.

"Captain", Tahbor said in his coarse voice. "With all due respect, I can't possibly allow you to implement this plan."

Anthony raised an eyebrow.

"I don't think you have much choice in the matter, Lieutenant. You have been ordered to carry out this mission."

Tahbor pounded the tabletop and jumped from his chair. His eyes burned tempestuously with a furious passion.

"I have a duty to my squadron, Captain!", he yelled. He gestured to Nakatsu. "Pilot Officer Finn and I are the last two members of the Fighting Eight who are ready to fly. Patree's internal organs were more or less annihilated, and everyone else is dead! That duty to my squadron tells me that the squadron must survive, and since the only chance we have of survival is not to fly, then we don't fly."

Anthony held his gaze.

"You also have a duty to Starfleet and the Federation", he replied, his tone measured, subdued, calm. "That is your greater duty, Lieutenant. If you don't do this, people will die, and that will be a hell of a lot more people than just a squadron's worth."

Tahbor was about to respond, when Finn took to his feet and grabbed his commanding officer by the shoulder.

"We can do this", he stated to both the captain and the lieutenant, which surprised both of them. Tahbor turned and looked at his subordinate as if he were mad. Nakatsu's grin seemed to widen slightly. He was enjoying himself, although for the life of him Tahbor could not tell why.

Nakatsu was gesturing with his hands now.

"If Lieutenant Tahbor and I can cruise ahead of our fleet, about a thousand kilometres apart, we could probably cover as much area on sensors in half a day as Mariner could in three. More than that, we'd have the ability to peel off and investigate disturbances more effectively than Mariner could by herself."

He looked to Tahbor, and his eyebrows rose in the semblance of apology.

"Besides, sir, we're expendable."

Anthony regarded the young fighter pilot with an appraising gaze. As much as he was glad that someone agreed with him, the fact that Finn viewed himself as nonessential might not be a good sign. When men saw themselves as worthless, they rarely tried to assuage this feeling, even if that meant death.

But there was something about Nakatsu Finn, something indefinable. He carried himself so confidently, and his expression made it seem like he enjoyed his life, but at the same time there was the inescapable fatalist reason behind his thoughts. He held much promise, and he seemed to know this, but he also seemed to disregard it simultaneously. A contradictory character, for certain.

In a second, Anthony decided he could trust the pilot officer. That something, that indefinite characteristic, engendered an immediate feeling that Nakatsu Finn could get the job done, no matter what.

Garrun Tahbor was also trusted by the Starfleet captain, but not for the same reason. His concern for his squadron had been noticed before the battle, but now, even though only Finn was left, he still did not want to throw his colleague into harm's way without a good reason and a chance of survival. That was the type of leader Anthony needed on his side. He had to believe this mission had a chance of success, and it would not if he threw all of his assets into one big melee, pell-mell.

Tahbor still shook his head.

"No. There's no way we're going out there", he stated flatly.

Aureliano Sevaro had been leaning against the wall of the conference room, remaining silent for the entire meeting. Now, he inched away from the wall, and spoke for the first time.

"Lieutenant, we're not asking you", he pointed out. "This is an order."

Tahbor stood his ground.

"Then I refuse to obey it."

"I'll have you thrown in the brig", Sevaro threatened. Tahbor smiled gravely.

"Then I can't fly the mission anyway."

Sevaro looked to Anthony, sighing in resignation. Just then a voice came over the speakers in the room.

"Sickbay to Commodore Sevaro."

Sevaro straightened.

"Go ahead, Doctor."

Doctor Karos sounded strained as she replied.

"Sir, you'd better get Lieutenant Tahbor down here immediately", she called breathlessly.

Sevaro did not ask why. From the look on Tahbor's face, the reason was obvious. Instead he acknowledged the signal.

"We're on our way, Doc."

He clicked his commbadge.

"Sevaro to Transporter Room One. Begin a site-to-site transport of Captain Anthony, Lieutenant Tahbor, Pilot Officer Finn and me to sickbay. Energise."

In a matter of seconds all four occupants of the conference room had dematerialised, only to be resequenced in the sickbay of the USS Eximius. It was clear that something was wrong. Karos was leaning over the body on the central biobed, frantically administering hypo after hypo of medical compounds, while her nurses rushed to synthesise even more remedies. The flat trill of a biomonitor permeated through the infirmary. After what seemed like an age, Karos shook her head, straightened and turned off the monitor.

"Patient Pilot Officer Gomel Patree pronounced dead at 1123. Cause of death was a massive failure of all internal organs, resulting from decompression. Signed, Doctor Karos, Eximius CMO."

She deactivated her medical recorder, before turning to the four officers who had appeared in her sickbay. Her brow was covered in sweat.

"I'm sorry", she said, addressing Tahbor. "There was just too much damage. There was nothing we could do for him."

She seemed to want to add something more, but instead her mouth flapped shut and she drifted away. Tahbor stared at the biobed, where his squadron mate, Gomel Patree, lay dead. After several minutes, he turned to Anthony.

"You say you want to get at those bastards in the nebula", he said slowly, "and you need the Fighting Eight to do it."

Anthony nodded.

"That's right."

Tahbor turned to Finn, whose usual grin was now absent as he paid respect to his fallen comrade.

"Nakatsu, let's get suited up. We're going flying."

* * * * *

Captain's Log, Stardate 56855.6
Long-range sensors have detected the starship Jaguar approaching the Kosparan Nebula at high warp. Commodore Sevaro tells me that Captain Chakotay has been given command of that vessel, and I know from experience that Chakotay is a great officer. He will be an important asset.
Captain Mendoza has also joined our fleet, which again is an advantage for us. That means that the enemy will not only have to worry about Mariner and Eximius, but also the Bellerophon, Jaguar, Firebrand and Appalachia. We are therefore blessed with a more advanced and adept fleet than before. Let's hope we have more luck.
I have scheduled for our task force to enter the nebula in exactly two hours.

Admiral Jonathan Jason Harriman II sat in the chair in his office at Starfleet Intelligence headquarters in San Francisco, his fingers steepled to his nose, as his mind mulled over the latest information he had received. Less than ten minutes ago he had been paid an unexpected visit from an agent placed within the upper echelons of the Office of the President. The informant was codenamed "The Ear."

Technically, Starfleet should not have had any intelligence operations running in any Federation departments, not in the least the presidential office. However, this time, Harriman was glad he had broken the rules and recruited The Ear as one of his first new operatives.

What The Ear had told him was concerning. According to the informer, Jaresh Inyo was planning a shake-up of Starfleet, beginning with William Carver-Phillips and the supporters of Simon Anthony and Aureliano Sevaro. Normally, Harriman would have rubbished the thought of the president taking control of Starfleet by force. However, Starfleet Security had not been consulted on the issue in the Kosparan Sector. So The Ear claimed, Jaresh Inyo had already met with Admiral Narton of Security. An action was imminent.

The question was whether such an action could be resisted. Starfleet Command, Intelligence, Tactical, Communications and the Office of the Flag had all sided against the president on the Kosparan affair. That was not necessarily treason. However, if Jaresh Inyo demanded the resignations of Carver-Phillips, Harriman, Sulu, Paris and Janeway, and they did not step down, then they would be actively participating in activities contrary to the wishes of the United Federation of Planets. In that case, they could legally be arrested.

Worse, what would happen to the Kosparan expedition if they were to be removed from office? Anthony and Sevaro would not back down, Harriman was sure of that. He guessed that Chakotay would remain loyal to Janeway, and stick with the fleet. That left Captains Mendoza, Jurvak and d'Jemba. Where would their allegiances lie? Would they continue to follow Anthony, or would they, under orders from the president, fire on Anthony to try and force him to return to Earth?

The development of a schism between the civilian authorities and Starfleet was concerning. Divided loyalties, so history had proved, often led to civil war. Harriman had a sneaking suspicion that, very soon, both Starfleet's mettle and Jaresh Inyo's would be strenuously tested.

Before anything happened, though, he had to safeguard the lives of his operatives around the galaxy. Any upheaval in SI would lead to disastrous and, probably, fatal ramifications for agents who had not gone to ground. He keyed his computer.

"Computer", he instructed. "Transmit an all-band spectra Amber-Three alert, coded frequency four-three-eight-omega, looped twice, authorisation Harriman Tango-Three-Eight-Five-Blackjack. Enable."

The computer beeped in acknowledgement, as the message was sent throughout the Alpha and Beta Quadrants.

* * * * *

In a quiet corner of the Romulan capital city, a shopkeeper, minding his bookstore, noticed his auditory implant tap a regular rhythm twice. He did not acknowledge this. Instead, he began to mentally make preparations for what he would explain as a "working holiday" to one of the outlying imperial pleasure planets, somewhere where he could blend in anonymously, never raising an eyebrow.

At a military supply outpost on Cardassia V, a glinn, overseeing the transporting of foodstuffs to the starving populations on Cardassia Prime, raised an eyebrow ever so slightly as a panel on his PADD blinked on and off in a regulated pattern. The pattern repeated once. Continuing his work as the day wore on, the glinn was at the same time drafting a letter requesting a short leave-of-absence from his superiors. It seemed that his mother-in-law had fallen ill while visiting relatives on one of the outer Union worlds, and his wife was demanding his attendance. It was true that his wife and his mother-in-law were on Dalaras II. However, the glinn would have to make certain that tonight, before going to bed, he clandestinely contacted one of his associates on that planet, to make certain that something unpleasant, but not serious, would be added to his mother-in-law's next meal.

And on a Federation starship in the Kosparan Sector, Commodore Aureliano Sevaro eyed the ring on his left index finger, as a tiny panel flashed on and off in a clear sequence. His eyebrow raised in concern.

This does not bode well.

CHAPTER FOUR

Pilot Officer Nakatsu Finn loved flying.

From his days as a young boy, growing up in New Zealand, he had always had an affinity for flying machines. His first school science project had resulted in a glider, which had successfully flown off the roof of the Wellington-Kilpatrick Primary School's science building, only to be destroyed seconds later in a collision with James Finlay's model solar tower. Finn had not viewed it as a failure. Far from it, that glider had been further incentive to take to the skies. When he graduated from high school and chose to attend Starfleet Academy, he shied away from the starship helming courses, instead wanting his own personal craft. Naturally, this had led him to the Starfleet Fighter Corps, and thence to the Fighting Eight.

He seemed to have been born in a Stormwind-class fighter. Ever since he had first stepped into the cockpit of the compact, sleek craft, he had instinctively controlled it with great dexterity. Before he had met Nakatsu Finn, Garrun Tahbor could boast that he had never been beaten in a friendly practice dogfight. Finn had sullied Tahbor's undefeated record, but given the regard he held for the human, Tahbor was unlikely to have viewed it as a disgrace.

The Stormwind was responding perfectly to ever minute shift of the control stick today as Nakatsu winged her through the dust and gases of the Kosparan Nebula. Liked the famed Delta Flyer shuttlecraft of the USS Voyager, the Stormwinds were controlled by stick columns rather than the standard punch-pad displays of other similar craft. Finn certainly liked the archaic system-for once, he felt like he was one with the ship, sensing in his hands every tremble and roll.

Somewhere a thousand kilometres or so to starboard was Garrun Tahbor, Finn knew, and he was also sure that the Trill would have his eyes glued to the sensor displays, looking for anything the computer might disregard, anything that could lead the fleet to the enemy.

Nakatsu had confidence in the onboard computer, and instead spent his time looking out of the transparent canopy, spying anything he could see. Far behind the two fighters, the Mariner led the fleet, weapons primed, shields up, and ready to blow whoever they found out of the stars.

So Nakatsu Finn flew onwards through the Kosparan Nebula, awaiting contact with an enemy he wanted so much to kill.

* * * * *

The battleship Bunara spearheaded the Buna fleet. The gigantic diamond-shaped vessel, almost twice the size of Starfleet's Sovereign-class, cut through the nebula easily, her constantly throbbing impulse engines propelling her towards her destination. Scorch marks along the hull, as well as an occasional breach, indicated the damage she had taken in her fight against the Federation armada. Her warp drive was offline, and manoeuvring thrusters were severely hindered by a fault somewhere along the power distribution nodes.

For Grand Admiral Jah, however, the engagement had been a success. Yes, the Buna had lost five ships, and at least one of the light cruisers would probably not take to the stars again, so extensive was the damage, but the Federation had lost two starships destroyed, another probably destroyed. In addition, one of the vessels had been severely crippled, and was likely to be heading to a friendly port. Finally, but the sweetest casualty inflicted upon Starfleet, was that the USS Excelsior was now a part of the Buna, her crew indoctrinated with Buna ideals and instructions.

"Grand Admiral", the sensor operator called from his station on the spacious bridge. "I'm detecting something."

Jah grunted, rose from his chair and walked across the command centre, to the beige-coloured workstation, indicating sensors.

"What exactly have you detected, Lieutenant?", he sighed. The initial uninformative warning had irked him.

The lieutenant shook his pockmarked skull.

"I don't know, sir. It's on a course almost parallel to us, approaching from astern at warp speed. It's very big."

A couple of moments later, he amended his statement.

"Correction, sir. It's a formation of ships."

Jah leaned forward.

"Identification?"

The sensor man gulped.

"Federation, sir."

"The Federation?", the second-in-command, War Captain Kelvah, spat incredulously as he jumped from his station, the tactical controls. "That can't be. Their task force was in a shambles and reinforcements were not due for some time. They would not dare."

The lieutenant looked first to the grand admiral, then to the captain, his eye ridges raised.

"Nonetheless, sirs, I am detecting five starships, travelling at warp three, and they have been positively identified as Starfleet."

Jah clicked his tongue. The Bunara was capable of taking on probably two ships, but the rest of the two battle echelons-now just three ships left-had taken a battering, and would not last long.

That left Excelsior.

Jah's lips curled up in a smile. If he needed to, he could fight. Probably Starfleet was trying to regain the Excelsior. They would not be quick to fire on her.

He turned to War Captain Kelvah.

"Sound attack stations", he ordered. Then he barked orders to the rest of his bridge staff.

"Signal echelons four and five and command them to standby for battle. Bring us about."

* * * * *

Nakatsu Finn noticed the movement first, or rather, his Stormwind's computer did. He keyed his comm.

"Red Two to Red Leader and USS Mariner. I've detected something at ultimate sensor range. It looks like a convoy of some sort."

There was a moment before he received any acknowledgement.

"Roger, Nakatsu", Tahbor growled. "I'm approaching you on your starboard side."

"Red Two, this is Captain Anthony. Well done. Send your data to our ops station, and we'll set an intercept course."

Finn keyed his computer to send the sensor information to Mariner. The data was becoming clearer with every passing second. The formation he had detected was one and a half light years away, travelling at impulse. The energy signatures matched the ones he had detected when he had fought against this enemy before. There was one anomalous reading, though. He was sure he recognised the impulse signature, but he couldn't put his finger on it.

Then it clicked.

"Red Two to Mariner. I have positive contact with the Excelsior", he reported excitedly. A minute later, as he saw another Stormwind group close to his starboard wing, he heard Tahbor's response.

"Red Leader to Mariner. Confirm contact with enemy fleet and the Excelsior."

* * * * *

On board the USS Mariner, Anthony smiled wickedly. He sat in his chair on the bridge, watching the tactical readout on the viewscreen as the display was constantly updated. Yes, he had found the enemy fleet. More to the point, he had found Excelsior. He had found Captain Ramelow. He had found Lieutenant-Commander Paris.

"Increase speed and match course to intercept", he ordered Lieutenant Lon Tanier, the Betazoid helm officer. He craned his neck until he could see the science station.

"Analysis, Mr Brenkar."

Ensign Tolian Brenkar tapped at his consoles, compiling as much information as he could from the Stormwind fighter's onboard computer currently tied into the Mariner central core.

"I can't tell you much, sir", he stuttered. "One of those ships is definitely the USS Excelsior, and the lead ship of the formation is that huge dreadnought of theirs, but aside from that, there's not much I can make of this. We're still at very long range."

Anthony nodded.

"Tie in our sensors when we're within range", he suggested.

"Aye, Captain."

"Captain", Alexandra Lane called from ops. "It looks like they've detected us. They've come about."

Anthony turned to Lieutenant-Commander Tasek at tactical.

"Commander, what's our intercept time?"

The Vulcan tactical officer consulted his station.

"Approximately ten minutes, sir."

* * * * *

Commodore Aureliano Sevaro idly tapped his hand against his knee as his ship, the USS Eximius, hurtled towards the enemy fleet. In their last engagement, the Eximius, despite her quantum subspace drive and EM-absorbing hull plating, had been easily detected, a fact that had rattled Sevaro. Now, however, Lieutenant-Commander Aragus assured him that, because the Eximius was drawing her power from the nebula, she would appear on all sensors as an area of slightly more concentrated dust. Sevaro hoped his chief engineer was right.

"Two minutes to interception, sir", Commander Alan Foyle commented from the chair next to the commodore. Sevaro nodded.

"This better go well, Alan", he muttered. "We're stuck in the middle of enemy territory with no hope of reinforcement and no contact with the outside universe. If something goes wrong, we're on our own."

Foyle placed a reassuring hand on his commanding officer's shoulder.

"Sir, we know that Captain Anthony's one of the best in Starfleet", he said under his breath. "So is Chakotay, so is Mendoza. I don't know about the others, but coupled on to that, we're here. We're the Eximius. We're the elite."

Sevaro grinned slightly, in thanks to his executive officer. Then, he rose from his chair.

"Lieutenant Qabal", he announced aloud to his helmsman. "Prepare to drop out of warp and secure from faster-than-light speed. Lieutenant Hamer, prep all of our weapons."

He sat back down in his chair, and keyed the comm.

"This is Commodore Sevaro to all hands. We are about to engage the enemy. Man battle stations."

CHAPTER FIVE

The bridge of the USS Excelsior, Starfleet registry NCC-2000, was staffed by a mixed crew of Federation species and Buna. For the most part, the crew remained human, Bolian, Trill, Vulcan, and the hodgepodge of other races that initially made up their numbers. However, since several were killed in the initial engagement with the Buna, when the ship was captured, the Buna were sent aboard to complement the numbers.

Captain Jakob Ramelow maintained his command. He listened as Grand Admiral Jah relayed orders to his ship. The Federation squadron had chased their crippled fleet into the nebula, and Jah feared an invasion fleet wasn't far behind. The Excelsior had been tasked with destroying the Starfleet ships, and Ramelow would defend his people with all his ability. Starfleet may have trained him, but they also planned the destruction of his kindred people, the Buna, and he would not allow that.

Several decks below him, on deck fifteen, a cortical beacon throbbed, tied into the mighty warp core. Ramelow knew that the Buna had liberated his mind and the minds of all of his crew from the Federation's propaganda, but he also knew that this would not be a permanent change for another two days. In the meantime, his real psychological profile had to be maintained by the beacon. Otherwise, that Starfleet indoctrination might begin seeping back into his brain.

"Ensign Kal", he said calmly to his tactical officer who, mirroring his commanding officer and Commander Paris at the helm, was also still wearing his soiled Starfleet uniform. "Arm all weapons and target the lead vessel. Prepare to open fire. Mr Paris, standby with evasive manoeuvres."

"Aye, sir", both Benezia Kal and Tom Paris replied promptly and eagerly. Ramelow grinned. The Federation would pay for brainwashing him, and they would pay for their planned invasion of the Kosparan Nebula. That revenge would start with the destruction of the-what had the computer identified the ship as?-USS Mariner.

* * * * *

Simultaneously, the USS Mariner, Appalachia, Jaguar, Firebrand, Bellerophon and Eximius decelerated to impulse speed. Flanking the fleet were Nakatsu Finn and Garrun Tahbor. Two fighters would not swing the balance of power, but they were determined to do their bit to avenge their squad members-even if that meant death.

On the Jaguar, Captain Chakotay surveyed the scene on sensors. So far, he had been pleased with his ship. The Ambassador-class was ageing, to be sure; before the Dominion War, all of them had been removed from active duty, but the war had forced those in mothballs to be recommissioned. The Jaguar had fought with distinction at Chin'Toka, but had been so severely damaged that she spent the rest of the war being repaired and refitted. With her new capabilities, she was one of about twenty Ambassadors remaining in service as a stopgap while the terribly depleted forces of Starfleet rebuilt. This time, she was returning to battle, against an enemy so far unnamed, as opposed to the Dominion. Chakotay would make certain he stood up to be counted.

"Ensign, target their flagship and prepare to open fire", he told his tactical officer. Then, he waited for the order to fire.

* * * * *

Meanwhile, the Prometheus-class starship USS Firebrand was undergoing a transformation. Like a well-rehearsed ballet, the ship separated perfectly into three components, all armed to the teeth. Captain Felicia Mendoza, on the bridge of the Alpha section, rubbed her hands and waited nervously for combat.

* * * * *

Things were not so relaxed aboard the USS Appalachia. The ship had shuddered when she dropped out of warp, which was to be expected, but now she continued to rattle and shake violently in spasms. Captain Ian d'Jemba, a native of the Ivory Coast on Earth, gripped his armrests tightly.

"Bridge to Engineering. What is going on down there?", he demanded. The answer was prompt.

"Lieutenant Retarax here, Captain. The impulse drive is suffering a massive overload. If we don't shut down we're going to have a cascade reaction down here."

D'Jemba clicked his fingers in frustration. A ship without impulse power was no use in a battle.

"Signal the Mariner", he said at last, "and tell them that, due to malfunction, we're withdrawing. Helm, bring us about and take us to warp six."

* * * * *

The loss of the Appalachia was but a temporary distraction for Simon Anthony. Instead, he was busy mapping out the coming struggle in his mind. The distance was closing between the enemy ships and his formation.

"Lieutenant Lane, signal the Bellerophon and our two fighters. Their objective is the Excelsior. Firebrand Alpha and Beta are to hold off the three smaller ships. Charlie, Eximius, Jaguar and ourselves will go for the flagship."

He took a breath.

"Lock quantum torpedoes on target and fire!"

* * * * *

The deck under Grand Admiral Jah pitched suddenly, sending him sprawling as his ship bucked under the assault of quantum torpedoes and phasers.

"Report!", War Captain Kelvah shouted as Jah regained his feet.

The sensor operator was sweating.

"We're being attacked from four different locations, but I only detect three starships out there!"

"Forward shields at fifty-eight percent", Kelvah reported for Jah's benefit. "Torpedo tubes one and two are offline."

"Return fire", Jah ordered calmly. "Concentrate fire on the smallest ship there. And find that other ship, or you'll never fight on this ship again!"

The sensor man understood the veiled threat. He gulped, and returned his attention to his station.

* * * * *

The USS Mariner peeled past the Bunara, firing her ventral phasers as she drew alongside. Lon Tanier expertly banked effortlessly to port, and immediately Tasek loosed off two quantum torpedoes from the stern tubes. As he did so, however, the Sovereign-class ship was buffeted by an energy beam that lanced into her shields. Soaring over the Bunara, blazing with all weapons, despite being chased by one starship and two fighters, the Excelsior pummelled Mariner with her phasers and photon torpedoes. Simon Anthony grunted as sparks erupted from the overhead lighting.

"Lon", he shouted. "Evasive manoeuvres, pattern gamma. Remember, if Tom Paris is piloting the Excelsior, he'll know it. Throw something random into our turns."

Tanier grimly smiled, although there was no happiness behind it.

"Hold on to your hats!", he yelled as he yanked the great ship into a corkscrew spin, away from the Bunara.

* * * * *

Jakob Ramelow grinned tightly as Tom Paris followed Mariner into every defensive course Tanier could engage. Paris was giving Benezia Kal an even chance of hitting the Sovereign-class battleship, which was better than expected, given the intricate twists and turns the Mariner helmsman was employing. Kal, to the young Trill's credit, was hitting the enemy with his photon torpedoes more often than not.

Soon, Ramelow thought. She can't take much more, surely.

The Excelsior shuddered suddenly, and the lights dimmed, surged and then recovered.

"Behind us", the Buna at ops said. "A Starfleet cruiser!"

"Firing aft torpedoes", Kal acknowledged, but was disheartened to see that neither of the two glowing projectiles impacted with the shields of the pursuing ship. The Bellerophon answered the photons with a spread of her own, and the ship quaked and groaned as the antimatter warheads blasted against her shields.

Nakatsu Finn was flying close to the Bellerophon now, watching as each torpedo collided with the Excelsior. His sensors had detected an anomalous reading in the engineering section of the captured ship, and he doubted it was anything Anthony wanted to survive on that vessel. If her aft shields failed, Finn would take advantage of it.

There!

The Excelsior's shields flickered and died. Finn accelerated his tiny Stormwind across the void between the Intrepid-class and the Excelsior, the former home of the Fighting Eight. He matched Paris' turns easily, for his ship was far more manoeuvrable than the large cruiser/carrier. He jetted over the stern, aimed his phasers at the hump on the hull where the nacelle pylons connected, and fired, at the same time letting loose with his two microtorpedoes. They impacted against the duranium hull and exploded. Finn rolled away from the ship just as his final torpedo crashed through a hull breach and detonated in the interior of the ex-Starfleet ship.

* * * * *

Jakob Ramelow got up from where he had fallen on to the decking and shook his head, dispelling the pain that had erupted in his cranium. He surveyed his bridge, and he almost shouted when he saw two aliens, both with blemished heads, both dressed in tight-fitting emerald jumpsuits, tapping at both the ops and science stations. Two phaser beams cut through the air, taking both intruders in the chest, and they went down with a collective gasp.

Tom Paris and Benezia Kal lowered the hand phasers they had retrieved from the emergency lockers under their stations and approached their captain.

"What was that all about?", Paris asked, bemused. Ramelow made to answer, before realising that he didn't know either.

The ship rocked from an explosion astern. Kal rushed back to his station.

"That's a Starfleet ship!", he shouted. "We're pursuing the Mariner, and the Bellerophon has opened fire on us!"

Ramelow allowed himself less than a second to take stock.

"Hail the Mariner and tell Captain Anthony that the Excelsior surrenders", he commanded, before snatching Paris' hand phaser from him.

"Sir?", Kal queried. "What's going on?"

"I don't know", Ramelow admitted, "but odds are those aliens have something to do with it, and I'll bet my commission that there's more of them."

With that, he rushed to the turbolift, and ordered it to proceed to Main Engineering.

* * * * *

Grand Admiral Jah's world had come crashing down.

His three light cruisers had been swept aside easily by two of the three combat sections of the Firebrand. The third, Firebrand Charlie, had been disabled by the Bunara, but even so, Jah's flagship was still being hit by quantum and photon torpedoes from all sides.

The sensor operator was dead, killed when a pulse phaser volley had annihilated the plasma conduits on the bridge. Kelvah had been killed in the same manner. The impulse drive was now completely offline, and only one disruptor remained operational.

And I still can't find that other starship, Jah thought wryly.

Abruptly, the Starfleet ships ceased their murderous fire, and an eerie silence enveloped the smashed bridge. Jah wondered if anyone on board was left alive besides him.

The communications system beeped. The grand admiral wiped a smear of blood and soot from his face and tiredly clicked the button on his armrest, opening a channel.

An impossibly impeccable Starfleet captain appeared on the screen, surrounded by a bridge that seemed untouched by the combat. The only indication of any damage was a thin wisp of smoke that permeated through the rear stations of the command centre, but this ceased quickly.

"I am Captain Simon Anthony of the Federation starship Mariner", the figure said coolly. "Who am I addressing?"

Jah sucked in a breath.

"Grand Admiral Jah, Commander-in-Chief of the Buna Fleet and Commander of the flagship Bunara."

Anthony grimaced.

"Admiral, you have caused my people a lot of bother", he said in classic understatement. "Thousands dead, fears of war throughout the quadrant...and for what, exactly? To what end?"

Jah raised himself up in a straight, dignified posture, in spite of the pain he felt in his side, as a result of shrapnel from the exploded conduits.

"I defend the Buna", he stated. "You started this. Not us."

Anthony's eyes narrowed.

"This all started when the science vessel Graf Spee was attacked by your people", he pointed out. Jah snorted.

"The Graf Spee made its intentions very clear when it deliberately probed our defences. I responded by preventing them from attacking us while we were unprepared."

"That's what he meant", Anthony muttered under his breath. Aloud, he said: "Admiral, the last transmission we had from the Graf Spee's captain indicated that he believed his active scans had triggered the attack. Believe me, sir, when I say that Captain Koji would never ever have initiated an attack on purpose. He was a scientist, first and foremost, and his ship would not stand up to much from yours."

Jah gasped.

"You mean to tell me that he was simply scanning us, with no intention of attack? From my experience in battle, a scan of tactical systems is usually a prelude to an attack."

Anthony was silent for a moment. Then he spoke, quieter, and his face seemed to have paled somewhat.

"It seems, Admiral, that we have thrown everything we had into this engagement purely because a misunderstanding caused a string of misunderstandings. The Federation does not initiate attacks. The man who made Starfleet possible, thanks to his warp engine designs, summed it up best when he said that our primary mission was to explore strange new worlds, to seek out new life and new civilisations, and to boldly go where no man has gone before. No one understood this more than Maruaha Koji. He would not attack you."

Jah rubbed his head in dismay. He had begun this campaign with the best intentions, only to have been defeated, and then to realise that he had led the Buna to the brink of war because he had misinterpreted a Starfleet captain's actions as belligerent, when they were simply philanthropic.

"Captain Anthony", he rasped, suddenly feeling very tired. "I can only apologise for what I have done, and what I have caused. The crew of the Graf Spee have all been indoctrinated with Buna philosophy. I captured your USS Excelsior and did the same to that crew. You have lost several starships, and so have I, and for nothing."

Anthony nodded.

"That's true, sir, but diplomacy can start in the shadow of disaster. In the spirit of diplomacy, I offer a trade. A joint Excelsior-Mariner security team has captured and subdued some twenty-three of your crewmen on the Excelsior, and we will gladly trade them for the Graf Spee and our men."

Jah smiled.

"That's very magnanimous of you, Captain. I'm afraid the Graf Spee cannot be immediately released yet, because it will take our scientists at least three days to undo the programming process her crew underwent, but I can assure you that, if you can remain in the nebula, they will be promptly returned to you."

"Understood, Admiral. I'll contact you shortly with details for the transfer of your personnel. Anthony out."

As the Starfleet man disappeared, Jah idly wondered if, in the wake of his failure as a man of battle, he would become a man of peace among his people. A treaty with Captain Simon Anthony of the Federation starship Mariner was the first step in many, but he would endeavour to do his best, to undo the damage he had already caused.

* * * * *

"Well, that went well", Anthony said as he slumped back into his chair on the Mariner bridge. Lon Tanier swung around in his chair.

"Captain, what happens now?", he asked.

Anthony shrugged.

"I'm not really sure", he admitted. "I suppose we hang around and wait for the Graf Spee, and try and organise some sort of diplomatic initiative between the Federation and the Buna."

Tanier looked at him queerly.

"A diplomatic initiative with them? Sir, Grand Admiral Jah just told us that they used mind control techniques to press Captain Koji and his crew into service. Surely that would indicate they use the same thing to subjugate other races. The Federation doesn't deal with slave-drivers!"

"Lieutenant, this is not your decision to make", Tasek warned from tactical, but Anthony raised his hand to silence his First Officer. For the first time, Tanier noticed that his captain was beginning to look old. He wasn't ancient by any stretch of the imagination, but the stress of the past few days was obviously taking a toll.

"Lon", Anthony said quietly, in a tone suggesting he was tutoring a schoolboy. "The Federation has treaties with the Klingons, the Cardassians and, now, the Romulans. None of them are the friendliest species around. None of them have the same regard for others' rights as us. Yet we still deal with them. Why?"

He took a breath, which seemed laboured.

"Because we need to", he said at last. "Like it or not, the Federation has been whittled down by the Borg and the Dominion, to name but two enemies. We can't afford another war, not now. If we can stave off that war by dealing with the Buna, then we have an obligation to do so."

Tanier nodded and blushed.

"Yes sir. Sorry sir."

Anthony smiled benevolently.

"Don't be sorry about that, Lieutenant. Be sorry when you don't have a problem with dealing with slave-drivers."

Anthony suddenly remembered that his work was not yet complete. He turned to Alex Lane.

"Signal the Firebrand and ask if they need help. Their Charlie section was pretty badly damaged."

He tapped his commbadge.

"Anthony to Coleman."

"Coleman here, Captain", Patrick Coleman replied instantly.

"Patrick, how are you going with the communications array?"

Ever since the Mariner had re-entered the nebula, the mathematician had been tasked with finding a way to send a comm. signal to penetrate the thick interference of the nebula.

"I can guarantee a text message will be able to get out of the nebula", Coleman replied from the communications relay station on deck thirteen, "but it wouldn't get back to Starfleet Command. I'm still trying to boost the transceiver output."

Anthony grinned.

"For the moment, can you send a text message to the USS Appalachia, which reads as follows: 'Mission accomplished. When your technical difficulties are fixed, can you return to our position? Mariner would like to take delivery of one second engineer, by the name of Uys Retarax. Signed, Anthony.'"

"Understood, sir. I'll get on to it right away."

A few moments passed before Lieutenant Lane raised her eyebrows quizzically.

"Captain, the Appalachia definitely received that message, but she's not responding."

Anthony stood from his chair in the centre of the bridge and walked to the ops console. His brow furrowed.

"That's odd."

Lane concurred.

"I've got a pretty patchy sensor link with Starbase Two-Oh-Four, and from what I can gather, the Appalachia is warping out of the sector, sir."

Anthony murmured to himself, stroked his chin and looked to the viewscreen, showing the crippled Bunara, drifting across space.

"Call the captains of each ship", he decided. "I want a meeting in thirty minutes."

* * * * *

The doors to the Mariner sickbay swished open just as Doctor Taryll Kalis was discharging his last patient. Mariner had not been badly damaged during the short skirmish, but some of the EPS conduits towards the stern had ruptured, and for that reason he had treated about six crewmen for moderate burns. A couple of the crew had also suffered concussion when they were thrown against the walls during Lon Tanier's violent but effective evasive actions.

Taryll looked to the doors, to see a young man, evidently human, with a shock of strawberry blond hair and deep blue eyes, suited in a navy blue jumpsuit. Taryll's expression softened.

"Pilot Officer Finn?"

Finn nodded.

"Yes, sir."

Taryll gestured to the central biobed.

"This way, please."

The youthful fighter pilot followed the Bajoran doctor across the roomy sickbay, to where one more occupant of the infirmary lay. Only he was no longer a patient. There was nothing more Doctor Taryll Kalis could do for him.

Nakatsu looked into the sightless eyes of Lieutenant Garrun Tahbor, noticing that the reflection showed his eyes to be dewy. He realised he was crying, something he had not done for years.

Taryll squeezed his shoulder.

"He died bravely, Mr Finn", he said softly. "I heard from a friend on the Firebrand that he pressed home every attack. His microtorpedoes destroyed one of the enemy cruisers. At one point, Firebrand Beta's dorsal shields were down, and a Buna ship fired a torpedo at her. Lieutenant Tahbor flew in between the torpedo and Beta. He sacrificed himself to save his comrades."

Finn reached across the Trill's face and lightly closed his eyes.

"He died for nothing, Doctor", he muttered monotonously. "We're negotiating with the Buna."

"That's not true", Taryll countered. "The fact that Garrun Tahbor fought made that negotiation possible. He shouldn't have died, but I'm sure that if he were alive now, he'd be more than happy that what started as the first shots of a war finished as an overture for peace."

Finn mulled this over for a moment. Then, he bobbed his head slowly.

"Thank you, Doctor", he murmured. He looked again at his deceased squadron leader.

"Thank you, sir."

EPILOGUE

Lieutenants Alexandra Lane and Lon Tanier went off duty at the same time, which coincided with the commencement of the captain's conference with the commanders of the other Starfleet vessels. They entered the turbolift at the rear of the bridge, and Tanier ordered the lift to the Lipton Room. As it descended, he turned to Lane.

"I haven't had a chance to speak with you for a while, Alex", he said with a wide smile. "Do you want to grab a drink at the lounge and have a chat?"

Lane considered this for a moment. She smiled uncertainly.

"Yeah, sure", she said after a second. Tanier chuckled quietly.

"You're thinking that I'm trying to come on to you", he surmised with a cheeky smile. Lane reddened.

"I...um...no, I wouldn't..."

Tanier cut her off with a gentle hand gesture.

"I'm a Betazoid, remember? I can read your thoughts."

He rubbed her shoulder.

"Don't worry. I know you're already in a relationship, and I wouldn't want you to cheat on our good counsellor, now, would I?"

Lane's eyes widened. She flushed further.

"Computer, halt turbolift", she said. The lift drew to a stop, and she turned to her companion.

"You read my thoughts again, didn't you?", she demanded angrily. This time, it was Tanier's turn to blush.

"It was difficult not to, considering the strength of the emotions coming from your quarters last night", he admitted uncomfortably. "I'm sorry."

Lane seemed to remain furious for a moment. After a short time, though, the frown dissolved, replaced by a nervous grin.

"I'll forgive you this time", she pronounced. "Just don't tell anyone, okay?"

Tanier laughed.

"Don't tell who what?", he questioned innocently.

Lane sighed. Suddenly, a drink sounded very, very good.

"Resume turbolift", she told the computer.

* * * * *

"Communications to Captain Anthony", the voice of Patrick Coleman blared over the speakers in the conference room. Anthony was glad for the interruption. So far, he and his colleagues had come up with no reason why the Appalachia had deserted them. Commodore Sevaro had explained the Amber-3 alert he had received from SI, but he could not explain why there was a need for it. Altogether the latest developments were curious and more than a little disturbing.

"Go ahead, Patrick."

"Sir, there's a Priority Blue message for you that's just come through on the boosted transceiver."

Anthony laughed incredulously. Yet another personal message from the president. Someone was popular with Jaresh Inyo, or more likely, severely unpopular.

"Patch it through, Patrick."

A retractable screen rose in front of Anthony, and flashed the message on screen. Anthony involuntarily cried out in surprise.

Captain Anthony:

Despite this being a Priority Blue message, this is not from President Jaresh Inyo. There are some good things about being in charge of Starfleet Communications. One is that I know how to fake messages of the highest priority, and given that there has been a blackout of all other communiqu‚s from Starfleet, this was the only way to get through to you.

Information received by Admiral Harriman suggests that President Jaresh Inyo and Admiral Kos Narton of Starfleet Security are about to move against Admirals Harriman, Janeway, Sulu, Carver-Phillips and myself, on charges of treason. Of course it's nonsense that we have committed treason, but the president seems hell-bent on revenge for our support of you and Commodore Sevaro, in defiance of his wishes.

I have intercepted a communication from Admiral Narton ordering the USS Appalachia, Jaguar, Bellerophon and Firebrand back to Earth, but, not being a Communications man, he sent a full video-audio transmission which, I am sure, will not penetrate the Kosparan Nebula. I did notice that the Appalachia had withdrawn from the nebula, which may mean that Captain d'Jemba has received and acknowledged these orders.

If your mission has been a success, then the president will surely be forced to back down. Watch yourself, though. I don't know what Narton will have as a back-up plan.

Good luck, Captain.

-Owen Paris

Anthony read the message again, to make certain he understood the content. Then he looked to his colleagues, who were all awaiting word of what the message entailed.

"It seems President Jaresh Inyo is going to arrest most of Starfleet Command", he announced. This drew murmurs of shock from all present. He waited for the hubbub to cease before continuing.

"Admiral Narton of Security is siding with the president on this, and he has ordered the Appalachia, Bellerophon, Firebrand and Jaguar to return to Sector Zero-Zero-One immediately."

"That would explain why the Appalachia disappeared", Chakotay observed. Anthony nodded in acquiescence.

"Chakotay, Kathryn is among the admirals who are going to be arrested."

He turned to Sevaro.

"So is Harriman."

The room lapsed into silence. Anthony considered the situation further.

"I can't order Felicia, Jurvak or Chakotay not to go", he pointed out. "You've been told to return to the Sol system, and I won't stand in your way to prevent that."

Felicia Mendoza stirred.

"Simon, we were ordered here to help you, on the orders of Admiral Sulu", she said. "In my mind, we haven't completed that assignment yet.

"The Firebrand stays here."

"The Bellerophon has not received any orders directly from a higher authority yet", the Vulcan captain of the Intrepid-class starship said impassively. "Until such a time, we are still at your service, Captain Anthony."

"You don't even need to ask", Chakotay affirmed with a wry grin. "The Jaguar's with you, Simon."

Anthony flashed his perfect white teeth.

"Excellent. Here's the plan, then:

"Eximius will head back to Earth along with the Jaguar, letting anyone who will listen know that we succeeded. The Excelsior should go too, as proof positive. Firebrand and Bellerophon will leave the nebula and act as reserves, should anything happen and Commodore Sevaro needs help."

"What 'something' do you have in mind?", Mendoza asked warily. Sevaro made to answer instead.

"I think Captain Anthony is worried that Narton and Jaresh Inyo will do anything they can to make certain their charges against the admirals stick. If we go home triumphantly, it will lend credence to Starfleet's side.

"Let's just say, the battle may not yet be over."

Anthony turned to Ramelow, who was still wearing his tattered uniform.

"I'm sorry to throw you back into the fray so quickly, Jakob", he apologised. Ramelow shrugged.

"We're needed, and I won't let the people who cared enough about my ship and my crew to go after us be punished because of it."

"What's your situation?"

Ramelow leaned back in his chair.

"Thanks to Pilot Officer Finn, the Buna mind control device has been destroyed. Unfortunately, that attack severely damaged Main Engineering, and that was exacerbated when my security team and the one under the command of Crewman V'Nushku of the Mariner attempted to subdue the Buna crewmen working on the Excelsior. Lieutenant Ai believes we will be warp-capable in about an hour and a half.

"By the time we leave the nebula, our shields should be fully operational, but our aft torpedo tubes are offline.

"I'm also short of crew. In total, from the original engagement to our fight with your vessels, we've lost about twenty-three officers and ratings. Luckily, most of the senior officers are still alive."

Anthony accepted this.

"I'll transfer some of the Mariner crew to the Excelsior to get you completely up to par", he decided. "In the meantime, Mariner will remain on station, and we shall escort the Graf Spee back to Federation space once she is returned to us."

* * * * *

Admiral Kos Narton was now the Commander-in-Chief of Starfleet.

It had a nice ring to it, Narton decided. He was moving up in the world, and now that William Carver-Phillips was in a holding cell at Security headquarters, along with Kathryn Janeway, Demora Sulu and Owen Paris, he was at the apex of his career. John Harriman was so far eluding him, but he had no doubt that the elderly chief of SI would soon be captured.

The orders he had just received from President Jaresh Inyo gave him pause, but not for long. The Appalachia had transmitted to Starfleet that Simon Anthony had succeeded in his mission to reclaim the Excelsior. In itself, that information would have been good news, but Narton and the president had already played their cards on Earth. If it was to be discovered that their dire predictions, which had underpinned their charges of sedition against the Starfleet hierarchy, were utterly without foundation, then Narton wouldn't be surprised if both he and the Federation head-of-state would wake up one morning in a holding cell of their own, overthrown by the rank-and-file of Starfleet.

That couldn't be allowed to happen. The USS Appalachia had to be stopped from returning to Earth and trumpeting Anthony's success, and if that meant Captain d'Jemba's destruction, then Admiral Narton, C-in-C of Starfleet, could live with that. He would just tell the crew of whatever ship he sent to intercept the Steamrunner-class destroyer that the crew had been replaced by the Kosparan Nebula enemy, and that what they were seeing on screen were holographic projections. He would declare that, the moment a weapons lock was established, the ship had to be destroyed, because Starfleet vessels could not be allowed to remain in enemy hands.

And if the rest of Anthony's armada emerged from the nebula, they would meet the same fate.

* * * * *

Almost directly above San Francisco, while Admiral Narton made the final preparations for the demise of the USS Appalachia, a freighter orbited awkwardly around the great aquamarine sphere of the Earth. The Polaris was one of the successful Istanbul-class transports originally built for Starfleet, but also adapted for civilian use. This particular ship had been in service as the USS Phoenicia until ten years ago, when it was acquired by Mace Harrison Shipping Limited, based on Andoria. At least, that's what the papers said, and that's what anyone would discover if they chose to investigate the ship.

Dressed in a smart, if not entirely well-fitting black coverall, the bearded human watched as the transporter stage glowed and hummed. In a matter of moments, the Polaris' newest passenger had materialised amid the luminous blue column of energy. The Polaris' captain grinned.

"Welcome aboard, Admiral", he greeted. The old man on the stage stepped down to the captain's level.

"Hello, Nick", Admiral John Harriman said to the bearded man. "Thanks for replying so promptly to my emergency flash message."

Nick shrugged.

"Hey, if the head of SI needs help, I might as well lend a hand."

His expression soured slightly.

"I'm afraid we already have a problem. A Starfleet ensign, a controller from Spacedock, insisted on boarding us, because we weren't officially due in Sector Zero-Zero-One for quite some time. We wouldn't be able to stick to our tight timetable if we let her inspect everything, so we've put her in the brig, I'm afraid."

Harriman suppressed a guffaw. He followed Nick as the captain led the way to the Polaris brig. Inside one of the cramped holding cells sat a young girl dressed in the cranberry-topped uniform of a command officer.

No doubt one of the just-out-of-the-Academy kids who took to running the day-to-day stuff at Starfleet and Spacedock after the Breen attack, Harriman thought to himself. Aloud, he addressed the ensign.

"Sorry about this, Ensign", he said in genuine regret. "I'm afraid you're caught up in something far bigger than yourself."

"Smuggling, probably", the girl muttered disparagingly. Harriman's eyes narrowed.

"Smuggling of sorts, I suppose, Miss..."

"Lebel, Ensign Amarante, serial number three-five-seven-four-two-one-six-lambda", she dutifully responded. At least now Harriman had a name...

Lebel?

"You're the niece of Captain Jean-Luc Picard", he breathed, almost inaudibly, at the realisation. She looked up in surprise.

"How do you know that?", she demanded.

He allowed himself an indulgent smile.

"It's my job to know these things, Ensign. You see, I'm Admiral Jonathan Harriman."

Lebel reddened, more so out of embarrassment at her accusation that the admiral had been a petty criminal, rather than any other consideration.

"The Starfleet Intelligence head?", she murmured. "What are you doing here?"

Harriman's smile slipped.

"Ensign, I'm afraid I can't return you to Spacedock, because that would constitute a serious breach in security. You're welcome to join us, though."

He gestured to Nick.

"This is Commander Nick Squire of SI", he explained. "You inadvertently stumbled into an unofficial SI operation, Miss Lebel, but it's probably one of the most honourable missions you could hope to take part in, short of turning Klingon and conquering the galaxy."

He looked down to the PADD he had brought with him when he beamed aboard. On it was the latest intelligence from The Ear, detailing exactly the plans of Jaresh Inyo and Kos Narton to destroy any evidence of their duplicity.

"We're about to try the best we can to save thousands of living heroes from being killed by a conspiracy cooked up right here on Earth."

He turned to Squire.

"Nick, get us out of here, quickly. Spacedock can believe we're smugglers for all I care, as long as we're at high warp on our way to the Kosparan Sector before Narton scrambles starships to intercept. Simon Anthony and Aurelito are counting on us out there."

Squire nodded and rapidly departed the brig. Harriman waited until he had gone before deactivating the force-field on the holding cell and gesturing for Amarante Lebel to come out. The young ensign moved gingerly. John Harriman had once been the captain of the USS Enterprise NCC-1701B, but not so long ago, and in her presence, another captain of the Enterprise, one very close to Amarante, had spoken in glowing terms about Harriman. She decided to trust Uncle Jean-Luc's judgement.

Harriman was glad to have someone like Ensign Lebel on his crew. He had heard from Picard and also from Deanna Troi, his personal counsellor and current wife to Captain Will Riker of the Titan, that the young woman was destined for importance one day in the not-too-distant future.

Right now, though, he had to worry about the Appalachia, the Jaguar, the Firebrand, the Bellerophon, the Excelsior, the Eximius and the Mariner. More so, he had to worry about approximately 2,800 courageous men and women who staffed those vessels. Whatever happened, he would do his utmost to prevent their sacrifice in the name of political power struggles.

"Let's hope we're not too late", he whispered almost inaudibly.

TO BE CONTINUED...