Star Trek: The Quadratic War

[Comrade Tortoise]

Captain Kadon had put the logistic issues perfectly. The Klingons often took prizes in battle, Starfleet did not, and sometimes the practical concerns were lost on starfleet personnel, himself included. It was simply outside the context within which one thinks, however, one thing was clear. Ethical issues aside, no one could spare the crew to inventory and move parts from those ships AND integrate them into the fleet tender, and there was no telling how much time they really had.

He nodded to the Klingon captain in acknowledgement, and moved to press his own comm badge, but got an incoming message instead.

"Vagel to Tlorn"

"How fortuitious. Go."

"I think we may have a solution to the power supply problem. We can use emergency generators and sen-"

"I have reached the same conclusion. Have teams begin transporting them aboard the IRW Saehir immediately. It will take time to integrate them."

"Yes sir."

"Make sure you coordinate with the other crews. Also: try not to... step on people's toes. Your bluntness has a tendency to, as the humans would put it, ruffle feathers. Wherever that idiom comes from."

[frigidmagi]

"The Tender comes first. Then the ships. While we will bring back every ship and person it is practical to, we have to accept the limitations upon us. Captain Kadon, you are in charge of getting the tender ready and moving, we'll be using your plan. Take whoever and whatever you need to get it up and running. Captain Cretak once we have the tender out of here it will under your command. Captain Kirk, you're in charge of surveying the captured ships. You have full permission to do whatever you have to do if they resist. Captains, our goal here is to get out of here as quickly as we can with as much as we can. Anyone who has suggestions that will speed the effort along should report them to Captain Kadon or myself. Let's be about it Captains, time is moving past us." Captain Anderson said breaking his silence.

[Comrade Tortoise]

Upon hearing Captain Kadon being given credit for a plan that--while he was instrumental in its formulation--could not be called entirely "his"...

Tlorn directed his face toward Captain Anderson, and raised his left eyebrow.

[Cynical Cat]

Kadon touched his comm badge, activating it so his orders would be relayed to his crew. "Captain Tlorn and his crew will handle the warp bubble calculations. My chief engineer Seragal was responsible for cataloging the parts from the previous battle and has both training and experience in swiftly rerigging captured ships. He will be in charge of handling the repairs. Captain Rais, I assume you have crew with similar experience. I will need them as well as those of any other engineering crew with applicable skills. Captain Cretak, it need not be said that your crew will be essential to this operation, but I will say it anyway. This tender is our ability to create major parts and undergo extensive repairs and refit. It must be saved."

[Marcao]

Alpha Quadrant
USS Immortal, Official Meeting

Galen Cretak placed his PADD aside and watched and listened as the exchanges took place between the commanders of the assembled task force. A part of him had missed this, being a room surrounded by individuals discussing tactics and strategies. The fact that there were no other Romulan commanders was not lost upon him but it was not enough to ruin the illusion. For the moment, he was reminded of being part of something bigger than himself. He had little doubts that his outlooks and hopes for the future would not be shared equally by all or even most of those gathered here. Nonetheless, in the small time that he had within the task force he was quickly growing fond of the majority of its members. He was not certain yet if that fondness was simply a reflection of the increased might available to him or signified something else. He had already placed down roots with Solheim of the Gilgamesh although that had been a response to Samara as much as any real fondness for the human captain at the time. How many others would he bind himself to in the coming days?

The captain that did not know as well as he would have liked spoke again. He had been informed of the additional ship when it had joined the task force although its type and age had suggested that it would be more of a burden than a help. When the captain of the Meh'ta spoke of cloaking in the badlands he arched a brow but said nothing. It was quite the capability. The captain also spoke of diversionary tactics and seemed eager to show the worth not only of his own abilities but his ship. That was a commendable ideology and one that would quickly lead to full integration into the task force. His eyes glanced towards Kalpov for a moment before they shifted towards Dubois of the Empyrean. The man spoke and he found himself agreeing with the basics of the plan. It was logical for a science ship to have an enhanced capability in an environment such as the Badlands. For the Empyrean to take the lead on an attempt to escape the Badlands made sense.
His head turned and focused on Solheim and Samara catching the end of their exchange before he glanced elsewhere. His attention returned when T'lorn spoke to Solheim. It was not his place to step in to an exchange between two separate captains of whom he had little direct authority over. Solheim was as close to a friend in Starfleet as he had but he was fully capable of explaining his position. Captain Kadon however was not held back by sentimentality and quickly focused on the heart of the issue. He waited until the Klingon had stated the self-evident before he spoke in turn.
"The Saehir should be our primary concern. Its restoration should allow us some flexibility about dealing with the other ships in the area." The ships could keep up with the task force would be encouraged to do so. The ships that could not keep up with the task force would have to be left behind and the crews as much as possible transferred ideally to the Saehir itself. Due to their decisions in Nivoch IV, he doubted that even the Barbarossa had the space to take in many more people within it.

When Captain Anderson spoke he did so sensibly. He was pleased that the issue of the Saehir was dealt with in a manner in which it should have been. He had doubted that Anderson or Kadon would have pressed the issue in acknowledging his claim to the Saehir. As pleasure rippled in the pit of his stomach he nodded to the captain of the Immortal. A conversation would be had in the future about what had transpired in the Badlands but for the moment, he did not have the desire or inclination to press the issue.

His attention focused on Kadon as he smoothly began giving orders. He watched the Klingon wordlessly as he began to move the pieces in place that would allow them to revive the stricken fleet tender. When Kadon addressed him he answered immediately.

"We will do all that we can to assist in the effort to save the Saehir." He replied in turn. His people needs symbols and the IRW Saehir would go along way towards restoring some pride and hope to the Romulan people. As he spoke, the transporter rooms of the S'harien began to deliver their payloads to the Saehir. Romulans and Remans whose sole task was to work alongside their assigned peers of the task force. Romulan engineering teams, Reman work teams and a host of support staff. As the personnel of the S'harien emptied they swelled within the Saehir all seeking to bring the stricken vessel to life anew. The S'harien would maintain a minimal crew and a watchful eye on its sensors and those of the task force. Time was not on their side.

[White Haven]

Assignments and a chain of command -- fair, Leyton himself was a newcomer to the squadron. This was not the time to question things, especially in light of the looming threat of Borg attack. "Captain Kadon, I have a substantial number of engineering teams aboard Saehir, all of whom are quite adept at networking disparate field generators together. I am not an engineer by training myself, but they are at your disposal should you require them. That said, we're light on time; I recommend we get to it. If we actually have the thirty hours to make this work, we'll have the time to go over other matters once repairs are under way."

[rhoenix]

After listening to the Riov Cretak and others speak their piece, Captain Solheim nodded, looking somber. "I'm afraid I can't offer much in the way of resources from my ship, but what I can do is some gunboat diplomacy with the neutral ships still out there. I can see if I can find one willing to take point for the other neutral ships out there, to establish a loose chain of command that will get us and most of the survivors out of the Badlands. We can sort out the particulars once we get clear of the plasma storms."

[LadyTevar]

"I'll accept that aid, Capt. Solheim," Eoife Kirk said, as the ships out there were not 'neutral' in any way, but captures to her mind. "I think they'll come around faster when they hear Capt. Kirk is now in charge of their deportment." There were times the infamous name had benefits. "Once we're dismissed, we'll get the announcement out that Kirk is wanting details so I can get them out of here."

[rhoenix]

"I'll accept that aid, Capt. Solheim," Eoife Kirk said, as the ships out there were not 'neutral' in any way, but captures to her mind. "I think they'll come around faster when they hear Capt. Kirk is now in charge of their deportment." There were times the infamous name had benefits. "Once we're dismissed, we'll get the announcement out that Kirk is wanting details so I can get them out of here."

Captain Solheim smirked at this, a light glinting in his eyes as he did. "Using the guns of a Defiant, backed with the Kirk name? I can think of worse deceptions."

After a moment, his smile faded. "We'll have to do what we can for them, so I'll take whatever edge I can get for this."

Next to him, Commander Inzeti was rapidly going through a padd, assembling a list of local ships in the area, and classifying them according to damage sustained, as best the sensors could determine. She also sent orders to step up the "consideration process" for adding new crew from the refugees they carried. Though the odd crew of the Gilgamesh had technically been understaffed for a number of years now, they weren't undertaking a lone wolf posture any longer.

[Comrade Tortoise]

"Captain Kadon, my Science teams can handle the Warp Field calculations, and set up an algorithm to assist in compensating for subspace distortions. However, my engineering officers have extensive experience re-configuring power systems, with your permission, I will have them seconded to Seragal's group. My own chief engineer, Vagel, is particularly skilled in that respect and she has worked with Romulans and Klingons before. If you require someone to liason between species, she can serve in that role admirably."

[Josh]

Shirazi rose to his feet. "I have minimal engineering personnel available, though they are extremely competent at their craft. As they've already been dispatched with their equipment, I will take the Meh'Ta into patrol position for early warning."

Conferences were a necessary evil, but he hated them. Conference culture had turned Starfleet into an overly deliberative institution that had contributed directly to the debacle that formed the Maquis, and crippled the Federation early in its efforts against the Dominion.

He wanted to get his own deck under his feet again and be in a position to effect events, however that might come.

[Cynical Cat]

"As was said," Kadon replied, "all with useful skills are needed. This issue is settled. We should move to the next."

[LadyTevar]

"As was said," Kadon replied, "all with useful skills are needed. This issue is settled. We should move to the next."

And with that, Eoife knew that Capt. Anderson would have to face the elephant in the room: Why the Immortal opened fire when he was onboard the Saehir.

Eoife knew her own actions would also be questioned, as she'd had the Spector fire in support of the Immortal, and it had caused damage to Capt. Kadon's ship as well as the Vulcan vessel. That was her fault, as Captain, as she'd followed Starfleet and not heeded Kadon as the second-in-command. Old habits in this case caused deaths. Inconsciously she sat up strraighter and looked to Capt Anderson to hear his reply.

[Cynical Cat]

There was silence after Kadon's words. Realizing that no one wished to take the opportunity, the Klingon did what all good Klingons did when presented with an open opportunity. He seized it.

"The battle did not go as we wished. This is no secret. It started suddenly in a region and under circumstances where capturing prizes and freeing prisoners unharmed was unlikely. There are questions and concerns, but this is not the time or the place. Things can occur swiftly in battle and swift responses may be needed and decisions made under such circumstances are not always ideal. We can conduct a post mortem of the incident when we are securely in Bajoran Space or leave or do whatever but now we must focus on the tasks at hand instead of tearing at our livers. Which brings us to another matter.

"During the battle there were breaches of discipline by Starfleet personnel. This is, in my opinion, a Starfleet matter for Starfleet officers to deal with." Kadon showed teeth. "If it occurs again, then this one's opinion may change."

[Josh]

"With respect, Captain Kadon, it would seem to me that at this point we can no longer consider our mutual efforts to be divisible by Starfleet, the Imperial Navy, the Star Navy, or any other organization. If we're going to operate under a unitary command structure and accomplish our objectives moving forward, we should do so under the assumption of full common cause and identity."

Shirazi looked around and hoped that he didn't look as awkward as he felt. His command experience in the Maquis rebellion consisted of shuttles and small groups, the Meh'Ta was ridiculously obsolete even by pre-war standards and it was his first 'real' command. This was a constellation of veteran commanders, many of whom had fought in the largest battles of this war and the Dominion War while he was helming evacuation transports.

"I wasn't present for this battle and can't speak to the particulars. What I can pledge is my life and the service of my vessel to every being in this fleet, regardless of what flag they space under or where they were born."

He nodded to the other commanders and staff and returned to his seat. The entire event reminded him of the very awkward time he'd faced the review board at the academy.

That had at least ended well, and maybe that was good omen for their current endeavors.

[LadyTevar]

"This one," Eoife said slowly, wanting to make sure she got the formal tone correct, "must apologise to the Captains of the Riskadh and the Humboldt. I was uncautious with the Spector's missiles, and they went astray in the storm, causing harm. The responsibility is mine."

But, a Kirk can't let other things go by. "Capt. Anderson, why -did- the Immortal begin firing without you aboard?"

[rhoenix]

Captain Solheim sighed for a moment, after hearing Captain Kirk's words. He had his own admission to make here, amongst the Captains; he just wasn't sure if it was the right time. He glanced out the corner of his eyes to Commander Inzeti to get a second opinion, knowing that she would know what was on his mind, and saw her give a nearly imperceptible nod of her head.

For now though, he would at least wait until Captain Anderson replied. One item of business at a time, after all.

[frigidmagi]

But, a Kirk can't let other things go by. "Capt. Anderson, why -did- the Immortal begin firing without you aboard?"

Captain Anderson looked at Commander Kirk. He did not glare. Honestly he lacked the capability, missing half of his face as he did. The blunt truth also was that one cannot lost half his face without some damage to the other half. Still, in exchange his gaze was steady and cold. Especially given that Commander Kirk seemed to think she was running the meeting.

"Commander. That subject was discussed. As I recall you have an assignment and one that you should be about." Captain Anderson looked about the ready room.

"We have an unknown amount of time until the Borg arrive Captains, and much work to do. Once we are clear of the badlands, we will discuss, other subjects to your hearts content. Until then, it would be in our best interests to move quickly and without confusion. Captains, let's be about it." Captain Anderson said, ending the meeting.

[rhoenix]

Captain Solheim nodded, sharing a quick glance with his Commander - the time would come for more truths soon enough. In the meantime though, there was work to be done, and not much time to get it done within. He got to his feet, nodding to the others present.

"Alright then - let's get this caravan moving," he said, looking determined. "Captains," he said, nodding to the others in respect, before he and Commander Inzeti were engulfed in a transporter beam, placing them both back on the bridge of the much smaller, but no less deadly Gilgamesh.

"We have a caravan to start, and not a lot of time to get it done," Captain Solheim said over the ship's intercom, deciding to not lose any time, even as Swift took the ship out toward the first intact "neutral" ship on their list. "We're going to engage in some good old-fashioned gunboat diplomacy, and we're going to use Kirk's name as a badge."

He paused, hearing the derisive snort from Adranis, accompanied by the older Romulan shaking his head with a smirk at the idea, which Captain Solheim decisively ignored. "We get through this, and we have our little fleet, plus that fleet tender on our way. Let's get it done."

With that, the compact destroyer closed the distance toward the first ship on the list, sending a hail on all frequencies. The Gilgamesh was uncloaked, and had it's weapons and shields fully charged.

[Josh]

"That was very moving," Yhrea said as they threaded their way back to the landing bay. "The Federation has always been after its own form of assimilation."

"Entirely voluntary," Shirazi said. They suited up and began the trek back to the Sargon.

"Voluntary, but insidious in its own way. Starfleet has always been so very sure of its basic moral superiority and very blatant about it. Present company excluded, of course." They made their way into the shuttle. Yhrea sealed the hatch as Shirazi began powering up. They removed their helmets as the engines hummed to life.

"I never was considered the best Starfleet material," Shirazi said.

"Given the talent Starfleet draws to the Academy, finishing in the bottom ten of your class is still an exceptional testimony to your skills."

Shirazi glanced over his shoulder. "Of course you'd know my record."

"Thoroughly. Admittedly your disciplinary issues were the main inhibition to a higher placement, given that you finished in the upper five percent in flight training. What is 'grape Kool-Aid' anyway?"

Shirazi laughed and powered the shuttle. "I'm keeping the mystery."

"One more thing," Yhrea said "While the pledge of life and service is very moving, I would greatly prefer that we stay alive a while longer. I've got a book to finish."

"Oh?"

"21st century Earth series, A Song of Ice and Fire. I'm a hundred and thirty-seven pages away from the end of the fifth book in the series. The next two aren't present in the ship's library. Do you think any of the other vessels will have them?"

"Good luck with that."

***

tr'Valdran, the Tal Shiar cloaking systems specialist, fumbled nervously with the PADD in his hands. "It's very difficult and the system will take continual observation and maintenance. I will need permission for the dispensation of appropriate stimulants in order to maintain the proper alertness. Could you code that in for me, captain?"

"Regulated dosages, Mr. tr'Valdran. We're not having a repeat of Billax IV."

"That was an aberration. I had no idea the mushrooms would have that effect on my physiology. The regulation stimulants will have neither the hallucinatory nor laxative effects."

Shirazi repressed a sigh. The Tal Shiar had assured him that tr'Valdran was one of the best surviving cloak technicians in the Alpha Quadrant. He was also neurotic, unstable, and prone to chemical experimentation. Shirazi suspected that the Tal Shiar might've also exaggerated tr'Valdran's proficiency in order to be rid of him.

"I'll see to it," he told the technician. A passing crewman caught his attention. "That will be all. Mr. Lee!"

"Sir," the man said, turning back toward him with a cold expression.

"A word," Shirazi said, gesturing him toward the cargo bay. With the ship packed full of rations and overstaffed for its size, the cargo bay was the only place where a modicum of privacy could be achieved.

Once the doors swished shut, Shirazi turned to Lee. "You're nine hours behind on your VR/phase cloak simulation hours. The time has been made available for you to keep up the practice routine. You know our deal."

Lee shrugged. "I've had other..."

Shirazi held up his finger. "Don't. Two hour blocks starting today, or I will maroon you on the nearest habitable body I find."

Their gazes locked, Lee's cold eyes challenging him. Shirazi stared back, unwavering, until Lee nodded and spoke. "Then I'll get started right now. Captain."

Shirazi watched him go. He hadn't quite put his hand on the butt of his phaser during the conversation, but the urge had been there as it typically was when he spoke to his helmsman.

Jason Lee was the best helmsman that Shirazi had ever seen, better than Shirazi himself had ever dreamed of being.

He was also a clinical sociopath.

[Josh]

Shirazi mashed up the brickloaf, grinding it as well as he could with his fork. The ship's mess was mostly empty, the rest of the crew either on rest cycle or busy with duties.

"This is not food," Yhrea complained as he contemplated a dry fruit sliver with a disgusted expression.

"Your people made it," M'Lara said.

"The Infantry Service are not 'my people'," Yhrea said, depositing the fruit back in the bowl. "I would go so far as to say that infantry aren't 'people' in any real sense of the word."

M'Lara took a bite of her dessicated wafer. "I am considering whether to take that as an insult or a compliment, you will be made aware of my decision when I finish this."

"Pass the salt please," Shirazi said.

M'Lara snatched up the salt shaker and slammed it down in front of him. "A Klingon captain would not ask for the salt, he would seize it as his right."

Shirazi snorted as he dropped salt in the bowl. "What would a Romulan commander do?"

Yhrea gave him a sneer. "What, do you expect me to say something like 'the Romulan commander would have the salt and finish eating before anyone noticed it was missing'? Unlike some I do not seek to conform to crude ethnic stereotypes."

"You have two more bites left," M'Lara said, spraying crumbs as she brandished the wafer in a menacing fashion.

Yhrea put his hands on the table and smiled. "I cannot wait to see the outcome."

Shirazi sighed as he squeezed some juice from a packet into the mixture, then tried an experimental taste. Both of his subordinates watched him intently.

"Well?" M'Lara said.

"Tastes like salty shit," he said. "So much for that. Let's talk scheduling. We've drilled hard, I don't want to push the edge too fine here. Full maintenance, I'll see if I can finagle some decent rep-rations from another ship in the fleet. Phase two drills, some extra loose time. Lee is running VR-reps for a Thunderbolt, and Yhrea I need you on that too. If we get the opportunity, I'm taking it. So you're on spec and sim runs up to deployment."

Yhrea stared at him over the top of his mug. "You're serious about that."

"Deadly. Nobody gives this ship any real prospects of being much more than a tripwire. We're going to be looking at a big fight and we have the battlewagons around us to draw fire from the Borg. If we get anything that has an internal volume sufficient to execute, we're going to slip the blade in."

"A glorious death if nothing else," M'Lara said.

"Not if we do it right. I prefer giving the glorious deaths to our enemies," Shirazi said. "M'Lara, you're scheduled to run drills with Cratel."

"I don't expect the sergeant to take any lightening of the schedule to heart," M'Lara said. "I never knew that the telepaths could have such steel until I met that one."

"The two of you know your job," Shirazi said. "On the off chance that we need the Marines, I know you'll have them ready."

M'Lara bared her teeth. "Give me Borg to kill, captain. Space warfare is too bloodless for my tastes."

"You'll get your chance," Shirazi promised. "Alright, let's go be seen and act like we know what we're doing."

He looked down at his full bowl. Wasteful, at a time that they couldn't afford waste. But the truth was his stomach was entirely too knotted to allow anything to go down. He put a smile on his face as he rose to his feet and took the bowl to the disposer.

***

Shirazi wiped his hands with a rag. His visit to the engine room had found the shorthanded staff wrestling with the replacement of a transverse coil regulator. Pitching in to help had given him a soiled uniform and a sense of accomplishment when they'd finally gotten the damned thing to hold pressure. The assistant tech on duty had assured him that they'd have as close to full engine function as could be dragged out of the Meh'Ta's antique engines. It was as good as could be asked for, though even then every other ship in the fleet could easily walk away from his vessel.

The lift doors opened to the small observation deck of the hangar bay. Sergeant Barim Cratel stood at the window, VR rig riding over his eyes.

"Captain," he said without looking away from the drill running down in the bay. Below, Marines also wearing VR visors assaulted an imaginary objective that only they could see. Knowing Cratel's preferences it was probably some vision of hell, though whether it was a field of lava flows, an iceworld, or a fiendish jungle landscape replete with hostile fauna was entirely up to the sergeant's whim of the day.

"Sergeant," Shirazi said as he stepped up beside him. "Are the troops doing good?"

"Adequate performance," Cratel said. He looked angry under the visor, but that was not surprising- Cratel always looked angry. Shirazi had often wondered why a telepath would choose such a visceral and violent profession, and what Cratel had been before he'd spent a career soaking up the horror of the battlefield at a level that no non-esper could begin to comprehend.

For his own part, Shirazi's thankfully limited exposure had demonstrated amply for him that as ground combatants went, he was a damn fine helmsman. He didn't aspire to the sort of two-fisted command style of a Kirk or a Calhoun. He employed weapons, and in Cratel he had an excellent one. Whatever demons roiled behind the sergeant's angry eyes, Shirazi was just glad he was on their side.

Below the exercise broke up as M'Lara thumped forward to lecture the unit.

"If you'll excuse me captain," Cratel said as he lifted the VR visor. "Work."

Shirazi nodded.

As the door swished shut behind Cratel, he put his hands behind his back and watched as M'Lara gestured demonstratively to the squad. Without turning the audio on, his best guess was that she was explaining the best way to move a cow, then pedal a bicycle, then finally stab the cow repeatedly, probably while riding the bicycle. Or so Shirazi's limited comprehension of ground combat tactics would seem to imply.

It may have been the glow of a first command, but Shirazi reflected that this felt like the best crew he'd ever been part of. If nothing else, they were the hardened survivors. Luck and skill had winnowed through and left only the hardest, nastiest spacers and misfits going.

They deserved a chance to be great, to make an impact. He was going to do everything he could to see that they did.

Time to get on the channel with Hizir and see if he could get them a decent meal, too. He left the shuttle bay behind.

[White Haven]

What an absolute cocking mess. On all levels.

Leyton avoided given voice to the words as the meeting adjourned -- he had been about to speak up to try to abort it early when 'Kirk' (a Kirk, really?) put her foot in it. Still, he reflected with a slight twitch of his lips speaking to a hidden smile, with at least one or two confirmed telepathic species' filtering out of the same conference, even his unspoken commentary may well have been overhead. Letting the smile bloom a bit once no one was in position to see it, he deliberately formed the words in his mind, focusing on them such that anyone watching for them would have a hard time ignoring them.

Have to avoid mentioning that to Lesschey; my engineers are busy enough as-is without wasting time on countermeasures.

Speaking of -- his hand tapped the commbadge adhered to his breast, calling out, "Leyton to Commander zh'Rethen."

A brief pause later, a voice chased the regulation chirruping sound out of the communicator, "Captain?"

The layers of question hovering in the tonal components of that simple word were something that a simple universal translator would never be able to manage -- Leyton's first officer was entirely too stubborn to rely on them. With another brief smile, the grey-haired lieutenant-commander replied in a quiet voice as he came to a halt to await the next turbolift car, "No fireworks. Captain Kadon of the Riskadh has been placed in command of emergency repairs aboard the tender -- Saehir. Coordinate with his crews. The plan is to reestablish power, structural integrity, deflectors, then tow it through warp once it has the systems in place to survive it."

"Workable," came the reply, followed by a simple, "On it. zh'Rethen out."

[hr]
A few minutes later, Leyton's decidedly non-standard 'shuttle' spat from Immortal's bay, slicing across the intervening distance towards Scylla.

[Marcao]

Alpha Quadrant
USS Immortal, Official Meeting

His attention shifted and focused on the exchange between Kadon and the newcomer. The captain of the ancient vessel spoke sensibly but perhaps he overestimated their ability to sever all ties with their respective organizations. While a part of what Shirazi spoke was logical, the truth was that things were far more complicated than they appeared. Individually, many of the assembled captains gathered within the USS Immortal had grown accustomed to a certain level of autonomy. That autonomy would be questioned upon their arrival to Bajor. Shirazi perhaps did not need to contend with it due to his background, but he doubted that the men and women that served Starfleet would find it easy to sever ties with that organization. He was uncertain as to what was Kadon's situation with Klingon High Command or if a Klingon High Command still existed in a meaningful manner. However, he suspected that his arrival to Bajor would bring with it complications that he did not need.

Regardless of how powerful the S'harien may be, the accusations against my family still linger.

"That is a bold sentiment Captain." He said of his pledge of service. "I have certain obligations to this task force and I have every intention of making certain that our resources are utilized effectively on our trip to Bajor. However, once we arrive on Bajor there will undoubtedly be complications regarding the long term viability of this task force." He paused, allowing his words to sink. "It will take a great deal of persuasion, guile and skill to assure the continuation of our arrangement."

He knew that Captain Kadon would be up to the task. He expected that Captain Solheim, Vladstok and Anderson would likely push for the continuation of the arrangement as well. Kalpov was a wild card and depended heavily on what Captain Dubois of the Empyrean did with the information he now possessed. He was uncertain about the Barbarossa. Captain Hizir had been quiet during the meeting. The exchange with Shodar Tyran could have led him to reconsider the wisdom in binding himself to the task force. If that was the case, they could potentially lose a powerful vessel. If the Barbarossa made it to Bajor alongside the task force, steps would need to be taken to determine Hizir's intentions. If his concerns could not be addressed, other steps would need to be taken.

His attention shifted towards acting Captain Kirk when she spoke and it took the remarkable control of a Romulan to maintain his neutral expression when the commander shifted from assuming responsibility for an incident of friendly fire to shining a spotlight on the conduct of the USS Immortal. His eyes glanced towards Anderson for a moment waiting for a reaction. Anderson's response was far more subdued than he had expected. His words made sense however. Anderson understood that he could not table the conversation forever. He was simply deferring it to a more auspicious time. Captain Solheim spoke and vanished, he hesitated for only the span of three and half breaths before he himself nodded to the remaining Captains and pressed a series of keys on his PADD. A handful of seconds later, an emerald field enveloped him and transported him to his own vessel. Once within the familiar sights, sounds and smells of his own Warbird he wasted little time in taking charge.

Alpha Quadrant, Badlands
IRW Saehir, 6 hours after meeting

Romulan personnel swarmed over the Saehir linking up with engineering and other elements of various ships within the task force. While the men and women that represented over a dozen separate races undoubtedly knew their craft, there were two factors that allowed the elements from the S'harien to excel in their chosen tasks. The first was intuitive. The Saehir was a Romulan ship and had been meant to be worked on by Romulan and to a lesser extent Reman personnel. Secondly, the Romulans were uniquely motivated. To a Gorn, a human or a Vulcan, the Saehir was a means to an end. A capability that could not be allowed to salvaged given the current state of hostilities and the pending battle which could in essence be the last gasp of life as was known in the alpha quadrant. To Romulans, the Saehir was a priceless heirloom, a testament to the greatness of their Empire and a reminder of the heights that the Empire had once achieved. In a time where nearly all of the symbols of the Star Empire had been lost or destroyed, the Saehir glittered like the sun had once shone over Romulus itself.

Alpha Quadrant, Badlands
IRW S'harien, Medical Wing

Riov Sindari N'vek smiled briefly as the deserted hallways of the medical wing welcomed her and her companions. Galen had prudently all but disgorged the majority of the personnel within the S'harien to the Saehir in a feverish attempt to restore the Tender. Cretak had deemed that the first twenty four hours were the most critical and the least likely to have to contend with Borg intrusions. As a result, the S'harien maintained a near skeleton crew as it waited for word about restoration efforts aboard the Saehir. The silence in the halls suited her as she led her delegation to the second medical bay. Upon her arrival therein her eyes sought and found a cadre of doctors.

"Are the preparations completed?" Sindari asked as two Romulans and three Remans moved into the medical bay behind her.

"They are Riov. We are ready to proceed immediately." The lead doctor spoke. The Romulan glanced at the Romulans and Remans that had accompanied N'vek before he spoke once more. "The procedures will take about 16 hours."

"Then let us begin." Riov Sindari N'vek spoke and stepped back. Within a minute her companions had been led to their respective positions as the medical cadre began to work. Sindari N'vek watched and waited. When the S'harien arrived in Bajor it would be ready to handle nearly any conceivable threat foreign or domestic.

[Josh]

Shirazi's tour carried him into the life support equipment. A pair of crewmembers replaced filter screens.

"Kolar, Tolbert, how are we looking in here?" he asked.

Kolar, the Klingon, offered him a ferocious grin. "The ship hungers for another battle, captain. She has been held at bay too long." Kolar was an ancient, retired from honorable service before even the Dominion War. The exigencies of that conflict had led to his voluntary return to service being approved and he'd served at the shipyards before retiring to Holdara after that war ended. "The D-12s were honorable craft," he smacked a fist against a support brace to punctuate his point. "Old, like me. But still capable of taking a throat."

"So what's next? What are we in this for, skipper?" Tolbert asked. She was preternaturally thin, born of a human tribe of travelers who had spent most of their lives in space, dating back to humanity's return to the stars. Like so many others, she'd been dispossessed by the war, but her lifetime of living and working within starships had made her an invaluable contributor to the crew.

"We're in it for the fight, human!" Kolar enthused.

"No, it's a fair question," Shirazi said. "There is a reason for this. Yeah, it looks pretty bad right now. But every species' history, there have been the dark times and the disasters that pushed them to the brink. History is full of bleak times, but coming out of the darkness always starts with somebody, somewhere. We're in this for the chance to be those somebodies. We're in this to make a difference. It may not happen in our lifetimes, but as long as we're fighting and protecting what we have left, then if not us our children will have the chance to turn it around."

"The Borg will never know peace in the Alpha Quadrant," Kolar said. He turned to Tolbert. "Stand proud, friend! We will make history together." He grabbed her shoulder. "My children will sing songs of our glory, and your name will be among the honored."

Tolbert frowned at him. "Your children are all grown and have children of their own."

"I'm going to have more," Kolar declared. "So long as the blade has an edge, it should not rust in the sheathe. Eh, captain?" He punctuated the statement with a conspiratorial wink.

"Request for more shore leave from Ship Maintenance," Shirazi said. "Noted."

After the door closed behind him, he reached out to touch the wall. Kolar wasn't wrong, the Meh'Ta was hungry to get back to her bloody business. He knew it was purely psychological projection on his part, but ever since they'd joined the task force it seemed that she moved just a little more sharply, that the systems tests for the weapons and deflectors ran just a little more smoothly. He clenched his hand into a fist and rapped his knuckles against the metal.

After a seemingly endless period of running and hiding, the Meh'Ta truly was ready to take a throat.

[rhoenix]

As annoying as this task was, as much political wrangling of the worst sort this was, Captain Solheim couldn't help but think that this task was easier than trying to uncomfortably fill the uniform of a proper Starfleet officer. Irony indeed - but Matthias found that his perspective had already changed some years back, shortly after the remaining crew of the Vampaja had come aboard.

If he was honest with himself, he mused even as he waited for a reply from the next ship (the seventh he'd hailed), the prospect of being a knife in the dark that always made the shadows tinged with blood had fit him less and less as time had passed. Perhaps he had indeed been in just the right place at the right time, performing a simple bait and switch in the uniform of a Starfleet officer when the Borg had come. And now, he found that uncomfortable Starfleet uniform now fit him better than the shadowy non-entity he'd been before.

He was broken from his musings by a very angry-looking Andorian appearing on the viewscreen. "What do you want, Starfleet?"

Captain Solheim smiled at the viewscreen calmly. Despite not truly employing his old skills for some time, they had never really left him. "To get us and you out of the Badlands."

The Andorian's eyes, such as they were, narrowed. "And you make this offer with your weapons powered? Am I to believe some hooligan with too many guns at his disposal somehow will be anything other than aggressive with those dealings?"

Internally, Captain Solheim smirked, though his outward appearance remained unchanged. "In these times, showing a willingness to fight if necessary, coupled with peaceful intentions go quite a long way. Even against such as the Borg."

The Andorian crossed his arms, looking insulted. "You expect me to believe that your little pirate gang is somehow worse than the Borg? We will not concern ourselves with you!"

Captain Solheim's expression turned into one resembling innocent surprise. "My apologies - from your affronted reaction, your ship is obviously capable of fending off a Borg fleet far larger than the one we recently defeated. I won't insult you by offering to assist, then," and reached over to tap the button that would end the connection. As expected, the Andorian spoke up before he could.

The Andorian's voice rose a few decibels. "First you destroy our leader's ship, now you take our fleet tender - and yet you say the Borg are somehow worse when they are not even here?"

"...Yet," Captain Solheim replied. "They are not here yet. Do you think they won't investigate some interesting readings in this area shortly?"

The Andorian looked as if he were gritting his teeth, but replied shortly thereafter. "No thanks to you, I will note. What is it you propose?"

At this, Captain Solheim's face grew stern. "We get as many of the ships out here running as possible, and tractor-tow the rest out of the Badlands, and toward New Bajor," he said, pausing as his eyes narrowed. "All others will be considered as food for the Borg, and treated accordingly."

The Andorian looked even more angry than before, if that were possible. "So a thinly disguised attempt at a resource raid, using the Borg as a threatening stick. I see. Even if I somehow believed you - which I most certainly do not - why New Bajor? And why should I believe you?"

"You shouldn't," Captain Solheim replied calmly. "You should reason out your situation here, and then arrive at the conclusion that however uncertain New Bajor might be, it'll be far safer there than the Badlands."

"In no small part based on your presence here," the Andorian snarled. "You expect us to help you after you attacked us?"

"Your leaders tried to capture ours, and enslave our crews when we arrived with peaceful intentions," Captain Solheim said, raising an eyebrow to the Andorian. "I am not going to debate this with you when there are crippled ships out there still. Help them get moving, or we'll consider you voluntarily allies of the Borg, and act accordingly. I will not suffer gifting our enemy with more troops. Do you understand?"

The Andorian looked at Captain Solheim for a moment, and replied in a somewhat broken voice. "Why do you bother at all?"

Captain Solheim smirked, and sent a file across the connection to the Andorian. This archive file showed the highlights of the battle over Nivoch IV. As it played before the Andorian captain of that ship, Captain Solheim continued speaking. "Because they are not invincible, and we would choose to set the darkness afire instead of submitting to its embrace. That is why we head to New Bajor."

"Fools," the Andorian replied, shaking his head slowly as he watched the video. "All of you are fools toying with universal inequities you do not and never can understand."

"Perhaps," Captain Solheim replied with a smile. "But fools who have lived since the Borg first came. The people of the Milky Way are injured and even broken, but can still fight. Even after losing their homeworlds, the Klingons and Romulans fight. Even after I lost my homeworld, I fought. When the only other option is to have your very being consumed by those who have none, is it truly a choice?"

The Andorian was silent for a few moments as his jaw clenched and unclenched. "We will leave you immediately if you do not head to New Bajor," he said, before savagely closing the commlink.

The silence of the Gilgamesh's bridge was broken by quiet chuckling a few moments later, to which Captain Solheim turned to glare at, beholding Lieutenant Adranis, with a smirk on his face. "I suspect that you're losing your touch, Riov," the older Romulan said as he calmly performed a diagnostic.

"Don't worry, I'll replace one of the bolts on his bridge with a one-shot pistol later - just for you, Adranis," Captain Solheim replied with a smirk of his own. "Alright Swift, hail the next one on our list. We have quite a few ships to get through still."

"You got it, sir," Lieutenant Nevola said after taking a sip of raktajino, the lights of her console playing on her face as she rapidly entered commands. "Hail sent."

(Note to GM: If I stepped on any toes or made too many presumptions with this post, please let me know, and I'll change it.)