Three Jem'Hadar fighters wheeled in formation like clockwork, traveling at high impulse speed as they patrolled among the two dozen sensor platforms that made up the long-range observation system the Dominion had erected.

Unseen, above and behind them, cloaked from sensors, a Klingon Bird of Prey drifted silently, waiting. As the enemy ships moved further and further away, the captain of the Dutarg motioned to his weapons officer to be ready. As the moment arrived, he shouted, Fire! The ship decloaked and disruptors burst forth from the wings to destroy the first sensor. She wheeled about and accelerated toward her second, carefully chosen target and fired again.

By now the Jem'Hadar ships had noticed the attack and changed course to intercept the Klingons. The Klingon captain ordered his helmsman to maintain course for the third sensor, even while he watched the enemy slide closer. They'd be in weapons range in just seconds, but the mission came first. They had to destroy those sensors. But afterward they could kill some Jem'Hadar.

The third sensor was reduced to dust and debris just as the first Jem'Hadar ship fired its polaron beam at the Bird of Prey. She rocked under the fire, but the shields held for the moment. The enemy fired again and this time the other two ships joined in on the attack. The Dutarg and its crew were knocked about by the blasts and the shields reduced in effectiveness, but no real damage had been done yet.

Finally, the fourth sensor was in the Klingon ship's sights and was blasted to pieces. Almost reflecting its crew's joy at finally being unleashed to respond to the attack of the Jem'Hadar, the Bird of Prey leaped about on its keel and fired disruptors at the first enemy in range. That ship peeled off, stunned, and without waiting, the Dutarg fired a torpedo at a second fighter which exploded with a satisfying blast.

The third fighter bore in on the Klingons even as the first ship, now recovered from the surprise attack, came about. The Klingon captain ordered a barrage of disruptor fire to be laid down against the third enemy. Each ship was rocked by the other's deadly beams until finally the Jem'Hadar's shields were the first to give in.

Reluctant to break off from such an exhilarating battle, the Klingon captain ordered his helmsman to break off from the attack, head for the outer system, and cloak the ship. He heard the disappointment in his officers' voices, but he could see through the fog of the warrior's lust that Dominion reinforcements were already seconds away, and his ship, no matter how valiant her crew, wouldn't stand a chance against such massed firepower. They would fight another day and perhaps they would send some Jem'Hadar to whatever hell they believed in. That would be a good day to die!

On the bridge of the USS Charleston
8 light years from the Callessus system
D-6 days

"Admiral, we are receiving a message from the Nobility," said the Charleston's communications officer. Admiral Sevflk looked up from the flag officer's station to one side of the bridge where he was currently reviewing tactical data.

"Put it through to my station, lieutenant," he said. The Efrosian officer punched up the command and nodded at the admiral as the signal came through.

"Admiral Ganudi, what can I do for you?" the admiral asked as the image of the Marine commander came up on the monitor before him. Sevflk was already greatly impressed by the human officer. Despite having a mostly green division full of scared kids and reservists, the admiral had already done a fine job of preparing his subordinate officers for the battle ahead. He knew they faced heavy casualties and impressive obstacles, even if they managed to get down on to the surface of the planet without being killed by a Dominion attack on their transports, yet he was calm and realistic about his duties. If Callessus could be captured, Ganudi would be able to do it.

"Sevflk, we've received the data from the Klingon attack. It looks like our change of course was done without being seen by the Callessus station. Can you confirm that there is no sign of approaching enemy forces?"

After assuring Ganudi that they were indeed making their approach unobserved, as best as they could determine, Sevflk asked him what was really bothering him. The Marine admiral could simply have relayed the request through their respective staffs.

"It's these natives," the tough, straightforward admiral replied. "Our best intelligence shows that there are at least six settlements of people from a pre-warp civilization living within 50 kilometers of the Dominion garrison. They are smack in the middle of a free-fire zone."

Sevflk sighed and nodded. He'd been constantly bothered by their presence ever since they had first started planning the operation. Worrying about exposing them to advanced technology was moot since the Dominion had already done that, but he still worried about their well-being. "That's probably why the Dominion built their garrison where it is. In addition to being defensible, the location makes it difficult for us to launch an unrestrained assault. They know we'd be squeamish about collateral damage to the natives." He then asked Ganudi, "What do you suggest we do, Sri?"

"The one located six klicks to the south is the most in danger," Ganudi explained. "It lies right in line with the landing zone for the 172^nd Regiment and the garrison. If we try to go around them by a wide enough margin to keep them safe, we'll add a dozen kilometers to our advance path, putting them in danger of crossing the 52^nd's operational area and giving the enemy a chance to hit us in the flank." Sevflk nodded in agreement with the assessment. He wasn't a ground operations tactician, but he understood the principles well enough. One doesn't get to be a Starfleet admiral without picking up a few things.

Ganudi continued, "We have a recon company that will be ranging ahead of the regiment, scouting enemy positions. The division's armored cavalry will be following them a few kilometers back. I'm thinking that I want the recons to make contact with the villagers at least 12 hours before the forward line of advance reaches them and warn them to get out of the way. One platoon could escort them back toward our lines until they make contact with the cavalry and then air transport could be called in to bring them to a safe zone near divisional HQ."

Sevflk considered the plan. "Do we know how many natives there are?"

"Only rough estimates. By the size of the village, there can't be more than a couple hundred and that's if the Dominion hasn't killed or imprisoned any of them."

The Prime Directive was a powerful force of law in the Federation. As Starfleet officers, they were forbidden to interfere in the normal development of any species, and here they were proposing to relocate a village of pre-industrial people using technology centuries beyond them. But what was the alternative? Allow them to be wiped out by that same technology? No, the Dominion had already done the damage to these people, yet more victims of this terrible war, and Ganudi's plan would salvage what was left of their freedom and innocence. "That's a good plan, Sri. What about these other settlements?"

Admiral Ganudi looked briefly at a computer panel as he said, "None of them are directly in the zone of operations, but I will place restrictions on the rules of engagement for those areas. If any unit comes near them, we'll place relocation to a secure area as a top priority." He paused and looked directly at his counterpart on the Charleston. "Sevflk, some of my people are undoubtedly going to get hurt or die saving these poor innocents, but that's what this war is all about, isn't it?"

After Ganudi ended the transmission, Sevflk continued to sit quietly, staring into space. War was certainly an awful, dirty, destructive, disgusting thing. He hated it with all his heart and every time he ordered people into combat, knowing some would not return to their homes and loved ones, he felt himself grow cold inside. Fighting wars was bad enough, but ordering others to fight on your orders was just as bad.

USS Tacit makes a run for the landing zone. Image courtesy of Andrew Hodges.

On board USS Skelly, then on board USS Tacit
Inside spatial anomaly PX2339
1 light year outside Callessus system
D-4 days

"Do you understand your orders, lieutenant?" asked Captain van Atwerp. Van Antwerp, Tony Martinez, and Commander Tshimanga Yatshimba, CO of the Recon Battalion, sat around the table in the briefing room of the Skelly.

"Yes sir. My company's first platoon will make a high altitude insertion onto Callessus III. We will scout out and map the designated landing zones as well as the locations of shield generators, sensors, patrol routes, transport inhibitors, and air defenses, and prepare to disable them. We will also conduct signals intelligence to determine enemy frequencies and codes. And we are to remain undetected by the enemy as long as possible."

Yatshimba spoke up then, "You have two days to report in, Tony. We must have that information for this operation to succeed." If Martinez was unable to gather the data or if his platoon was captured or killed, the division would have to make a blind landing into stiff opposition. A lot of those green Marines would die. No pressure; just another day on the job, he thought.

"Is your team ready?" asked van Antwerp. He rose from the table in anticipation of the answer. It was unusual for the admiral's chief of staff to personally brief a small player in such a large operation, but his presence at that moment impressed Tony with how important his role really was. This must be one of those lynchpin moments where the fate of thousands of beings hung in the balance.

"Yes Captain. They are suited up and standing by in their barracks," he replied, standing as well.

"Well, then off to it, lieutenant. And good luck." Van Antwerp held out his hand and Martinez shook it, grateful for the captain's sincere good wishes. Even if the wishes weren't so much for Tony as they were for the whole division. But he would probably feel the same in his place.

The captain exited the room, heading for the transporters which would send him back to the Charleston. Meanwhile, Martinez and Yatshimba headed down to the troop compartment where First Platoon waited.

"This is the big one, Tony," said the older officer. He was a veteran of the Marines, having fought in the first Cardassian war and numerous other actions since then, rising to command in the elite Recon Force. "This will be the biggest ground action of the war for us and you're at the spear point." Tony just nodded. What could you say to that? Since this war started he had known that at some point his recon Marines would be called upon to lead some kind of assault upon a well-entrenched foe. It's what they did, why they existed in the first place. In fact, he was starting to get mightily tired of all the hype and build up and just wanted to get it done.

"But I know you'll do fine. You're a good Marine, a good officer, a good commander," continued Yatshimba. "Just leave a few Cardies and Jem'Hadar for the rest of us, okay?" he said with a smile and a pat on the back. Perhaps, Yatshimba understood what Tony was feeling, not dwelling on the import of the mission, what could go wrong, second-guessing his subordinate, but instead just showing his confidence in the young officer. He, too, walked off, heading for the transporter room. Tony walked alone into the First Platoon's barracks. He was met at the door by Ensign Asir Kaftaro, First Platoon's leader; Lieutenant Bzesh; and Chief Nikodouris.

"What's the word?" Nik asked. Everyone in the room, except Bzesh, Second Platoon's leader who was staying behind today, was suited up in combat gear appropriate for the planned battlefield.

The area where the Dominion garrison was located on Callessus III was light forest and open grassy areas, part of the temperate zone of the planet. Tony judged environments on Class M planets based on places he'd visited on Earth, making the current zone of operations most like the northeastern United States, and more specifically like central Pennsylvania—rolling hills, open fields, deciduous forests, and old, worn-down mountains. And, according to intelligence estimates, the current season was like late spring in that region—daytime temperatures would be about 25ºC with about 16 hours of daylight. The total length of day was about 28 hours.

Those conditions dictated standard ground forces duty uniforms without bulky environmental gear, thank God! They'd have to carry all of the equipment necessary to fight and hide for up to a week without support, but that was only about 15 kilos for each person, plus weapons.

"First Platoon goes in 15 minutes. Bzesh, you've got command of the rest of the company in my absence. Nik, you and I are going with the platoon," Martinez told them. "We'll be doing standard landing zone recon, just like the book says."

"We will see you in four days then, Tony," the Andorian said. He's a good man, Tony thought, and will have command of his own company soon enough. But not too soon he hoped, aware of the potential for massive casualties. Bzesh excused himself from the room to brief the rest of the company.

Tony turned to Ensign Kaftaro and said, "Asir, how's the platoon?"

"Ready, sir," the young Marine replied. "Chief Flahaut is giving the final brief to the squads. All equipment has been distributed and we're ready to go." He was pumped full of adrenaline and ready to jump into the breach, knowing full well that he was part of the spearpoint of the whole 15,000-man division.

The entire 50-person platoon transported from the Skelly over to the ship that would take them to their landing zone, an Evader Class assault shuttle, the USS Tacit. The small ship, which looked vaguely like a cross between a runabout and a Defiant Class starship, was about three times the size of the smaller ship. It was heavily armed with a set of pulse cannons, microtorpedo launchers, and a phaser array/sensor pod mounted on top. She could carry 25 Marines on an extended duration mission or up to 75 on a short-range mission like the current one. With her advanced systems, she could sneak normally into and out of a system undetected, but now the Dominion's ships were buzzing about the Callessus system like a beehive that had been kicked over, so she would need a better way of getting in.

The shuttle departed the PX2339 anomaly—a kind of cross between a cometary cloud and a nebula that interferes with long-range sensors—and moved out toward the system. Using the outer planets, the sun, and the gaps in sensor coverage as camouflage, she would sneak her way in to the third planet. Meanwhile, the Blanc, the Minotaur, and the Zhukov would head off in a new direction in a feint to draw off the defenders and hide the approach of the Tacit.

Martinez joined the Tacit's captain in the cockpit just as they exited the anomaly. "Go to sensor-dark mode," she told the ops officer seated to the right of the pilot. The lieutenant in command of the small vessel sat behind the conn and ops stations just like in the full-scale starships. Tony saw other crewmen manning the two tactical and the engineering station, just as he had seen them before in other operations he'd been involved in that brought him aboard an Evader.

"Welcome aboard, lieutenant," the petite red-headed commander of the Tacit said. "I'm Mary O'Bannon." Tony introduced himself and moved to the back of the cockpit and out of the way.

"Ten minutes until we reach the orbit of the sixth planet," announced the ops officer, a stocky Vulcan.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the Callessus system, the ships drawing attention away from the Tacit had formed up into a battle formation. The Ambassador Class cruiser Zhukov took point while the New Orleans Class frigate Minotaur and the Steamrunner Class destroyer Blanc took up position slightly above and behind and below and behind, respectively, the lead ship, each vessel providing covering fire for the other two.