“Admiral, all ships are now in position and prepared for your order,” Captain van Antwerp announced to Sevflk from his position at the side of the Charleston’s bridge. The admiral turned to Captain Marta Nogier, the Charleston’s commander, at whose side he now stood. “Marta, please take the lead.”

This was it, Sevflk thought. Months of planning and a major commitment of personnel, ships, and supplies came down to this. What if the Dominion knew they were coming? What if the array had seen them all this time? What if there were more troops on the planet than he had been told or they were more heavily dug in than he thought? What if? What if?

There was nothing he could do about it now, except adapt as best he could to the changing situation, to whatever challenges the Dominion threw at him that he hadn’t considered in advance. Failure was not an option. If they failed here and the Dominion reinforced the Callessus system or fixed the weaknesses that gave the Alliance this opportunity, they would be at a serious disadvantage throughout the Travelka expanse and possibly open up a new corridor into the heart of the Federation.

Captain Nogier ordered the helmsman of her starship to plot a course into the Callessus system and as the flagship began her ponderous yet graceful movement, the other fighting ships of the task force followed. To her starboard flew the Gorkon, the Charleston’s sister ship, and two Steamrunner Class destroyers, the Blanc and the Aravalli. To the port, she was joined by the Norway Class frigate Moldova; the other Steamrunner, Ardennes; and the two Ambassador Class cruisers, Zhukov and Earhart. Slightly to the rear and above were the two New Orleans Class frigates, Minotaur and Thomas Paine, with their massive torpedo launchers ready to rain salvos of destruction upon the enemy. Below the frigates were the two Klingon Vor’cha attack cruisers, Qu’vat and P’rang.

Finally, four Klingon Birds of Prey formed up in front of the task force, the spear point of the attack. It was a powerful armada, but then they were facing a formidable foe in the almost two dozen defending Dominion starships, including two massive battlecruisers.

Sevflk turned to van Atwerp. “Launch the fighters. Have them form up on the Birds of Prey.” Van Antwerp and the senior commander of the fighter squadrons had devised a plan to use the two squadrons of Peregrine fighters to bolster the light Klingon ships and form a kind of cavalry squadron. They would use their superior maneuverability to slip quickly around the battle lines and harass the enemy at their weak points, keeping them off balance and perhaps isolating ships to be destroyed by overwhelming firepower.

Meanwhile the Viper squadrons would stay behind in the spatial anomaly, along with the Evaders, the four Omegas, and the two Saber Class scouts, to defend the Nobility and the thousands of Marines aboard her, as well as the fighter carrier USS Virtue.

“Captain Nogier, I want the Excelsiors and the Vor’chas to concentrate their fire on the two battlecruisers,” Sevflk said. “They are the key to this battle. If we destroy or drive them off, we win. If we don’t, the Marines will never be able to land. It’s as simple as that.”

The helmsman spoke up. “Two minutes until we enter the system.” The tactical officer interrupted, “They’ve spotted us! Dominion ships are moving to intercept!”

“What are they sending? What ships?” Sevflk demanded.

Van Antwerp replied this time, looking at his readouts. “Everything, sir. They’re sending all of their ships.”

“Time to weapons range, 3 minutes,” the tactical officer announced.

Just inside the Callessus system

The powerful fleets came at each other almost in slow motion, the vastness of space and the size of the ships providing the illusion of plodding movement.

Abruptly, phasers and disruptors, polaron beams and torpedos stabbed at the shields of the ships on either side of the battle line. Shields held, initially, as the ships maneuvered around one another. Almost immediately a Peregrine exploded from a direct hit as two Jem’Hadar fighters attacked her. One of those ships was in turn destroyed by a Klingon Bird of Prey.

The Charleston pounded the Jem’Hadar battlecruiser in her sights with every phaser array and torpedo launcher, the ancient ship and her sister, the Gorkon, laboring to defeat their enemy quickly. But the battlecruiser, more powerful than the two Federation starships, seemed to shrug off the attack and fired back at her tormenters, causing their onslaught to falter.

Meanwhile, the Klingon attack cruisers were having slightly more success. The battlecruiser before them was beginning to lose her starboard shields and so she kept turning, keeping her wounded side away from her attackers.

Captain Joseph Alcantara on the Minotaur ordered his helmsman to make a run at the battlecruiser harassing the Federation starships. “Michael,” the stocky, middle-aged captain said to his tactical officer, “what is their shield level?”

The younger officer replied, trembling slightly with the adrenaline running through his system, “Forward shields at 89 percent, aft shields 91 percent, port shields 72 percent, starboard shields 65 percent.”

“Helm, bring us around to their port side,” Alcantara said as the ship rocked from hits by several passing Jem’Hadar and Cardassians. He ignored them, seeing that they were being pursued by other ships. “Tactical, target all torpedoes on their starboard shields and engines and fire as we come to bear.” As the frigate came around—slowly, slowly, coming in range—her six torpedo banks lit up and fired a full spread of missile after missile, twenty-four in all, at the weakest shield which finally collapsed. The Gorkon and the Charleston added their weapons to the attack as well as several Birds of Prey. Internal explosions lit up the interior of the Dominion ship and then came external blasts and she began drifting out of control. The Federation and Klingons continued pouring fire into it until finally it exploded with a massive blast.

Alcantara looked with grim satisfaction at the destruction on his viewscreen. Those murderous animals, the Jem’Hadar on that ship, wouldn’t butcher any more innocents, he thought. That’s for all the friends you’ve killed so far, you bastards. “Tactical, find us a new target,” he called out.

Meanwhile, across the vast battlefield, the Zhukov and the Blanc were slugging it out with three and sometimes four Galor cruisers. Captain Ngoyi Nalamgu, a tall, African woman in command of the Zhukov, stood before her command chair, issuing orders and listening with one ear to her executive officer as he handled damage control and with the other to the tactical reports being called out. On the viewscreen, the computer had overlaid a readout of velocity, direction, shield strength, and firepower on the ships in sight.

“Status, XO,” she said. The executive officer looked up from his nearby station with a grim look. “Sixty-four casualties, hull breaches on eight decks, port shields are failing,” the three-armed Edosian first officer replied. “We’re taking a beating, captain.”

“So is everyone else, XO. Helm, pattern beta-six. Tactical, target that Galor, romeo-delta-three-one.”

Three Jem’Hadar attack fighters fired their polaron beams into the Zhukov as they passed in front of her. Explosions bulged out of her port warp nacelle and she faltered for a moment and then continued on.

All across the battlefield, for almost an hour, the two sides slugged it out like two prizefighters in a ring, trying to see who would emerge heavyweight champion of the Callessus system. Except in this boxing match, the winner wasn’t just knocked out, he was executed.

Finally, Admiral Sevflk issued the recall order. “Derik, order the fleet to withdraw to the rendezvous. Once we’re clear, I want damage reports and estimates of the Dominion’s losses on my desk in one hour. Have the Birds of Prey and the fighters cover our withdrawal.” Covering the retreat probably wasn’t necessary since it appeared the Dominion ships were also withdrawing, needing to lick their wounds as well.

He sat down wearily in the flag officer’s chair at the side of the bridge, exhausted from the effort of remaining aware and focused throughout the battle and from the tension of watching the momentum of the battle shift back and forth. Turning to Captain Nogier, he asked, “How is your ship, captain?”

“Minor damage, sir,” she replied. “The warp drive is offline, port side phasers are out, and we have some hull breaches, but nothing that can’t be fixed in a few hours.” The older, white-haired woman’s eyes fairly glowed from confidence and excitement. “We gave as good as we got, sir.”

“Yes, we did, Marta. But not enough yet.” They had certainly bent the Dominion defenses, but had not broken them… not enough. The task force would need to pound them until he felt confident he could bring the Nobility out of hiding and land the Marines without serious opposition. They would have to try again soon to destroy the defenders before enemy reinforcements showed up. And they were certainly on the way. He was sure of it.

An hour later, the first damage reports were coming in. Eight Peregrines were lost out of 48, a substantial blow to the strength of those two squadrons, but no other ships were destroyed. Every Federation and Klingon starship had suffered some damage, though, and the Zhukov and Blanc had suffered the most. Those two ships, in fact, would be forced to withdraw from the battle, back to the closest starbase for extensive repairs. Total casualties on all ships were about 360 dead, maybe twice that many wounded. Most of those would receive treatment and be back at their stations within a few hours. The mostly seriously injured would be transferred to the withdrawing ships.

“Derik,” the admiral said to his chief of staff as they sat in his flag office off the bridge, “how bad are the Zhukov and Blanc?”

“The Zhukov is down to warp five maximum; the port nacelle is heavily damaged; six decks have no life support and are currently vented to space; they’re working to bring the fires on two decks under control; and the hangar is a shambles. Shields are down and most of her weapons are offline,” van Antwerp said, consulting his padd. “The Blanc is only slightly better off, structurally, but Captain Winning is dead.”

Sevflk’s face fell as he heard the news and he leaned back in his chair with his eyes closed. “Tom and I were classmates at the academy. We’ve kept in touch over the years and I was closer to him than most of the people in my class.” He paused to gather himself together and added, “But we’ve all lost friends in this war and the survivors have to go on. We’ll mourn later. What else do you have?”

Van Antwerp respected the admiral’s mood. He, too, had lost friends as well as his sister, Jean, in the war. “At least the Dominion took the worst of this battle. They lost three Galors, five Jem’Hadar attack ships, and a battlecruiser. At least one Galor and an attack ship were heavily damaged and will probably not be a factor in any future action.”

“That’s good,” the admiral said. “When we attack again they’ll be ready for us, but we’ll have numbers on our side.”

“When do you want to attack, sir?” van Antwerp asked. “The planetary assault is scheduled for 33 hours from now.”

“How soon can we get the rest of the task force back to fighting form?” Sevflk asked by way of reply.

“Apart from the Zhukov and Blanc, major repairs will be done in about six hours,” van Antwerp said.

“Then make it 10 hours from now, H-24 hours to assault. That’ll give everyone a couple of hours to rest after the repairs. I don’t want to delay the attack, though. That would give the enemy time to reinforce the system before we can land the whole division over the next few days.”

Van Antwerp excused himself from the admiral’s office to issue the orders. Sevflk had also ordered him to send the Zhukov and Blanc back to Starbase 471, escorted by the scout USS Rapier. The loss of the Zhukov, an Ambassador Class cruiser, and the destroyer Blanc, along with the Rapier was a significant decrease in combat capability for the task force, van Antwerp thought. It shouldn’t prevent them from successfully carrying out the landing, but they would need reinforcement from Starfleet to hold off any counterattack. And the Dominion wasn’t about to give up this system without a fight. He was sure of that much.

A New Orleans Class frigate. Her upper torpedo bays can be seen in the center of the primary hull.
Image courtesy of Andrew Hodges.

Callessus system
H-24 hours

The attack began again with the Alliance ships in a similar formation as before, except the Klingon Vor’chas were now in a line with the two Excelsiors. They faced a smaller enemy force, which was now supplemented by three squadrons of Cardassian fighters, the last-ditch defense force for the planet. The Dominion leadership knew that their survival depended on holding back the Federation and Klingons until help could arrive.

Admiral Sevflk had ordered that three of the nine Marine Viper squadrons be brought up to reinforce the weakened Peregrine squadrons. Becca Cuddihy was happy to have the chance to even the score against the Dominion for the friends she lost three days ago.

She had climbed into the cockpit of her fighter as it sat in the main hangar deck of the carrier USS Virtue, with the rest of her squadron preparing around her. Technicians and pilots had run about in organized chaos, maneuvering fighters into position for launch, loading the final torpedoes, and double-checking recent repairs. “Systems check, Rich,” Becca had said as he buckled into her seat. “How are we doing?”

As the ship came alive, Rich had ordered the computer to do a pre-flight diagnostic. “Impulse engines, warp engines, shields, all 100 percent; communications, datalink, life support are all green.”

Becca had just finished her pre-flight checklist, too. “Okay, phasers and torpedo launchers are all in the green, too. Maneuvering thrusters are green; structural integrity, 100 percent. We are good to go,” she’d said. The whole squadron had launched as one, all 16 fighters zooming out of the flight deck. The other two Viper squadrons had also launched at the same time, and they had formed up with the Peregrines and the Birds of Prey for the cavalry squadron tactic that had worked so well before.

Now she flew at the lead of her flight of four in the midst of more than 80 fighters and four Klingon ships as the two sides came together in battle once again. In contrast to everyone else in the battle, she and her wingmates were rested and fresh and that was a tactical advantage. On the other hand, the Cardassian fighter pilots would be rested too.

The Excelsiors and Vor’chas concentrated their weapons on the Dominion battlecruiser, having eliminated its sister earlier. The Jem’Hadar attack ships and Galors tried to defend their lead ship by attacking the Alliance’s capital ships. And defending those ships were the rest of the starships of the task force--one cruiser, three frigates, and two destroyers. Finally, buzzing around and between all of those ships were the fighters and light Klingon ships.

The battlecruiser fired its polaron beams and torpedoes at all the ships around it, but concentrated on the Charleston, recognizing the flagship of the fleet. Meanwhile, a Galor began to drift out of control, and then split in half as a torpedo from the Minotaur hit it right on its spine. Becca noticed a pair of Jem’Hadar attack ships coming around to attack the Minotaur as she tried to recover from the assault on the now-destroyed Galor. “Tiger Flight, let’s go help the Minotaur. Concentrate fire on the lead ‘bug’ fighter first.”

The four ships peeled off in synch and accelerated to full throttle. Becca, in her Viper, which she’d named Alpha Female, took the lead, flying head on at the frigate, aiming to fly over her and fire at the pursuers behind her. As they came over the top, she fired her phasers and launched two torpedoes at the lead bug which shrugged them off its shields even as its aim was spoiled by the shaking it got.

“Rich, boost power to the phasers,” she said to her co-pilot. “I want to be able to hit that ship from further away.”

“Are you sure, Becca? We don’t want to burn out the arrays,” he said even as he began to make the adjustment.

“Yeah, Rich, by the time we get turned around, we’re going to be playing catch up,” she said.

Becca whipped the fighter around to chase after the bug fighters that she had just passed. Her entire flight joined her in the pursuit, but what she saw made fear build in her heart. The Minotaur was taking a heavy beating from the two Jem’Hadar “bugs”. Becca’s flight wasn’t going to catch them in time.

“Tiger flight to all ships,” she called on the fleet frequency, “requesting assistance for Minotaur. She’s under heavy attack.” As she made the call, Becca saw one of the boxy structures--which contained two of the torpedo launchers--on top of the primary hull take a direct hit from one of the “bugs” and explode.

“Come on!” she yelled, willing her fighter to fly faster. She fired her phasers, but she was still too far away.

On the bridge of the Minotaur, Captain Alcantara wiped the sweat from his face, but when he looked at his hand, he saw it was covered not with sweat but with a red sticky fluid. Oh yeah, that’s my blood, he thought distractedly. Ignoring the pain, he issued more orders. “Helm, execute theta-sixteen.”

As the ship shuddered into the maneuver, the ops officer called out, “Captain, a flight of Vipers is trying to chase down the Jem’Hadar attack ships, but if we stay on this course, they won’t be able to catch up.”

Alcantara was faced with a dilemma. If he stayed on course, he might outrun the pursuing ships long enough for a starship to come to his aid, but maybe not. If he changed course, the four Vipers would be able to catch up, but how much help would they be? Alcantara was knocked to the deck as the ship was hit again and the ops console exploded, knocking the young lieutenant to the deck where he didn’t move again.

“Helm, reverse course. Bring us about, best speed!” he ordered.

The ailing starship began to turn, and Alcantara leaned into it, illogically, subconsciously trying to will it to turn faster. “Tactical, fire at the first ship as we come to bear.” A new ops officer standing at the remains of the station, announced, “Sir, a Klingon ship is on the way. She should be in weapons range in 20 seconds.”

That lifted the captain’s spirits briefly. “Shift all power to the forward shields,” he ordered as he saw the two Jem’Hadar ships bore in on him. The Klingons would be here in 15 seconds, the Vipers in 10. They were going to make it.

Becca saw the Minotaur’s turn and knew that they would be in time. Four Vipers against two “bugs” was decent odds. “Becca, the Dutarg is on the way,” Rich told her from the rear seat. She almost sighed in relief. That was even better.

As the Minotaur came headfirst at the two Jem’Hadar ships, which were followed by the four fighters and the Klingon ship, she began firing her phasers and the remaining torpedoes. The other ships opened fire. Suddenly the lead Jem’Hadar ship accelerated and changed direction. Perhaps the ship’s commander knew he was about to lose his target, or maybe they just lost control in the barrage of fire. Whatever the cause, the ship aimed straight for the bridge of the Minotaur, whose weapons were firing steadily at the oncoming ship.

The “bug” fighter began to take heavy damage, breaking apart as she came, but not fast enough. Becca saw what was coming a split second too late and could only shriek, “No!”

The bulk of the ship hit the Minotaur right on the bridge and embedded itself four, five, six decks into the ship. For a moment nothing happened, but then she exploded, large pieces of the Federation starship cast in all directions.

Becca wrestled with the controls of her fighter, as they were buffeted by the explosion and she worked to avoid the largest pieces of the demolished starship. Tiger Three, Lt. Witold Shudrich and Ens. Lee Butler, weren’t so lucky, running straight into a huge piece of debris, destroying their fighter.

Hot anger boiled up inside Becca as she recovered her Viper. “Tiger Flight, re-form on me,” she said over the radio. To Rich, she ordered, “Find that bug!” She was going to kill the remaining fighter if it was the last thing she did.