Admiral Sevflk was sitting in his chair at the center of the room, overlooking a holographic display table. The bulk of his work in Operation Pell-dor had been accomplished by sometime the day before and now it was in the hands of Marine Admiral Sri Ganudi.

Once the space forces of the Dominion had been beaten off and all the troops had been landed from the ships, the task force had taken up a defensive posture, preparing to intercept any attempt at reinforcement. But that didn’t mean that Sevflk lost interest in the actions on the ground.

Captain Derik van Antwerp, the admiral’s chief of staff, approached his superior who appeared to be lost in thought. “Admiral, you wanted that progress report ….”

“Oh yes, Derik. Go ahead.” Sevflk berated himself. You’re not old enough to start wool gathering at the slightest opportunity, he thought.

Van Antwerp cleared his throat and began, first calling up data on the display table. “The campaign is progressing nearly on schedule. We’re four hours behind our original estimates. The 172^nd Regiment will pass phase line red cougar in two hours. The 438^th is furthest behind; they’ve only just passed phase line blue arrow; they should be at green eagle. And the 52^nd is right on schedule at yellow dog.”

“What about casualties?” Sevflk asked the hardest question first. He knew that the Jem’Hadar were a fierce enemy; even the Klingons were suffering massive casualties in ground battles in this war. But this battle was supposed to be different. This was one of the first major campaigns that involved large, mechanized formations and the Federation was believed to hold a slight advantage in tactics and equipment. The next few days would prove or disprove that assumption.

“We have almost one thousand dead, about eleven hundred wounded serious enough to evacuate. We’re taking a lot of losses from Jem’Hadar raids in the rear area.”

“Ask Admiral Ganudi if he wants some security troops from the ships of the task force to beam down to act as guards.” They weren’t front-line soldiers, but starship security officers were well-trained and certainly capable of guard duty.

“Actually, he’s already put in a request, sir.” Van Antwerp slid a padd in front of Sevflk. Ganudi was indeed requesting an additional 100 shipboard personnel.

“Start asking all ships for volunteers.” Sevflk stopped and thought a moment. “Go to the Klingons first. I’m sure they’re all chomping at the bit to get into some hand to hand combat. We’ll probably get at least 100 volunteers from those six ships alone. Send as many as we get.” He paused again and shifted gears. “I just wish we could find a reliable way to get through those damned Jem’Hadar shrouds. It’s a huge advantage.”

Van Antwerp didn’t reply, and Sevflk knew why. No one had an answer to that problem. In fact, the best minds in Starfleet Intelligence, Medical, Engineering, and a half-dozen other disciplines were all holed up somewhere trying to puzzle out a solution to that problem. If they hadn’t figured it out, these two officers weren’t going to do so in this room; they just had to adjust their tactics to compensate.

“What else do you have, Captain?”

“Well, the Air Wing has set up its airfield about 100 kilometers south of the garrison. They’re well outside the range of artillery and ground raids. They’ve also begun aerial assaults on the garrison’s shields—in addition to close support for the front line—but the shields are too strong.

“As for the divisional support group ….” Van Antwerp didn’t finish his sentence. The red alert klaxon sounded, even as Captain Marta Nogier’s voice came over the comm. “Admiral, I think you’d better come to the bridge.”

Bridge
USS Charleston

The bridge crew was noticeably tense as Admiral Sevflk entered. “What is it Captain?”

“Sir, long range scans show a large force of Dominion vessels approaching the system at high warp. They should reach the system’s edge in 20 minutes.” Nogier literally sat on the edge of her seat. As captain of the battle group’s flagship, she was the most experienced ship commander and had been in many deadly battles. Some could conceivably have been described as worse than the campaign for Callessus. In fact, ship casualties had been relatively light, with only the Minotaur and a handful of fighters lost so far. She’d been in other battles where fewer than half the Federation ships had limped away.

But this battle was different. There were so few ships up here protecting so many soldiers on the ground. There was no room to retreat. If the starships left the system, the Dominion would make short work of the Marines, pounding them mercilessly from orbit, not caring one whit for collateral damage. They had to hold. Too many lives depended on it.

“How many ships are coming?” Sevflk said, interrupting her reverie.

She nodded to her science officer, who said, “It’s a Jem’Hadar battlecruiser and eight attack ships. We believe the battlecruiser and two of the attack ships are the remnants of the force that was defending the system and the remaining six are new reinforcements.”

“That’s all they could dig up?” Van Antwerp asked, surprise in his voice.

Marta jumped in. “You’d think that if this system was that important to them, the Dominion would have been able to scrape together a few more reinforcements.”

Sevlk looked unconcerned, speaking as he read a padd. “They’re busy.”

“What’s that, sir?” Van Antwerp asked.

He looked up from the padd in his hand. “The Klingons have attacked the supply station at Jesomus IX. We expected they would draw off a significant portion of the forces in the sector. It’s a heavily defended outpost, so we don’t expect the Klingons to be able to take it—just tie down the Dominion’s forces for a while.”

Van Antwerp grinned, “You didn’t happen to tell the Klingons that you didn’t think they could capture the base, did you?”

Sevflk smiled back. “I might have said something to that effect. It seems the Klingons swore some kind of victory oath. They don’t take kindly to anyone thinking they can be bested by the Jem’Hadar.”

The admiral sat at his station to the side of the bridge. “Get me the fleet,” he ordered. “This is Admiral Sevflk to all ships. We have Dominion ships approaching. All ships, except the landing force of Task Force 172, will move out to intercept. Our top priority is to protect the ground forces at all costs. We cannot let any ship get through. That is all. Sevflk out.”

He swiveled his chair away from the station. “Move to intercept, Captain,” he ordered Nogier.

“Aye, aye sir.”

In 10 minutes the Allied forces had organized themselves in a new battle line. The heavy ships—the Excelsior class Charleston and Gorkon, the Ambassador class Earhart, and the two Klingon Attack Cruisers Qu’Vat and P’Rang—formed the heart of the formation, a staggered diamond, with the Charleston at the center. The other ships, the frigates Moldova and Thomas Paine, the destroyers Aravalli and Ardennes, the scout Broadsword, and the four Klingon Birds of Prey, all formed a stout wall of shields and weapons around them. Finally, flitting around the edges were the nearly three dozen remaining Peregrine fighters. On paper, they were an even match for the Dominion battle force approaching, but Sevflk worried about the intangibles. His ships had been on high alert for days, and he worried that riding too long on the combat edge might have dulled their intensity. But then they held the high ground against the enemy, having forced them from the system, making them work to regain it. If the Jem’Hadar had any kind of ego that could be a psychological advantage.

“All ships report ready, sir,” Nogier said.

“Let’s wait for them to come to us. We’ll see what they do.” Sevflk leaned against the railing, staring intently at the viewscreen. “How long until they enter visual range?”

“Five minutes, sir,” the science officer said. The minutes passed by slowly, with the tactical officer reading out ranges and actions every 30 seconds. They were coming straight on, making no attempt to end run around the ships waiting for them.

“It’s too easy,” Van Antwerp suddenly said. “It must be a feint.”

“Maybe,” the admiral replied. “Tell the Virtue to keep a close eye on all approaches to the system. Have them look for an ambush from an unexpected direction.” It would be just like the Dominion to walk boldly in from one direction, and sneak in a counterpunch from another. Unless, of course, this was an attempt to save face. It would depend on how strongly the sly Vorta controlled the tactics used by the honorable Jem’Hadar. According to intelligence reports he had seen, Sevflk knew that the Jem’Hadar worked according to a kind of honor code not very different in some ways from that of Klingons. Of course, he had strict instructions to never let the Klingons see that report, since they would probably take great offense at being compared to the Jem’Hadar.

He could imagine that the Jem’Hadar on that battlecruiser had lost face by being driven off by the Allies. They would have to stand toe to toe with the Allied force and defeat them in battle to regain their standing and sense of honor. And that was something Sevflk could use against them.

“Within visual range,” the science officer said. 

“On screen,” Nogier ordered. The menacing battlecruiser dominated the picture with the eight smaller support ships flying around it like remora attached to a shark.

“Derik, relay these orders to the various ships,” Sevflk said. “All cruisers are to concentrate their fire on the battlecruiser. We will attack in pairs, making attack runs and then withdrawing, letting the next two in line attack and so on. The Earhart will pair with the Thomas Paine. The remainder of the ships are to engage the attack ships and then provide assistance for the cruisers, when possible. Assign targets as you see fit.”

By rotating the cruisers in and out, Sevflk hoped to avoid friendly fire damage in the kill zone as well as keep a steady rain of fire pounding away at the battlecruiser’s shields and keep them from focusing their weapons on any one of his ships.

“One minute to weapons range.”

Nogier spoke. “Lock torpedoes on target. Full salvo, full spread. Lock phasers on target. Maximum power. Fire on my command.” As befitting the flagship, the Charleston would lead the Gorkon in on the first attack run. The seconds ticked off and the ships came ever closer.

“Enemy ships dropping to sublight. Now within weapons range.”

“Helm, execute alpha three,” Nogier ordered. “Fire weapons!” A half-dozen torpedoes leaped from the Charleston’s tubes and her phasers fired blow after blow at the enemy ship which shuddered but shrugged them off. Meanwhile, The battlecruiser returned fire, her two heavy cannons and numerous polaron beams slamming into the Charleston’s shields.

“Captain, it’s ignoring the Gorkon. All her weapons are locked on us,” yelled the tactical officer.

“Continue maneuver. Break off the attack and let the next wave come in,” she said steadily. Even as the ship smoothly executed her turn and headed back for the safety of her sister-ships, the battlecruiser moved to follow, continuing to pound her.

“Shields down to 50 percent. She’s still concentrating on us.”

Sevflk realized the terrible truth. The Jem’Hadar knew that they probably would lose in an extended fight with the Allied fleet, so they wanted to concentrate on the most valuable target—the flagship.

“Derik, issue new orders to the cruisers. Have them all concentrate fire on the battlecruiser simultaneously.” They had no need to continue their staggered attacks if the Dominion ship was going to ignore the others. It was more important that they waste no time in ending this attack.

“Sir, three Jem’Hadar attack ships have broken through!” Van Antwerp said.

“Alert the Omegas. Have them intercept. Tell them to call on the Viper squadrons and runabouts if necessary.” Sevflk dismissed that problem to the back of his mind. It was three enemy to four of his ships, plus the carrier Virtue and the Marine fighters. They would have to do their jobs.

The Charleston continued to maneuver, Nogier issuing order after order, sending her ship rolling and spinning every which way, trying to shake her attacker.

“Shields are down to 35 percent.”

“Damage to Decks 9, 12, 13, 14, 25.”

“Engineering reports port impulse engine has taken serious damage. Thrust is down 25 percent.”

“She’s sluggish at the helm, Captain. She doesn’t respond as quickly.”

The ship was taking a serious beating and the Dominion ship was as well. Unfortunately, the much stronger battlecruiser could absorb more damage than the Charleston could. And the other cruisers were taking incidental fire from the enemy ship.

“Admiral,” Van Antwerp said, pulling at Sevflk’s sleeve. “Do you want to think about transferring your flag?”

Sevflk looked at his chief of staff in surprise. The thought honestly had not occurred to him. The idea of writing off the Charleston repulsed him, but he had to take the possibility seriously.

However, he knew that taking that drastic action would damage the morale of the Charleston’s crew. As long as they knew the old man was with them, that he expected them to bring him through the battle in one piece, they would fight to their last breath. He couldn’t take that will to success away from them.

“No, Derik. I’ll stay here whatever happens,” he said. Van Antwerp only nodded, understanding visible in his eyes. But, despite the noble sentiment, it seemed that the daring stand would be for naught. Already he could see one of his destroyers floating past on the viewscreen, a dead hulk. The other cruisers poured withering fire into the battlecruiser, but despite her mortal wounds she continued to pursue the Charleston like some demon hound baying at the scent of its prey.

“Sir, I have two ships approaching at high warp,” the science officer called out. This could be it, Sevflk thought. If this were another battlecruiser coming to back up its sibling, then all was lost for the Charleston. The fleet might survive, but the flagship would surely be destroyed.

“Identify them. What kind of ships are they?” Nogier demanded.

Agonizing seconds later, the man said gleefully, “It’s the Zhukov and the Blanc.” The two ships swooped in to join the barrage of weapons slamming against the battlecruiser. Finally, the tide had turned and one by one its weapons went silent. The Charleston limped aside as the rest of the task force set upon the mortally wounded enemy like tigers on a wildebeest. Soon enough, the battlecruiser was rendered silent, dead in space and no longer a threat. 

“How is your ship, Captain?” Sevflk asked Nogier. Her dark hair was disheveled and matted by sweat, hanging in her face. Parts of her uniform were scorched by electrical fires from exploding consoles and conduits. “She’s mostly in one piece, sir. I don’t think we’ll have to be towed back into orbit around Callessus, but we won’t be fighting anyone for a few days while we get ourselves back in order. I won’t be able to give you a more detailed report for some time.”

“That’s all right, Marta,” Sevflk said, laying his hand on her arm. “You have enough to worry about now. Let me know when you have estimates. You and your ship have done a fine job” He turned to walk away when Nogier interrupted. “Sir, thank you. Thank you for having faith in us and sticking with us.” There was nothing he could say to that. All his words seemed inadequate, so he just nodded gravely and turned to Van Antwerp. “Report, Captain. How’s the fleet?”

“The Aravalli is a complete loss. The Gorkon and the Earhart are beaming survivors off now and the Thomas Paine and Zhukov are collecting escape pods.”

“Give my compliments to the Zhukov and Blanc. Commend them for their excellent timing, Captain.” The loss of any ship was a serious blow to the little fleet, so Sevflk hoped to deflect some of that pain into pride for the superb actions of the Charleston’s saviors. War was often like that, Sevflk observed. Two parts pain and one part celebration, if you were lucky.

Van Antwerp finished his report. Six Peregrines were destroyed, as were three of the Evader runabouts. The Skelly, Manassas, and Belleau Wood all suffered serious damage, but the Charleston was the worst by far. Main power was down, warp power was out, impulse was down to three-quarters, two torpedo tubes were not working, several decks were open to space, and there were a number of casualties. Nogier had been right—the Charleston wasn’t fighting anyone for some time.

But the Dominion had received better than they gave. The battlecruiser and six attack ships were destroyed, with only two attack ships escaping. Sevflk ordered the battlecruiser’s remains to be inspected with Klingon boarding parties going over first to clear out any remaining Jem’Hadar. The battlecruiser could be an intelligence goldmine, so it was worth checking.

Hours later, Sevflk sank into a chair in his quarters, raising a cold glass of water to his lips, providing oh, so needed refreshment. Van Antwerp sat across from his commander, trying to relax from the trying day, knowing the next day was also going to provide its share of unforeseen challenges.

“We survived another day, Derik. For a moment I thought we wouldn’t but we did.” He meditated over the cool glass for a moment more. “I’m not sure how many more times I want to tempt fate before this war is over, though. The Dominion just doesn’t seem like the type of enemy to give you many second chances.” The admiral waited for a reply from his chief of staff, and then realized the captain was snoring. What a splendid idea, he thought as he rose from the chair and crossed the room to collapse on his bed, not even bothering to take off his boots or jacket. He slept without dreams, the sleep of the just and victorious.