A Cardassian officer looked up from his sensor console and called over his immediate superior, Glinn Telakat, to see what he had just seen. The glinn then briskly stepped up to the command station overlooking the operations room and approached Gul Madrel.

"Sir, sensors detect an enemy force approaching the system," the officer said.

Madrel looked up from the reports he had just been studying. The headache was threatening to return. "Where are they located?"

Telakat shifted his eyes downward for a moment and hesitated before answering, "They are at 23 Mark 180 …. Less than 1 light year from the system."

"What?" Madrel roared. Every Cardassian in the room flinched at the commander's anger, while the Jem'Hadar merely glanced briefly at the interruption and continued their work blandly. For the room's guards that included suspiciously watching everyone around them as if they expected their Cardassian allies to suddenly morph into Federation or Klingon troops at any minute.

Madrel's anger was illogically inflamed by the Jem'Hadar's unconcern. How dare they ignore him as if he was of no consequence. He was commander of the garrison and they should jump at his every order, just like they did their shape-shifter "gods." Refocusing on his Cardassian underling and the immediate Federation threat, he demanded, "How could they get so close without being seen? We have the most advanced sensor system in the quadrant!"

"Sir," the officer replied meekly, "It appears that a gap in our sensor coverage has been caused by the Klingon attack two days ago. We have not yet replaced the sensors, although they are due to be online in the next three hours." He added the last part quickly in a vain attempt to forestall the storm beginning to appear on Madrel's face. Before it could blossom full force, the Vorta Dahltenn entered the room.

"What is all this commotion about, Madrel?" he asked primly. He just couldn't understand why Cardassians got worked up over every little thing. They were nearly as bestial as the Klingons and he wasn't convinced they weren't all just thinly veiled infidels who didn't really worship the Founders as gods.

Barely containing his anger enough to be civil, Madrel replied, "Three Federations starships are approaching the system. I was about to dispatch an attack force against them."

"How could you allow them to get so close?" Dahltenn demanded. "They should have been detected and destroyed long ago."

"They must be using the gaps in coverage caused by the Klingon attack," he replied. "Those gaps will be closed in two hours," Madrel added with a glare at his subordinate.

"No," Dahltenn interrupted, "recall the remaining sensor platforms until the enemy ships are destroyed. And I want to keep them in reserve until you have come up with a plan for overlapping, redundant coverage to replace your current, inadequate deployment. I don't want the destruction of a handful of sensors to cripple this outpost."

The gul wanted to retort that it was the Vorta who had approved the plan in the first place, but knew that it would be futile to protest. Motioning at Telakat, he gave the order to recall the sensors. "And deploy defenses to attack the enemy starships," he added.

Using a conciliatory tone on the Vorta, Madrel suggested, "Perhaps we should request a few more reinforcements from Central Command. Based on the recent Alliance attacks, I believe we're being probed for an eventual attack. They must know what kind of danger this outpost represents."

"I believe you're correct," Dahltenn said, sounding almost surprised that the Cardassian could make such a true assessment, despite Madrel's near constant demand for more assets to defend the sensor station. "I will request more ships to reinforce our defense force. I think we can expect them in the next week or so."

Vipers of the 121st Marine Fighter Squadron in a planetary assault on ADS-221. Image courtesy of Andrew Hodges.

On the fringes of the Callessus system
D-4 days

The Zhukov fired its main phasers at the lead Jem'Hadar fighter, while the New Orleans Class Minotaur unleashed a full spread of torpedoes from its three banks at three separate ships. One ship evaded, a second caught the edge of a blast and was shaken up briefly, while the third exploded in a massive flash. The destroyer Blanc followed up with multiple phaser shots at a Galor Class cruiser, taking the return disruptor shots on her shields.

Even as the Dominion ships defended against the attack from the starships, a dozen small fighters emerged from the sensor shadow behind the Zhukov and began attacking three Jem'Hadar fighters on the enemy flank.

"Tiger Flight, spread out; attack pattern gamma," said Lt. Rebecca Cuddihy in the lead Viper fighter. The four small ships of her flight began weaving about each other in a complex dance, staying in motion to make it more difficult for the larger enemy ships to target any one of them. Cuddihy, now a veteran of more than a dozen battles in this war, remained calm and focused on flying her ship, staying away from phasers, polaron beams, disruptors, and torpedoes alike in addition to keeping her fighter from colliding with her wingmates. Meanwhile, her co-pilot, Ensign Richard Founaux, sitting behind her, managed the fighter's systems and made weapons lock on targets as they became available.

The four fighters fired their phasers in unison, special datalinks allowing the separate ships to work together as a single unit with Founaux focusing them all on a single shield on the nearest Jem'Hadar ship. "Their port shield is failing, Becca," he said. Rich was Becca's favorite co-pilot so far in this war. They worked together as a seamless team, and even though he was a cut-up and jokester most of the time, when their butts were in the fighter and on the line, his attention became directed and steady.

"Ready torpedoes, fire a flight-spread when the opportunity becomes available," she said. Her fighter was suddenly rocked by a blast on their shields.

"Enemy ship, 25 mark 150, coming in hot!" Rich yelled. A Jem'Hadar fighter was coming in fast to aid its brother, firing wildly at the four Vipers. "Ignore him! He's just firing blind. Stay on this target," she yelled back, giving her ship a quick sideslip to the side and punching up auxiliary power to the rear shield.

Seconds later, their target's shields collapsed and four torpedoes flew out from the fighters to the bare hull of the enemy ship. As it exploded in a brilliant flash the Vipers flew through the fireball of gas and debris and broke formation, coming back around at the ship that had just been shooting at them.

Before they could begin their run on him, Becca received a signal from the Zhukov. "All ships pull out. Mission accomplished."

Becca pumped a couple of torpedoes in the Jem'Hadar ship's direction and, without waiting to see if they hit, peeled away. "Tiger Flight, recall order has been given. Check in."

"Tiger Two, minor damage," called in Lt. j.g. Rodolfo Terragno, as his ship pulled up close to her left wing as they accelerated to full impulse.

"Tiger Three, no damage to us, much damage to them," said Lt. Witold Shudrich with a smile in his voice. Becca couldn't help but smile along with him as the euphoria of adrenaline raced through her bloodstream. Leave it to Witty to ignore protocol and make a crack as they exited the fight.

"Tiger Four, warp drive is down, port phaser one is out," said Lt. Hans Lambsdorff. "Nothing to prevent us from returning to base." Becca made a brief scan of the data coming in from Tiger Four as he pulled in above and behind her. Sure enough, his damage wasn't bad enough to worry her. He had taken the brunt of the attack from the last exchange, but luckily they had broken off before it became fatal.

Keying in the tactical command frequency, Becca reported her flight's status to the squadron commander, and then checked her sensors. The enemy ships had ended their pursuit and were retreating. Two Jem'Hadar attack ships had been destroyed, a few more seemed to be adrift, but all of the larger ships appeared to have taken light damage. Meanwhile, the Zhukov, the Blanc, and the Minotaur had taken some moderate damage, but nothing that required a shipyard to fix. A few days of work and they should be battle-ready again. Then she noticed that the Zhukov was towing a Viper in its tractor beam. Looking around at the squadron, she noticed some gaps in the formation. Yes, at least four more of her friends had given their lives fighting the damned Dominion.

"Who'd we lose?" she wearily asked Rich. In a somber tone, he replied, "Bethune, Grace, Zhizask, and Krellin." Reaching over his console to pat Becca on the shoulder, he added, "But you brought your flight home in one piece, Becca. Don't worry, we'll have a chance to toast some Cardie and Jem'Hadar hides for them."

Yes, but how many more friends will I lose avenging those I've already lost? she asked herself. But she didn't have the luxury of grief now; there was a war to fight. She could grieve later.

Aboard the Tacit
Approaching Callessus III

"We're sensor dark," the Coridan conn officer announced in the now quiet cockpit of the Tacit. The small ship was designed with sophisticated sensor devices that would prevent anyone from detecting the ship with all but a direct active scan. As long as they kept their own active emissions down to a minimum, they would sneak in under the Dominion's collective noses.

Conversation in the small ship was muted even though no sensor system could detect even loud shouting. It just seemed right that when one wanted to sneak somewhere, you kept your voice low. That is, it seemed right to everyone except for the very logical Vulcan ops officer.

"We have not been detected by the Dominion," the Vulcan said in normal tones. "Our ships are now withdrawing from the battle and opposing vessels are returning to their patrol routes."

"Coming this way?" O'Bannon asked quickly. Even a half-blind Ferengi could detect them if his ship came close enough, sophisticated sensor countermeasures or not. While effective, they weren't a cloaking device.

"No, there are no vessels headed this way," the Vulcan replied. "Estimate arrival in drop zone in 2 minutes."

Mary turned to Martinez who had been lurking in the background. "I guess this is where you get off," she said with a smile.

"I see this is as far as this bus goes," he replied. "Remind me to buy you all a round later for the fine sneaking job. Good luck on the way out." He knew that the little ship and her crew would face just as much danger sneaking out of the system as they had coming in. More in fact since the Dominion had been stirred up like a bees' nest that had been kicked over.

"Good luck to you, lieutenant," O'Bannon said back, suddenly serious. "I'll hold you to that offer and I expect you to be around to pay up once this is all over."

Flashing a jaunty salute, Martinez headed back to his troops in the rear compartment. He saw his Marines all variously preoccupied, some nonchalant, the rest feigning nonchalance. Some were checking equipment and others tried to catch a few minutes of sleep or, failing that, undisturbed peace.

"Drop zone in one minute," Tony announced to the troops. The squad leaders took command of their soldiers, calling for them to rise and check each other. Helmets were put on, weapons readied, and equipment straps tightened. The ship slowed to a halt and the rear shuttle door opened on a dark night. Looking out, Tony saw that they were hovering about 12,000 meters above a forest with their small open drop zone invisible from this height. Nik was standing at the door and he pushed out three large bundles, supplies that they would need for their weeks in the field. As soon as they were in the air, the automatic antigrav suspensor fields activated, letting them fall at a quick—but not too quick—pace, guiding them to the drop zone.

When the supplies were clear, Nik gave the sign for Alpha Squad to step up to the door and go, each person stepping off into air one at a time. Each squad followed until all five were airborne and only Nik, Tony, and the company clerk, Mark Wickham remained. The three of them all jumped out at once and seconds after they were clear, the Tacit began moving rapidly away. The whole drop evolution took only three minutes.

As he fell, Tony checked his equipment. The suspensor field was operating normally, responding to the movement of his arms with changes in direction and speed. Two minutes later, Tony was just a couple hundred meters over the drop zone and could see his teams already moving about in their well-practiced tasks. Alpha and Bravo squads would be setting up a perimeter to secure the drop zone, Charlie and Delta squads would be gathering up all the antigrav equipment to destroy it as well as spraying chloromask on the trampled plants to remove all evidence of their presence there. Echo Squad was breaking into the supply crates and distributing the equipment that they would have to move and then cache for later pickup as needed.

Tony landed in the midst of the activity and immediately took command. He ordered them to begin moving out of the drop zone to the nearby rendezvous point in case their landing had been observed. Wickham already his tricorder out, looking for any sign of the enemy. "How far are we from the garrison?" Tony asked him.

"Thirty kilometers, sir. The rendezvous is one kilometer that way," he said pointing off to the west, "and the sensor net probably begins another kilometer beyond that."

"Then let's move out," he said. The platoon moved off squad by squad until only the wind remained, blowing through the grass in the dark night of Callessus III.