Federation Fan Fiction

A Planet Too Far

Chapter Nineteen

©2001 Domenico Bettinelli, Jr. All Rights Reserved

This chapter is dedicated to the memory and sacrifice of Master Sgt. Jefferson Donald "J.D." Davis, Sgt. 1st Class Daniel Henry Petithory, and Staff Sgt. Brian Cody Prosser, members of the US Army’s 5th Special Forces Group (Green Berets), who died in a friendly-fire aerial bombardment on December 4, 2001 in Afghanistan and to CIA agent Mike Spann who died in the uprising at Mazar-I-Sharif. They died that others may live free.

Firebase Dragonfire
8th Recon Battalion HQ
Division Headquarters, Forward
Grid 59821 Tango
D+20 days, 1000 hours

As Lieutenant Tony Martinez entered the recon HQ base, he was impressed by the number of soldiers guarding the perimeter, including Klingons and security officers brought in from the orbiting starships. The attacks by the Jem’Hadar over the past few days must have spooked somebody, he thought. He’d heard that there was even an attack on the admiral’s command post, and that they’d only just beaten it back.

Dealing with that threat had become Tony’s top priority since the Jem’Hadar breakout. The whole recon battalion had been ordered to split into squads and seek out the enemy to direct fighters, artillery, or regular troops against them. They had been only marginally successful. It turned out that—lucky for the Federation troops—Jem’Hadar couldn’t stay shrouded indefinitely and so could be found with eyeballs. But of course, Jem’Hadar were skilled warriors anyway and thus still hard to find even when they weren’t invisible.

But then Tony and his company had just been recalled by battalion HQ and he was now returning to their base. The Andorian commander of 1st Platoon, Lt. Bezsh, saw his CO come through the gate, followed by 1st Platoon’s Bravo squad with whom Martinez had been “Jemmie hunting,” and so Bezsh came trotting over.

“Tony, Nik told me that the whole company had been recalled. Do you know why?” he asked. Bezsh fell into step beside Tony as they headed for the battalion command post.

“I’m just heading in to find out,” Tony said. “We sure haven’t flushed out all the enemy. In fact, we were hot on the trail of about 15 of them, when we were ordered to break off pursuit and return.”

“Too bad,” the Andorian said, his antennas leaning back flush against his head. Tony had come to understand that the behavior was Andorian body language for aggressiveness. Bezsh must have been in some heavy fighting since they had last talked for him to be so bloodthirsty.

“Why don’t you get your platoon re-supplied and fed as best you can while I find out what’s going on,” Tony told him. “And relay those orders to the other platoon leaders as they come in.”

As the junior officer acknowledged the command and moved off, Tony entered the fortified, duracrete command post. The speed with which the division’s engineers built and tore down these temporary, yet durable shelters always amazed him. Inside, his eyes adjusted to the dim lighting and sought out Commander Tshimanga Yatshimba, the battalion commander.

The older man was across the room, leaning against some equipment with his eyes closed, sipping something hot. “Excuse me, Commander. Am I interrupting?”

Yatshimba’s eyes opened instantly, alert and with complete situational awareness. No one would catch the famed recon Marine napping and unaware. “No, Tony. I’m glad you’re here,” he said, waving the younger man over to a desk. “Tea?” he asked, gesturing at the cup. When Tony politely refused, he continued, “How’s the hunting?”

Easing himself gratefully into the chair, Tony said, “I haven’t heard back from everybody yet, but it’s going well, I think. We’ve only had a few direct contacts, so we’re taking only light casualties. I was pretty angry when I heard about the power platoon. Was it a complete loss?”

Yatshimba sighed loudly. “Yes, everyone dead, the two generators blown to pieces, and even the plasma conduits cut up into little bits. If nothing else, the Jem’Hadar are damned efficient.”

The commander clasped his hands together on his desk as he leaned forward earnestly. “You and I both know that hunting them down one by one is not the most efficient way to end it though, don’t we? The only way to stop this is to break into the garrison and win the campaign. And that’s why I’ve called you in here.”

That intrigued Tony. It meant another important, near-suicidal, almost-impossible mission was in the offing. “What do you have for us, sir?”

Yatshimba paused and eyed Tony speculatively, sizing him up before dropping the bomb. “The admiral wants you to find a back door into the garrison?”

If Yatshimba was expecting shock or dismay, he was disappointed. Instead, it was a moment of déjà vu. Just a week ago, Nik had predicted to Tony that they would be sent on this very mission. Despite Tony’s already very high opinion of his company chief, it went even higher then.

“How do we know that there is one?” he asked.

“The Dominion is too clever to hide itself in a hole without a back door. They’re just too sneaky,” the commander said.

“What about those tunnels they opened up? Couldn’t they have been the secret exit? Could we use them to go in?” Tony had a hunch as to the answer, but he knew he had to ask every question. It was expected.

“Intel and the engineers think the tunnels were just recently opened, probably for the specific purpose of coming up behind our positions. If they’d wanted to use them as bolt-holes they would have extended them at least to the ridge.

“As for using them against the enemy, our air support did too good of a job. The tunnels are almost completely collapsed to about 200 meters back, and the enemy probably has them pretty well guarded at the other end. That’s not to say that someone else isn’t working on that problem, though. It’s just that the old man wants to see whether he has any other options.” Yatshimba rose from behind the desk, Tony’s clue that the meeting was over so he stood as well. “Lt. Karzai will brief you and your senior staff on the details.” The commander held out his hand and Tony shook it. “Good luck, Lieutenant. You have my utmost confidence.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Firebase Dragonfire
Intel Section
8th Recon Battalion HQ
Division Headquarters, Forward
1300 hours

“Welcome, gentlemen,” Lt. j.g. Karzai said to Tony, Nik, and the platoon leaders and chiefs when they had all gathered in the intelligence section’s building. He began without further preamble. “According to our best intelligence, the most likely location for a secondary entrance to the garrison is here in this valley in the mountains behind it.” Karzai pointed to a spot on the map displayed on the wall screen. “The valley runs all the way down to the plains beyond, yet it is well-protected from most overhead observation. It is thickly forested and the minerals in the surrounding rock walls prevent us from getting clear scans.”

Tony nodded in approval at the analysis. If he were the one setting up the garrison, he would have done the same thing for the same reasons.

“This is the current operational plan,” Karzai continued. “You will be beamed into the saddle between two peaks about a kilometer away and 1,000 meters higher. You will make your way down to the valley and seek out the entrance, which will likely be camouflaged. Once you have found it, you will report your findings back to headquarters.”

Bezsh interrupted, his antennae twitching in curiosity. “You do not need a whole company to do that.”

Unperturbed by the interruption, Karzai said, “Correct. After assessing the security at the entrance, you will attempt to gain entrance … stealthily.” He stressed the last word and waited dramatically before going on. “If you can get inside without alerting the whole garrison, your mission will be to hold the door open, as it were, and discern the layout of as much of the facility as possible with emphasis on the command center and the front gate.”

Tony and Nik shared a glance and the fidgeting by the other officers alerted Martinez that they all took that order the same way. He didn’t relish the idea of sneaking about a base being held by thousands of Jem’Hadar and Cardassians.

“When you have gathered as much information as possible,” Karzai continued. “You will return to the back door and send the data to HQ. You will receive further orders at that point.” The Eminian lieutenant sat down at his place at the briefing table to wait for any questions.

Once the enormity of the plan sank in, the officers were able to subsume their misgivings and enter professionally into the planning. For an hour, they peppered the intel lieutenant with questions about troop strengths, communications intercepts, scanning equipment, and the like until finally there was nothing left to ask and nothing more to say.

Into the final silence, Tony said, “I think that’s all for this briefing. Return to your platoons and brief them. I want everyone in the rack by …” He stopped to look at the wall clock. “… 1700 hours. And everyone should be at the transporters by 0500 hours tomorrow.” He held them with a last searching look, wondering if he should give some kind of rousing pep talk. But he realized that it would be unnecessary. After three-plus weeks running around on the planet—first dodging and then hunting Jem’Hadar—there was no need to appeal to their patriotism or professionalism or anything else. It was time for them to do a job that only they could do.

Firebase Dragonfire
Beam Transport Company Alpha, Transport Battalion, 8th Divisional Supply Group
Division Headquarters, Forward
D+21 days, 0500 hours

The sun wasn’t up yet and the soldiers moved quietly in the pre-dawn darkness, every sound amplified by the hush that heralds the coming of the day, including the tinkling and hum of transporters. The platoons were lined up in front of the portable personnel transporters of the Beam Transport Company. By squads of nine they stepped up onto the platforms and were transported to their destination.

The company clerk, Mark Wickham, stood next to Lt. Martinez, shuffling from one foot to the other. “Sir, are you sure we shouldn’t be taking hoppers up there?”

Tony smiled and patted the shorter, stocky man on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, Wickham. We’ll be perfectly safe. There are no beam blockers up there and the garrison’s shields don’t extend up to the peak where we’re beaming in. That’s why we’re going up there.” Wickham just nodded and sighed and tightened the straps of his pack again, apparently not very reassured by the company commader.

Tony could understand Wickham’s misgivings. No recon Marine liked the idea of beaming about on an active battlefield. There were too many stray energy fields hanging around for anyone to feel completely safe stepping into a transporter. In this case, however, Karzai had assured Tony that the landing zone in the mountainous region was safe—but then Karzai wasn’t the one beaming up there.

Finally it was Tony’s turn and he stepped up to the transporter along with 2nd Platoon’s Alpha Squad. The swirling lights of the transporter surrounded him and for a moment he experienced the customary disorientation, which his brain interpreted as swirling lights before his eyes, until the new location appeared around him.

Quickly, the squad cleared the beam-in zone, heading to a pre-determined spot among the stunted coniferous trees to cover their vulnerable comrades during transport. After the whole company had arrived and dug in, Martinez gathered his platoon leaders around him. He looked out over the saddle between the two peaks, with a view down to the valley that was their goal below.

“We’ll move out just as we planned in a single-file descent from here,” Tony began. “Once we’re in the valley itself, we’ll spread out into a three-platoon abreast movement. We’ll scour the valley from bottom to top, looking for holographic projections, shielded doors, bio-readings, and anything else suspicious.” He looked out over the valley into which they were about to head, using his helmet’s vision enhancements to amplify the pre-dawn light. At the point where they would enter, it was several hundred meters wide, with a boulder-strewn river in the middle and dense high-mountain scrub and trees on either side, flanked by steep cliffs of a granite-like rock. The basin narrowed and became shallower as the elevation rose, until it met the source of the river, a crystal-clear high mountain lake fed by an underground spring.

After a last check to make sure that everyone knew their jobs, Tony gave the order and the company of Marines moved out in silence, fading into the Callessian wilderness.

Air Tasking Station Golf
Above the 172nd Regiment
Grid 43220 Oscar
0530 hours

From 1,000 meters up, the sunrise was already beginning, the first hints of the system’s star sending rays of sunshine into the sky. It was Becca’s favorite time of day to fly. The air was almost magical as the stars and sunshine co-existed for just a few moments, while the still world below began to wake and all the worries and anguish of the universe seemed to disappear for just a little while. In the past few weeks, Becca hadn’t been able to take time to enjoy her special moment, but this morning was different.

With the Dominion sealed up tight in their base, the front lines of the Marine division sat quietly just out of range of its walls. On the other hand, the combat air patrol did get calls for strikes against suspected Jem’Hadar positions in the rear area, although the past night had been quieter than usual. Becca hoped that meant that most of the Jem’Hadar had been eliminated.

“You’d think they could find something else for us to do rather than burn ovals in the sky,” grumbled Rich. “There is a war on after all.”

“Bored, buddy?” Becca asked with a smile.

“A little bit. I never thought I’d get bored flying over a battlefield or wish for someone to shoot as us … okay, I guess I’m not wishing for that now either. I’m not an idiot after all.” Rich sighed and leaned back in his seat, stretching his arms over his head. “I’m just tired of flying around pointlessly.”

Becca was about to admonish her friend for wishing for bad things, when her sensors lit up. “Contact! Something’s taking off from the surface.”

Rich sat up straight and his hands flew across his controls. “I don’t believe it. It’s an enemy fighter.” They hadn’t seen one of those since the first day of the battle; they’d thought all of them had been shot down. “He’s coming straight for us. It’s on a collision course!”

Becca flipped her Viper into an evasive roll and a wide turn. Rich shook his head and cried out, “It’s no good. He’s still coming!”

Realizing her only hope lay in a quick shot at her suicidal pursuer, Becca flung the craft around to get him in her sights. Again the enemy fighter changed course, out of her line of fire, and was only seconds away from hitting them. “All power to the shields,” she yelled at Rich, hoping they might survive a glancing hit. But as she gave the command, the fighter was slammed with a massive blow. Control panels shorted out and smoke filled the cockpit, and the two pilots began choking and coughing. Becca wrestled with the now sluggish controls, trying to get her tumbling fighter under control. Soon the disorientation left her with no idea whether she was hundreds of meters off the ground or about to crash.

Rich, who was also struggling with his own controls, managed to say, “The other fighter is running for orbit. He must be trying to escape from the planet.” He didn’t bother to waste any more attention on that ship now that it was no longer a threat. “Life support is down, weapons are down, main propulsion is down,” he said.

“Don’t bother with what’s down,” Becca told him. “What systems are up?” She pondered the mysterious enemy fighter for the briefest second. What was that about? Where were they running? And why only one? Are they going for help? Or is it a deserter? They were all good questions, but irrelevant until she could return safely to base, a prospect that was looking quite dim at the moment.

Rich frantically tapped at his controls, looking for diagnostics that were still working. “We have limited anti-grav propulsors and maneuvering thrusters. That’s about it.”

“What about communications, emergency transporters?” She realized she was flailing for answers. Becca knew that Rich would have told her if those systems were available. He didn’t seem to notice her faux pas, however. “Those systems are gone too.”

“Try venting the cockpit so I can see where we’re going,” Becca ordered. “I think I’ve got us level.” While Rich had been scrambling to assess their situation, Becca had continued to work the controls, flying by instinct to get them mostly straight and level.

The cockpit canopy hissed and opened a tiny bit, suddenly drawing the smoky air out as the outside wind whistled loudly in her ears. Rich must have been able to override the safety systems to attempt the dangerous action. Now that she could mostly see out of the cockpit, Becca realized that they had drifted off their on-call station to the area over the mountains above the enemy base. “I don’t think she’s going to stay airborne for long,” Becca announced. The damaged anti-gravity systems were sputtering already and threatened to give out any moment. If they did, her sleek starfighter would become a not-very-aerodynamic glider on a very short final descent. “Try to find me a semi-level place to set down.”

“I wish I could help you, but all my sensors and navigation systems are down,” Rich said, banging his controls in frustration. They both began looking out the windows for a hospitable location. Unfortunately, all they saw below were high, craggy peaks—none of them a suitable landing strip.

But then Rich said, “Over there, that valley. If you can slow us down, you might be able to soft-land in that stream.”

Becca “hmmed” under her breath. That was an iffy proposition, even for a pilot of her skill. She’d have to thread her barely airborne fighter in between the high cliffs and glide to a stop just above a rushing mountain stream that was probably filled with jagged rocks that would cut them to pieces when they attempted to get clear of the ship.

But then she looked at her quickly fading ship, her gauges all heading to zero, the controls becoming increasingly unresponsive. “I guess we have no choice,” she said. “Hold on to your seat. This landing is going to be slightly bumpier than usual.”

In the mountain valley
0550 hours
Grid 97091 Kilo

The recon company had been slowly and carefully making its way up the mountain gorge, scouring every surface for the expected entrance. At one point, the whole group had gone to ground as a Jem’Hadar patrol had come unshrouded alongside the stream, apparently coming from somewhere much higher up the slope. While that suggested to Martinez that the entrance, if it existed, was going to be much higher than they were. But he didn’t want to overlook any possibility so he ordered the company to continue its methodical pace.

Then about 15 minutes ago, a Cardassian fighter had blasted forth from a camouflaged hangar much higher in the mountain range than the valley and disappeared into the sky. A short discussion had ensued between Tony and his platoon leaders about whether they should redirect their efforts toward the hangar bay door they knew existed versus a theorized back door that may or may not be in this valley. Tony had decided that the hangar should be their backup plan since climbing the steep cliff from their current location would be a major undertaking. He felt it was even more important that they discover a ground-level entrance now that they had been inadvertently shown the aerial entrance.

Now they had continued their ascent and Tony was in the lead, clambering over the rocks at the side of the river. He was concentrating on the readings from his tricorder, concerned about the forecast for stormy weather that he had received before leaving on the mission, when he heard the strange sound from the sky. It was the sound of a smallcraft engine laboring, catching every few seconds, with an unhealthy whine in the middle. He searched the sky for the source, concerned that the enemy fighter they had seen had returned to attack them.

Beside him, Nik waved his arm at the company with the signal to take cover and hide from observation. Luckily, the passive countermeasures in their uniforms were operating well, blending them into the surrounding landscape, masking their life signs from causal observation. Tony had crouched in a hole where two huge boulders leaned against each other, continuing his visual scan of the sky. Wickham ducked down nearby, then pointed down the valley, “There!”

It was a Marine fighter, a Viper, wobbling through the air, barely able to stay off the ground and trailing a smoky cloud. The ailing ship passed close overhead, barely 10 meters off the ground and falling as the valley rose to meet it. Finally, the fighter pancaked into the stream about 150 meters away sending a great plume of water and steam flying in all directions.

Tony stood and waved his arm in the sign for the company to stay in place. He turned to his company command section and said, “Nik, Mark, come with me. We’re going to investigate.”

As Nik rushed to his side, he said, “You know that the Dominion will send a patrol to investigate, don’t you? That could torpedo our mission.”

Tony nodded without turning to face Nik, concentrating as he scrambled over the rocks and fallen logs at the edge of the stream. “Yes, it could. But it also means that a patrol will be coming out of the back door if it exists, showing us where it is. And I want to get to the fighter and its crew before the enemy does.”

Minutes later, Tony stopped just inside a copse of trees, followed by Nik and a huffing and puffing Wickham, to peer out at the fallen fighter. It lay in the middle of the river which was deep enough at this point to cover most of the ship. The water rushed strongly over the new obstruction and steam rose up from around the engines which were still red hot. At first he didn’t see any movement from the ship and the canopy remained closed as it sat partially submerged. Just as he had decided to move closer, the canopy popped open and two figures fell out into the water which immediately filled the cockpit, flailing their arms as they swam for the bank.

Instinctively, Tony ran out to assist. “Nik, help the other one,” he ordered as he ran for the closest figure. “Mark, cover us.” Wickham lifted his rifle and panned it across the trees and rocks, with a look on his face as if he expected a Jem’Hadar to materialize at any moment.

Tony splashed into the cold, mountain water, the shock of it making the breath rush out of him. He waded in up to his waist and reached to grab the weakly swimming pilot by the uniform shoulder. He hauled the woman up and put her arm around his neck and carried her to shore. By now, Nik had already brought his charge ashore.

The two pilots collapsed to the ground, but Tony was insistent as he looked warily into the trees. “No time to rest. Let’s go before the Jem’Hadar come to investigate.” The co-pilot groaned in protest, but still levered himself off the ground with Nik’s help. As they ran into the trees, Tony kept his shoulder under the woman who had begun to shiver and chatter her teeth. He felt sorry for her, suffering the physical impact of a plane crash, a swim in ice-cold water, and now a run through the thin air of a cold mountain pass.

As soon as they were safely inside the perimeter of the company’s position, Tony and Nik lowered their burdens to the ground. “Bezsh, send a squad up to see if they can find where the Jem’Hadar patrol comes out,” Martinez ordered the Andorian. “Do not engage, but just track.” Bezsh nodded and went to assign the mission. Meanwhile, designated medics from several other squads came over to help with the downed airmen. Thermal blankets were produced to cover the two pilots as well as Nik and Tony, and hot beverages from field rations were handed over.

Once her teeth had stopped chattering enough for her to speak, the female pilot stuck out her hand to Tony. “I’m Becca Cuddihy, this is my co-pilot Rich Founaux. Thanks for your help. I have to say I’m surprised you got here so fast.”

“As much as I want to take credit for it,” he said, shaking her hand with a smile, “we weren’t up here to rescue you. We’re on a sensitive and covert operation. While I don’t blame you, your crashing here may have jeopardized the mission.” That could have come out sounding harsh, but Tony put his best smile behind it. After all, she couldn’t have known.

“I’m so sorry,” she replied with a chuckle. “Next time, I’ll find a more convenient place to crash my fighter.” She took a moment to take another gulp of hot—chicken broth, was it?—as the color returned to her cheeks and lips. “If we can signal for search and rescue, we’ll be out of your hair in not time.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Tony replied. “By now the enemy knows you’ve crashed here and will be looking for you. They’ll set up beam blockers and will be just waiting for a rescue hopper. No, I think you’ll have to stick with us.”

Rich muttered under his breath, “Great, now I’m a grunt.”

Nik picked up the comment and clapped him on the back, “Just think, flyboy. Now you’ll really get to experience the war.” Everyone but Rich got a small laugh out of that one.

Bezsh came running back to the small huddled group. “Tony, we’ve picked up the patrol and traced it back to the entrance,” he said excited. “However, the patrol is headed straight for us.”

Tony stood up, shedding his blanket and grabbing his rifle and helmet. “In that case, we have several advantages—they’re only expecting to find two downed pilots and we know they’re coming.” He signaled to Ensign Kaftaro who came running. “Ensign, take your platoon and set up a very quiet ambush for the patrol—about 25 meters ahead.” Tony turned to Nik and Bezsh. “Meanwhile, we’ll take the other two platoons, circle around, and make for that door. Asir, once you’ve dealt with them, follow us there.”

“What do you want us to do?” Becca asked.

Tony pulled out his hand phaser and held it out for her. “It’s time for you to prove the old adage that all Marines are infantry at heart.”

She reached out and took it in her hand, feeling its unfamiliar weight. “Lead the way.”

Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Twenty
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