Almost two weeks. That was how long Tony and his recon company had been in the field. It was a long time to push forward continually without respite, but thankfully he had just been informed by the battalion commander, Commander Yatshimba, that they would be allowed a 24-hour break tomorrow. It would be a chance to sleep, get a hot meal, take a shower, and relax a little before being sent out behind enemy lines again.

But for now, he still had his job to do. His helmet’s viewscreen was magnified to maximum resolution and Tony peered through the surrounding brush at a massive building in the distance. “That’ll be a tough nut to crack,” said Chief Nikodouris, lying in the grass beside him.

“You’ve got that right, Chief. Starship-grade shields, heavy-weapons emplacements, and incredibly thick walls—it’s not going to be easy to get inside. And they’ve probably got ten thousand Jem’Hadar inside itching to give us a nasty welcome.” Tony looked over the eight-kilometer-wide valley below his position. He was lying under cover on top of the last foothill next to the mountain range into which the garrison was built. It would be impossible to draw near the walls from this direction in a large formation without being detected. And impassable mountains protected every other approach.

“How far behind us is the regiment?” he asked Nik.

“Eight kilometers. The enemy is putting up heavy resistance so I don’t think they’ll make it this far for a few days.” Nik replied. The chief was exhausted, more tired than the younger men and women in his company. In earlier days, he would have been raring to go, eager to advance toward victory, but now all his bones ached and his mind was foggy from the few fitful hours of sleep he had each night.

“That’s not much time. Have the platoons break down into squads and send them out to recon the valley. Look for mines, sensors, transport inhibitors, and the like,” Tony said. “Make sure they’re back at the rendezvous for extraction by 0700 tomorrow.”

Nik smiled. “I don’t think it will be too tough to get them to show up on time. Everybody is looking forward to some rest.”

Tony returned the smile. “And if we do our job right, we’ll have even more rest soon. If the division is able to bottle up the Dominion forces in that fortress, we won’t have any lines to reconnoiter behind.”

“Are you kidding, sir? If it comes to a stalemate outside these walls, we’re going to be sent up into those mountains to see if there’s a back door.”

Tony groaned at the idea. He didn’t relish the thought of skulking around cold, windy, rugged mountain peaks looking for what was sure to be a camouflaged and heavily guarded entrance. “That reminds me,” he said. “Is this spring or fall around here?”

The chief looked around in surprise for a moment. He hadn’t even taken the time in the past few weeks to consider the seasons or weather beyond the immediate worries of rain or shine. Looking closely at the tree beside him, he saw that most of the leaves were a strong green color. “It’s spring, I think,” he said finally.

“Good,” Tony replied. “I’d hate to think we’d have to climb around up there during winter.”

“Unless, of course, spring is only three weeks long on this part of this planet,” Nik said, tweaking his superior officer.

“Ugh, you really know how to find the tarnished side of the silver lining,” Tony said. “Just relay my orders to the company.”

Nik chuckled as he signaled the platoon leaders. But as he thought about it, he made a mental note to check with the Air Wing’s opzone intel detachment which kept track of such things as the weather. It just might be useful to know that little tidbit of information, he thought.

Recon Company Bravo’s Extraction Zone
0700 hours
D+13 days

The last platoon had arrived at the clearing at 0655. The company had completed its recon of the valley after a long night of silently moving about the vast area, cataloging every obstruction and obstacle placed by the Dominion. At least every obstruction that hadn’t been hidden too well, Tony thought. Such obsession and attention to detail was what made him such a good recon officer, but it didn’t let him sleep well at night. If he or his company missed something in their reconnaissance, a lot of people could die and that was something for him to worry about. Constantly.

Mark Wickham, the company clerk, nudged Tony in the pre-dawn half-light. “The hoppers are about two minutes out,” he whispered, while he read the data coming in over his tricorder.

Tony activated his comm-link to his platoon leaders. “Two minutes. Once Alpha Company is off the hoppers and has moved through our positions, we move quickly on board. Be ready.”

Eventually, three of the low-altitude hovercraft sped into view over the trees and halted abruptly over the clearing. They descended rapidly, their side ramps falling open as they touched down. The Marines of the recon battalion’s Alpha Company raced out in synch, heading in all directions for the tree line. It all happened in a well-coordinated maneuver, something that they had practiced dozens of times before. As Lt. Claire Maclean, Alpha’s company commander, ran by him, Tony held up his hand to catch her hand briefly in his, a simple acknowledgement of the passing of responsibility for the reconnaissance mission. It was an old custom that evinced the deadly seriousness with which all the recon Marines did their duty. They were the eyes and ears and hands for the division and regiments behind them, and it was their job to know and deal with whatever surprises the enemy had cooked up for them.

With Alpha Company now in place behind him, facing outward to any possible threat, Tony rose in place and issued the boarding order to his platoon leaders. The three platoons moved smartly out into the landing zone in a single file, quickly boarding the transports with Tony climbing aboard last, as was his custom.

The three hoppers lifted off silently in formation and wheeled off to the east to make the long looping journey back to the rear area. It wouldn’t do to fly right over the front lines or into known enemy-controlled areas in the vulnerable hoppers.

Nik crouched down next to Tony’s spot looking out the viewport. “What are your plans for the next 24 hours?”

Tony leaned back and closed his eyes. While he wouldn’t feel completely relaxed until they were flying over friendly territory, he was beginning to feel the combat stress flow out of him. “After a nice, hot shower, a hot meal, and eight hours of sleep, I’m going to get caught up on the latest intelligence reports,” he said. “Not very exciting, I know, but a company commander’s work is never done. What about you?”

“Wickham and I are going to deal with supply and get everybody restocked. And I’m going to see if any of our casualties are ready to return to the field.” In the two weeks the company had been in combat, they had taken a fair number of casualties, despite their attempts at stealth. Those whose wounds were not serious enough for them to be evacuated off-planet might have recovered by now and be fit to return to duty. Nik added, “Are you going to make some time to see that pretty lieutenant in supply?”

“What?” Tony blustered, “What are you talking about?”

“Come on, Lieutenant. I saw you schmoozing her in the bar at Starbase 18 before we left. Give an old man some credit.”

“Nik, we’re in the middle of a war here. I don’t think now’s the best time to try to score a date.”

“Now is the perfect time! Look around you, Lieutenant. Death may be right around the corner, on our next mission. You’ve got to live now while you have the chance. I’m not saying you have to go sweep the girl off her feet, but go remind yourself what you’re fighting for; what you’re living for.”

The company commander mulled what the chief said for a moment. “Thanks, Nik. You’re right. It might be nice to think about something other than Jem’Hadar and Cardassians for a while too. So … what do you think of her?” He finished with a sly smile.

Nik leaned back against the hopper’s bulkhead and smiled at Martinez. “Sir, she’s a real beauty. Mm, hm, you know how to pick’em. If I was 15 years younger, you’d have competition.”

“And you weren’t married, you mean.”

“Oh yeah, that too…. Don’t tell my wife I said that.”

Tony and Nik shared a small laugh, but they started to laugh harder and harder as the constant tension of the past weeks flowed out of them. It became the kind of belly laugh that creeps up on you as a small chuckle and gradually has your eyes tearing and your sides splitting. It wasn’t a funny joke, but that wasn’t the point. They were alive and able to talk about women and recreation and the future.

 

Firebase Thunderbolt
8^th Division Headquarters, Forward
1200 hours
D+13 days

The men and women of Bravo Company’s 1^st Platoon lay about their assigned tent, most of them already fast asleep. But a small group of soldiers were in their cots, talking, unable to fall asleep just yet.

“Bel, have you ever served on a starship?” asked Jaime Heredia, lying on his back, staring at the roof of the tent.

“Sure,” answered the Brikar squad leader. “I did a cross-posting with Fleet Security for a year and was assigned to a Galaxy Class. Why?”

“Did you ever encounter any of those super-powerful, advanced alien cultures? You know, like the Q that the Enterprise dealt with, or the Titans that the Bonaventure ran into a couple of years ago?”

“Oh yeah. About four months into my posting, we were in a new star system in uncharted space, preparing to make first contact with a new civilization that had been detected in the area. Everything was going fine when suddenly the ship was rocked back and forth and we were at red alert.”

“Were you on the bridge?” asked one of the other Marines.

“No, no,” said Bel, irritated at the interruption, “I was in the security office. Anyway, we went to red alert and I started running down the corridor to my alert station outside the main shuttlebay when, all of a sudden, the corridor is full of these tiny creatures. They were all pink and about a meter tall and skittering here, there, and everywhere. They were all fuzzy and constantly moving….”

“Wait a minute, wait a minute,” said Heredia, holding up his hands. “You’re telling us that these advanced aliens were meter-tall, pink teddy bears?” They all tried unsuccessfully to hide their grins behind hands or pillows or blankets.

Indignant, Bel replied, “They were not teddy bears. They disabled the shields, the warp core, the weapons systems. They were nasty little things. I was in sickbay for a week afterwards.”

“Hold on,” said Vlad Markovic, one of the veteran members of Kibish’s squad. “Your thick skin can slough off a phaser hit, but pink bunny rabbits put you in sickbay?”

“They weren’t bunny rabbits,” Bel growled. “They were vicious beings…. Okay, I was allergic to their fur.” He never finished his story. The other Marines all cracked up laughing, imagining the sight of the indestructible Bel Kibish, almost 3 meters tall and nearly as wide, able to take on any handful of Jem’Hadar by himself, felled by a sneezing fit caused by tiny pink aliens.

Bel just rolled over in his bunk, pulling his blanket closer about him. “Fine, I should know better than to tell you guys anything,” he muttered. “They did disable a Galaxy Class starship after all.” Finally, he roared, “Just get to sleep, all of you.” 

The rest of the platoon, who had been asleep, awoke at the loud command, only to find the chagrined Brikar apologizing to them from the midst of his hysterical squad.

Command Center
Dominion garrison
1400 hours
D+13 days

Gul Madrel was in a prickly, depressed mood. Of course, what other kind of mood could he be in? For two weeks, his soldiers had been unable to accomplish anything except fall back continuously in the face of the Federation armored onslaught.

There were valuable lessons here for Central Command—if he ever had a chance to deliver them. While the Dominion’s soldiers were superior, one to one, to the Federation’s soldiers—and with the cloning facilities now active, more numerous—the enemy’s armored vehicles and tactics were demonstrably superior. So were their close air support forces. Madrel’s fighters were swept from the sky on the first day and that loss of air superiority added to the troubles his large units were facing.

On the plus side, Jem’Hadar small units were wreaking havoc on the enemy’s rear areas and supply lines, forcing him to commit precious resources to protecting them. And then there was his last line of defense.

“Telakat, give me a progress report on those tunnels.” The aide was standing behind his commander, who was himself looking at a viewscreen showing the wide valley below the garrison.

“The tunnels are just about six kilometers long and the crews are beginning to bring them up toward the surface.”

Without looking around, Madrel said, “Have them wait just underground. I don’t want some vehicle rolling over a few inches of dirt and falling through.”

Telakat acknowledged the order and, unable to restrain himself, asked, “Sir, will we be able to hold on until reinforcements come?”

Madrel turned to face his aide. “They already should have come. The first attempt was beaten back by the Federation fleet. We’ll have to see whether this base is important enough to Central Command to expend the resources to keep it.”

“What are you saying, sir? Are you conceding defeat?”

Madrel looked sharply at his subordinate, saying nothing for a moment, then slammed his fist into a nearby console. “No! I concede nothing.” The Jem’Hadar and other Cardassians in the room snapped their heads around to see the outburst by the mercurial gul. “We have superior forces and an impenetrable fortress. They may lay siege to this base, but we will hold out. If it takes years for reinforcements to break through, we will be here holding this planet.”

Madrel nearly jumped out of his skin when a smooth voice spoke softly and unexpectedly from behind him. “A nice speech, Madrel, but you’re forgetting one thing.” Dahltenn had entered the room unnoticed and slid up beside Madrel as he talked.

“And what is that, Vorta?” His accustomed forced politeness was long gone. It had left him about the time he realized that he faced execution for his failure to defeat the Federation.

“Not here. In my office,” Dahltenn said in a low voice, waving them into the nearby room.

Once inside, Madrel let his annoyance show. “What is it Dahltenn? I have a battle for our very survival to plan. There’s a full division of Federation soldiers out there preparing to break through our walls.”

“It’s not the soldiers outside that you should be worrying about,” he said. He looked around furtively as if expecting someone else to appear out of thin air and intrude on their conversation. “Despite your bravado about holding out for years against a siege, we have much less time than that. We only have about three weeks of ketracel white remaining, and that’s if we stretch out our current supply.”

“What?” Madrel hissed. “How could you let the supply get so low?”

“Since we were cut off from the Gamma Quadrant and it took time to build new production facilities, the supply of white was rationed carefully to all units. We were due to receive another shipment this week that would have lasted us months.”

“What do we do when the white runs out?” Telakat asked.

Madrel replied sourly, “If we don’t get resupplied before then, our surest means of survival is to surrender to the Federation. Because the alternative is worse. And then it will be up to the Federation to deal with thousands of bezerking Jem’Hadar going through white withdrawals.”