High Level Mystery Meeting

Posted on Wed Sep 25th, 2024 @ 5:30pm by Captain Soto Nabaal & Warrant Officer Wilhelm Paxton Dr. & Lieutenant Commander Eirini Karahaliou & Lieutenant Manuel Falcón & Commander Svetlana "Eve" Zaitseva & Captain Erin Ishikawa & Ensign Jasleen Chakrabarti

3,418 words; about a 17 minute read

Mission: S1M1-Shore Leaving
Location: Starbase 1, Earth orbit, Sol
Timeline: 2157, 2nd of Feburary

Starbase One was the pinnacle of the United Earth Space Navy’s command structure. Home to Fleet Command, and duty posting for the Sol Home Fleet, it was a bright star in the night sky for anyone to look up and see. The bastion from which Earth's defenders stood their watch, and kept the world below safe.

Captain Soto Nabaal knew full well that stations much like this one had stood up no better than wind chimes in a monsoon against the storm raging across the borders of Earth-controlled space. Deep Space Shen-shu had been a sister to Starbase One’s rounded twin tyre style design, and its wreckage still rained down into the gas giant's atmosphere that had become its tomb.

“Sir?”

Soto’s attention was taken off the UESN’s logo on the wall, to the voice calling him back to his present location. A large theatre-style briefing room, one of which he’d been in before over the last few weeks getting high-level briefings on the current state of the war. Though, if he was bleak, he might suggest war was the wrong word for it. War took two sides of equal footing, what was happening out beyond the realms of Utopia and Groombridge, looked more like a rout.

Behind him, a petty officer offered him a bottle of water, which he took with a nod. Looking at the crowd gathered in the briefing theatre. Engineering, communications, and tactical specialities were represented. Alongside them were more specialised arms of the UESN, including a few uniformed soldiers of MACO, the umbrella organisation for Earth's special operations forces. There were two in the white and orange jumpsuits from the Martian proving grounds, Utopia Planitia. No, it was Argyle.

Opening the water, and taking a sip, Soto eyed the gathered sailors and soldiers.

Svetlana, or Eve as she allowed from non-Russians who struggled with the nuances of pronunciation, sat down. With a hiss and a click, her internal systems adjusted, compensating for the change in position. Hers had been a measured pace crossing the briefing theatre that expended as little energy as required. Each step of the way was announced by the distinctive whir of her servomotors which resonated with a persistent hum, their strain evident despite the mostly fluid motion of her limbs which supported her nearly 400kg chassis.

As she sat down, the light reflected off the platinum plated death mask that served as Eve's face. "Good day to you, Captain Nabaal." The lips on Eve's face plate never moved, nor would they ever. Her Russian accent came from a vocabulator embedded in her throat. It sounded organic enough, even if through a broadcast channel. Another hiss from her torso signaled the exchange of air which occurred every one to five minutes, depending on the needs of her ventilation system which was more of a portable iron lung than the standard variety respirator. "Commander Svetlana Ivanova Zaitseva at your service."

A week was not nearly enough to recover from what happened, to visit her family, to even process. But no, every able body was needed back on the lines. Since she hadn't died in the destruction of the Spyglass or been seriously injured, she fell victim to the turnover rate and was to be reassigned post haste right here, right now. Whilst it did her greasemonkey heart good, Eirini wished she'd had more time.

But alas, here she was. Some people were already there. Eirini took a bottle of water proffered by a petty officer and took a seat and waited.

All things considered, Manuel had never expected to find himself in the situation he was currently in. He had turned to the UESN out of a need for direction, and, if one was entirely honest, a need to not be anywhere reachable by those he had thrown under the proverbial bus. Being a traffic controller had hardly been glamorous, but considering his past, being shoved somewhere unremarkable had hardly been unexpected. Then Telus happened, and somehow being alive, available at Earth, and not a complete moron made all that unimportant. He took a seat, discretely but intentionally giving the...whatever the hell one would describe Commander Zaitseva as a decent bit of distance.

Off to the side with the other MACOs Erin Ishikawa observed the assembled Starfleet crew. Besides the cyborg that had commanded the room's presence with her entry, they all looked very green, untouched, too much time staring at blue skies and touching grass. The MACOs while showered, shaved and clean, looked a bit more weathered. Erin herself was still sporting stitches across her brow, bruises fading but still tender. Her left arm was still in its osteo-regenerative brace, slug across her chest. Looking at the group before her she worried for them, so many looked so young, they were in for it. Berengaria hadn't been pretty, it was more like a bloodbath...

"Commander Zaitseva," Soto said with another deferential nod. His dark eyes shifted from the cyborg revenant to the others around the room. He noticed the ship patches on the arms, no singular theme nor ship. His own shoulder was bare of such decoration. "It would appear we are in a tidal pool. I see...Spyglass, Chipawa, and patches from 4th Attack Squadron. It would appear we are here as the rounding errors of tactical calculus. Even the MACO's present appear as such."

TAG-Those nearby to overhear and comment.

"Attention all hands!" came a brisk piercing voice from the main door to the briefing theatre. "Admiral on deck!"

"At ease, every one of you," was the waved-away formality of of a short stocky man with features similar to Soto's but more puggish and robust. The four obsidian-capped pins on his collar, not to mention the rank stripes on his cuffs marked him as the aforementioned admiral. But he was recognised in part due to United Earth's News segment that had labelled him 'The Defender of Spica'. Admiral Uto Park did not look the measure of a hero, but than again in this room no one did.

He ambled to the head of the room, where a briefing lectern had been set up.

"I will cut to the chase," he said once the doors to the briefing room were closed and the eavesdropping countermeasure's lights had turned green. "You are here because we are losing this war."

The briefing screen behind him lit up, showing off a spectacular shot of a planet from orbit. It was marred in its emerald green splendour by the similar coloured dome-shaped prow of a Romulan Cabbage class heavy cruiser. From the still image, a blurry smear of movement could be seen exiting the underside of the craft.

"Romulan weapons are more capable, longer ranged, and their crews have had centuries of rigorous military training to hone skills we humans had put away when we nearly burned ourselves alive. This picture alone came from an escape pod from Hoppalite, a system defence light cruiser stationed by Varrans Star. That smear here," Park gestured. "Chemical weapon: they nerve-gassed the colony as soon as their orbital sentry was taken care of. No warning. No demand. Just a tick on a checklist for rooting out vermin from their new holding."

The image remained for a second, before being replaced by another: a stylised comet shooting across a red delta outline.

"We cannot beat them by emulating their tactics or technology. So we came up with our own," Park nodded to the orange jump-suited contingent at back of the room. "Argyle Proving Grounds on Mars, in partnership with Lockheed-Fugimi and Energia Space Works, have made a breakthrough. They developed the first antimatter reactor at Argyle on Mars, Collosus. Five hundred square miles and enough of a thermal footprint to significantly decrease the Martian terraforming project's timeline."

Park gestured to the logo on the screen.

"The Comet class has a reactor that is only thirty meters long and weighs in at under two thousand tons. Meaning the technology can be scaled for fleet-wide deployment." Park said, looking at Soto. "No more fleet tenders, deep space refuelling sorts, and an increase in ships' firepower and warp factor. The Comet class represents perhaps our best chance, perhaps our only chance, to turn the tide. That is why you are here. Not as survivors. Not as spares. But as those who know the price that has been paid by so many to get us here to now."

The image flickered again, replaced by an angelic figure, arms swept back as though unfurling great silvery wings. UESNS Nike, AC 02.

"You are to become the crew of the Nike, our second antimatter-powered warship. Her sister the Artemis is already on her return shake cruise, and notes from that cruise have already been adapted to the Nike's space frame." Park said. "I am open to questions, if any there be. Consider this a rankless environment, we are of the same breed here."

Eirini's hand shot up immediately, "Karahaliou, of the Spyglass...formerly." Her face fell briefly before she shook herself out of the negative spiral. It was all still so fresh in her mind. "Has her anti-matter loadout been calibrated to account for transmitter power? Is she able to transmit at warp? Our tests showed it was possible but we were taken out before we could get a final confirmation on the results."

"Herr Admiral, I believe I can answer the fräulein's question," the rotund bewhiskered man in an Argyle Proving Grounds jumpsuit said, turning to look at Eirini. "Arzt Paxton, Sub Altern of the Argyle Proving Ground team assigned to the Nike. At the moment transmitter power at warp is insufficient for long-range broadcasts. There is also the subspace variance problem that impacted the Spyglass during her test flight. A miscalibration in either her subspace transmitter array or the prototype antimatter containment bottle, was no doubt to blame for the failure of the tests."

The communication expert's ears picked that up and he didn't like it. "Excuse me, but, Herr Paxton, are you saying the communications systems are compromised while at warp? Having to drop to sub-light speeds to communicate would seem a most unfortunate limitation."

Eirini nodded, "the problem was in the power distribution. The Spyglass was testing the option of being able to stay at warp by fielding power from the anti-matter reactors to power the transmitters, so as to not have the need to drop to sublight to transmit." She said to Falcon, her words coloured by a greek accent. "At present, most ships have the issue of having to choose where to divert power to. Mister Paxton believes it was us, on the Spyglass, that didn't set up the framework properly for the anti-matter power transfers." She glared over at Paxton as she said that before re-focusing on Falcon. "We were a couple tests off at best from hitting the sweet spot and would have done it, had we not been destroyed. Mister Paxton needs to remember that field tests and simulations don't always yield the same results. Which is why field testing is necessary before any major changes are implemented."

"Remain on topic," Admiral Park said coolly, looking at Paxton before looking over to Falcon. "As it stands Starfleet Subspace Communication Ships do still need to drop from warp to relay messages at light speed across interstellar distances. The Spyglass was a modified Marconi class transmitter ship. The Nike is fitted with a prototype transmitter, but field tests-"

He nodded to Eirini.

"-are still required. The Nike is fast, perhaps the fastest ship in the United Earth Stellar Navy. I would not wish to see such a vessel relegated to courier duty, but the needs of the navy might demand it if her combat role is less than fulfilled. Remember," he said to Falcon directly. "It took 6 months for word to travel from Starbase Yu-en to the other side of United Earth space, a bubble of only two hundred light years. If the prototype on the Nike can be made to work as intended at all speeds including superluminal, it would be... game-changing. No more hearing about a battle we lost a week after it had happened. Coordination in real-time across multiple light years, not light seconds."

"If they plugged it in correctly," the nasty little pot-bellied German said.

Erini grit her teeth at the german's dig, her eyes narrowing at him before she refocused on the Admiral, clenching and unclenching her hands on her lap.

The Hispanic man gave the German a less than friendly look, but kept himself from the ascerbic comment he desired to make. "It is only the enlightened ruler and the wise general who will use the highest intelligence of the army for the purposes of spying, and thereby they achieve great results. Not quite the same pieces but the same idea seems applicable" he said instead. He made a mental note to prioritize working with chief engineer on that.

The german said something uncouth and turned away to burrow into the rest of the crowd.

Erin awkwardly raised her right arm, wincing as the brace kept her from actually raising with her usual hand. "Ishikawa, First Expeditionary. What's our role here sir? You expecting to need to drop some gropos or are we just keeping an eye on her?" Not that it didn't sound important to keep the Nike safe and secure, but that's what the Armory personnel were for, MACOs were meant for battle.

"A case of both and no. The MACO detachment assigned to the Nike is being handpicked, with your input following this briefing. The Comet class can go further and faster than any ship in the fleet. Going beyond the front lines, and performing actions beyond their to weaken rear echelon supply chains will be of vital importance. Putting the Romulans on the back foot will, according to Fleet Intel, be more devastating than a thousand starships. They've never lost, until now." Park said.

Now Eve understood why she was here. Thus far she had spent the war planning strategy rather than executing it on the ground. If they were putting her on a state of the art vessel that would be operating behind enemy lines as often as not, then her tactical experience and expertise would be a top asset.

"The purpose of putting an enemy on his back foot is to next put him on his backside," Eve offered. Her digitized voice sounded as though she was speaking through an intercom, which in a way she was. "Fleet Intelligence no doubt has specified targets in mind for the Nike to... devastate."

Jas didn't like the sound of that, sharing a worried glance between her fellow Science Officers. The cluster of blue shouldered explorers were for the most part young, and never thought of signing up for Starfleet might mean signing up to go to war. The Xindi crisis had seems like an anomaly, not a harbinger of death that it was becoming. The murmurs gathered and subsided as someone in the group thought they saw the Admiral looking their way. Elbowing the person next to them, Jas received her own wakeup call to pay attention with a slight squeak.

"Fleet Intel does, but that is a discussion for closed doors," Admiral Park stated. "But something I can share is this: Psychological Operations has scoured every resource available to us from our allies in the Colation of Worlds. And to that end they have discovered that the Romulan Star Empire has never met with defeat. The idea of it is indeed thought to be a cultural taboo for them. Success, or death. Even minor successes, small victories, will have devastating impacts on overall morale and war footing. They are the pulls of our interstellar playground, and you get the chance to put them on their asses. Not to mention such success will have a marked boost our own morale."

"A command of a fast and capable warship with an untested comm system suggests the Nike will have a great deal of autonomy of action," Soto mused.

"Traditionally we've operated our ships in squadrons, relying on the strength of numbers to outweigh the technological edge the Romulans have. The Nike upends that balance, and to that end will be folded into the Special Tasks Group of the 8th Fleet out of Betelgeuse. I can send you a briefing packet, but your ship would be the spear supported by four Bison class cargo ships acting as tenders for resupply and rearming. They are already en route to your Area of Operation so you don't need to wait for them," Park explained.

"Such independent command does not come without risk," Soto added.

"I'm more concerned with winning the war than a commander turning pirate," Park chuckled.

"The difference between a pirate and a commander is the flag they fly," Eve observed. "If they fly one at all. We will do or we will die. There is no more than that."

"Paraphrasing the Charge of the Light Brigade is perhaps not auspicious for such an event as this," Park said. An aid settled onto his shoulder and whispered something into his ear. "Ah, our final guest has arrived. If you'll direct your attention to the view screen on the wall?"

The large briefing screen that had been showing the logos of the United Earth Stellar Navy and the unit patches of the 8th Fleets Special Tasks Group dissolved. In its place was a stark black starscape, dominated on one side by the semi-circular crescent of a half-moon. It was a hull-mounted camera, positioned on an antenna boom somewhere on Starbase One's hull.

Then the image was filled with a new source of light, as a ship dropped from superluminal travel and shed high energy particles returning to relativistic space. It was a human ship, if only because her hull markings were in line with UESN doctrine. But she didn't have the spherical pressure hull that most Earth ships possessed, or even the faring-encased ones that attempted to look lean and sleek in a vacuum. A stretched ovide, mounted on a can, with two nacelles riding on swept-back pylons.

UESNS Nike, AC-2 was emblazoned on her hull.

"Those viewports look peculiar," Soto commented.

"They are. The Vulcans might not be militaristicly involved in this war as the Andorians, but they were more than happy to share their insights into gravity plating. The Comet class is the first ship in the Earth Starfleet with artificial gravity, making her decks staked keel to mast instead of bow to stern," Park commented. "It's also why she can sustain a higher maximum acceleration. In her trails, the Comet reach a sublight speed of .4c. All the while, her crew operated in a single gee of simulated gravity. No acceleration couches, gee sickness."

Park chuckled.

"Of course, the Andorian ambassador to the United Earth Assembly did point out the gravity plating could also be adapted to aid in the focal intensity of 100cm GRAZER canons on her port and starboard. Given the original prototypes were seventy meters long and delicate as salt crystals, well...you will see how good those guns are soon enough."

Eirini did her best to ignore the German and focused on the Admiral's words. "When do we launch? Do we have time for pre-launch testing?"

"The Nike has already undergone her maker's trials and space trails, but the cruise out to Betelguesse will let you get to know the ship a little better than an instruction manual. I wish more time could be had for you to get up to speed," Park said before addressing the room. "Your orders are simple: Proceed to your combat theatre, and take the fight to the enemy. You sail in two days."

Manuel shrugged. That actually wasn't really a bad thing as far as he was concerned. The further he was from Earth the fewer people who wanted him, personally, dead. At least with the Romulans, it wasn't directly personal. He glanced at the mujer ciborg. "I am inclined to listen to the Andorians when it comes to enhancing the deadliness of Isaac Newton. Looks like two laser cannons forward mounted and forward missile tubes. No one valuing their lives should be in front of her, but the Rihannsu are not known for being that stupid," he said.

"Then," Soto said to his crew. "It is our job to educate properly on their errors."

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