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Description
USS Gainesville.

Current deployment: Parameter action support along Sector 16. Grid 19. Coordinates 12-63-11.

Stardate 23142.7

Ships in accompaniment:

USS Formosa NCC-32821 - Alberta Class

USS Blackthorn NCC-3315 - Excelsior Class

USS Juno NCC-47733 - Andromeda Class

Vice-Admiral Leslie Parker tapped on her knee reflexively as she listened to the chatter behind her—as the first image of the USS Juno came into sharp relief on the forward view screen—followed closely by the USS Blackthorn—ten kilometers off the other starship's starboard bow.

“Unit number two...? Away, Vice-Admiral.” Lieutenant (junior grade) Alex Rider reported from his new helm station—having replaced Masterson for the current duty shift.

To the man's left sat Ensign Grix—a Mataran from the Kovaq home world; manning the Navigation station with all due diligence.

Leslie nodded in accordance with the new orders she just received from Starbase 125 and said: “Good job, everyone.” She praised. “We made it just in time for the festivities.”

“But without the Bristol? The Huntsville?” Arthur Yelling stated from his new watch station on the bridge's upper deck. His seat was taken by Doctor Janine Dorchester for the remainder of the duty shift.

“Whitehead and Hanes know the risks—Commander. I gave Ensign Grays full authority on the matter. And having reviewed the ship's logs...? I concur. We may have just found the source of our problems.”

“By trapping the alleged raiders in a bottleneck?”

“Seems like a sensible idea. This is the only way in and out of this part of the Neutral Zone. If it is them, this is the only way they can theoretically come out.” The woman patiently explained—while watching things slowly unfold on the view screen in front of her.

“And by now, both ships should be making contact with the star system itself.”

“But how many raiders will we be looking at, Vice-Admiral?” Arthur asked in a respectful tone of voice. “A war party or a raiding party?”

“Most likely the latter. In groups of 3-5 at best. But usually in situations like this one, that's all you'll ever need.”

The First Officer nodded—before returning to his sensor displays.

“All right. I'll start feeding Callie and Heather all the tactical information we have on the situation so far. Hopefully, it will be enough.”

“Make sure both ships have a clear line of sight when things start to get hot. I don't need wild salvos to start piercing all of Local Space because somebody over my head couldn't aim worth a damn.”

Stephanie Pines smiled as the jab hit home. “I had the stomach flu, and an aunt of a migraine. What can I say?”

“You can thank me for the trouble I went through promoting you to Tactical, Lieutenant. And for being Gina Byers replacement for the next day shift.”

“Yeah. Menstrual cramps are a pain.”

Leslie almost smiled. Almost. “That time of the month, Lieutenant. That time of the month.”

Next to her, Janine sighed. “A third of the ship's female roster reported in for various stomach maladies and menstrual cramps.” she said with heavy annoyance mixed with personal misery of her own.

The other woman turned and looked at her girlfriend with a show of genuine concern.

“You too?”

The doctor moaned softly, eyes closed against the driving pain in her womb.

“You...have to...ask?” She hissed as a fresh wave of agony hit her. The woman quickly produced a hypo of her own and administered a drug to the side of her neck. A hissing noise was heard moments later.

“Now I'm jealous, Doc.” Stephanie could be heard from close by. “Where was that magic stuff when I needed it two months ago?”

Janine didn't say anything at first. Not until the web of pain had a chance to subside. Then she turned and said: “You were home, young lady. On leave in Boise—from what I know of your service record. You didn't come back for the whole summer—until you appeared in my office with a heat rash and second degree sunburns—exactly three days before we were due to depart from Starbase Jericho.”

Leslie winced. “Double ouch.” She murmured. “Never match wits with my girlfriend, guys. She'll burn you all to a crisp every time...”

The new Tactical Officer didn't back down—which surprised Leslie for a second. She thought she was making a classic tactical error on her part; but apparently—she saw—both her girlfriend and Stephanie Pines had some prior history together.

History which Janine never told her about all these years?

That bit an unfounded revelation caused the woman's overall mood to shift just a bit to the right and into some seriously dangerous territory.

Janine suddenly noticed the storm clouds forming over her girlfriend's head and moved to cut things off at the pass.

“Relax.” She whispered into her ear. “Steph and I just had some heated—choice—words in my office during her initial treatment. It was all professional. Nothing personal.”

“So...no low balling? No cheating?”

The other woman laughed lightly. “Baby, if I cheated on you, you wouldn't have a chance in hell of becoming my wife towards the end. And T'ik and I would have some more heated words involving our forebears and ancestors. And many of mine were British royalty from centuries ago. His were...not.”

Arthur was leaning over at the moment—hearing every word.

“Don't let T'ik hear that. He takes his family lineage very seriously.” He said with some open amusement. “Do you want me to take over, Doctor and give you a chance to lie down?”

Janine shook her head. “As much as I find that appealing, Arthur—I'll be simply too busy to find the necessary time to rest. Especially now—since we are entering a possible hostile situation.”

Stephanie rolled her eyes in general annoyance. “Someone's been stealing my thunder again. I can tell.” She quipped archly.

The other woman turned again to face her former patient.

“I spent three months on Tagra III, Lieutenant. With minimal support staff on hand. And in that time, we had seven attacks: Two Klingon raiding parties, two Breen, and three were Cardassian in nature. We lost a lot of ground that year—because our front lines during the border wars were stretched ridiculously thin. Six starships assigned to patrol duties in that area of space were driven off. It took a small garrison of highly trained commandos and three fast attack Vancouver-class starships to come in and beam the rest of the remaining survivors off that world—before making a run for it at high warp. So spare me.”

All the activity on the bridge came to a crashing halt as everyone within range of the angry woman's voice heard that story come flying out of her mouth like a flock of startled pigeons.

Even Stephanie couldn't say anything. Not at first. Arthur's face was completely unreadable too.

Then someone close by said softly: “Dear god...in heaven...”

When Janine recovered her composure, she caught sight of her girlfriend's face and all she could read was pure shock—tinged on horror and misery.

Then she said quietly: “Y-you never told me you were stationed on Tagra III during the border wars...? You told me before you were called up for duty that you were going to Ficus III.”

The doctor shook her head. “We were detoured while en route. Admiral Walter Garret's orders.”

“The same Walter Garret who is...?”

“Captain Rachel Garret's grandfather at the time—yes. The one and the same. The field commander who witnessed the Massacre of Dayton Base.”

“2,346 souls—wiped out.” Arthur whispered. “Jesus, Janine. How much did you have to go through as a first year field medic at the time?”

The woman shrugged indifferently. “Too much—if you ask me, Commander. That's why I don't talk about it much. I used to have nightmares of the wars. People I knew first hand living and then dying in a barrage of disruptor fire; colleagues too. Nobody was really spared in those days. That's why Starfleet had to take drastic measures against the swelling Cardassian Union at the Terok Nor space station—during the final days of the war.”

Leslie nodded quietly. “And all or nothing gambit. I was stationed on the USS Palomino. An aging Alberta-class starship at the time.” She said—filling in for the rest of the story. “Barely thirty-three, a Lieutenant-Commander; not even First Officer material yet—and yet I was in charge of the DC teams onboard ship—answerable to Commander Michael Hunt—the ship's First Officer.”

The Bridge crew fell quiet—except for the occasional status updates and mission report profiles.

Now it was Janine to be surprised.

“In all the years we've been together—even after the border wars were over roughly two years ago—you never once shared with me your experiences of its final days.”

Arthur nodded sympathetically from above their heads as he leaned on the railing for support.

“And for good reason,” he murmured softly. “It was an ugly period in Starfleet history. Way worse than the Four Years War with Klingons which was sparked by the botched first contact meeting between the Empire and the Federation at the Battle of the Binary Stars.”

“2326-2337.” Leslie doled out unofficially. “Though the last year of the war was the bloodiest for both sides in the end.”

“Then came the peace treaty between both forces which ended the conflict. A treaty opposed by then Ambassador Spock and the Klingon Empire at the time.” Arthur revealed. “But it was a done deal. Starfleet won the battle—ending the expansionist dreams of so many in the Detapa Council at the time.”

“But wasn't the Council a civilian body of the Cardassian government? A neutral ruling party?” Stephanie questioned from her post.

“It used to be. I mean...it still is.” Arthur amended quietly. “But the members of that ruling council just got swept up in the naked blood lust of military conquest along many of the contested border routes and neutral zones separating Federation space with non-aligned space, and the Cardassian Union.”

“And the Tholians were super pissed about that—watching as chunks of their acquired planetary assets go poof into the night.” Leslie stated unswervingly. “The Tholian Assembly wanted to declare war against both sides at one point.”

“What stopped them?” Stephanie asked.

Janine spoke up then. “Common sense prevailed.” She interjected smoothly. “That is...until the Cardassians agreed through discreet diplomatic channels that they would stop raiding and occupying their annexed core systems—and cease blaming the Federation for their colossal screw ups in the long run.”

“—which ended up prolonging the war even more so,” Arthur filled in. “And such an event taxed Starfleet even more.”

“Because some in the Cardassian Union believed that the Tholians were indiscreetly siding with the Federation over the matter. So the rumored Obsidian Order overruled the Detapa Council's proposed truce settlements over six contested systems in the S-36 Nebula and ordered more military strikes in covert fashion: Hitting both military and civilian targets over a one hundred light-year radius along the old Northeast Corridor and ending at Starbase 41.” Janine explained at length to everyone present.

“How do you know this?” Arthur wanted to know out of blind curiosity. “Most of that information was never made public. And for good reason.”

The ship's doctor shrugged. “When you're caught behind enemy lines and losing people left and right, whatever you find to pass the time between attacks with...? Ends up becoming some good reading material in the end.”

***

Artwork by Jetfreak-7

Description
USS Gainesville.

Current deployment: Parameter action support along Sector 16. Grid 19. Coordinates 12-63-11.

Stardate 23142.7

Ships in accompaniment:

USS Formosa NCC-32821 - Alberta Class

USS Blackthorn NCC-3315 - Excelsior Class

USS Juno NCC-47733 - Andromeda Class

Vice-Admiral Leslie Parker tapped on her knee reflexively as she listened to the chatter behind her—as the first image of the USS Juno came into sharp relief on the forward view screen—followed closely by the USS Blackthorn—ten kilometers off the other starship's starboard bow.

“Unit number two...? Away, Vice-Admiral.” Lieutenant (junior grade) Alex Rider reported from his new helm station—having replaced Masterson for the current duty shift.

To the man's left sat Ensign Grix—a Mataran from the Kovaq home world; manning the Navigation station with all due diligence.

Leslie nodded in accordance with the new orders she just received from Starbase 125 and said: “Good job, everyone.” She praised. “We made it just in time for the festivities.”

“But without the Bristol? The Huntsville?” Arthur Yelling stated from his new watch station on the bridge's upper deck. His seat was taken by Doctor Janine Dorchester for the remainder of the duty shift.

“Whitehead and Hanes know the risks—Commander. I gave Ensign Grays full authority on the matter. And having reviewed the ship's logs...? I concur. We may have just found the source of our problems.”

“By trapping the alleged raiders in a bottleneck?”

“Seems like a sensible idea. This is the only way in and out of this part of the Neutral Zone. If it is them, this is the only way they can theoretically come out.” The woman patiently explained—while watching things slowly unfold on the view screen in front of her.

“And by now, both ships should be making contact with the star system itself.”

“But how many raiders will we be looking at, Vice-Admiral?” Arthur asked in a respectful tone of voice. “A war party or a raiding party?”

“Most likely the latter. In groups of 3-5 at best. But usually in situations like this one, that's all you'll ever need.”

The First Officer nodded—before returning to his sensor displays.

“All right. I'll start feeding Callie and Heather all the tactical information we have on the situation so far. Hopefully, it will be enough.”

“Make sure both ships have a clear line of sight when things start to get hot. I don't need wild salvos to start piercing all of Local Space because somebody over my head couldn't aim worth a damn.”

Stephanie Pines smiled as the jab hit home. “I had the stomach flu, and an aunt of a migraine. What can I say?”

“You can thank me for the trouble I went through promoting you to Tactical, Lieutenant. And for being Gina Byers replacement for the next day shift.”

“Yeah. Menstrual cramps are a pain.”

Leslie almost smiled. Almost. “That time of the month, Lieutenant. That time of the month.”

Next to her, Janine sighed. “A third of the ship's female roster reported in for various stomach maladies and menstrual cramps.” she said with heavy annoyance mixed with personal misery of her own.

The other woman turned and looked at her girlfriend with a show of genuine concern.

“You too?”

The doctor moaned softly, eyes closed against the driving pain in her womb.

“You...have to...ask?” She hissed as a fresh wave of agony hit her. The woman quickly produced a hypo of her own and administered a drug to the side of her neck. A hissing noise was heard moments later.

“Now I'm jealous, Doc.” Stephanie could be heard from close by. “Where was that magic stuff when I needed it two months ago?”

Janine didn't say anything at first. Not until the web of pain had a chance to subside. Then she turned and said: “You were home, young lady. On leave in Boise—from what I know of your service record. You didn't come back for the whole summer—until you appeared in my office with a heat rash and second degree sunburns—exactly three days before we were due to depart from Starbase Jericho.”

Leslie winced. “Double ouch.” She murmured. “Never match wits with my girlfriend, guys. She'll burn you all to a crisp every time...”

The new Tactical Officer didn't back down—which surprised Leslie for a second. She thought she was making a classic tactical error on her part; but apparently—she saw—both her girlfriend and Stephanie Pines had some prior history together.

History which Janine never told her about all these years?

That bit an unfounded revelation caused the woman's overall mood to shift just a bit to the right and into some seriously dangerous territory.

Janine suddenly noticed the storm clouds forming over her girlfriend's head and moved to cut things off at the pass.

“Relax.” She whispered into her ear. “Steph and I just had some heated—choice—words in my office during her initial treatment. It was all professional. Nothing personal.”

“So...no low balling? No cheating?”

The other woman laughed lightly. “Baby, if I cheated on you, you wouldn't have a chance in hell of becoming my wife towards the end. And T'ik and I would have some more heated words involving our forebears and ancestors. And many of mine were British royalty from centuries ago. His were...not.”

Arthur was leaning over at the moment—hearing every word.

“Don't let T'ik hear that. He takes his family lineage very seriously.” He said with some open amusement. “Do you want me to take over, Doctor and give you a chance to lie down?”

Janine shook her head. “As much as I find that appealing, Arthur—I'll be simply too busy to find the necessary time to rest. Especially now—since we are entering a possible hostile situation.”

Stephanie rolled her eyes in general annoyance. “Someone's been stealing my thunder again. I can tell.” She quipped archly.

The other woman turned again to face her former patient.

“I spent three months on Tagra III, Lieutenant. With minimal support staff on hand. And in that time, we had seven attacks: Two Klingon raiding parties, two Breen, and three were Cardassian in nature. We lost a lot of ground that year—because our front lines during the border wars were stretched ridiculously thin. Six starships assigned to patrol duties in that area of space were driven off. It took a small garrison of highly trained commandos and three fast attack Vancouver-class starships to come in and beam the rest of the remaining survivors off that world—before making a run for it at high warp. So spare me.”

All the activity on the bridge came to a crashing halt as everyone within range of the angry woman's voice heard that story come flying out of her mouth like a flock of startled pigeons.

Even Stephanie couldn't say anything. Not at first. Arthur's face was completely unreadable too.

Then someone close by said softly: “Dear god...in heaven...”

When Janine recovered her composure, she caught sight of her girlfriend's face and all she could read was pure shock—tinged on horror and misery.

Then she said quietly: “Y-you never told me you were stationed on Tagra III during the border wars...? You told me before you were called up for duty that you were going to Ficus III.”

The doctor shook her head. “We were detoured while en route. Admiral Walter Garret's orders.”

“The same Walter Garret who is...?”

“Captain Rachel Garret's grandfather at the time—yes. The one and the same. The field commander who witnessed the Massacre of Dayton Base.”

“2,346 souls—wiped out.” Arthur whispered. “Jesus, Janine. How much did you have to go through as a first year field medic at the time?”

The woman shrugged indifferently. “Too much—if you ask me, Commander. That's why I don't talk about it much. I used to have nightmares of the wars. People I knew first hand living and then dying in a barrage of disruptor fire; colleagues too. Nobody was really spared in those days. That's why Starfleet had to take drastic measures against the swelling Cardassian Union at the Terok Nor space station—during the final days of the war.”

Leslie nodded quietly. “And all or nothing gambit. I was stationed on the USS Palomino. An aging Alberta-class starship at the time.” She said—filling in for the rest of the story. “Barely thirty-three, a Lieutenant-Commander; not even First Officer material yet—and yet I was in charge of the DC teams onboard ship—answerable to Commander Michael Hunt—the ship's First Officer.”

The Bridge crew fell quiet—except for the occasional status updates and mission report profiles.

Now it was Janine to be surprised.

“In all the years we've been together—even after the border wars were over roughly two years ago—you never once shared with me your experiences of its final days.”

Arthur nodded sympathetically from above their heads as he leaned on the railing for support.

“And for good reason,” he murmured softly. “It was an ugly period in Starfleet history. Way worse than the Four Years War with Klingons which was sparked by the botched first contact meeting between the Empire and the Federation at the Battle of the Binary Stars.”

“2326-2337.” Leslie doled out unofficially. “Though the last year of the war was the bloodiest for both sides in the end.”

“Then came the peace treaty between both forces which ended the conflict. A treaty opposed by then Ambassador Spock and the Klingon Empire at the time.” Arthur revealed. “But it was a done deal. Starfleet won the battle—ending the expansionist dreams of so many in the Detapa Council at the time.”

“But wasn't the Council a civilian body of the Cardassian government? A neutral ruling party?” Stephanie questioned from her post.

“It used to be. I mean...it still is.” Arthur amended quietly. “But the members of that ruling council just got swept up in the naked blood lust of military conquest along many of the contested border routes and neutral zones separating Federation space with non-aligned space, and the Cardassian Union.”

“And the Tholians were super pissed about that—watching as chunks of their acquired planetary assets go poof into the night.” Leslie stated unswervingly. “The Tholian Assembly wanted to declare war against both sides at one point.”

“What stopped them?” Stephanie asked.

Janine spoke up then. “Common sense prevailed.” She interjected smoothly. “That is...until the Cardassians agreed through discreet diplomatic channels that they would stop raiding and occupying their annexed core systems—and cease blaming the Federation for their colossal screw ups in the long run.”

“—which ended up prolonging the war even more so,” Arthur filled in. “And such an event taxed Starfleet even more.”

“Because some in the Cardassian Union believed that the Tholians were indiscreetly siding with the Federation over the matter. So the rumored Obsidian Order overruled the Detapa Council's proposed truce settlements over six contested systems in the S-36 Nebula and ordered more military strikes in covert fashion: Hitting both military and civilian targets over a one hundred light-year radius along the old Northeast Corridor and ending at Starbase 41.” Janine explained at length to everyone present.

“How do you know this?” Arthur wanted to know out of blind curiosity. “Most of that information was never made public. And for good reason.”

The ship's doctor shrugged. “When you're caught behind enemy lines and losing people left and right, whatever you find to pass the time between attacks with...? Ends up becoming some good reading material in the end.”

***

Artwork by Jetfreak-7