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Description
Despite their valiant efforts to pull apart the Klingon vanguard that had dug in like a stubborn born Texas tick, Captain Leslie Parker could see that their luck would run out sooner--rather than later.

True to form, the ship's intercom started to fill with damage reports from all decks as the Gainesville began to take a pounding from all sides--even with the volleys of phaser fire and torpedo spreads from all banks.

"We have to do something, Captain!" Arthur barked uncharacteristically over the din of battle as the forward viewscreen continued to see the unrelenting bulldogs of the Klingon Imperial Fleet nipping at their heels as the pocket-sized Galaxy-class frigate took another broadside to her weakened port shields--which sent a cascade of sparks and some fire on a few of the now abandoned Bridge consoles around her.

Leslie gripped the arm rests of her command chair as the ship heaved and bucked and tried her best to get out herself out a really bad situation, but the Klingons ahead and all around them could smell fresh blood as the New Orleans-class ship took a hit to her starboard nacelle and began to leak plumes of drive plasma.

"Engineering says they have to lock it down or we'll be facing a runaway core breach!" Lieutenant John Harris said from his station behind the command dais.

"Do it!" Leslie snapped. "Helm: Course 117 mark 3. Full impulse power! We've done enough here. Now it's time to bring in the cavalry!"

"The Communications Officer looked up from her board. "You want me to send the coded signal?"

"Yes! Send to Captain Tabitha Summers on the Maranello: Operation Star Break is now in effect! Have the Georgetown and the Manitoba flank our retreat--all weapons firing!"

"Aye, aye Captain! Sending out the transmission!"

On the forward viewscreen, everyone waited in tense moments as the Gainesville did her best to make a hasty retreat in the face of overwhelming numbers. Then they heard someone's authoritative voice chime in over an open channel: "Task Force Bravo! Let's show these Klingons we mean business! Clean their chronometers!"

Two seconds later, the massive bulk of the newly commissioned USS Maranello jumped into normal space well ahead of the Gainesville and opened fire on the closest targets available. The Spokane-class cruiser USS Georgetown appeared off the stricken starship's starboard bow and started in on the two incoming Birds of Prey that sensed an easy target from the retreating New Orleans-class cruiser.

The USS Manitoba--a refurbished Excelsior-class ship--delivered successive torpedo volleys to some of the more unsuspecting Klingon ships as the task force went to town on making sure the vanguard orbiting near System G-12 knew who they were up against.

Leslie Parker watched from the comfort of her own chair as the ship continued to make her way slowly out of the combat zone--knowing that their contribution to the cause wouldn't go unappreciated--even if the battle lasted more than the required ten minutes.

But it was ten minutes longer than anyone on the ship would have liked.

"Continue on course, Mr. Masterson. Best speed." The woman instructed with some pent up relief. But inwards, she was drained of all of her strength, composure, and will. It had been a long time in coming and for a few tense moments, she wasn't sure that the ruse would be pulled off with such deliberate finesse.

But here was the results. Here was the rest of her task force doing their duty and saving yet another star system from the insatiable grasp of the Klingon Empire.

Maybe Admiral Jacob Ferris was right: Maybe in a few short years, peace would be the way between the two Alpha Quadrant powers. But right now, Parker's job was to make sure at the end of the day, the standard of Starfleet Command would be waving proudly on a world that would thrive under her protection and grace.

And that meant getting their hands dirty from time to time and taking a beating along with it.

That's the job they all signed up for. Nothing more. Nothing less.

Winner take all...

***

Artwork by Jetfreak-7.

Description
Despite their valiant efforts to pull apart the Klingon vanguard that had dug in like a stubborn born Texas tick, Captain Leslie Parker could see that their luck would run out sooner--rather than later.

True to form, the ship's intercom started to fill with damage reports from all decks as the Gainesville began to take a pounding from all sides--even with the volleys of phaser fire and torpedo spreads from all banks.

"We have to do something, Captain!" Arthur barked uncharacteristically over the din of battle as the forward viewscreen continued to see the unrelenting bulldogs of the Klingon Imperial Fleet nipping at their heels as the pocket-sized Galaxy-class frigate took another broadside to her weakened port shields--which sent a cascade of sparks and some fire on a few of the now abandoned Bridge consoles around her.

Leslie gripped the arm rests of her command chair as the ship heaved and bucked and tried her best to get out herself out a really bad situation, but the Klingons ahead and all around them could smell fresh blood as the New Orleans-class ship took a hit to her starboard nacelle and began to leak plumes of drive plasma.

"Engineering says they have to lock it down or we'll be facing a runaway core breach!" Lieutenant John Harris said from his station behind the command dais.

"Do it!" Leslie snapped. "Helm: Course 117 mark 3. Full impulse power! We've done enough here. Now it's time to bring in the cavalry!"

"The Communications Officer looked up from her board. "You want me to send the coded signal?"

"Yes! Send to Captain Tabitha Summers on the Maranello: Operation Star Break is now in effect! Have the Georgetown and the Manitoba flank our retreat--all weapons firing!"

"Aye, aye Captain! Sending out the transmission!"

On the forward viewscreen, everyone waited in tense moments as the Gainesville did her best to make a hasty retreat in the face of overwhelming numbers. Then they heard someone's authoritative voice chime in over an open channel: "Task Force Bravo! Let's show these Klingons we mean business! Clean their chronometers!"

Two seconds later, the massive bulk of the newly commissioned USS Maranello jumped into normal space well ahead of the Gainesville and opened fire on the closest targets available. The Spokane-class cruiser USS Georgetown appeared off the stricken starship's starboard bow and started in on the two incoming Birds of Prey that sensed an easy target from the retreating New Orleans-class cruiser.

The USS Manitoba--a refurbished Excelsior-class ship--delivered successive torpedo volleys to some of the more unsuspecting Klingon ships as the task force went to town on making sure the vanguard orbiting near System G-12 knew who they were up against.

Leslie Parker watched from the comfort of her own chair as the ship continued to make her way slowly out of the combat zone--knowing that their contribution to the cause wouldn't go unappreciated--even if the battle lasted more than the required ten minutes.

But it was ten minutes longer than anyone on the ship would have liked.

"Continue on course, Mr. Masterson. Best speed." The woman instructed with some pent up relief. But inwards, she was drained of all of her strength, composure, and will. It had been a long time in coming and for a few tense moments, she wasn't sure that the ruse would be pulled off with such deliberate finesse.

But here was the results. Here was the rest of her task force doing their duty and saving yet another star system from the insatiable grasp of the Klingon Empire.

Maybe Admiral Jacob Ferris was right: Maybe in a few short years, peace would be the way between the two Alpha Quadrant powers. But right now, Parker's job was to make sure at the end of the day, the standard of Starfleet Command would be waving proudly on a world that would thrive under her protection and grace.

And that meant getting their hands dirty from time to time and taking a beating along with it.

That's the job they all signed up for. Nothing more. Nothing less.

Winner take all...

***

Artwork by Jetfreak-7.