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Description
USS Gainesville. (NCC-61647) New Orleans Class

Accompaniment by the following ships:

USS Derringer NCC-56155 - Challenger Class
USS Formosa NCC-32821 - Alberta Class
USS Blackthorn NCC-3315 - Excelsior Class
USS Juno NCC-47733 - Andromeda Class
USS Lakota NCC-42768 - Excelsior Class (Refit)
USS Somerset NCC-25574 - Knox Class
USS Paxton NCC-6680 - Centaur Class
USS Georgetown NCC-15757 - Spokane Class
USS Washington NCC-27163 - Renaissance Class

Current status: Engaged with the enemy in high orbit above Inar II.

“Tactical! Lock torpedoes on that energy bolt and fire!” Vice-Admiral Leslie Parker yelled as the fleet immediate spread out from a single point and began shooting at the massive ships just below them as they raced against time to save two of their own stricken comrades.

“Aye, aye, Admiral! Forward torpedo bays—locked and loaded! Firing full spread! Attack pattern Gamma!” Stephanie called out with some personal excitement and vengeance in mind. She launched them at Point Zero-Delta-Five—as the singular massive energy bolt bore down on the crippled USS Bristol.

The shots detonated the incoming salvo with a wash of hell fire and alien energy—just as the New Orleans class starship slowed down in front of them to take their crippled sister into tow.

“Have the Somerset tractor the Huntsville out of the combat zone. The rest of the fleet—? Continue engaging with extreme prejudice. Do not let them get the drop on you. Stay out of the range of their weapons if you can.” Parker called out from the comfort of her bridge.

“Acknowledge on this frequency.”

Tactical handled the incoming calls with absolute precision—relaying the information to Leslie herself; as the woman watched the action unfold before them.

Arthur was grinning ear to ear. “That was a gutsy move, Leslie. How did you know it was going to be a trap?”

“Just a feeling—which I've had before—in situations like this one.” She said with a bit of humility in mind.

“I can't believe you pushed the fleet to get here just as the action got started.” Janine was saying. “That's just sheer good luck and blessed timing.”

“Eleven hours behind the Bristol and Huntsville.” The woman said with a grin of her own. “I knew we could do it. I had faith in the fleet. And they had faith in me.” Then she resumed her seat a moment later.

“Open a channel to the Bristol. I want to speak with Captain Whitehead.”

Ensign Gerald Manning nodded from his station. “You're on, Admiral.”

“Bristol? This is Vice-Admiral Leslie Parker. USS Gainesville. How are you are guys holding up?”

The view screen changed over from the scene of battle to the dimly lit bridge of the badly wounded Bristol. Leslie didn't need a damage report to see how bad things were first hand.

“Thank you for the timely assist, Admiral. But as you can see, we've been taken out of the fight. So has the Huntsville.” Chad said, coughing and waving away some of the heavy smoke permeating the bridge all around him.

Figures were running around in the background—trying to get a handle on things and lend a hand in basic repairs. A few crew members stepped forward to hand their captain a PADD and a situation report—but things were bad on the wrecked Cheyenne-class vessel.

“We'll have a tractor tow on you in a moment, Captain. Just hang in there. Your engagement gave us some valuable time to analyze the situation. Once we figured out it was a trap—we hauled ass over here as fast as we could at maximum warp.”

“But how did you know things would go bad, Admiral? We weren't expecting anything less than formal relations with these people. But they instead chose to act like we were the invaders and—?”

“It was the sensor readings' analysis from the USS Washington. The weapon signatures were incredibly high to begin with—like nothing we've ever encountered in Federation history. And so, we knew we weren't dealing with standard raiders in these parts—but a possible invasion force.” The woman explained at length. “Once that determination was made—I ordered the fleet to take a shortcut through the densely populated star system N-34 and we jumped to warp soon after. We cut travel time down by six hours and managed to get here just as you were being taken out by the enemy.”

Chad was relieved by the information at hand. But he was also sad at the same time.

“They called us grave robbers, Admiral. The unclean.” He said with a heavy heart. “I think we discovered one of their original home worlds here in this very system.”

“Which one?”

“We're orbiting it. We found strong evidence of a once powerful civilization like none other in all of galactic history. We conducted a standard orbital survey before sending down landing parties for further investigation. We...we found a lot down there in the ruins.”

“Bodies?”

“Negative, ma'am. No bodies. Just artifacts and ancient technologies which we believe dates back tens of billions of our years.”

“Another Old Culture? A super race? Possible Preserver activity?” Leslie ticked off in quiet succession.

“We don't really know. But this civilization predates everything known to our collective societies, sciences, and histories.”

Just then, Arthur stepped forward with an update on the battle.

“The Formosa reports that she and two other allied ships have successfully crippled one of the enemy vessels.” He said in a low voice that only she could hear.

The woman nodded for a second. “Excuse me, Captain. Just one moment—if you please.”

Chad nodded. “Of course.” The man responded evenly—before his image was replaced with one of battle. True to form, one enemy ship was showing heavy damage and on fire from internal plasma ruptures. It couldn't participate in the fight—but as weakly as it tried to flee the scene, it was simply too slow for its bulky impulse engines to ride to the rescue.

If this was any other situation, the woman would have thought differently. But this was not a show of mercy at all. There was no room for it in the here and now.

Starfleet had to flex its proverbial muscles and maintain peace and security throughout the Alpha Quadrant.

“Order units Romeo and Bravo, Tango, and India to that location and have them terminate that ship with extreme prejudice.” She said without a fleck of emotion to her First Officer.

Arthur nodded without hesitation and turned back—grabbing the attention of the communications officer in tow.

“Tell the USS Lakota and her attack squadron they are free to attack the disabled enemy target in question. No survivors.”

“Admiral...?” The ship's helm officer called out.

“Go ahead.”

“Sensors are reporting an engine overload in the USS Derringer. I think she's about to go critical.”

Leslie shifted her stance just a little. “Show me.”

The picture shifted showing the now disabled Challenger-class starship in close proximity to two other allied ships and one enemy target turned away from them to deal with the other fleet vessels.

Her top engine nacelle was sparking like an angry hornet's nest—while the bottom was flickering in and out.

“Have Captain Kevin Strange jettison the damaged nacelle—if they can.”

“They've been trying, sir. For the last few minutes. I've received reports that they've evacuated most of the crew to other nearby ships. All that's left is a small engineering detail and a skeleton command crew. Strange isn't among them.” The communications officer relayed from his station.

Leslie watched helplessly as the valiant ship struggled to save itself before time ran out. But that was taken from them as a bright Jovian bolt punched through the primary hull of the stricken starship—hollowing out the Bridge Module completely in the process.

The critically wounded vessel tumbled away from the scene of the crime—spewing wreckage, bodies, and stray energy particles—before the ship silently exploded into the dead of night.

“I'm sorry, Admiral.” Stephanie Pines reported from her position. “That's the second ship to be reported destroyed in battle. We also lost the USS Somerset five minutes ago. From enemy action.”

“How many units are left?” The woman ventured rigidly.

“We're down to two, ma'am. Enemy unit Number Three was successfully dispatched by the USS Washington, Paxton, and...the USS Georgetown. Captain T'ik's ship.”

The woman nodded in silent triumph. “Have units Delta and Gamma rendezvous with us at this location. Tell the USS Blackthorn to get their shiny butts over here and take over tow duties for the Bristol. Have them vector out of the combat zone at best speed. We've sat this fight out long enough.”

Manning reported something new from his post—just as the Gainesville got underway.

“Admiral? Captain Tabitha Summers of the USS Maranello reports possible contact with the Granite Falls around planet seven of this star system.”

Leslie blinked on that one. “Why didn't the Maranello follow us in like she was ordered to on the initial attack vector into this system?” The woman asked.

“Because her captain reported something new happening in that general area and so she decided to investigate on her own authority. Sir.”

Janine whistled slowly. “Somebody's sleeping in the dog house tonight...” she said under her breath.

Instead of getting mad at one of her starship commanders for breaking their battle orders, the woman decided to let things slide a bit.

“I want Summers to give a give me a status report as soon as possible,” she said bluntly. “Are there any other ships in the area that we can have break off and join her for support ops?”

Arthur raised his hand from his forward monitoring station.

“The USS Paxton is now available, ma'am. They just finished off the disabled enemy ship and awaiting orders.”

“Have Task Force Nebula rejoin the fight with other fleet assets in the area at coordinates Romeo-21.” Leslie ordered once again—keeping tabs on the fight in front of her.

“Where's the USS Washington?”

“Presently engaged with the enemy, Admiral. She and one other ship. The Formosa.”

“Okay, Have Captain Kim Casing of the Paxton break off and go assist the Maranello. Report back any possible enemy ship sightings between here and there.”

“Yes, Admiral.” Manning said and turned back in his seat to do his job.

The woman stepped back and returned to her seat and sat down after about thirty minutes of standing. Hard to believe the battle was taking this long—but then again...they weren't dealing with a normal invasion force either.

Arthur took that opportunity to lean over the railing again and ask another question.

“Admiral?” He ventured slowly.

Leslie looked up. “What's up, Arthur?”

“I was just wondering something.”

“Go ahead.”

“Why didn't we try to make the same peace overtures as the captain of the Bristol did? They might have listened to you.”

“Chad has a lot of experience going for him, Arthur. He used to be in the Diplomatic Corps before joining Starfleet. Three years solid. Which is usually more experience than you actually need in the field. Most candidates only last one year on average.”

“I see.”

“He also spent most of his time in hot zones defusing a lot of potentially explosive situations too. Which made him an invaluable asset to this mission. That's why we had him go off his patrol schedule and go into the system's contested area and try to locate the USS Anchorage.”

“Because you knew that if things were to go south...?”

“—we would need our best diplomat on station.”

Arthur grinned suddenly. “But I thought all starship captains were trained in the art of diplomacy?”

“Watch it, Arthur. I'm an admiral now.”

The other man relented just a little.

“Just checking, Leela.” He teased lightly—the grin still in place.

***

Artwork by Jetfreak-7.

Description
USS Gainesville. (NCC-61647) New Orleans Class

Accompaniment by the following ships:

USS Derringer NCC-56155 - Challenger Class
USS Formosa NCC-32821 - Alberta Class
USS Blackthorn NCC-3315 - Excelsior Class
USS Juno NCC-47733 - Andromeda Class
USS Lakota NCC-42768 - Excelsior Class (Refit)
USS Somerset NCC-25574 - Knox Class
USS Paxton NCC-6680 - Centaur Class
USS Georgetown NCC-15757 - Spokane Class
USS Washington NCC-27163 - Renaissance Class

Current status: Engaged with the enemy in high orbit above Inar II.

“Tactical! Lock torpedoes on that energy bolt and fire!” Vice-Admiral Leslie Parker yelled as the fleet immediate spread out from a single point and began shooting at the massive ships just below them as they raced against time to save two of their own stricken comrades.

“Aye, aye, Admiral! Forward torpedo bays—locked and loaded! Firing full spread! Attack pattern Gamma!” Stephanie called out with some personal excitement and vengeance in mind. She launched them at Point Zero-Delta-Five—as the singular massive energy bolt bore down on the crippled USS Bristol.

The shots detonated the incoming salvo with a wash of hell fire and alien energy—just as the New Orleans class starship slowed down in front of them to take their crippled sister into tow.

“Have the Somerset tractor the Huntsville out of the combat zone. The rest of the fleet—? Continue engaging with extreme prejudice. Do not let them get the drop on you. Stay out of the range of their weapons if you can.” Parker called out from the comfort of her bridge.

“Acknowledge on this frequency.”

Tactical handled the incoming calls with absolute precision—relaying the information to Leslie herself; as the woman watched the action unfold before them.

Arthur was grinning ear to ear. “That was a gutsy move, Leslie. How did you know it was going to be a trap?”

“Just a feeling—which I've had before—in situations like this one.” She said with a bit of humility in mind.

“I can't believe you pushed the fleet to get here just as the action got started.” Janine was saying. “That's just sheer good luck and blessed timing.”

“Eleven hours behind the Bristol and Huntsville.” The woman said with a grin of her own. “I knew we could do it. I had faith in the fleet. And they had faith in me.” Then she resumed her seat a moment later.

“Open a channel to the Bristol. I want to speak with Captain Whitehead.”

Ensign Gerald Manning nodded from his station. “You're on, Admiral.”

“Bristol? This is Vice-Admiral Leslie Parker. USS Gainesville. How are you are guys holding up?”

The view screen changed over from the scene of battle to the dimly lit bridge of the badly wounded Bristol. Leslie didn't need a damage report to see how bad things were first hand.

“Thank you for the timely assist, Admiral. But as you can see, we've been taken out of the fight. So has the Huntsville.” Chad said, coughing and waving away some of the heavy smoke permeating the bridge all around him.

Figures were running around in the background—trying to get a handle on things and lend a hand in basic repairs. A few crew members stepped forward to hand their captain a PADD and a situation report—but things were bad on the wrecked Cheyenne-class vessel.

“We'll have a tractor tow on you in a moment, Captain. Just hang in there. Your engagement gave us some valuable time to analyze the situation. Once we figured out it was a trap—we hauled ass over here as fast as we could at maximum warp.”

“But how did you know things would go bad, Admiral? We weren't expecting anything less than formal relations with these people. But they instead chose to act like we were the invaders and—?”

“It was the sensor readings' analysis from the USS Washington. The weapon signatures were incredibly high to begin with—like nothing we've ever encountered in Federation history. And so, we knew we weren't dealing with standard raiders in these parts—but a possible invasion force.” The woman explained at length. “Once that determination was made—I ordered the fleet to take a shortcut through the densely populated star system N-34 and we jumped to warp soon after. We cut travel time down by six hours and managed to get here just as you were being taken out by the enemy.”

Chad was relieved by the information at hand. But he was also sad at the same time.

“They called us grave robbers, Admiral. The unclean.” He said with a heavy heart. “I think we discovered one of their original home worlds here in this very system.”

“Which one?”

“We're orbiting it. We found strong evidence of a once powerful civilization like none other in all of galactic history. We conducted a standard orbital survey before sending down landing parties for further investigation. We...we found a lot down there in the ruins.”

“Bodies?”

“Negative, ma'am. No bodies. Just artifacts and ancient technologies which we believe dates back tens of billions of our years.”

“Another Old Culture? A super race? Possible Preserver activity?” Leslie ticked off in quiet succession.

“We don't really know. But this civilization predates everything known to our collective societies, sciences, and histories.”

Just then, Arthur stepped forward with an update on the battle.

“The Formosa reports that she and two other allied ships have successfully crippled one of the enemy vessels.” He said in a low voice that only she could hear.

The woman nodded for a second. “Excuse me, Captain. Just one moment—if you please.”

Chad nodded. “Of course.” The man responded evenly—before his image was replaced with one of battle. True to form, one enemy ship was showing heavy damage and on fire from internal plasma ruptures. It couldn't participate in the fight—but as weakly as it tried to flee the scene, it was simply too slow for its bulky impulse engines to ride to the rescue.

If this was any other situation, the woman would have thought differently. But this was not a show of mercy at all. There was no room for it in the here and now.

Starfleet had to flex its proverbial muscles and maintain peace and security throughout the Alpha Quadrant.

“Order units Romeo and Bravo, Tango, and India to that location and have them terminate that ship with extreme prejudice.” She said without a fleck of emotion to her First Officer.

Arthur nodded without hesitation and turned back—grabbing the attention of the communications officer in tow.

“Tell the USS Lakota and her attack squadron they are free to attack the disabled enemy target in question. No survivors.”

“Admiral...?” The ship's helm officer called out.

“Go ahead.”

“Sensors are reporting an engine overload in the USS Derringer. I think she's about to go critical.”

Leslie shifted her stance just a little. “Show me.”

The picture shifted showing the now disabled Challenger-class starship in close proximity to two other allied ships and one enemy target turned away from them to deal with the other fleet vessels.

Her top engine nacelle was sparking like an angry hornet's nest—while the bottom was flickering in and out.

“Have Captain Kevin Strange jettison the damaged nacelle—if they can.”

“They've been trying, sir. For the last few minutes. I've received reports that they've evacuated most of the crew to other nearby ships. All that's left is a small engineering detail and a skeleton command crew. Strange isn't among them.” The communications officer relayed from his station.

Leslie watched helplessly as the valiant ship struggled to save itself before time ran out. But that was taken from them as a bright Jovian bolt punched through the primary hull of the stricken starship—hollowing out the Bridge Module completely in the process.

The critically wounded vessel tumbled away from the scene of the crime—spewing wreckage, bodies, and stray energy particles—before the ship silently exploded into the dead of night.

“I'm sorry, Admiral.” Stephanie Pines reported from her position. “That's the second ship to be reported destroyed in battle. We also lost the USS Somerset five minutes ago. From enemy action.”

“How many units are left?” The woman ventured rigidly.

“We're down to two, ma'am. Enemy unit Number Three was successfully dispatched by the USS Washington, Paxton, and...the USS Georgetown. Captain T'ik's ship.”

The woman nodded in silent triumph. “Have units Delta and Gamma rendezvous with us at this location. Tell the USS Blackthorn to get their shiny butts over here and take over tow duties for the Bristol. Have them vector out of the combat zone at best speed. We've sat this fight out long enough.”

Manning reported something new from his post—just as the Gainesville got underway.

“Admiral? Captain Tabitha Summers of the USS Maranello reports possible contact with the Granite Falls around planet seven of this star system.”

Leslie blinked on that one. “Why didn't the Maranello follow us in like she was ordered to on the initial attack vector into this system?” The woman asked.

“Because her captain reported something new happening in that general area and so she decided to investigate on her own authority. Sir.”

Janine whistled slowly. “Somebody's sleeping in the dog house tonight...” she said under her breath.

Instead of getting mad at one of her starship commanders for breaking their battle orders, the woman decided to let things slide a bit.

“I want Summers to give a give me a status report as soon as possible,” she said bluntly. “Are there any other ships in the area that we can have break off and join her for support ops?”

Arthur raised his hand from his forward monitoring station.

“The USS Paxton is now available, ma'am. They just finished off the disabled enemy ship and awaiting orders.”

“Have Task Force Nebula rejoin the fight with other fleet assets in the area at coordinates Romeo-21.” Leslie ordered once again—keeping tabs on the fight in front of her.

“Where's the USS Washington?”

“Presently engaged with the enemy, Admiral. She and one other ship. The Formosa.”

“Okay, Have Captain Kim Casing of the Paxton break off and go assist the Maranello. Report back any possible enemy ship sightings between here and there.”

“Yes, Admiral.” Manning said and turned back in his seat to do his job.

The woman stepped back and returned to her seat and sat down after about thirty minutes of standing. Hard to believe the battle was taking this long—but then again...they weren't dealing with a normal invasion force either.

Arthur took that opportunity to lean over the railing again and ask another question.

“Admiral?” He ventured slowly.

Leslie looked up. “What's up, Arthur?”

“I was just wondering something.”

“Go ahead.”

“Why didn't we try to make the same peace overtures as the captain of the Bristol did? They might have listened to you.”

“Chad has a lot of experience going for him, Arthur. He used to be in the Diplomatic Corps before joining Starfleet. Three years solid. Which is usually more experience than you actually need in the field. Most candidates only last one year on average.”

“I see.”

“He also spent most of his time in hot zones defusing a lot of potentially explosive situations too. Which made him an invaluable asset to this mission. That's why we had him go off his patrol schedule and go into the system's contested area and try to locate the USS Anchorage.”

“Because you knew that if things were to go south...?”

“—we would need our best diplomat on station.”

Arthur grinned suddenly. “But I thought all starship captains were trained in the art of diplomacy?”

“Watch it, Arthur. I'm an admiral now.”

The other man relented just a little.

“Just checking, Leela.” He teased lightly—the grin still in place.

***

Artwork by Jetfreak-7.