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Stardate 87506.7

His vision was black. He couldn’t see anything. He couldn’t hear anything either. Nothing except a terrible ringing sound.

As the seconds passed though, that changed. The ringing began to fade out, becoming less and less prominent. Instead, replacing it, he could hear what sounded like an alarm repeating itself. It was a familiar sound, one that he had heard many times, always in moments of trouble. But something wasn’t right, it was distorted, broken. He wasn’t sure it was because of whatever happened to him, or if the alarm itself. But he then began to hear more sounds, and with that, voices, some of which were filtered through a static-like form.

“….This is the Bunker Hill, we can’t sustain any more hits…”

…The captain is dead and I’ve taken command of the ship, we’re going to try to…”

“…Engines are destroyed and we can’t contact anyone below deck 6. There are hull breaches across the entire ship….”

“…This is the Paladin, we’re assuming command of the fleet, all remaining ships form up…”

…Sickbay is gone, over 150 are dead and radiation is spreading out from engineering, if any ship can hear this…

…Warp core breach is imminent! We can’t hold her! We need….

As he listened to voices crying out in distress, realisation dawned on him, on where he was and what was happening. The captain of the Enterprise, Va’kel Shon, raised himself out from the chair he was sitting in, stumbled forward onto his knees for a moment and opened his eyes. As his vison cleared and he could get a better look around himself, laid before him was the bridge of his ship, ruined and in chaos. The bridge crew were still there with him, but he could not see all of them. Thoese still standing were haggard, with a few looking like they were in a state of shock and some were laying on the floor motionless. The viewscreen in front of him had been entirely ripped off from the floor and now lay mostly face down and in pieces on the floor. Almost none of the holo-displays for the consoles were active anymore, with the crew that were still standing now using the emergency tactile backups that had emerged from the console panels, though many of these looked like they had been broken too. At least two small fires were raging from ruptured EPS conduits in the walls, one behind and another in front of him. A Bolian crewmen ran over to the one facing in front him and began dousing it with a fire extinguisher in his hands.

“Captain! Captain!” a voice called out to his right side.

Shon turned his head and saw Commander Winters, his first officer, running up to him. It looked like he had been thrown from his chair but got lucky, the fall didn’t seem to have hurt him too badly, he only was forced to roll across part of the bridge’s floor. The same couldn’t be said for the Suarian officer several feet to his left, who was trapped underneath a steel girder and unmoving, while Counsellor Mathias and Lt Commander Inasi kneeled around him, trying to apply the contents of a medpack they must have taken from the bridge’s emergency supply to try to help him, while another officer, their Bajoran conn officer, ensign Mikka Ral, was trying to lift the girder off. Winters soon approached Shon and took hold of him, wrapping hist arm around his back while pulling his head under Shon’s right arm.

“Captain, I got you, take it easy.” Winters then secured his hold on Shon’s left shoulder and leveraging his own weight, was able to pull him back up to his own feet. The captain stood shakily and had to fight to maintain his balance for a moment, but nevertheless, he stood.

Stat…arrh,” he groaned, his head still pounding with pain, his balance uneven. He was pretty sure he had lost part of right antennae, he couldn’t feel much of it, even pain. He reached a hand up to the top of his head and felt what must have been blood around his scalp. It began dripping in front of his face as he retuned his hand back to side but he ignored it. He pushed himself to ignore everything else he was feeling in this moment too. He had to regain control the situation. He had to help his crew, get them out of this.

“Status report!” he called again.

“Sir, we took a hit from their flagship, right across the port side.” Called out the ships’ operations officer, Lieutenant Jirelle Kav from her station to side of the captain’s chair. She looked like she received several cuts across the left side her face, but nothing that a dermal regenerator couldn’t heal.

“How bad?”

Kav shook her head. “Catastrophic, sir. Casualty reports are still coming in from all over the ship. Dr Savel is inundated in sickbay right now. We’ve lost the entire port nacelle and most of that side of the saucer. We can’t raise the Aquarius on comms either.”

Shields and weapons systems are fried sir,” his tactical officer, the Caitian Lieutenant kyona, added from his station behind the captain’s chair. Patches of her fur looked burned and others were on end, likely from parts of her console exploding in front of her. Again, no wounds that looked on the level of being life-changing though, such miracles Shon was thankful for as long as they lasted. “We can’t fight back anymore.”

A terrible thought occurred to Shon in that moment.

“Need to know…if we are in danger of a core breach.” Shon tapped his combadge. “O’Brian, are you still there?”

It took a few seconds for a response to come through. “Barely sir. It’s good to hear you’re still there. Engineering is burning and we’ve got casualties down here.”

“What’s the status of the warp core?”

“Had to eject it just now. But sir, we now have no impulse, no warp and no power for much of anything else. We’re dead in the water.”

So that was it then. They were defenceless, motionless and crippled. He had been in this exact situation before, on the Belfast, his previous command. Only a year ago, he had chosen to use that ship to cover the escape of another that was on an important mission as it evaded a determined enemy that would have overwhelmed them. He and his crew held the enemy off long enough for them to run, but at the price of losing the Belfast, him and his crew only barely escaping it’s destruction. Now, with no other options he could see left, it looked like he was going to lose the Enterprise in the same way too.

With a heavy sigh, Shon tapped his combadge once, it chirping to indicate it was still active.

Jirelle, put me through ship wide.

She nodded, a little uncertain at what he was asking, but nevertheless followed the order through, moving to her station and entering a series of commands before turning her head back.

“Your on sir.”

With that, he gave the order.

“Attention all hands. Abandon ship. All crew to the escape pods and shuttlecraft immediately.”

The rest of the officers on the bridge took a moment, the shock and defeat apparent on their faces. It passed quickly. They knew that the captain was right. But that didn’t make the order any less ess painful or dilute their anger at the reality of their situation.

Shon turned back to Winters.

“Commander, start getting the bridge crew to the escape pods, I’ll stay behind and co-ordinate teams to get the wounded…”

Then Kyona called out from her station once more.

“Sir, the Iconian flagship, she’s about to fire on us again!” she warned, pointing directly towards the beige’s front window.

Shon and the rest of the crew looked out at the massive ethereal-like terror of a starship just outside the bridge window, watching as the weapon ports aboard it charged up to fire another volley. Several other ships from their fleet tried to fire on it, but they weren’t getting through it’s shields and were themselves being fired upon by the flagship’s escorts.

Shon ran through every idea he could think of, every strategy that could be devised. But in that moment, none of them would work, not in time before the Iconians fired a shot that would for sure finish off the Enterprise. There was no time left.

Shon had never been one for accepting defeat. For an officer to become captain of the Enterprise, that mindset was practically required. Kirk didn’t. Picard didn’t. None of it’s captains did. Even those who suffered for that choice. And he hadn’t either, not after losing his family to the Borg. Not after losing the Belfast. Probably helped being an Andorian, his people never were ones to back down from a challenge. He may have had to retreat from untenable battles, he may have needed to change plans to adjust for the situation. He didn’t want to accept it here, now.

And he wouldn’t. He knew that this was probably his final moments. That maybe nothing more could be done. But if it was, he was not going to submit to fear now.

He tapped his combadge once more “All crew to escape pods immediately!” He then turned to his senior officers, “All of you, move, now! I’ll do what I can with the ship to get you out of here”. He sat back down in the captain’s chair and began punching commands, seeing if he could at least get the transporters and emergency systems some extra power. He wasn’t sure if his crew were doing as he ordered and moving or if they had decided to stay despite what he told them, he kept himself focused on trying to give them every advantage he could right now. That said, he did spare himself one thought though.

Tress…I’m sorry…guess I’ll be seeing you and our girl soon.

As he stared down the enemy ship bearing to fire on them and accepted this as the end, a flash appeared in front of the bridge window, drawing back his and the crew’s attention.

The temporal portal opened by the Annorax, the timeship built by the Krenim Imperium’s remaining survivors to aid the Alliance as one final desperate chance to end the war. It was still there. And speeding out of it were three ships. First, A Klingon command cruiser, followed by a Starfleet vessel and finally an older Dominion battleship.

“Sir, Kagran, Sela and the Excalibur…they’re back!” exclaimed Tem.

Shon watched as the Excalibur, speeding towards the Enterprise performed a sharp about turn, about 150 degrees, firing it’s thrusters at full power in order to slow and stop its momentum to put the ship at a quick stop in a manoeuvre not often employed on larger capital ships, placing itself alongside the Enterprise and directly challenging the Iconian flagship, drawing it’s attention toward it instead.

They made it. They made it back through time and they were back now. But…nothing had changed. The Iconians were still out there. The battle was still raging and as far as he knew, he could still recall every aspect of the Iconian invasion since it began several months ago, as well as all the knowledge he had of them. But that can’t be right. The plan was for the Anorax to open a time portal to the day Iconia fell hundreds of thousands of years ago and for any Alliance forces that made it through to ensure that fall was permanent. It was not something he had fully agreed with, but in the face of the devastation wrought by the Iconian’s ruthlessness, and with seemingly no other options available that could work in time, there was little other choice in how they win this. Had they failed though? Had their last hope and all the sacrifices made for it been for nothing? Or…did something else happen?

“Receiving a transmission from the Klingon flagship sir.” Stated Kav, who had returned back to her station.

“Patch it through”, Shon ordered. In moments, the voice of the Klingon general bean to speak over the Enterprise’s comms system.

“Captain Kagran to Alliance fleet. Stand down. I repeat, stand down.”

“Stand down?” Winters asked in shock.

“He’s not serious, is he?” followed Kyona, incredulously. Before anyone else spoke though, Shon raised his hand.

“Wait. Everyone wait. Whatever Kagran is doing, it seems he’s got a plan and if nothing else, they’ve bought us some time, so let’s use it. Continue with evacuation efforts, get the crew to the escape pods and see if we can’t get any other ships out there to help beam them off.”

“Aye sir!” his officers responded in unison. Now was not a time waste. Whatever Kagran and the others were doing, it had given them the reprieve Shon was desperately looking for. He’d get as many of his crew off as he could and get them to safety. They weren’t out of the game just yet.

He hoped though, that whatever his allies were doing out there, it might actually be the factor that finally swung things in their favour. That maybe, just maybe, it would snatch for them victory from the jaws of defeat.

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“Sir Admiral Quinn is ordering what’s left of our fleet to rally around us.” Called out Excalibur’s operations officer, Lieutenant Sam Armstrong, to Captain McNight. He quickly processed this knowledge before moving quickly to his next question.

“What about the Enterprise?”

“The Ranger is moving in to keep her safe and evacuate her crew. Some other ships are trying the same with other crippled vessels while they can, but there are few in range.”

“And Spacedock?”

“Still holding out, with Defiant, Chimera and the remaining ships of the 99th trying to shield it, but if she takes any more hits, she’ll lose power and Earth’s defence shield will be vulnerable to being breached.”

And the Iconians effectively have us trapped sir.” His Andorian first officer, Anthi, reported. “They have practically the entire planet surrounded and have ships across the entire solar system. If they fire, we will not last long.”

So the situation had stayed the same, if not worse with the Enterprise now crippled. A part of him had hoped, despite everything, that maybe they’d come back to a time where the war never happened. But he knew, with nothing having been changed in the past that it would not happen. Instead, they had returned to same nightmare they had left, for themselves at least, only hours ago.

He had seen this kind of carnage over Earth before twice now. Most recently was a year ago, when the Undine, an extradimensional species of shapeshifters from the realm known as Fluidic Space, under the command of a treacherous member of their own who sought to spread chaos throughout the Milky Way to aid in the return of his true masters, had performed a surprise attack against the planet’s orbital installations in order to, incredibly, distract from their true bigger assault on Qo’nos, both of which they were able to stop. And before that was nine years ago, when the remnants of the fallen Borg Collective, desperate and vengeful, hijacked control of the Federation’s fleet and forced it to attack its own capital on Frontier Day.

The day which changed his life forever.

Now, here he was again, staring down another hostile fleet that sought to burn his world down to ashes. He only hoped that their trip to Iconia’s past and the precious cargo they now held would finally make the critical difference they direly needed today.

“Sir, Kagran is hailing, us.” Sam called out again.

“On screen, quickly.”

On the screen appeared the visage of the slightly older but experienced Klingon warrior. He wasted no time in issuing orders. “You have the World Heart and the means to end this! Signal the Iconians, show them that we have it and that we are the ones who saved them. This is our last chance to end this war.”

McKnight nodded and gestured to his tactical officer, Lt, Commander Wayford.

“Booker, raise the Iconian flagship now. Lower our shields, power down weapons, tell them we want to discuss terms, do whatever it takes to get their attention.”

The short-haired Human former MACO veteran gave his captain a look as if he was considering that he had lost his mind. But after a moment, with Mcknight looking directly to his face with an expression trying to convey as much as he could that he knew what he was doing, he relented.

“Aye sir.”

He turned back and now on the viewscreen, replacing the image of Kagran, appeared the strange energy-infused visage of the Iconian known as L’Miren, who McKnight had met only moments ago in her distant past and who had now become the leader of the Iconians since the death of their original leader, M’Tara, earlier in the war. Her six blue eyes stared menacinglyat him, filled with anger.

“Do you wish to surrender? A wise decision.” McNight raised himself out of the captain’s chair and walked forward to the viewscreen, staring down the angry ancient.

“No L’Miren. We have just returned from the past. Your past. And we the World Heart to prove it.”

With that, McKnight inputted several commands onto his wrist mounted tricorder, then reached reach out his hand as a metallic, round, volleyball sized object materialised in his hand, emerging into existence again from his personal transport buffer. The Iconian only needed several seconds to realise what it was he was now holding.

“How…how did you acquire that?” L’Miren asked in shock, her eyes wide in astonishment and seemed to float back several feet away from the viewscreen. It was strange, seeing what was essentially an all-powerful being who had been waging a devastating war against his people appear in shock. But he wouldn’t let himself get distracted by that for now, he had her undivided attention now, so he pushed forward.

“We saved it, We were there when Iconia was lost.”

She shook her head. “That is not possible! But yet…I see the World Heart in your hands.”

She was beginning to understand. Good. She was now realising who he was. That he and his crew were the ones on Iconia the day it fell who helped to save her and the last of her people, guided them past the attacks of their enemies of that time, through their burning city as it was destroyed by orbital bombardment and to one of their gateways to safety beyond their home world. It was not their original plan. The exact opposite in fact. But it gave them a chance. If he could pull on this thread, remind her and the other Iconians of who they are, that they were in fact the ones who saved them from total annihilation and that they were not their enemies, then maybe they would call this whole thing off.

It was desperate. Completely on a wing and a prayer. So he hoped that both the divine and demonic were listening to his voice right now.

After a moment composed herself, L’Miren spoke up once more, her expression no longer angry or confused, but now steeled and resolved.

“It is time to end this. Your leaders, Our unity. Now.” With that, a warning beep emitted from Booker’s console. One McKnight recognised as the security system logging an unauthorised transport.

And then he felt the air around himself begin to swirl.

“Wait…!”

And with that, the bridge of the Excalibur disappeared from Mcknight’s vision, replaced for a moment with what seemed like a black cloud swirling around him which quickly parted to reveal him to be in another location.

The bridge of the Iconian flagship.

He looked quickly around himself, assessing his situation. The bridge felt cavernous, not for the actual space it offered, but more for the massive open and commanding view it offered of the surrounding space outside of the ship, with his ship and remaining ship directly opposite where he faced, the damaged Spacedock slightly to his right and Earth itself looming beyond that. He couldn’t even tell if there was any glass separating him from the void of space or a forcefield instead. It felt less like standing on a starship’s bridge than it did on a platform on which gods would observe the worlds outside and decide their fate, which in many respects was indeed the case here.

Immediately before him stood L’Miren in the (crystalline?) flesh, as well T’ket, the Iconian’s main military general, or at least their equivalent to such a role, whom he had helped to wound not too long ago, causing her to lose most of her left arm. It looked like they had just been in the middle of a heated argument, one that didn’t make it far before he had appeared. No one else was with them, no guards. They didn’t need them. They both regarded him, silently L’Miren with guarded intent and T’ket with barely constrained rage. It felt like he was being looked at as if he was only an ant to them, one that had their complete attention though. One wrong move and they would squash him.

Mcknight took a deep breath, understanding that everything rested on his shoulders now. Whatever happened next, whatever he did or said, would decide how this war ended. It would decide if the Galaxy as he knew it would live on, or if it would end in fire.

He took his breath, exhaled, calmed himself as much as his nerves would allow and began to walk to meet the Iconians.

He would do what a Starfleet officer always does. He would talk.

He would make it count.

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The Iconian War of 2410 was one of the briefest but bloodiest conflicts the Milky Way Galaxy had seen. Over the course of several months, the largest, most technologically advanced fleet ever recorded in recent galactic history ravaged systems and sectors across every quadrant of the Galaxy. The battle hardened fleets of the Federation, Klingon Empire, Romulan Republic and many others fought against a seemingly endless and powerful tide that they could not overcome, even with many among them preparing for this conflict. Conventional defences and warfare no longer worked as Iconian ships, utilising their network of gateways that allowed for instant travel across space, appeared out of nowhere directly within any system they pleased, making worlds once considered safe bastions like Earth, Qo’nos and New Romulus into regular battlefields.

Millions would die, entire planets were ravaged or destroyed and even some species, including the ancient Preservers who had been found only recently to have survived in stasis, were seemingly wiped out. Others, like the Krenim, were left devastated. Only those lucky enough to not be considered a threat or hidden away in systems not of interest of the Iconians were spared their wrath. And wrathful they were, attacking every major spacefaring nation, seeking vengeance for what a collection of long-extinct species did to them that led to the fall of the Iconian civilisation in its golden age and the near extinction of their own people. So shattered as a people and so filled with a longing for revenge that they refused to acknowledge that their victims had played no role in that downfall and had caused them no harm, and that they themselves had now become worse than those who originally destroyed Iconia.

Knowing that the war was certain to be lost unless radical action was taken, the major powers turned to any alternative that offered hope. Among these options was the use of time travel, specifically a form offered by the survivors of the Krenim that would allow for the alteration of the past without an ensuring paradox effect that would undo the change. After a failed attempt to kill or capture the Iconian leadership which ended in disaster that only enraged the Iconians further, this remaining option was chosen to end the war. Finished just in time as the Iconians began an assault on Earth that threatened to finally breach it’s defenses, the KIS Annorax was deployed and an allied taskforce sent through a time portal into Iconia’s past, while allied forces defended the planet, including a surprising detachment of ships from the Dominion, which had been previously keeping to itself during the conflict until reached out by former Romulan Empress Sela.

The details of this mission to the past are not known, classified among the highest levels of the Federation, Klingon Empire and Romulan Republic. But regardless, the mission was a success. Despite no seeming change to the timeline, the individuals who were sent back in time were able to form some kind of understanding with the Iconians of the past, who still survived into the present as its current leadership, and even aided in saving their species when Iconia was originally attacked in the past. This act was remembered and revered by the surviving Iconians who, upon recognising those they were attacking as their original saviours, were humbled and immediately called off their forces across the Galaxy. Within an instant, the Iconian War was, for the most part, over.

While one Iconian did not accept this truce and continues to wage a campaign against the Milky Way Galaxy, their ability to do so has been rendered practically ineffectual, commanding only a miniscule fraction of the power they once had with a single fleet of loyalists that does not have the power to challenge the Milky Way’s nations, while the remaining 99% of the Iconian Whole agreed to a permanent ceasefire with the rest of the Galaxy, returning to their former home world, now protected within a Dyson sphere of their creation.

The Milky Way continues to reel from the effects of this conflict and even now continues to rebuild and pick up the pieces. Not since the Borg and the Undine was there such a threat to our continued existence, nor such an understanding among many of how much more powerful entities exist amongst the Universe, easily capable of wiping out our civilisation with ease. This reminder of the fragility of life and existence continues to permeate across much of society.

As for the Iconians, they remain isolated within their dyson sphere. Despite calls for justice and reparation from some quarters, the powers of the Galaxy continue to honour the agreement made at the war’s end stipulating the Iconian’s remain in isolation at their home world, with the Iconia system completely banned to all under General Order 7.

It remains to be seen if the Iconians will ever fully return to galactic affairs. But for now, for the sake of hard-won peace, the warning is clear to all:

Attempt no travel to Iconia.

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An early Christmas present, courtsey of Jetfreak.

Wanted to end the year with a big one and I'd say this delivers. Another key moment from one of Trek's games, as interpretered in this particular way. As always, the are several references here and there throughout the story. Looking forward to whatever awaits for these these series next year!

Credit for this great commission goes to

Star Trek and alll it's associated properties are copyrighted and property of it's respective owners

Description
Stardate 87506.7

His vision was black. He couldn’t see anything. He couldn’t hear anything either. Nothing except a terrible ringing sound.

As the seconds passed though, that changed. The ringing began to fade out, becoming less and less prominent. Instead, replacing it, he could hear what sounded like an alarm repeating itself. It was a familiar sound, one that he had heard many times, always in moments of trouble. But something wasn’t right, it was distorted, broken. He wasn’t sure it was because of whatever happened to him, or if the alarm itself. But he then began to hear more sounds, and with that, voices, some of which were filtered through a static-like form.

“….This is the Bunker Hill, we can’t sustain any more hits…”

…The captain is dead and I’ve taken command of the ship, we’re going to try to…”

“…Engines are destroyed and we can’t contact anyone below deck 6. There are hull breaches across the entire ship….”

“…This is the Paladin, we’re assuming command of the fleet, all remaining ships form up…”

…Sickbay is gone, over 150 are dead and radiation is spreading out from engineering, if any ship can hear this…

…Warp core breach is imminent! We can’t hold her! We need….

As he listened to voices crying out in distress, realisation dawned on him, on where he was and what was happening. The captain of the Enterprise, Va’kel Shon, raised himself out from the chair he was sitting in, stumbled forward onto his knees for a moment and opened his eyes. As his vison cleared and he could get a better look around himself, laid before him was the bridge of his ship, ruined and in chaos. The bridge crew were still there with him, but he could not see all of them. Thoese still standing were haggard, with a few looking like they were in a state of shock and some were laying on the floor motionless. The viewscreen in front of him had been entirely ripped off from the floor and now lay mostly face down and in pieces on the floor. Almost none of the holo-displays for the consoles were active anymore, with the crew that were still standing now using the emergency tactile backups that had emerged from the console panels, though many of these looked like they had been broken too. At least two small fires were raging from ruptured EPS conduits in the walls, one behind and another in front of him. A Bolian crewmen ran over to the one facing in front him and began dousing it with a fire extinguisher in his hands.

“Captain! Captain!” a voice called out to his right side.

Shon turned his head and saw Commander Winters, his first officer, running up to him. It looked like he had been thrown from his chair but got lucky, the fall didn’t seem to have hurt him too badly, he only was forced to roll across part of the bridge’s floor. The same couldn’t be said for the Suarian officer several feet to his left, who was trapped underneath a steel girder and unmoving, while Counsellor Mathias and Lt Commander Inasi kneeled around him, trying to apply the contents of a medpack they must have taken from the bridge’s emergency supply to try to help him, while another officer, their Bajoran conn officer, ensign Mikka Ral, was trying to lift the girder off. Winters soon approached Shon and took hold of him, wrapping hist arm around his back while pulling his head under Shon’s right arm.

“Captain, I got you, take it easy.” Winters then secured his hold on Shon’s left shoulder and leveraging his own weight, was able to pull him back up to his own feet. The captain stood shakily and had to fight to maintain his balance for a moment, but nevertheless, he stood.

Stat…arrh,” he groaned, his head still pounding with pain, his balance uneven. He was pretty sure he had lost part of right antennae, he couldn’t feel much of it, even pain. He reached a hand up to the top of his head and felt what must have been blood around his scalp. It began dripping in front of his face as he retuned his hand back to side but he ignored it. He pushed himself to ignore everything else he was feeling in this moment too. He had to regain control the situation. He had to help his crew, get them out of this.

“Status report!” he called again.

“Sir, we took a hit from their flagship, right across the port side.” Called out the ships’ operations officer, Lieutenant Jirelle Kav from her station to side of the captain’s chair. She looked like she received several cuts across the left side her face, but nothing that a dermal regenerator couldn’t heal.

“How bad?”

Kav shook her head. “Catastrophic, sir. Casualty reports are still coming in from all over the ship. Dr Savel is inundated in sickbay right now. We’ve lost the entire port nacelle and most of that side of the saucer. We can’t raise the Aquarius on comms either.”

Shields and weapons systems are fried sir,” his tactical officer, the Caitian Lieutenant kyona, added from his station behind the captain’s chair. Patches of her fur looked burned and others were on end, likely from parts of her console exploding in front of her. Again, no wounds that looked on the level of being life-changing though, such miracles Shon was thankful for as long as they lasted. “We can’t fight back anymore.”

A terrible thought occurred to Shon in that moment.

“Need to know…if we are in danger of a core breach.” Shon tapped his combadge. “O’Brian, are you still there?”

It took a few seconds for a response to come through. “Barely sir. It’s good to hear you’re still there. Engineering is burning and we’ve got casualties down here.”

“What’s the status of the warp core?”

“Had to eject it just now. But sir, we now have no impulse, no warp and no power for much of anything else. We’re dead in the water.”

So that was it then. They were defenceless, motionless and crippled. He had been in this exact situation before, on the Belfast, his previous command. Only a year ago, he had chosen to use that ship to cover the escape of another that was on an important mission as it evaded a determined enemy that would have overwhelmed them. He and his crew held the enemy off long enough for them to run, but at the price of losing the Belfast, him and his crew only barely escaping it’s destruction. Now, with no other options he could see left, it looked like he was going to lose the Enterprise in the same way too.

With a heavy sigh, Shon tapped his combadge once, it chirping to indicate it was still active.

Jirelle, put me through ship wide.

She nodded, a little uncertain at what he was asking, but nevertheless followed the order through, moving to her station and entering a series of commands before turning her head back.

“Your on sir.”

With that, he gave the order.

“Attention all hands. Abandon ship. All crew to the escape pods and shuttlecraft immediately.”

The rest of the officers on the bridge took a moment, the shock and defeat apparent on their faces. It passed quickly. They knew that the captain was right. But that didn’t make the order any less ess painful or dilute their anger at the reality of their situation.

Shon turned back to Winters.

“Commander, start getting the bridge crew to the escape pods, I’ll stay behind and co-ordinate teams to get the wounded…”

Then Kyona called out from her station once more.

“Sir, the Iconian flagship, she’s about to fire on us again!” she warned, pointing directly towards the beige’s front window.

Shon and the rest of the crew looked out at the massive ethereal-like terror of a starship just outside the bridge window, watching as the weapon ports aboard it charged up to fire another volley. Several other ships from their fleet tried to fire on it, but they weren’t getting through it’s shields and were themselves being fired upon by the flagship’s escorts.

Shon ran through every idea he could think of, every strategy that could be devised. But in that moment, none of them would work, not in time before the Iconians fired a shot that would for sure finish off the Enterprise. There was no time left.

Shon had never been one for accepting defeat. For an officer to become captain of the Enterprise, that mindset was practically required. Kirk didn’t. Picard didn’t. None of it’s captains did. Even those who suffered for that choice. And he hadn’t either, not after losing his family to the Borg. Not after losing the Belfast. Probably helped being an Andorian, his people never were ones to back down from a challenge. He may have had to retreat from untenable battles, he may have needed to change plans to adjust for the situation. He didn’t want to accept it here, now.

And he wouldn’t. He knew that this was probably his final moments. That maybe nothing more could be done. But if it was, he was not going to submit to fear now.

He tapped his combadge once more “All crew to escape pods immediately!” He then turned to his senior officers, “All of you, move, now! I’ll do what I can with the ship to get you out of here”. He sat back down in the captain’s chair and began punching commands, seeing if he could at least get the transporters and emergency systems some extra power. He wasn’t sure if his crew were doing as he ordered and moving or if they had decided to stay despite what he told them, he kept himself focused on trying to give them every advantage he could right now. That said, he did spare himself one thought though.

Tress…I’m sorry…guess I’ll be seeing you and our girl soon.

As he stared down the enemy ship bearing to fire on them and accepted this as the end, a flash appeared in front of the bridge window, drawing back his and the crew’s attention.

The temporal portal opened by the Annorax, the timeship built by the Krenim Imperium’s remaining survivors to aid the Alliance as one final desperate chance to end the war. It was still there. And speeding out of it were three ships. First, A Klingon command cruiser, followed by a Starfleet vessel and finally an older Dominion battleship.

“Sir, Kagran, Sela and the Excalibur…they’re back!” exclaimed Tem.

Shon watched as the Excalibur, speeding towards the Enterprise performed a sharp about turn, about 150 degrees, firing it’s thrusters at full power in order to slow and stop its momentum to put the ship at a quick stop in a manoeuvre not often employed on larger capital ships, placing itself alongside the Enterprise and directly challenging the Iconian flagship, drawing it’s attention toward it instead.

They made it. They made it back through time and they were back now. But…nothing had changed. The Iconians were still out there. The battle was still raging and as far as he knew, he could still recall every aspect of the Iconian invasion since it began several months ago, as well as all the knowledge he had of them. But that can’t be right. The plan was for the Anorax to open a time portal to the day Iconia fell hundreds of thousands of years ago and for any Alliance forces that made it through to ensure that fall was permanent. It was not something he had fully agreed with, but in the face of the devastation wrought by the Iconian’s ruthlessness, and with seemingly no other options available that could work in time, there was little other choice in how they win this. Had they failed though? Had their last hope and all the sacrifices made for it been for nothing? Or…did something else happen?

“Receiving a transmission from the Klingon flagship sir.” Stated Kav, who had returned back to her station.

“Patch it through”, Shon ordered. In moments, the voice of the Klingon general bean to speak over the Enterprise’s comms system.

“Captain Kagran to Alliance fleet. Stand down. I repeat, stand down.”

“Stand down?” Winters asked in shock.

“He’s not serious, is he?” followed Kyona, incredulously. Before anyone else spoke though, Shon raised his hand.

“Wait. Everyone wait. Whatever Kagran is doing, it seems he’s got a plan and if nothing else, they’ve bought us some time, so let’s use it. Continue with evacuation efforts, get the crew to the escape pods and see if we can’t get any other ships out there to help beam them off.”

“Aye sir!” his officers responded in unison. Now was not a time waste. Whatever Kagran and the others were doing, it had given them the reprieve Shon was desperately looking for. He’d get as many of his crew off as he could and get them to safety. They weren’t out of the game just yet.

He hoped though, that whatever his allies were doing out there, it might actually be the factor that finally swung things in their favour. That maybe, just maybe, it would snatch for them victory from the jaws of defeat.

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“Sir Admiral Quinn is ordering what’s left of our fleet to rally around us.” Called out Excalibur’s operations officer, Lieutenant Sam Armstrong, to Captain McNight. He quickly processed this knowledge before moving quickly to his next question.

“What about the Enterprise?”

“The Ranger is moving in to keep her safe and evacuate her crew. Some other ships are trying the same with other crippled vessels while they can, but there are few in range.”

“And Spacedock?”

“Still holding out, with Defiant, Chimera and the remaining ships of the 99th trying to shield it, but if she takes any more hits, she’ll lose power and Earth’s defence shield will be vulnerable to being breached.”

And the Iconians effectively have us trapped sir.” His Andorian first officer, Anthi, reported. “They have practically the entire planet surrounded and have ships across the entire solar system. If they fire, we will not last long.”

So the situation had stayed the same, if not worse with the Enterprise now crippled. A part of him had hoped, despite everything, that maybe they’d come back to a time where the war never happened. But he knew, with nothing having been changed in the past that it would not happen. Instead, they had returned to same nightmare they had left, for themselves at least, only hours ago.

He had seen this kind of carnage over Earth before twice now. Most recently was a year ago, when the Undine, an extradimensional species of shapeshifters from the realm known as Fluidic Space, under the command of a treacherous member of their own who sought to spread chaos throughout the Milky Way to aid in the return of his true masters, had performed a surprise attack against the planet’s orbital installations in order to, incredibly, distract from their true bigger assault on Qo’nos, both of which they were able to stop. And before that was nine years ago, when the remnants of the fallen Borg Collective, desperate and vengeful, hijacked control of the Federation’s fleet and forced it to attack its own capital on Frontier Day.

The day which changed his life forever.

Now, here he was again, staring down another hostile fleet that sought to burn his world down to ashes. He only hoped that their trip to Iconia’s past and the precious cargo they now held would finally make the critical difference they direly needed today.

“Sir, Kagran is hailing, us.” Sam called out again.

“On screen, quickly.”

On the screen appeared the visage of the slightly older but experienced Klingon warrior. He wasted no time in issuing orders. “You have the World Heart and the means to end this! Signal the Iconians, show them that we have it and that we are the ones who saved them. This is our last chance to end this war.”

McKnight nodded and gestured to his tactical officer, Lt, Commander Wayford.

“Booker, raise the Iconian flagship now. Lower our shields, power down weapons, tell them we want to discuss terms, do whatever it takes to get their attention.”

The short-haired Human former MACO veteran gave his captain a look as if he was considering that he had lost his mind. But after a moment, with Mcknight looking directly to his face with an expression trying to convey as much as he could that he knew what he was doing, he relented.

“Aye sir.”

He turned back and now on the viewscreen, replacing the image of Kagran, appeared the strange energy-infused visage of the Iconian known as L’Miren, who McKnight had met only moments ago in her distant past and who had now become the leader of the Iconians since the death of their original leader, M’Tara, earlier in the war. Her six blue eyes stared menacinglyat him, filled with anger.

“Do you wish to surrender? A wise decision.” McNight raised himself out of the captain’s chair and walked forward to the viewscreen, staring down the angry ancient.

“No L’Miren. We have just returned from the past. Your past. And we the World Heart to prove it.”

With that, McKnight inputted several commands onto his wrist mounted tricorder, then reached reach out his hand as a metallic, round, volleyball sized object materialised in his hand, emerging into existence again from his personal transport buffer. The Iconian only needed several seconds to realise what it was he was now holding.

“How…how did you acquire that?” L’Miren asked in shock, her eyes wide in astonishment and seemed to float back several feet away from the viewscreen. It was strange, seeing what was essentially an all-powerful being who had been waging a devastating war against his people appear in shock. But he wouldn’t let himself get distracted by that for now, he had her undivided attention now, so he pushed forward.

“We saved it, We were there when Iconia was lost.”

She shook her head. “That is not possible! But yet…I see the World Heart in your hands.”

She was beginning to understand. Good. She was now realising who he was. That he and his crew were the ones on Iconia the day it fell who helped to save her and the last of her people, guided them past the attacks of their enemies of that time, through their burning city as it was destroyed by orbital bombardment and to one of their gateways to safety beyond their home world. It was not their original plan. The exact opposite in fact. But it gave them a chance. If he could pull on this thread, remind her and the other Iconians of who they are, that they were in fact the ones who saved them from total annihilation and that they were not their enemies, then maybe they would call this whole thing off.

It was desperate. Completely on a wing and a prayer. So he hoped that both the divine and demonic were listening to his voice right now.

After a moment composed herself, L’Miren spoke up once more, her expression no longer angry or confused, but now steeled and resolved.

“It is time to end this. Your leaders, Our unity. Now.” With that, a warning beep emitted from Booker’s console. One McKnight recognised as the security system logging an unauthorised transport.

And then he felt the air around himself begin to swirl.

“Wait…!”

And with that, the bridge of the Excalibur disappeared from Mcknight’s vision, replaced for a moment with what seemed like a black cloud swirling around him which quickly parted to reveal him to be in another location.

The bridge of the Iconian flagship.

He looked quickly around himself, assessing his situation. The bridge felt cavernous, not for the actual space it offered, but more for the massive open and commanding view it offered of the surrounding space outside of the ship, with his ship and remaining ship directly opposite where he faced, the damaged Spacedock slightly to his right and Earth itself looming beyond that. He couldn’t even tell if there was any glass separating him from the void of space or a forcefield instead. It felt less like standing on a starship’s bridge than it did on a platform on which gods would observe the worlds outside and decide their fate, which in many respects was indeed the case here.

Immediately before him stood L’Miren in the (crystalline?) flesh, as well T’ket, the Iconian’s main military general, or at least their equivalent to such a role, whom he had helped to wound not too long ago, causing her to lose most of her left arm. It looked like they had just been in the middle of a heated argument, one that didn’t make it far before he had appeared. No one else was with them, no guards. They didn’t need them. They both regarded him, silently L’Miren with guarded intent and T’ket with barely constrained rage. It felt like he was being looked at as if he was only an ant to them, one that had their complete attention though. One wrong move and they would squash him.

Mcknight took a deep breath, understanding that everything rested on his shoulders now. Whatever happened next, whatever he did or said, would decide how this war ended. It would decide if the Galaxy as he knew it would live on, or if it would end in fire.

He took his breath, exhaled, calmed himself as much as his nerves would allow and began to walk to meet the Iconians.

He would do what a Starfleet officer always does. He would talk.

He would make it count.

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The Iconian War of 2410 was one of the briefest but bloodiest conflicts the Milky Way Galaxy had seen. Over the course of several months, the largest, most technologically advanced fleet ever recorded in recent galactic history ravaged systems and sectors across every quadrant of the Galaxy. The battle hardened fleets of the Federation, Klingon Empire, Romulan Republic and many others fought against a seemingly endless and powerful tide that they could not overcome, even with many among them preparing for this conflict. Conventional defences and warfare no longer worked as Iconian ships, utilising their network of gateways that allowed for instant travel across space, appeared out of nowhere directly within any system they pleased, making worlds once considered safe bastions like Earth, Qo’nos and New Romulus into regular battlefields.

Millions would die, entire planets were ravaged or destroyed and even some species, including the ancient Preservers who had been found only recently to have survived in stasis, were seemingly wiped out. Others, like the Krenim, were left devastated. Only those lucky enough to not be considered a threat or hidden away in systems not of interest of the Iconians were spared their wrath. And wrathful they were, attacking every major spacefaring nation, seeking vengeance for what a collection of long-extinct species did to them that led to the fall of the Iconian civilisation in its golden age and the near extinction of their own people. So shattered as a people and so filled with a longing for revenge that they refused to acknowledge that their victims had played no role in that downfall and had caused them no harm, and that they themselves had now become worse than those who originally destroyed Iconia.

Knowing that the war was certain to be lost unless radical action was taken, the major powers turned to any alternative that offered hope. Among these options was the use of time travel, specifically a form offered by the survivors of the Krenim that would allow for the alteration of the past without an ensuring paradox effect that would undo the change. After a failed attempt to kill or capture the Iconian leadership which ended in disaster that only enraged the Iconians further, this remaining option was chosen to end the war. Finished just in time as the Iconians began an assault on Earth that threatened to finally breach it’s defenses, the KIS Annorax was deployed and an allied taskforce sent through a time portal into Iconia’s past, while allied forces defended the planet, including a surprising detachment of ships from the Dominion, which had been previously keeping to itself during the conflict until reached out by former Romulan Empress Sela.

The details of this mission to the past are not known, classified among the highest levels of the Federation, Klingon Empire and Romulan Republic. But regardless, the mission was a success. Despite no seeming change to the timeline, the individuals who were sent back in time were able to form some kind of understanding with the Iconians of the past, who still survived into the present as its current leadership, and even aided in saving their species when Iconia was originally attacked in the past. This act was remembered and revered by the surviving Iconians who, upon recognising those they were attacking as their original saviours, were humbled and immediately called off their forces across the Galaxy. Within an instant, the Iconian War was, for the most part, over.

While one Iconian did not accept this truce and continues to wage a campaign against the Milky Way Galaxy, their ability to do so has been rendered practically ineffectual, commanding only a miniscule fraction of the power they once had with a single fleet of loyalists that does not have the power to challenge the Milky Way’s nations, while the remaining 99% of the Iconian Whole agreed to a permanent ceasefire with the rest of the Galaxy, returning to their former home world, now protected within a Dyson sphere of their creation.

The Milky Way continues to reel from the effects of this conflict and even now continues to rebuild and pick up the pieces. Not since the Borg and the Undine was there such a threat to our continued existence, nor such an understanding among many of how much more powerful entities exist amongst the Universe, easily capable of wiping out our civilisation with ease. This reminder of the fragility of life and existence continues to permeate across much of society.

As for the Iconians, they remain isolated within their dyson sphere. Despite calls for justice and reparation from some quarters, the powers of the Galaxy continue to honour the agreement made at the war’s end stipulating the Iconian’s remain in isolation at their home world, with the Iconia system completely banned to all under General Order 7.

It remains to be seen if the Iconians will ever fully return to galactic affairs. But for now, for the sake of hard-won peace, the warning is clear to all:

Attempt no travel to Iconia.

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An early Christmas present, courtsey of Jetfreak.

Wanted to end the year with a big one and I'd say this delivers. Another key moment from one of Trek's games, as interpretered in this particular way. As always, the are several references here and there throughout the story. Looking forward to whatever awaits for these these series next year!

Credit for this great commission goes to

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