Chapter Three

Chapter Five

Year Two – Month One – Week Four – Saturday

“…and that’s what apparently we missed for six months.” Scout returned to his seat at the far end of the conference table, mutters filling the silence. At the head of the table the captain sat his face in thoughtful repose. On either side were the department chiefs and command crew, nervously speaking to each other in hopes of finding some piece of good news in the briefing that had just been delivered.

There hadn’t been much. “Thank you Scout for the report.” The men and women in the conference room turned to face their captain who stood slowly. “We are one day out of Outlier territory. We’ve tried all the communications channels but nothing’s come back yet. Our hopes are that our friends are still with us and ready to draw blood from the Alliance.” Murmurs threatened to overtake the room again. Cambridge raised his hand for silence and received it. “We will continue to operate with the idea that there is still hope. There will always be hope. Ensure this message is passed to your crew.” Looking from one uniformed officer to the next, he ensured his eyes spoke the same message. There had to be hope in the ranks. Without it, they would lose the will to fight against the darkness. And then they would lose.

“Dismissed.” The sound of moving chairs and shuffling of feet broke the silence until all were gone, save for the XO and her commanding officer. Remaining at her seat, she spoke without reservation. “Cap…do you really believe we have hope?” A shrug. As far as he was concerned, they had to have hope until the end. He wasn’t about to deliver that message quite yet. There was still a chance they had friends in this galaxy.

“We have hope Malloy. This is a big ship. We’re going to need more hands on deck to handle the ship when the heat of battle comes, that’s for damn sure. Outliers are our best chance.” She nodded and caught his eye. “Share a drink later?” A slight smile crossed his face for a moment and was gone. “I believe there is a chance XO.”

A voice broke through the moment on his wrist comm, “Captain to the CIC please, Captain to the CIC.” Three and a half minutes later he walked through the door of the Command Information Center, Malloy on his heels. “Report!” The loss of the moment with his XO was irritating, but he was more concerned with what required his presence in the command center. Scout spoke up from the second level. “We’ve got an Outlier sortie doing patrols within the sector and it looks like they’re about to have company. Alliance company.”

Captain Maxwell Cambridge allowed a slight growl to escape his throat. Combat was not something they were prepared for with what they had. “XO, COMCON.” As Cambridge spoke, Malloy was already at the command console, headset on and fingers dancing across the keys and three dimensional menus flickering before her.

He snagged his headset and attached the wireless connector to his belt. Tapping the portion near his ear a beep confirmed he was live. “TACTCOM”, he spoke without pausing to the Tactical Command Station that sat on the second level, “I need a confirmation of what we’re looking at out there. Ships, status and power.” A “Yessir!” was heard as he turned his attention, “NAVCOM I will need you to work a drop point and plot a course to intercept on the chance we can do this.” Another “Yessir!” and he returned his gaze to the Command Console as Malloy looked up and met his stare. He knew the answer from the look that passed quietly across her face.

“Better to live dangerously than to die in chains.” Malloy nodded at his words and began giving out orders, “NAVCOM, confirm solution and transfer to Helm Control. TACTCOM, whatta we got?” The dark skinned tactical chief spoke quietly into his headset, his eyes never leaving the screen, “TACTCOM reporting two inbound battle cruisers. Light armor. Medium Offense. Enough to do serious damage to the fighter squadron.” Tapping a button on his console he raised an eyebrow. “We could take ‘em sir, if the fighters assist.” Maxwell looked up from where he stood on the first level and smiled at the quick temper of Jones “Bones” McCoy. His hand brushed the ear of his headset. “Very well Bones, light ‘em up.” He returned to the table, nodding to Malloy. “We’re in.”

Malloy cringed silently. This was going to be difficult. They would fight because it was who they were. Letting men and women die in a wave of Alliance fire was not in their book. Not anywhere. “Action stations, all hands. Action stations. Weapons crews to stations. Fighter squadrons to hanger bay and prepare for launch. TACTCOM, raise deflectors and begin tactical operations. Helm, drop from jump and proceed with intercept course. This is not a drill repeat, this is not a drill.”

Across a length of space, the fighters pushed on unaware of what awaited them in mere moments. “…Red Leader, we’re coming up on the edge of the patrol. Mark your coordinates and begin return procedure.” The voice of their escort squeaked in the ears of Zachary Sparks. “Confirm Barracuda. Marking end coordinates now.” Flicking a switch the system transmitted the data to the escort vessel. The patrol had been quiet apart from a few encounters with the mercenaries running from border to border. Sparks completed the report on the onboard computer and looked back to his threat screens. That’s when the caution light began to flash above his navigation computer. “Uhh…Barracuda, picking up unknown contacts. Showing two, bearing in fast and hot. Red and blue wing, check your scanners.” Sitting up in his chair the eyes of the lieutenant searched the three threat screens on each side of the tight cockpit. The voice of his escort came to the headset. “Confirmed Red Leader. We’ve got company. Long range reading is Alliance.”

Sparks felt his skin grow cold as the words reached his ears. The two groups of fighters visibly tightened up formation as Sparks began to ready for battle. “Roger. Showing two medium battle cruisers. Red and blue wings switch on deflectors and warm up weapons. We’ve got company.”

Onboard the Barracuda, the klaxons were ringing loud and clear. The bridge, a hive of activity. Her captain gazed from the back of the command center, watching the threat screens as they played out the dance. An elder commander at 35, Natalie Reyes angelic looks betrayed the reality. Tight and compact because of the mass of weapons and sensor equipment, these things prevented a functional bridge that larger ships enjoyed. Reyes stood at the rear of the bridge. Her chair stood two feet away and two feet from the main view screen. “Communications send a scrambled message to command and control detailing our encounter and request for additional reinforcements. Helm, prepare for evasive maneuvers. TACCOM…warm us up.”

“They’ve dropped out of jump and are moving into position. They’ve blocked our jump point as an added bonus.” Sparks spoke quickly to Reyes as he sent movement orders to the two wings he was commanding. It was unusual for a lieutenant to be taking on such a responsibility but he was all business. He would celebrate the accomplishment when they all made it home alive. “We’re going to have to engage. Blue leader, confirm ready status.” Shifting his ship around in space was like blowing a leaf around in the wind. You had to know where to put the pressure. His wing leader spoke, an edge of fear bleeding through the channel. “Blue Leader ready on your signal.” Silently Zach asked that they would be filled with the courage of their ancestors. There was a rich history of bloody battles fought in the expanse of space. Grand space operas had played out between the defenders and aggressors. He hoped this time the outcome would be similar.

Sparks grinned. Battle was always the better part of the assignments. Glancing at his screen he took a deep breath. “Intercept in fifteen seconds.” The two battle cruisers lay before him ominous and threatening. “Ten seconds.” Checking his weapons delivery system he found it was still working. Bad time for a jammed launcher or depleted phaser charger. “Five seconds to range.”

The timer reached zero. “All wings break and let loose! Targets at will and fire when ready!”

A few moments away Cambridge heard the squadron leader give his orders. Watching the small ships dance around the two larger cruisers appeared to be a hopeless fight.

There was still one ingredient. “Helm, bring us around the moon. FICOM, let the dogs loose.” The Hercules engines fired into action as the cucumber shaped starship slipped away from the moon and became visible to all parties. Suddenly a gaggle of fresh fighters scattered into space. Sparks jumped at the new alarms hitting his ears. “Barracuda, we have new contacts! Fighters and a starship! Computer identifies…as the Hercules!”

Reyes nearly dropped to her chair as Red Leader’s words reached out from the speakers. “TACTCOM, confirm!” Spinning around she stood behind the tactical officer, her eyes searching the threat screens. A green dot appeared moments later with the name of the long lost starship attached, blinking. She was real. And she was back.

“COMSAT, get me a secure line with Hercules!” Aboard the bulging starship Cambridge smiled as what was being realized by the Alliance played out in the imagination. Suddenly two cruisers faced the power of a superior battleship and the firepower her fighters carried was nothing to laugh at either. “COMSAT to Captain, Escort Barracuda requesting open communication channel.” The voice of the chief communications officer buzzed in his ear, interrupting the mosaic painted before him. “Mr. Hicks, open the channel to me when ready.” A beep and the distant background sounds of a escort bridge reached his ears. A woman’s voice spoke, “Are we on? Damn it, I told you to…got it? Patch it through!”

Maxwell suppressed a grin. “This is Captain Maxwell Cambridge of the Hercules, Code Alpha-Norrington-Sparrow Six Three Nine for authorization. Please respond with authorization.” A silence held on the line. He imagined the woman captain was cursing him while she searched for her own codes to verify. The strained voice returned, “Commander Natalie Reyes of the Escort ship Barracuda. Code Beta-Elizabeth-Governor-Bloom Two Ten One” and a second later Scout gave the thumbs up from the top deck. “We confirm Commander Reyes. Do you verify?”

Reyes pushed a strand of her strawberry blond hair away as it drifted across her eyes. The codes were right. The voice print software had confirmed. Could it be true? Had the once proud flagship returned? Nodding Reyes confirmed, “Hercules, welcome home. We confirm. Care to lend a hand?”

Within the Command Information Center Cambridge allowed a slight smile. “Commander, you can have the whole kitchen sink. Any chance you can patch us in with your pilot wings?” A second later Malloy was coordinating the attack and communicating with the Outliers fighter squad. Cambridge had moved himself to the second level, standing behind Jones at tactical. “Report.” McCoy nodded as his hands tapped the keys and showed the master weapons report on the top screen. “Long range cannons are activated. Missiles are being loaded as we speak and torpedoes are nearly fully prepped. Long distance cannons will be in range in…one minute.”

“Cap! We’re pulling the Outlier fighters back behind us to keep them protected. Our fighters are on either side in standby status. Jones, ready to fire on your mark.” Malloy then gave thumbs up before returning her focus to the battle. The countdown began on multiple screens. Cambridge licked his lips. Battle was here. He spoke quickly into his headset, the channel open ship wide. “We returned to the black today. We believe in our mission. We believe in our people. And most of all we believe in the war we must fight each day in the stars. Our ancestors did the same for generations to gain peace and strength. We will never forget their lessons.” A pause as the countdown neared zero. “Better to live dangerously than to die in chains.” A loud klaxon rang out as all ships entered weapons range. “Mr. Jones, let loose the fire!”

The barrage of fire erupted from within the dormant Hercules, thunder echoing off the insides of the vengeful starship. The fighters broke escort ranks and became like a swarm of bees, letting loose blasts of fire. The battle was on.