“Behind Enemy Lines”
Stardate 74082.4;
January 30, 2397
Episode 51
Written by Chris
Adamek
Chapter Eighteen
Neelar Drayge’s favorite table was repaired. It was a small victory—and perhaps one bordering stupid—but it was a
victory nonetheless, and the young Bolian couldn’t help but smile as he
approached the gunmetal gray table sitting in the center of the mess hall.
He carefully ran his fingers over its
smooth, cool surface, admired its shapely curves, and then seated himself
across from the table’s only occupant, Bator.
“This is a good omen if I’ve ever seen one,” said Drayge excitedly. “It’s almost like the original… the only
thing missing are the people to sit at it.”
“Things change,” said Bator, sipping at his
beverage. “Erin is gone. There still hasn’t been any word from
Rachael or Captain Christopher. I
suppose we’ll have to find new companions to sit with us.”
Drayge immediately banished such thoughts
from his mind. “I’m not going to give
up that easily. In fact, I’m sure that
one day soon, we’ll all be gathered here sharing laughs, just like we used to.”
Bator smiled slightly. It was a rarity for the Phobian to express any
emotion, and this display gave Drayge nothing but hope for his dream to come
true. But Bator’s smile quickly faded
into something more serious, and he drew himself closer to the table. “The sentiment is nice, but in all reality,
the chances of the Starlight being destroyed in the coming weeks is
high. I wouldn’t grow too complacent
just yet.”
There was always a flip side to the coin—and
as much as he hated to admit it, Drayge knew that Bator was probably
right. Still, he refused to
relent. “A Bolian can dream, can’t he?”
Bator nodded. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Drayge sighed, and allowed his eyes to
wander about the mess hall while Bator enjoyed his beverage. Considering the first shift was set to begin
in about twenty minutes, the mess hall was relatively quiet; on most mornings,
the place is literally bustling with activity.
Still, the majority of the tables were full, and there were a good
number of people simply wandering around—Lucas Tompkins being one of them.
The chief engineer stood at the replicator
speaking with Lieutenant Fellows.
Though Tompkins seemed pleased with the conversation, Fellows was hardly
interested, and politely excused herself after a few minutes. Tompkins shrugged and meandered through the
mess hall for a few moments before his eyes briefly locked with Drayge’s. He summarily grabbed a chair from an
adjacent table and pulled it up alongside Drayge.
“Hey,” he said quickly, “did you hear?”
Since he had no idea what Tompkins spoke of,
Drayge assumed he had not. “Hear about
what?” he asked.
Tompkins licked his lips. “An Elorg fleet just started an invasion of
Romulan Space,” he said grimly.
Drayge’s heart nearly skipped a beat. “That’s not good,” he murmured.
“Hell, it could be the end of the Romulan
Empire,” said Tompkins. “They were
already in pretty bad shape after the attack at Aurillac VII.”
“Then again,” said Bator, “the Romulans did
seal their borders after that incident.
We have no idea what has been going on inside Romulan space over the
past year.”
“I’d like to think they’ve been building
some bad-ass weapons,” said Tompkins.
“They’re certainly going to need them.
Hopefully they’ll be able to keep the Elorg busy long enough for us to
score some major victories—I mean, it’s been weeks since the Federation
has won a battle.”
“And the battles that we have won
came at a high price,” added Bator.
“Well, if we succeed in collapsing the Elorg
rift, it will be the first in a long line of victories,” said Tompkins
confidently. “We just need to get the
ball rolling… gain some momentum, you know?”
“Oh yeah.”
Drayge tried to muster some enthusiasm, but for some reason, the
prospects of staring down the gates of hell didn’t resonate with him very
well. “Actually, I’ve been trying to not
think about it.”
“It is a big job,” admitted
Tompkins. “But we can handle it. When I served on the Grissom during
the Romulan War, we saw more than our share of intense action. This is a cakewalk.”
Drayge nodded. Though Tompkins was undoubtedly trying to calm him, Drayge was
already familiar with the Grissom, its myriad adventures, and its
ultimate fate—the Romulans thoroughly decimated the ship. Still, Drayge feigned ignorance. “I just wish Captain Christopher was here,”
he said.
“Captain Landsberg is a more than adequate
substitute,” said Bator.
Drayge forced a smile to his face. “I’m sure he is…”
For the past several minutes, Ryan Landsberg
listened intently as Admiral Grayson outlined the Starlight’s mission to
collapse the Elorg vortex. Though the
Admiral was explicit in what he wanted to be done, after listening to
him speak for several minutes, Landsberg summarily noted that Grayson was a bit
vague when it came to how these tasks were to be accomplished. But for the benefit of the bridge crew, who
had yet to hear the exact details of the mission, Landsberg remained silent.
In a nutshell, it was the Starlight’s
mission to penetrate Elorg space, seek out the interspatial rift allowing them
to enter the Beta Quadrant, and then blow the vortex to smithereens. To Landsberg’s chagrin, he knew that while
it sounded like a simple task, it would prove to be anything but.
“Of all the tactical operations about to
begin,” said Grayson, “this one is the most important. We only have three weeks to mount an
offensive—three weeks before Admiral O’Connor is back on duty. Thus, it is absolutely imperative that you
succeed in your mission, otherwise O’Connor will turn around and continue to
drive this operation into the ground.”
Landsberg stared briefly at Grayson. Three weeks was not a long time—and it was
certainly not enough time to conclude a war that was entering its third
year. “Maybe if the Romulans put up a
fight, we’ll have a chance,” said Landsberg.
He wasn’t optimistic about it, and considering the look of doubt
plastered to Grayson’s face, neither was the Admiral.
“You should take nothing for granted,” he
told Landsberg before quickly shifting gears.
“I have assigned the Alexander and the Johannesburg to
accompany you to the rift. You can
expect heavy resistance—and heavy losses.”
It was a joke—it had to be. Landsberg couldn’t think of any other
possibilities, for it was a certainty that three ships didn’t stand a chance
against the Elorg fleet. Hoping he
wasn’t alone in his thinking, Landsberg turned to Harrison for his reaction.
The Commander was equally perplexed. “Forgive me, Admiral, but if this mission is
of such consequence, why not send additional ships to render aid?”
A concerned look slowly fell upon Grayson’s face,
but he didn’t go so far as to provide an answer. Instead, he sighed, and allowed his concern to deepen.
When he closed his eyes, Overseer Xi’Yor
could already hear the battle cries. He
could see wicked orange flames consume the hallowed battlefield, and feel the
enmity of the Federation he was about to crush. There would be no surrender, no retreat. Nothing but a complete and decisive victory.
The target was ambitious—a massive, heavily
armed facility guarded by hundreds of Federation vessels. It was ground zero for all of the
Federation’s activities, and without it, all of their coordination efforts were
certain to crumble—a sentiment that brought an immediate smile to Xi’Yor’s
ashen face.
Peering at the viewscreen through vivid
orange eyes, the Overseer could already make out the mushroom-shaped curves of
Starbase 241. Though it was still light
years away, Xi’Yor found himself yearning for this battle to begin; unlike his
rampage in the outskirts of the Federation, the Overseer knew that this battle
would be epic. It would be bloody. And it would be the beginning of the end…