"Incoming urgent message from Yukon, sir," a yeoman told Commander K'tag.
"Patch it through," the Klingon first officer ordered, wondering what the factory complex needed from the station. The Nausicaan refugee colony had become for the most part self-sufficient, only contacting the station for traffic clearance for its freighters.
[Commander K'tag, this is Sikal. The assistance of the Corporate Security Division of Yukon Plastics has been requested. We are departing the system with all available assets, bearing 020 Mark 4]
K'tag checked the maps. The course given was at a right angle from the main shipping lane into the Serenity system.
"Acknowledged. Be advised that your activities are governed by Federation civil law."
[That should not be a problem, Commander.] Sikal smiled. [We'll be operating well outside Federation space.]
"Outside Federation space??? Mr. Sikal, interference in a combat zone is strictly against Federation law!"
[Commander, this is Fleet Marshal Balax of the Nausicaan Republic. The Nausicaan Republic thanks the Federation for its assistance and pledges to obey Federation law while in Federation space. Our foreign affairs are, however, entirely our own concern. Good day.]
"Commander, the Nausicaan flagship is lifting off from the surface of Yukon!"
"Go to red alert! Get Commodore Mallory on the bridge at once!"
[Why in the name of all that's profitable are you leaving the home system?] Grand DaiMon Drexil demanded of Tarik.
"In the estimation of my command staff, it is more important for the Federation expeditionary force to relieve Rostella IV. Without Rostella IV, your entire fleet will be out of dilithium in 18 hours and the Mullurans will overrun the entire Ferengi Alliance."
[Your command staff is too far from reality, General! I demand that you stay here!]
"Your objection is noted and logged, Drexil. Nonetheless, we are going to save your ass. Tarik out!" Tarik cut the transmission. Drexil was unfortunately not among the moles revealed by the recent Mulluran turncoat. May the gods save us from simple incompetence!
He called the bridge of the Patton from the CIC. "Is the task force ready to depart?"
[This is Commander Haislip. We are ready for departure on your signal, sir,] a female officer reported.
"Very good. All elements are to move to Rostella IV. Keep the McCoy in the center of the formation."
[Aye, sir.]
Preliminary scans of the Rostella IV system revealed nothing but a massive cloud of debris surrounding the planet, and a few scattered distress beacons, primarily Federation. The Mullurans will wait until the escape pods run out of air before they bother to pick them up. The survivors will be too incapacitated to put up a fight.
"Colonel Boyle, get the Hammerheads up and ready. We'll need you to fly CAP for the escape pods until the McCoy can evac them."
[Aye, sir. Lieutenant MacLeod will fly the runabout.]
"Very good. Stay on station until the task force arrives..." Tarik said, until he felt something strangely familiar touch his mind.
[Sir?]
"Stay on station until the task force arrives. If we don't arrive in 18 hours, get out of Ferengi space. Head for the nearest active Federation asset, whatever it may be."
Ryan MacLeod felt somewhat upset by the decision Boyle made to pull him out of his fighter and back into a runabout. "It is no aspersion toward you or your abilities," Major Morgan explained. "Our standard procedure for escape pod recovery is two flights and one runabout. You are our most experienced runabout pilot."
"I understand, sir. Still, this is our first stand-up fight."
Morgan grinned. "And it shall not be the last! Qapla'!!!!"
"Qapla'!!!!" MacLeod replied, with a Klingon salute. Still, though, he wanted to be in the thick of things with the new Hornet fighter.
The eight Marines left from the landing party had been reduced to four by the Mulluran super-soldiers, and Benson found himself leading a fighting retreat to-- where?
The party was cut off from the mines, and more and more of the genetically-engineered creatures seemed to be popping out of the trees. Benson's berserker mode was in high gear, engaging and shooting enemy attackers almost as quickly as they appeared.
The party formed a square, with each Marine taking a side. Beckham covered their left flank, watching the trees for anything moving. Something moved. Beckham squeezed his trigger and fired at the apparition.
It was little more than a shimmer amongst the trees, but its fetid breath was all anyone needed to spot its location. Before Beckham could do anything he felt something grab him. He looked down helplessly as his rifle dropped to the ground. With all his strength, he struggled against the grip of his foe, but felt the breath being crushed from his lungs as the creature continued to squeeze.
Finally, he pulled a knife from his belt and jammed it into the creature's tricep. A roar of pain caused the creature to release him -- unfortunately, too far from his rifle. Without even stopping to think, Beckham grabbed his last grenade... then rushed back into the creature's grip.
"What the hell are you doing?" Benson yelled.
Beckham ignored him, instead tracing his quarry by the yellow blood it left. He grappled with the beast and found a large bandolier across its chest. With no small amount of effort he shoved the grenade beneath the bandolier and activated it.
The creature ignored Beckham long enough to let him go. "RUN!!!!!" he yelled. The group moved out just in time for the grenade to completely disintegrate the attacker.
"Damn! Lost my knife!" Beckham said sadly.
Damon looked at him in amazement. "Bookworm, I'll get you a Klingon dagger for that one!" he said with a laugh.
Neither man knew it, but all trouble between the two of them abruptly ended that day.
"Everyone -- over there!" Vartan announced. "Look!"
A humanoid child was waving its arms at the party.
"It's a trap!" Damon yelled.
"No! It's not! I can sense it!"
Benson sniffed. "She's right. There's a friendly over there!"
"What the hell! She's not Ferengi -- what's she doing here?" Beckham asked.
"Who cares? Let's get over there!"
"I don't know what happened to her," Kassia said as she and Dr. Cherrin looked over Tiyanna's still form. "She appears to be sleeping normally but I can't wake her up, no matter what I do!"
Cherrin scanned her. "We've got a lot of theta wave activity in her cerebral cortex, specifically in the areas known for extrasensory abilities in most humanoids. Whatever she's doing, she's putting nearly all of herself into it, to the exclusion of the outside world."
"Will she be all right?" Kassia said, then suddenly got a touch of perfect calm.
"I think she'll be just fine. From what I can tell she suddenly discovered a talent for astral projection."
Tiyanna had been sleeping fitfully, worried about her father as he went to war once more. She wished she could be there for him, because she needed him and somehow she felt he needed her.
Her mind traveled toward Tarik, finding him in a large room filled with maps and consoles and other people. He was talking to someone, but she didn't know who. Briefly, she touched his mind. Beneath all of his worries about the battle he was thinking of her and Mom. She felt warmed and strengthened by that... but she felt his fear, too.
Some of his Marines were stranded on a distant planet, and surrounded by Mullurans. He didn't know whether they were dead or alive. She sought out the place, based upon the information in Tarik's mind.
The fear was palpable even before her mind entered the Rostella system. Six... then five... then four people left, fighting for their lives. The one in charge -- Benson -- knew they were running short of supplies and had no help. Vartan had the gift of mind-touch but it was slowly causing her to break down as fear and the thoughts of her enemies began to overwhelm her. Damon hid his utter fear under a veneer of bravado. Beckham's fears were so deep as to be unfathomable. And they were all very close to dying.
She manifested herself in a clearing, where she felt the last flickering lifeforce of a dead Ferengi soldier. He was the last of a large group. There was nothing any healing power could do for the Ferengi: his time to cross over had most definitely come. But the things he and his companions had could be of use to the people her dad was worried about.
"Hot damn!" Damon said as he saw the Ferengi encampment. "We're out of the woods!"
Benson scanned the area with his tricorder. There was no sign of any humanoids, but there was one faintly flickering Ferengi signal. "Vartan! Get the medkit on that man!"
The Betazoid rushed to the dying Ferengi's side. He was mumbling incoherently. "Spirit.. take me... home..."
"We were too late. He's dead."
Benson was quiet for a moment. "There's nothing we can do for them, but there's a lot they can do for us. Let's get these fighting holes cleaned up. Anything we can use, salvage. Anything that looks halfway decent, prop up a dead Ferengi and make it look like they're still fighting. Someone find me a comm rig!"
Beckham found a large rotary cannon and smiled at the duranium slugs it fired. He was surprised that the Ferengi would have such a heavy weapon until he remembered that the diminutive Ferengi were extremely strong.
It's payback time! he thought.
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