“When the stars sing, all of the people must act as one to rid the eternal circle of the unclean ones. ”
—Qa Edilaff Qunami, from Qa Qunama qa Qunamo Intekjayno, English translation, circa Y-95,421 (-93,021 Gregorian)
4 NOVEMBER, 2717 11:30:31 ZULU
“What did you guys find?” Doctor Joanne Leavitt, skipper of the Imperial Reserach Vessel Tyson asked the two astrophysics graduate assistants manning the spectrograph in the 1,900,000-ton Fenyman-class research and exploration starship's top dome, now engaged in a close-up study of Eta Carinae's first planet.
“Oh,” Joanne said, when the spectrum revealed a huge mass of refined dyspropsium, and cryogenic lithium,“ oh, shit. Sienna, let’s see what the radio and radar telescopes say about that thing.”
“It's putting out a lot of radio-frequency and other EM noise,” Sienna Kyle whispered, confirming the ice at the pit of the veteran Federated Nations Survey Service captain's stomach.“ Mass of object is a quarter of a gigaton, eight decimal one kiloklicks in diameter, though the interior five thousand kilometers of that is hollow, judging by the spectrograph readings.”
“Oh, Lord!” the young astrophysics graduate assistant then interjected.”Skipper, based on the RF and other electromagnetic spectrum information, that sodding thing's generating precisely 1,031.4 yottawatts.”
Same amount of power as the object discovered underneath the Java Sea, Joanna thought to herself, heart threatening to batter itself free of her ribcage.
The object that had triggered the Merge over five hundred years ago.
“Helm, get us the hell out of here!” she screamed into the wireless throat microphone of the artificial intelligence implant at the base of her brain. “Do it n—“
just before everything got blown to hell.
4 NOVEMBER, Y317 11:33:00 ZULU
“Quantum torpedos, full spread!” Fleet Captain Oscar Jean-Paul Picard barked out the instant the 3.5-megaton Sovereign-class X-technology battle cruiser USS Enterprise closed with the enemy combatant trying to flee from the loving judgment and final punishment it merited for the sin of moral depravity and non-optimal inferiority to His True Humanity and His United Federation of Planets.
“Quantum torpedos locked on, firing!” Enterprise's Klingon weapons officer, Lieutenant Commander Kargh Kumerian, exulted, as volleys of white-hot Type-R plasma torpedos from the XBC's twelve quantum torpedo launchers locked onto the doomed Scalper so-called research vessel's primitive rocket drive, and hammered the enemy combatant to a burned-out hulk.
From which various escape pods and other small craft issued, as Picard's ops manager, Lieutenant Commander A.J. Parsons, reported:
“Captain, before we destroyed the enemy combatant, it succeeded in sending out a distress call; reinforcements are bound to—“
“Captain!” Kumerian then reported.” Sensors detecting a Class Three vessel closing with us at high tactical warp, 225 mark 358, 100 million kilometers distant.”
It is one of their...” the Klingon snorted his contempt,”cruisers...armed with eight of their primitive railguns...”
“Their railguns can't even penetrate our navigational deflectors,” Enterprise's executive officer, Commander Johnathon Ryker arrogantly assured his captain.
“Surely,” Picard remarked,”they must know th—“
before the bridge sparked, exploded, and sent men burning and screaming to their deaths.
4 NOVEMBER, 2717 11:34:31 ZULU
True to her namesake, the Her Majesty's Starship Nemesis screamed down upon the Fed XBC, ripping into it with her four twin-mount 24cm railgun turrets mounted on either side of her vaguely blade-shaped forward(or weapons)hull.
The three and a half-megaton monster's saucer-and-flatbed hullform sent a pair of Mark IV phased-array, free-electron laser pulses and eight streams of heavy magneto-hydrodynamic explosive munition plasma torps scorching toward where the 250,000-ton Mons Calpan Imperial Starmarine Archangel Micheal-class combat cruiser had been, before her helmswoman, Commander Hope Hubris Ross, executed a hard jink and burn, and another after that, so as to give Nemesis' weapons engineering officer(Wee-O), Senior Lieutenant Jaclyn MacChargue another clear shot at the hostile behemoth.
“Skipper,” Chief Petty Officer Solange Dupreil, the ship's avionics and defensive countermeasures operator reported,”hostile is detaching his parasites, and attempting to disengage.”
“Drones,” Senior Captain Kara Langford, Nemesis' skipper and OC, 464 CruRon, instructed her drone operator,”release the hounds; a couple dozen or so on those frigs.”
“Birds away, Skipper,” Master Warrant Officer Elizabeth Drescher calmly replied.”all birds running straight and true for enemy frigs.”
“Hard jink and burn, Number One,” Kara ordered, as a buzzing in her plant warned her of q-torps bearing down on her ship again.” Fifteen millisecs emergency, then downshift to high tac. Wee-O, fire when our guns bear.”
“Fifteen millisecs emergency, aye,” was Hope's steady answer, as Nemesis' Daedalus singularity motor kicked her in the ass for fifteen milliseconds to provide, with the aid of the Bergen translight displacement field generator at the head of the ship's mast, a brief boost to 56.4 terakips, as the combat starship's singularity maneuvering thrusters juked the ship hard along a random vector which barely avoided the plasma torps the 400 2.5mm rail machine guns(poppers)of Nemesis' point-defense array weren't able to shoot down.
The axe and flattened bell hullform of the Mons Calpan Imperial combat cruiser then downshifted to almost 219 megaklicks, and poured four dozen one-ton, 240mm hyperdense tungsten projectiles into the Federation Starfleet warship, even as his parasite frigates tried jinking past two dozen of Nemesis' Interceptor IX relativistic-kill drones(each massing 1.7 tons), and win their way to a clear shot at Nemesis.
4 NOVEMBER, Y317 11:35:16 ZULU
“Starboard nacelle venting plasma,” Lieutenant Micheal Kim's voice reported, as USS Oliver North staggered from another hit which caused the Flynn-class X-tech frigate's bridge to explode and briefly go dark.
“Where the hell are our shields?!” Lieutenant Commander Ian Grey demanded.
“And, why the fuck aren't you evading, Mister Collins?!” Grey then interrogated the North's helmman, Ensign Julian Collins.
“I'm tryin' to,” Collins half-growled in frustration,”but these damned drones of theirs—“
“Always quick with the excuses, aren't you?” Grey spat in reply, as one of the aforementioned “damned drones” fired its one-ton warshot into the North at near-light speed, while a dozen others dogged the 50,000-ton frigate's every change in vector.
“Numbers 1, 2 and 6 shields are down!” North's science and executive officer, Lieutenant Allen Marsh reported.”Their shield generators are offline.”
A series of white-hot photoflashes erupted near the center of the main viewscreen.
“Sir,” the comm officer, Chief Petty Officer Marion Drago, reported,”we've lost the Lonetree and the Walker; the captain of the Eichmann reports warp and impulse engines irreparably destroyed, and he is now dead in space.”
“Damn,” Grey swore, as Marsh unhelpfully reported,”all drones formerly targeting Lonetree, Walker, and Eichmann now altering vector and targeting Dirlewanger, Fegelein, and us.”
“Defensive, overload and overfire all gatlings!” Grey ordered, as eight enemy drones now closed his ship from opposing vectors. “Drones, launch dogfighters; deck crew, dismount all Type 15s and replace their swordfish warheads with Type 16 dogfighters! Engineering, spare me your excuses, and fix those fucking shields!”
“Do it now!” he added, as his XFF twisted, turned and fought for its life.
4 NOVEMBER, Y317 11:37:18 ZULU
“Evasive means to evade, Mister Crusher!” Picard shrieked, as his cutting-edge scientific, exploration, diplomatic and peacekeeping platform took hits from the rocks that primitive, militaristic expression of statist power hurled through space at speeds in excess of Warp Nine.
“Port nacelle has been destroyed,” Parsons reported, without undue emotion.”Starboard nacelle venting plasma; impulse engine subspace generators have fused, impulse engine acceleration now limited to fifty grav.
We can still maintain Warp 2 with the one surviving warp nacelle; recommend we—“
“No!” Picard roared, the very thought of the very best crew of peacekeepers, scientists, diplomats and explorers running from a half-assed militaristic, statist mob of degenerates rankled the veteran of three General Wars.
“We cannot allow any of them to escape with the knowledge of this—“ he then started to say, before that Klingon Cossack dared interrupt his moral and evolutionary superior:
“Captain, sensors detecting ten more Archangel Micheal-class cruisers entering the Eta Carinae system at high dash warp, bearing 225 mark 358! Inbound hostiles now decelerating to high tac, closing us rapidly at Warp 9.9975! Hostiles opening fire!”
“No,” Picard whispered, as Parsons reported,”Shields 1, 5 and 6 offline; their shield generators have been destroyed. All port gatlings have been destroyed.”
Swallowing hard, the captain of the Enterprise gave the order he had to give.
“Mister Crusher, get us out of the system, Warp 2. Mister Kumerian, inform the North, the Dirlewanger, and the Fegelein to cover our retreat, then launch all fighters, Type 15s and anti-drones in support.
Once that's done, engage the cloaking device.”
4 NOVEMBER, 2717 11:40:00 ZULU
Plasma vented from the broken stump which had held one of its tapered cylindrical warp nacelles, as the Fed XBC cloaked, and fucked off behind a cloud of fighters, long-range drones, anti-drone projectiles and its three surviving parasites.
Kara sighed, sparing a final glance at the master holoprojector covering the entire forward arc of Nemesis' systems deck(more commonly, the Pit), as the system team in their arc of workstations directly behind the master holoprojector strove to dispatch the remaining hostile machines and inbound ordinance.
“Skipper,” Nemesis' intel officer, Senior Lieutenant Leila Feisthammel, reported from the extreme left of that arc.
“Intel?” Kara queried, as Leila echoed an image directly to her plant.
A huge swirling ring of electromagnetic energy swirled in space directly in front of Kara's right eye, along with lines of data on either side.
The figure given for the amount of power generated by that bloody thing was what caught her eye.
“On the other side of the planet ahead, Skipper,” Leila said, without being asked.
“Oh, sod, sod, sodding sod !” the skipper of the Nemesis whispered, almost dead cert as to what that object was.
What those gopping, oxygen-thieving Feds had murdered most of Tyson's 430 students, scientists, explorers, civilians over.
“Chief,” Kara decided,”I'm echoing an image from my plant to shipnet, and you will apply the random encoding, enciphering, encryption and compression protocol of the day, before echoing it directly to Gibraltar.”
“That data,” she added,”is restricted, per the Official Secrets Act.”
“Understood, Skipper,” Solange replied.
4 NOVEMBER, Y317 11:42:06 ZULU
Admiral In Chief Roderick Wesley, rightful Chairman of the United Federation of Planets’ Executive Council, leaned back in His chair, knocked back another waterglass of Romulan ale, and continued studying the telemtery echoed from GIA LLC's Domestic Surveillance Center in the privacy of His study in the penthouse suite of the Federation Goverment Arcology, the Master of His Federation switching between scenes of bought and paid for radfemnazi, sojus, ultraliberal, neo-Nazi protestors being made to watch, as those they cared about—pretended to care about, He should honestly say—were subjected to necessary rehabilitative therapy techniques, at the same time they put the blame for their undergoing rehabilitative therapy where it belonged.
Squarely on their self-entitled, spoiled, sensitive little snowflake so-called loved ones childishly defying what must be.
The anointed King of Man smiled His work to see.
Before the computer terminal on the workstation in front of Him bleeped for His attention.
“Yes?” said the Lord and Master of the True Humanity asked, and the image of His Chief Executive Officer, Micheal Bauer, quickly informed him:
“Our associate is on the line, wanting to speak with you.”
before a partician, masculine image with a fine Roman nose appeared before Him.
“Mister President,” the Father Of Mankind said, with a slight nod of His head.
“Mister Chairman,” President Eugene Herman replied.
He then came to the point, as one of His Biological Authoritarians should, in any reality:
“I understand the gate in your Eta Carinae system, and our facility on its first planet are both under threat by a force of hostile warships presently occupying same.”
“I am aware of this,” the Chairman of the True Federation's Council calmly replied.”We have dispatched an SCS battle group from Second Fleet's starbase, along with several combat assets of the Lion Heart Cartel, to resolve the situation.”
“We do not want said facility,” Herman had the naked effrontery to ignore Him, of all people,” or its advanced technology falling into the hands of the ape primitives; therefore, we have dispatched a force of exploration vessels from one of our starbases to the Tarazed Gate, where they will transit through to what you call the Tannhauser Gate en route to our facility on your Eta Carinae I. Please see to it that Your forces extend them every cooperation.”
“Consider it done,” the anointed King of the Israelites told the so-called President of this non-optimal parody of His United Federation of Planets. “Was there anything else?”
“That will do for now,” Herman smugly replied. “Information on the ships making the passage has been uploaded to Your Starfleet Command; they will be making the passage under high impulse speeds. We shouldn't require Your assistance, however, as even the vessels supporting the facility are more than capable of dealing with the ape primitives' militaristic throwback excuses for starships.”
“Having seen your ships in action, Mister President,” said the Inheritor of the True American Legacy out loud,”I don't doubt that, but, in the unlikely event your ships require Our assistance, you will find Our Starfleet's scientific, diplomatic, exploration, and peacekeeping assets more than up to the task.”
“I'm sure I will, Mister Chairman,” Herman airly replied. “Starbase Tarazed will send word through the Gate, when our forces make their transit. Herman out.”