"The Devil to Pay" - The Federation Civil War (TGG

[Steve]

This Tragedy and what it brings
All the Devastation
(The Reaper has his way!)
Men will kill, blood will spill
To preserve the Nation
(There's the Devil to Pay!)

- Chorus to "The Devil to Pay; Gettysbug Day 1" by Iced Earth


Chapter 1A - Crestfallen


U.S.S. Enterprise NCC-1701-E, Near Rel'tesk Charter Colony
4 January 2166 AST
28 July 2380 ST-3 Calendar

Captain's Log, Stardate..... What is the Stardate? Ah yes, Stardate 57040.1.

*long pause, lasting several seconds, before a clear sigh is heard*

I cannot remember a single time in my career that I have forgotten a stardate for a log. Such is a sign of these chaotic times, I fear, as my mind is completely overwhelmed by it. There is tragedy everywhere. Everything I cherish is being torn apart in front of my eyes and I feel so utterly helpless to stop it.

These past weeks I have spent sleepless nights staring at the ceiling of my quarters, or upon the books I have collected on my nearby shelves, trying to think of how this can be ended before the bloodshed reaches the scale that, in civil war, it must inevitably come to.

Instead I find myself asking where it all went wrong. The Federation possessed such promise. As a boy I can remember feeling nothing but hope for my future and the future of all Humanity, and the Federation embodied it.

What happened to us? What happened to the Federation of hope? To Starfleet, the preserver of freedom? Now we are ordered to fire upon our own people while, on our homeworlds, the people are gripped by madness and tear into one another with unrivaled savagery. The peace of Earth and so many other worlds has been shattered after decades of peace and content, and not by alien invasion but by the very people who live upon them. The dream that I and so many others had of the Federation, of the future, is gone.

Was it all a lie, this dream? Has my life's work truly been for nothing? I fear this is so.

No, I don't fear it is so. I know it is so. In my heart, in my mind, I see the truth, and it makes me recoil in horror. This was inevitable. The dream was an illusion, an illusion I followed willingly even when my mind should have known better. I could not help myself. All of my dreams for the future, all of my hope for the more noble and selfless Man, was embodied in the Federation. And long after I saw it as wrong, I refused to accept it, because I could not bear to admit my dreams were not coming true.

And now I see that I have truly lost everything. I wrapped myself up in my Starfleet career, convinced I was fulfilling my dream, and let my ties to my family be forsaken. Now I am old and childless, and Robert and Rene are dead. The Picard line that landed on Mars and pioneered science and exploration ends with me. And for what? For the Federation to split itself asunder under the weight of an unjust system I have ignored for decades. For the people on Earth to go mad and commit mass murder when told that some sacrifice on their parts was necessary.

All my hope is lost. The future is gone. My life has been for nothing. All I have left now are the tattered remnants of my career and my obligation to my crew and to my principles. This has left my soul is hollow and full of pain.

The Cuban patriot Jose Marti once said that to not support a necessary civil war was as criminal as supporting an unnecessary one. I find that knowledge true but uncomforting. I cannot stop the bloodshed, and I can only hope - Hope! That deceiver still lures me! - I can only hope that the killing and suffering will not be in vain, and that some happiness will arrive from it's outcome, whatever that may be.

If I die in the war to come, so be it. It is an end I am willing to meet, an end to pain, an end to obligation. I do not know if I wish to live to see whatever will come of this war, for my soul still longs for the past, with all of it's hidden evils.

If only I could turn back the clock. If only I could avoid what I have done, what I must do, now.

I have never been a religious man, but.... God, help me, and please forgive me, because I cannot forgive myself.

With a chirp the Enterprise's computer confirmed the log was fully recorded. Captain Jean-Luc Picard had never felt so weak, so drained, as he did when he slumped back into his chair. Outside the stars still shined at him as they always did, but they had lost all their wonder.
Instead his eyes soon focused on another sight, so close to his ship that he could see it through his office's trans-aluminum window. The shattered hulk of a Starfleet vessel, a vessel that the Enterprise had just engaged and destroyed. On it's primary hull, he could still make out the ship's name.
U.S.S. Titan.

As Picard sat and watched the wreckage, he let his thoughts slip away for a moment, trying not to think of the enormity of what had happened, but he was forced back into reality by the comm beep and a voice saying, "Rescue Team to Captain Picard."
"This is Picard, go ahead," he said in bland reply.
"We have found some survivors, sir..."
And again, the deceiving temptress Hope began to seduce Picard again. "Are they...?"
Before he could finish the question, the answer came. "I'm sorry, Captain. Captain Riker and Commander Troi were on the bridge when the torpedo hit. All we found were miniscule biological remains."
With his mouth dry and his heart shuddering in utter despair, Picard replied, "Thank you. Carry on your duties and recover all survivors. Picard out."

At that moment Picard forced himself to turn away from the window. He wanted to be somewhere, anywhere, but here. He looked to the corner and, of all things, found himself longing for annoying, insufferable Q to appear. A suitable punishment for what had just happened.
William Riker and Deanna Troi had been two of his closest friends and comrades in his Starfleet career. They had survived countless battles and ordeals, overcome so many odds, together.
And now he had killed them.

Emotionally destitute, full of the sorrow and loss and guilt of what had come to pass, Picard bowed his head and began crying.

[Coalition]

Congratulations, you have just summed up what the Federation Civil War will be like, in action, and result. Very well done.

[Starglider]

If only I could turn back the clock. If only I could avoid what I have done, what I must do, now.

Of course if Berman & Braga were writing this there would be a convenient time-travel based cop out right about now.

[Trogdor]

A powerful scene and a good start. I feel so bad for Picard. I must say, though, I'm surprised that Picard actually engaged the Titan.

[HSRTG]

And yet, we still don't know what side he's on.

[Steve]

And yet, we still don't know what side he's on.

That is intentional. I didn't want reader bias affecting one's view of the scene.

This is literally the first scene I planned for any story regarding the UFP Civil War. I wanted to do this scene and I had it, in outline if not word-for-word, planned out.

So, anyone going to join the various SB readers in guessing who was on who's side?

[Hugh]

So, anyone going to join the various SB readers in guessing who was on who's side?

Well, considering that Riker is a rebel at heart (IIRC), and that Picard honestly believes in the values of the Federation - not to mention his tremendous sense of duty - I'd say the answer is somewhat predictable

[Trogdor]

I just assumed Picard was a Federation loyalist. It actually never even occured to me that you hadn't spelled out which side he was actually on til HSRTG pointed it out.

In the entire run of TNG, it was very clear that Picard believed, completely and totally, in the Federation and its ideals. He'd break the Prime Directive now and then, but it always seemed to me like he believed that the philosophy behind it was essentially sound. Judging from his brief appearance in Anatomy of War, it seemed to me like Picard believed just as strongly in the Federation, even in the face of Alliance being there and presenting an alternative.

In this, it's obvious that he doesn't believe anymore, but I get the sense that he feels like he's too damn old to change horses, isn't up to challenges that are coming, and just intends to go down with the Federation.

[Coalition]

So, anyone going to join the various SB readers in guessing who was on who's side? :)

I'll be lazy

[Steve]

So, anyone going to join the various SB readers in guessing who was on who's side?

I'll be lazy

"Likely" and "probably" are key words there, and it was a general request about all the TNG characters (show or era, IIRC).

[Steve]

Chapter 1B - Intentions


U.S.S. Defiant NX-74205, Samotian Nebula
7 January 2166 AST
31 July 2380 ST-3 Calendar


The squadron of Anglian and Antarean ships remained with Defiant at the edge of the nebula, their energy signatures hidden from long-range detection by their location. A swirl of green and blue and red color, the visual effect of the gases swirling in the vacuum, surrounded the lethal warships as they waited for their prey to come by.
Sitting in the middle of the quiet bridge of the small warship was Rear Admiral Benjamin Sisko, formerly commander of Starfleet's assets on the Bajoran border. His eyes focused intently on the viewscreen ahead of him, his face a mask to the rage boiling within him, a rage that even after three days had not burned itself out.

And soon it did. The Sovereign-class starship Resolute and her task force of five ships, including an Excelsior-class Flight III, moved by, hunting a force of ships from the revolting Human charter colony of New Dixie, ships that had already retreated to safety at the Colonial-held Starbase at Gamma Letman. "That's Captain Trenholm's ship," Commander Jadzia Dax remarked from the conn of the Defiant.
"David Trenholm," Sisko answered. "We went to the Academy together. Follow him closely, and prepare to decloak and fire."
Dax barely gave Sisko a slight glance. From the tactical station Worf rumbled, "Sir, should we not give Captain Trenholm a chance to come over to our side?"
"Three captains have tried this past week," Sisko replied. "Their crews are already on the way to New Zealand, I'm sure. No, I know David. He won't defect."

Worf did not reply to that, but after another moment of silence, a new voice spoke up from the station across the bridge from Worf. "This doesn't feel right," Lieutenant Nog remarked. "Firing on Starfleet ships without warning...."
"That's enough, Mister Nog," Sisko said in a dark voice.
Nog didn't speak aloud again, but he did mumble, "I wish Chief O'Brien were here."

"The Resolute is sending out an open broadcast on all frequencies," Dax reported. At Sisko's nod, she put them on the bridge speaker.
"This is Captain Trenholm. Ben, I know you're out there. You're in your little gut-puncher and you're waiting for the right moment to strike. Listen, this isn't going to work. The Colonials are going about this all wrong, and they're risking themselves and every world in the Federation on this. You've got to stop them and uphold your oath to Starfleet. Ben, please.... I'm sorry about your Dad. He was a swell guy. But we didn't kill him, Ben."

Sisko's jaw tensed and his finger hit the key on his chair's panel to reply. "No, David, you only defend the people who did. How many innocent people were murdered last week from their little temper tantrum?"

"Ben, this isn't the time to talk politics. The Federation is falling apart and the other races are licking their chops at the chance to tear up whatever is left. Stand down, for your sake and your crew's, and Starfleet will overlook this. You haven't actually done anything yet for the Colonials, so if you stand down we can pretend this never happened. But if you attack me, or you do anything other than come to your senses and back Starfleet, I will hunt you down and bring you in for court martial. You and your entire crew. Do you understand?"

"Crystal clear," Sisko replied, after which he nodded to Dax and Worf.
As the ship's alert klaxons blared, the Defiant and her force of eight warships emerged from the nebula, quantum torpedoes and phaser blasts flying toward Resolute and her force. The massive starship reacted with deceptive swiftness, managing to evade a couple of the torpedoes while taking the rest of the hits in stride on her shields.
The Defiant rocked as Resolute returned fire, her sister ships focusing their firepower on the Anglian and Antarean vessels joining Defiant in her attack.

Sisko gave orders and his crew followed them, and for a moment it was deceptively similar to the many battles they had fought against the Dominion. But it was different, and they all knew it; Starfleet officers firing on Starfleet officers, and not as part of some coup plot as it had been the last time Defiant traded shots with Lakota, but as only one battle in a growing civil war that was tearing the Federation apart.
The odds against them were even, for while they had superior numbers, nothing in their ad hoc squadron could stand up to a Sovereign-class starship.

Coming around, the Defiant shuddered under a pair of quantum torpedoes from a nearby Steamrunner-class ship before it fell to the particle cannons of an Alliance Dorsetshire-class light cruiser under Antarean command. The first hit had been their's, but the second was not, for that same light cruiser's power core SCRAMed and left it a cripple after the Excelsior and another Steamrunner finished pumping it with torpedoes and phaser fire.

Defiant's pulse phaser cannons raked along the primary hull shields of the Resolute with retorted with it's own turreted battery of pulse phasers on it's ventral hull. "Shields down to seventy percent," Worf reported. "The Resolute's shields are still holding."

"Sir, picking up another group of ships arriving. The lead vessel is Intrepid-class....." Dax looked up from her station. "It's Voyager."
"Who are they targeting?" Sisko asked.
After a moment, Nog looked up. "Sir, Voyager is targeting the Resolute!"

Voyager and the ships accompanying her joined the combat, quantum torpedoes lashing out and striking Resolute on her starboard arc. The large ship turned, leading her squadron away as Captain Trenholm realized the odds had turned against him. Sisko looked intently on as the vessel escaped to warp with two other survivors of her squadron, one vessel with a crippled warp drive surrendering to them.



Several hours later, Sisko and Dax strolled onto the bridge of the Voyager. Chakotay was not present, but most of the rest of the ship's crew were. Lieutenant Kim at sensors, Paris at the conn, and a couple other officers at weapons and engineer with Commander Torres still in the ship's bowels.
A blonde-haired Trill welcomed Sisko to the bridge. She was rather on the cute side, though getting up there in age, and wore a Commander's three gold rank pips on her burgundy red uniform neck. Dax seemed to recognize her more than Sisko, to whom she stood at attention. "Admiral Sisko, I'm Commander Jobrie Tevala, ship's First Officer. Captain Chakotay is waiting for you in the conference room."
"You're Maralo Tevala's daughter, aren't you?" Dax was looking at Jobrie, having fully recognized her as the daughter of the former Federation President, the last and only non-Party President since Hikaru Sulu left office in the early 2320s.
"Yes, Commander Dax. An honor to meet you too," Jobrie said happily before showing them to the conference room.

The trans-aluminum window showed the colors of the Samotian Nebula in their full, beautiful glory. A number of captains were arrayed at the table around Chakotay, all standing at attention at his entry, but one in particular caught Sisko's attention. "Cal?"
The former Maquis commander, Cal Hudson, allowed himself to smile at his old friend despite the circumstances of their last encounter. "Ben, good to see you. It's been a long time."
"It has."
"Admiral Sisko, Sir." Chakotay's voice won him the attention of everyone in the room. "Admiral, I and my fellow captains would like to extend our condolences for your father. He was a good man from what I heard. It's a shame what happened to him."
The fresh wound on Sisko's heart began to hurt again, as if someone had twisted the knife there.

Their talk was initially strategy. Chakotay had come to gain the aid of Sisko's forces in stopping an imminent attack by the Federation 4th Fleet on the Colonial federation of Nuniz, and he figured that Sisko's name might help them win more support from the Muscovite fleet as Novy Moskva mobilized for war and independence as well.
When the other captains were gone, with only Chakotay and Sisko left, Chakotay looked at him intently. "Admiral, I didn't want to ask this in front of the others, but I need to know for myself. Years ago, you were one of my most implacable adversaries. Your spearheaded many of the Federaiton's initiatives to fight the Maquis. Now, you stand with the Maquis' successors in war against the Federation. Was it just because of your father? Is your part in this civil war only so you can get revenge?"

At first Sisko was silent, staring out the window. "While I served on Deep Space Nine, I met people from across the Multiverse," Sisko began. "It was a humbling experience. All of these peoples, like us but not like us, with their own histories, traditions, and ways of thinking. Through them, I began to see the flaws in the Federation."
"And then, I found out about Section 31."
That history, of the abduction of Bashir and Bashir's failed attempts to court the black ops agency, was soon revealed to Chakotay. "The Federation was supposed to be a peaceful, honest entity. And yet I found that underneath that veneer was an organization with innocent blood on it's hands. At that point, I began to wonder what else the Federation might be capable of if it ever went that far. And now look at what has happened. Ovnork is a figurehead, a puppet without power, unable to resist the Association for Federation Unity. I have dealt with these people, Captain Chakotay. They are power-hungry, vicious, and willing to be brutal to achieve their visions. And now they control the Federation. I cannot serve such people, Captain. I will not serve."
"My father's death affected me, yes. It has sealed my resolve." His face a mask of sheer determination, Sisko came to the end of his answer. "The Federation has failed and it has left, in it's wake, broken dreams and a population driven mad by it's sense of entitlement, mad to the point that innocent people were murdered by these mobs. They must be opposed, even if it means breaking oathes we once cherished so strongly."

At that Chakotay nodded. He extended a hand. "Well then, Admiral, I'll be happy to serve under your command. It's good to have you on the side of right this time around."
Sisko didn't remark at that, but he did take Chakotay's hand.

[Vehrec]

Sorry I didn't reply earlier, but there were no words that did that first part justice.
Chakotay is one of the more obvious Colonial proponents. Wonder what Janeway's doing though. And Sisko's conversion is very well handled. Where's O'brian that Nog wishes he were here? Or is the Chief dead? So many questions. . .

[Steve]

Sorry I didn't reply earlier, but there were no words that did that first part justice.
Chakotay is one of the more obvious Colonial proponents. Wonder what Janeway's doing though. And Sisko's conversion is very well handled. Where's O'brian that Nog wishes he were here? Or is the Chief dead? So many questions. . .

O'Brien's in San Francisco. He appeared briefly near the end of "Sundered Dream", driving Jake and that Pacifican family to the Lyran Embassy.

[Steve]

Chapter 1C - Torchbearers


Near Atlanta, Earth
United Federation of Planets
Universe Designate ST-3
20 January 2166 AST
13 August 2380 ST-3 Calendar


For all of the changes to Earth in the prior centuries, there were still some simple, solitary spots. One such spot was a simple cemetary outside of Atlanta, where the lights of the metropolis could be seen in the distance while the night sky was still clear and full of stars.
It was a fitting place for the gathering that took place. It was a gathering of memory, with only two living men present, but twice their number added in spirit.
One was a stout man, with gray hair and beard, with a bottle of Scotch in his hand, in a black jacket over a white turtleneck with matching black trousers; the other a robed man, thinner and more serene and calm, with studied contemplation on his face as the two men looked down upon the grave.
For it's solitary, well-kept location, it was a simple grave, with an elegant if simple tombstone, the kind the occupant had desired for himself. Their eyes fell upon the engraving, though it was too dark to actually see it, since both knew what was inscribed there.

HERE LIES

LEONARD H. McCOY
AN OLD COUNTRY DOCTOR

JANUARY 20 2227 -
JANUARY 22 2379

"For you, Doctor McCoy, Happy Birthday. It's your favorite." Captain Montgomery Scott (Retired) shook his head in sadness and, for tradition's sake, took out a small bottle of mint julep and poured it out upon the grave. "He was happy to make it to 152, but I wish he'd made it to 153 today. Though....it was a good thing he passed on when he did, wasn't it? To see what's become of the Federation now..."
"I cannot imagine the good Doctor reacting well to what has happened," former Ambassador Spock responded from his comrade's side.
"I cannae believe people these days. If only the Captain were...." Scotty's sentence trailed off. He'd found himself making that same comment before, about wishing Captain Kirk was still around. The age-old faith he had, that "the Captain" could find a way out of any problem, refused to be shaken. "I'm sorry, Mister Spock. I just feel so helpless. Nobody in Starfleet listens to me these days, not since these bloody thugs started gettin' into ranks."
"I, too, have been most unsuccessful in my attempts to influence the Federation Council or the Vulcan government." Spock looked up toward the stars in the sky. "It would appear that there is nothing we can do to stop the current crisis."
"Is this what we fought for, Mister Spock? For our children to become selfish layabouts who murder innocent people in the streets when they don't get things their way?"

"It is not, Mister Scott. Our endeavors were for the good of their parents. That the current generation has not chosen wisely cannot be helped." Spock looked back at Scotty. "What is it you will do now, Mister Scott?"
"Well, I had given thought to retirin'," was the reply, but both knew it wasn't going to happen. "I can't serve Starfleet, not in this war. Not like it is now."
"Perhaps, then, there is a different avenue of employment you would be open to following?"
Scotty looked at Spock and a small grin crossed his face. "Aye, the Colonials. Good lot of lads, if you ask me. Even back in our days. But gettin' through the front lines, with everything as it is now..."
"I am pleased to inform you that I have acquired the means to get us to Colonial territory discreetly and safely," Spock said succinctly. "Unfortunately, the odds of us ever returning to Earth, or seeing Doctor McCoy, are not favorable. I do not believe the Colonial militaries have the strength to do more than fight the Federation to collapse, and they will not have the ability to actually take Earth."

"A damned shame. But, our place is out there anyway, isn't it Mister Spock? Just like in the old days. And Doctor McCoy, he'd want us to do the right thing. I think he'll understand."
"Indeed." At that moment, Spock reached into his robes and pulled out a small flask. It was, properly enough, filled with the same Tennessee whiskey as the bottle now in Scotty's hand. Spock brought the flask up, and realization brought Scotty to do the same thing. "To old friends."
"Aye. To old friends, and to the next generation, we'll raise the torch one last time."
The flask and the glass touched, and both men took a drink, after which the remaining contents were poured out upon Doctor McCoy's grave. When both were empty, Spock returned the flask to his robes and pulled out a Romulan communication device. "Spock to Theodore Weld, Captain t'Prinn, if you will be so kind as to beam us up."
After a moment, a green shimmer lit up the gravesite, and Doctor McCoy's grave was again alone in silent solitude, his last two surviving crewmates off to have one last adventure together, upholding the principles and ideals of the Federation they had served in yesteryear against the Federation that had come into being today.

[Vehrec]

For a pair of old codgers, I'll bet they can still win hearts and minds. To Mr. Spock and Mr. Scott! Their old bodies are worth a hundred ships of the wall. I'd guess that Spock used a Romulan device because it's not normally a type that the Federation would monitor in their own space. And that's about all there is to say. Old warhorses return to the battlefield.

[Coalition]

For a pair of old codgers, I'll bet they can still win hearts and minds. To Mr. Spock and Mr. Scott! Their old bodies are worth a hundred ships of the wall. I'd guess that Spock used a Romulan device because it's not normally a type that the Federation would monitor in their own space. And that's about all there is to say. Old warhorses return to the battlefield.

Or an actual Romulan ship. Spock was trying to unify Vulcan and Romulus, and he likely made a few converts.

Nothing up to date of course, but a small scout, capable of a good cloak, and they can get through Federation sensors much easier.

But yes, when The Captain Scott and Ambassador Spock join the Colonials because it is the right thing to do? That will cause a few starship Captains to take a second look at themselves.

[Steve]

Chapter 1D - Loyalties


San Francisco, Earth
United Federation of Planets
Universe Designate ST-3
22 January 2166 AST
15 August 2380 ST-3 Calendar


In the offices of Starfleet's Operations Department, the lights were on in the office of Vice Admiral Lawrence Kirsch, head of Starfleet's Mission Deployment office. He had a PADD in front of him that he was studying intently.
The door chirped and he called out for the person there to come in. The door swished open and a female figure walked in wearing an admiral's pips on her collar and cuffs. "I've been hoping to put this off," Kirsch admitted, "but Security pressed me hard to talk to you."
"I understand," his Chief of Staff, Rear Admiral Kathryn Janeway, answered. They both knew this talk was going to happen the instant it was confirmed that Voyager had been amongst the defectors. "There are questions about my loyalty."
"It can't be helped," Kirsch said. "I'm to take your statement on the matter. Starfleet Security will determine how to investigate further at their perogative."
"It's perfectly fine." Drawing in a breath, Janeway took the seat Kirsch motioned her towards. Her mind did not focus itself on her former crew, but upon the duty at hand, and what it had to do with her future. "I am a Starfleet officer. I swore an oath to protect and maintain the Federation and I will not abandon that oath."

Kirsch nodded at her. "Well, that's short and to the point. I'll pass that on. But first..." Looking at her in all seriousness, Kirsch asked, "If you received a fleet command, and Voyager was on the other side, could you fire on her? Could you possibly kill everyone you worked with for so long, in such tense situations?"
It would've been perfectly fine for Janeway to have thoughts about that, serious ones. Close comrades, people who had saved her life and trusted her for so long during that odyssey... But there were no thoughts. Janeway could see her duty clearly, and her choice was obvious and clear. "Without hesitation, Admiral."
"Very well. You are dismissed, Admiral."


Starbase 67, Reynolds System
Colonial Territory (New Gdansk-R'Toak Confederacy)
23 January 2166 AST
16 August 2380 ST-3 Calendar


As well as being captain of the Voyager, Chakotay had soon found himself being a rallying point for the old Maquis fighters to resurface and join the fight against the Federation. The extent of men and women asking to serve with him had necessitated taking a small office in Starbase 67, once held by an assistant to one of the local BNA bigwigs, which he occupied on most days while Voyager waited for refit and replenishment following recent skirmishes against non-defecting Starfleet forces.
That morning Chakotay had attended a briefing with Admirals Sisko and Ross, in which the situation on the front was still described as "chaotic". A number of charter colonies had successfully seceded, others, not so successfully, and much of it was dependent upon the strength of Starfleet in various regions and how many of them defected at the onset of the war and the brutal riots back in the Core. There was, in fact, no front at the moment, but rather a patchwork of sectors and individual systems where Loyalist or Colonial forces were in control. Eventually the situation would have to stablize, of course, and it was the cause of the Colonial forces, still bringing together their disparate commands within the chaos, to seize as much territory as possible to make their position unassailable.

Chakotay looked up from his desk at being informed of another applicant having arrived. A look of some surprise came over his face when he saw Tuvok standing at the door, hands behind his back as usual, wearing civilian clothing with an empty pistol holster on his belt. "Mister Tuvok? What can I do for you?"
"I have come here to enlist in the Colonial forces, Sir," was the stoic reply.
For a moment Chakotay remained silent before he replied, "Really? I was under the impression that most Vulcans were trying to stay neutral."
"Many are, yes, and the government of Vulcan and the colonies are seeking neutrality in the Civil War. Their actions, however, are most illogical. This is a conflict that will not permit for neutrals, and I desire to fight on the side which would do the most good upon victory."
After a moment, Chakotay grinned with amusement, walking up to Tuvok. "You know, Mister Tuvok, the last time I brought you on board something like this, you turned out to be a Starfleet spy."
"Indeed. But, as the saying goes, times change, Captain. I am no longer in Starfleet, and I owe no allegiance to the Federation at this time." Tuvok appraised his former commander with a quiet demeanor. "I leave the disposition of my service up to you, Sir."

After several moments of quiet, Chakotay extended his hand foward. As Tuvok took his hand, he said, "Welcome back, Mister Tuvok. It's good to have you again."

[A-Wing_Slash]

Janeway's a bitch. And I like the story.

[Typhonis 1]

Janeway's a bitch. And I like the story.

I wouldn`t call Janeway a bitch. That is an insult too dogs.

[GunDoctor]

That is an insult 'to' dogs. And yes that is an insult to our fine canine brothers and sisters, and yes this story rocks.

Write more please!

[Steve]

Chapter 1E - Principles


Space Station Bravo, Sector 221-G
Disputed Territory
23 January 2166 AST
16 August 2380 ST-3 Calendar


The ground shook beneath Admiral Elizabeth Shelby's feet as her station reeled from the firepower directed at it. The aptly-named Cromwell, a new Flight II Sovereign-class starship, raked Space Station Bravo with another barrage of pulse phaser fire, seeming to ignore the firepower that Kat Mueller's Trident was pouring into her port side.
The combined Loyalist-Danteri force was swooping in irresistably, outnumbering Shelby and Mueller's force of Starfleet defectors and Colonial ships two to one. Their commander's voice soon confronted Shelby over the comm system. "Stand down, Shelby, before you get more of your people killed," Martin Jellicoe, again an admiral in Starfleet, remarked over the comm. Shelby had heard that the old Cardassian fighter had gone over to the AFU, but she was still a little surprised to see he'd come after them. "Listen, the Danteri have given me more than enough firepower to take you and the other local bumpkins out. This sector is going to stay in Federation hands whether you like it or not."

"The hell it will," was Shelby's spat response, and even she was surprised at the vehemence in her voice. Not so long ago she had been a loyal patriot of the Federation as well, and even she didn't know how she'd turned. She did suspect who was responsible, though...
"Shelby, you're a good officer, but you've been listening to Calhoun too much. You can't win this war, the Colonials can't. Not in the long run. Now, I expect you to do your duty to Starfleet and the Federation and stand down."
"The same Federation that broke its word and invaded Pacifica? The same Federation that admitted the Danteri? Dammit, Admiral, they've got you fighting alongside the Danteri and we all know what they're really after. Every principle you swore to uphold when you put on that uniform, you're now betraying!"
"Protecting the Federation was what I swore to do, Admiral, and that's what I'm doing right now." The channel was promptly cut.
Cromwell and her force continued hitting hard. "Shields down to thirty percent," one of her officers said over another rocking of the station. "We'll be vulnerable to boarding parties soon."
"Trident just lost main power...."
Shelby began to consider surrender after all, even if she would later be unable to admit it, and was even about to call for her comm officer to hail Jellicoe again and get terms.

"Admiral, we have more contacts! Ships are bearing Colonial IFF codes.... Excalibur is with them!"
"He always has to make an entrance," Shelby said with an amused look on her face.


The reinforcing Colonial squadrons joined the battle with the large Excalibur at their head, two cruisers joining Mackenzie Calhoun's ship in pouring firepower into the Cromwell's port side. Her shields began to buckle under the onslaught, flickering blue in space while allowing torpedoes to get through and savage her hull. The other Colonial ships turned their attention to the Danteri, who reacted to the arrival of the warships by turning tail.
"Jellicoe, you should have known better than to trust the Danteri in anything more than a guaranteed fight," said the famed "Mac the Bastard" as his ship moved between crippled Trident and the Cromwell. "I believe terms of surrender are in order?"
Imagining the look on Jellicoe's face on the moment, Shelby couldn't help but laugh. "Good to have you back, Mac," she said on the open commline.
"I brought the Midwayers with me, the Swabians and the Andalusians are also going to be joining us shortly after their fleets secure DS5."
"Will it be enough to take on the Danteri and the Federation?"
"Well, it'll have to be, won't it?" was Calhoun's answer, and Shelby didn't know whether to laugh or groan.
And, at the very least, they'd win or lose together. Just like it always should be.

[Steve]

Gaaaah!

Edward Jellico, not Martin! *slams head on desk*

[Zed Snardbody]

Janeway's a bitch. And I like the story.

I wouldn`t call Janeway a bitch. That is an insult too dogs.

First one up against the wall when the revolution comes.

[Steve]

In July 1863, a nation torn in tragedy
A trick of fate, two great armies merge
Gods of War at Gettysburg
Devastation lies ahead
50,000 bodies litter the land.
Hell rages three full days, the Reaper sows
There's the Devil to pay!

"The Devil to Pay; Gettysburg Day 1" by Iced Earth



Chapter 2 - Torn Bonds


Paris, Earth, United Federation of Planets
Universe Designate ST-3
1 February 2166 AST
25 August 2380 ST-3 Calendar


One month.
It was still getting used to, this mad state of war. For a month, the bonds that once held the Federation together had been torn asunder. It was not just any civil conflict, not a mere insurrection or rebellion. In many ways it was, in fact, outright war, a war that would either save or destroy the Federation.
Or so it seemed to some. To Ovnork Re'kwish, President of the Federation Council and Chairman of the Central Committee of the Party of the Federation's Ideals, the Federation was already dead; the war would decide who would possess part or all of the corpse and what would be done with it.
The Tellarite found himself spending more and more time in his office, delving himself into the rudimentary paperwork of his position, trying desperately to hide from the terrible, ugly reality on the streets outside. Out there, walls everywhere were covered in propaganda. The Association for Federation Unity was coming into primacy now; inside the Party it urged loyalty and ruthlessly purged corruption and incompetence, creating a climate of fear and terror as any found to be against it were stripped of their positions and imprisoned.

They were unopposed on this, in fact cheered for it, by the populace. The madness had not ended with the suppression of the riots at the outbreak of the war. Rather the lowest classes now accepted the AFU argument that only by sacrifice now could their benefits be guaranteed in the future. Ovnork himself never dared to give voice to the truth of what this meant; the AFU planned to go beyond the dues system and turn the colonists into literal helots in the Spartan sense, working for the benefit of other people under a regime of random terror and murder.
What tattered remnants there were of the middle class in the core worlds, as well as the non-Party upper class, also backed the AFU to various degrees. They saw the AFU, which had taken the lead in suppressing the riots, as their protector from the radicalism and bloodthirst of the deprived (and depraved!, some cried) welfare mob.
Horrible irony now came to play, the threat of having their benefits - to many of these people their very livelihoods - taken by the Colonial rebellion driving the Core Worlds to deny many of the things they once adhered to. No longer did one hear about the people working to better the sentient races of the Quadrant; the truth had been laid bare by events, and the people had revealed themselves as violently devoted to the benefits they considered their birthright, and indeed revelled in it.

It has all been for nothing, Ovnork thought bitterly as he listened to Milano and other Starfleet admirals lay out the strategic situation. The Federation had been reduced to a cul-de-sac by colony defections, with several homeworlds severed from the rest of the Federation and their governments, it was reported, negotiating with the triumphant rebel governments even now for neutrality in the civil war. If there was any benefit, it was to the Federation possessing superior interior lines for supply and deployment. The major rebel fleets and forces would have to travel a longer, circutious route around Federation-controlled space, lengthening their communications lines.
"We intend to wait for the Colonials to get cocky with their early successes against us," Milano informed him, breaking Ovnork out of his funk. "I've ordered Starfleet to secure a series of systems along these sectors..." Milano indicated the sectors on the holomap in the middle of the office. Ovnork listened to him list specific commands in a couple of cases and general dispositions, but as he was sometimes prone to do, didn't care much for the details.
"Once the Colonials exhaust themselves we'll launch counter-attacks aimed at isolating their fleets from supply, making them easy to pick off," Milano said to finish his briefing. "Politically this could be dangerous, Mister President, so that is why we want you to sign off on it."
Ovnork nodded stiffly. "You have my support." Looking at the chronometer on the desk, Ovnork added, "I'll be having a brief meeting with the consul of the Holy Roman Empire in a few minutes, gentlemen, so that will be all."
The various admirals and captains nodded and got up. As they gathered briefing materials, Milano looked to Ovnork and said, "I hope you make this good, Mister President. If we can bring the Empire on our side as well as the Talorans, we eliminate all risk of the Alliance intervening on behalf of the colonies. Without Alliance aid, this war will be our's to win."
Your's to win, Milano, my Federation has already lost, is what Ovnork wanted to say, but he merely replied, "I'll keep that in mind, Admiral. You are dismissed."
Milano nodded at that and followed his subordinates out.


Starbase 67, Reynolds System
Colonial Territory (New Gdansk-R'Toak Confederacy)
7 February 2166 AST
1 September 2380 ST-3 Calendar


The starmap showed the situation, with all of its promises and threats. The Colonial forces were on the attack, controlling space equal to half of the Federation's size and having already isolated a number of pro-Federation homeworlds now desperately negotiating for neutrality and transit rights for their ships to continue trade. Other homeworlds, notably Bolarus and Trill, had shown some inclinations of friendliness to their cause, and Sisko would soon be departing in the Defiant for Trill to negotiate with the Trill government.

The greatest problem, aside from the risk of overstretch from the ambitious colonial fleets, was a lack of centralized strategy. Almost all of the colonies on the Alpha Quadrant side of the Federation had sent representatives to Starbase 67, but that did not mean they agreed, and those on the Beta Quadrant side, led by Pacifica, New Hollandia, and Thu'tassk, were still en route taking the long way around the Colonial-held territory. To Sisko this was a grave situation; the Federation could be counted on, mostly to have a unified command and strategy, even with the infighting he was familiar with from the Dominion War. The charter colonies were in the far more dangerous position of possibly moving at cross-purposes to one another and of allowing Starfleet to isolate and destroy them sector by sector.
They had gathered now in Starbase 67's Strategic Command Center, which had been fitted with several rows of chairs to allow for a large-scale briefing by the Starbase's Starfleet defector personnel and then for the debate to come. It had the potential of being more like a legislative hearing than a military discussion, as there were well over three hundred men and women crowded into the room, and Admiral Ross was hard-pressed to keep order, accepted as a kind of provisional Speaker. The current argument was between the representatives of the Andorian colony government of Rulgussar and the Relgan Sector Association, a loose confederacy of about eighty Trill, Human, Vulcan, and Andorian worlds, which wanted to assume a strict defensive (in part because not all of their Vulcan worlds had signed on to the rebellion, taking their cue from Vulcan proper as Vulcan colonies were known to do) while Rulgussar wanted to keep advancing. It was a pair of sentiments held by almost all assembled. Sisko felt both positions were strategically incorrect, but he didn't want to raise his voice. Not yet. He had capital as one of the most publically known defectors from Starfleet and for personal success in the Dominion War, but that could only take him so far, and so he waited for the right moment in the debate to interject and propose his measures.

There was an interruption at the door, and an attendant noted that a planned participant in the session had just now arrived. Heads turned, and Sisko looked hard at the familiar sight coming through the door, the light glinting off a bare head that was perhaps the least-flattering feature on the face every Starfleet officer present knew.
"I apologize for my tardiness," Captain Jean-Luc Picard stated, looking over the attendees. "The Enterprise is a favored target and we were delayed by an ambush near Lugasor VII. Please, do go on."
Picard's arrival worked well for Sisko, as the drama of it deflated the heated Rulgussar-Relgan debate and allowed for a momentary silence as Picard found a seat. When this was done, Sisko looked to Ross, who noticed him and said, "Admiral Sisko, do you have something to say?"
Sisko stood promptly, gaining the attention of all present. "Before we discuss the matter of advancing or stopping, a more important issue is at stake. Right now our efforts are divided. Each government, each force, is operating on its own without more than rudimentary support and consultation with other colonies. I propose that we form a high command of some form, with its leaders appointed by the colonies, to oversee the war effort and work to keep our forces supplied and organized. And I further recommend that the colonies form a political alliance as a sign of the purpose we all aspire to; freedom from the Federation and independence for any world in it that desires to be free. In fact, let's be brutally honest here about where some of our inspiration is coming from, and use this." Sisko brought up his PADD and used it to transmit the text there-in to all of the other PADD devices in the room.

The delegate from a collection of Human and Centauran worlds, the Yulmani Consortium, looked up from his PADD and said, with some surprise, "This... this is the Constitution of the Alliance of Democratic Nations."
"And if you'll look further, it also includes the Declaration of Principles from the InterStellar Alliance of Universe EM-5," Sisko added. "Those are the models we are all aspiring to. A quadrant where our worlds are free, where our people can work toward their own prosperity and not so that people on a faraway world can live happily without doing any work themselves. A quadrant where we do not need to fear a corrupt central government coming to take everything we have from us, or disarming us so that we are helpless before their power or any other." Sisko's voice rose amongst the gathered, who did not speak or even remark for fear of interrupting him. "Gentlemen and ladies, we want to win this war. And to do so, we shall have to hang together. Or, I can assure you, the Federation will hang us seperately."

As Sisko went to sit down, applause broke out. Picard led them from the section of Starfleet officers, and the other delegates were soon joining it. They decided, for the moment, to encourage their governments to make Ross the Supreme Commander of the Colonial Fleets and to encourage their governments to establish a "Government of the Free and Allied Colonies" to oversee the political and domestic theaters of the war.


A couple hours later, Sisko was alone in his office on Starbase 67. It was adorned with pictures of his family, most prominently those of his late parents. The wound of his father's death was still so very fresh in his heart, even if duty required him to hide it most times (and indeed, if he had ever let it interfere with his duty he could hear his father's voice calling to him from beyond the grave, berating him for not doing what had to be done). That was the Sisko way; raised to be dutiful, proud, and hard-working. That was what set them apart from so many others, and in its own tragic way, it guaranteed that the very people who liked his father in better times would so callously and brutally beat him to death in the here and now. After all, people rarely liked being reminded that others were better than they were.

His attention had gone from a letter from Jake, coming from a home on Tharkad where his girlfriend Cordelia (whom Sisko had still not met, and who he very much wanted to) had been allowed to stay after returning from Earth, to a book that had been upon his desk, either here or on the Defiant, since the war began. It was an old-fashioned book, hardcover with a paper jacket cover, that felt good and heavy in his hands. He could see why some people continued to refuse PADDs or extrauniversal PDA devices in favor of books.
The door chime sounded and Sisko put the back on the table, slipping the bookmark in first. "Come in," he called out.
When it swished open, Picard stepped foot inside of the office. "Admiral Sisko, sir, it is good to see you," Picard replied. Sisko looked at him more closely now and thought he saw something new to the older officer's appearance. Picard didn't just seem older, but he seemed... weaker. As if a strong weight had come down on him and wasn't letting off.

"Captain Picard," Sisko said, feeling a great deal less ill toward Picard than he had when he'd first met the man, truly, when given his command at the Alliance-built station that became Deep Space Nine. "I heard about the Titan. You have my condolences."
"Thank you, sir," Picard replied wearily, finding a seat. "I wanted to give you my personal congratulations on unifying the delegates."
"I just said what so many of us were thinking," Sisko replied. "We all want to win this war, and it means working together."
"All the same, it takes a lot of courage to stand up before a few hundred self-important people and try to tell them what to do..."
"And it also takes a really loud voice," Sisko added with some humor, smiling slightly. It was a bittersweet smile, as it also made him think of his deceased father.
"Your father was a good man," Picard said to Sisko. "His death was a meaningful one, saving innocent lives."
"He was a sharp-tongued, good-hearted old man who got beaten to death by a selfish and bloodthirsty mob," Sisko replied bitterly. "His murderers were people you and I have defended for decades while wearing these uniforms."

Hearing the anger in Sisko's voice, Picard wisely chose to change the subject. He looked to Sisko's book and asked, "May I?"
Sisko nodded, and then suddenly asked, "What about you, Captain? You've always been the True Believer in the Federation, the New Humanity, striving only to better itself."
Picard had just finished pulling the book over, and Sisko's words were like a dagger twisting in his (throughly broken) heart. Looking down, tears came to Picard's eyes. Sisko didn't need to hear an answer to see what had happened, and to know how Picard now felt. "I believed a lot of things that turned out untrue," Picard replied in a hoarse, forced whisper. Sisko realized just how broken a man Picard was. A man living purely on his obligations and duty, deprived of all the deeper things that animated a man's soul. Sisko was thankful he had never wedded himself so strongly to the "New Mankind" beliefs of the Idealogues, seeing how badly Picard had suffered emotionally from the crisis they faced. To see the things he believed in proven wrong, his life's work made for naught...

Picard forced himself to look at the book. Reviewing the cover and the picture of a smiling, gray-haired and bearded man on the back, he said, "John Sheridan's memoirs, interesting choice. But understandable, I suppose, since we share so much in common with him now."
"I met him, you know," Sisko said. "It was about ten years ago, when he visited Deep Space Nine as part of his 2157 state visit to Bajor. He was on the station for about two days, we even took him on a ride on the Defiant through the wormhole and back."
"I remembered hearing something about that," Picard admitted, skimming the text but otherwise remaining quiet so that Sisko could finish his tale.
"After we got back, he had mentioned to me how much he liked oranges, so I went to my room and I made him roasted chicken with orange sauce, a recipe my father taught me. When I went to deliver it to his quarters, Sheridan asked if I wanted to go see 'the game' with him." Sisko was starting to smile, genuinely now, and continued. "I asked him 'what game', and he replied, 'Game 5 of the World Series', referring to his home universe's baseball leagues. An honest to God baseball game! So I said yes, and we rented one of the large holochambers that Quark had added to his bar so we could watch a holo-broadcast of the game."

"Sounds like you had quite a time," Picard replied, allowing himself a small grin at seeing the brightness in Sisko's expression as he recalled what was certainly a fond memory.
"It was wonderful. It was the New York Yankees versus the New Orleans Cajuns. The Cajuns won, 8 to 6, after Peter Le Croix's home run in the top of the ninth broke the tie." Sisko chuckled. "We sat there the entire time, eating hot dogs and cheering the Cajuns. Turned off our communicators and left two Narn Rangers at the door so we wouldn't be disturbed. And even better was when, a few months later, I got a parcel from Tuzanor, from Sheridan himself, and inside was a genuine Louisville slugger autographed by the Cajuns. It turns out that the second baseman for the Cajuns was the son of one of the men who served under Sheridan on Babylon-5. I have it back in storage on Bajor, I'll have to show it to you sometime."
"Indeed," Picard answered.
"You know, when I think about that, about how generous and friendly this man was toward me, a stranger who just happened to command a space station and like baseball, I can't imagine what he was like toward those he considered friends. Toward his closest subordinates and peers.... it's no wonder he commanded so much loyalty from so many people to the day he died. There are times I think I would have preferred being an officer under his command to being in Starfleet."
"I had heard that he disappeared," Picard said. "That the reports of his death were an error or simply a cover, and that his ship disappeared near Coriana 6."
Sisko shrugged. "I don't know. If he were still alive.... that would be something, wouldn't it? We could certainly use the help." Sisko pointed to the book. "I've been reading it since the war started, maybe in the hope his experience in civil war will help us shorten and win this one."

"It's not quite the same, but..." Picard didn't bother to go into how much he had studied the Earth Civil War from Universe EM-5, or on the slightly indecisive result from it. "I can understand the sentiment."
After a moment of silence, in which Sisko retrieved the book from Picard and closed it, he started speaking again. "So, how long until the Enterprise is ready to head back out? I believe there's a squadron command open in..."

[Zed Snardbody]

impressive as always. I've not been this engrossed in a story in quite sometime.