Ad Astra :: Star Trek Fanfiction Archive ^{Beam me up, Scotty.}

Chapter Text

The ‘Triple-C’ or Command Conference Center was situated in Starbase 443’s sprawling Operations Hub, and Reykjavík’s entire engine room could have fit within it. A giant circular conference table inlaid with the Starfleet delta held chairs for thirty humanoids. The table was ringed by workstations facing inward, supporting communications, intelligence, logistics, operations, and a host of other functions vital to coordination and defense.

The domed ceiling arched high overhead; a conspicuous waste of space meant to convey the august nature of the work that went on here. Dozens of viewscreens lined the circular compartment, the smallest of which dwarfed the one found on Trujillo’s bridge.

A medic stood at the entryway, and Trujillo paused just long enough to receive an injection of aceticizine to neutralize the alcohol still coursing through her veins after the spirited wedding reception. Trujillo felt oddly out of place clad in her dress uniform, resplendent with her medals and campaign ribbons, and kept fidgeting with the new wedding band on her left hand.

A lieutenant ushered her to a seat at the table, which was quickly filling with command-level officers belonging both to the starbase itself, as well as to the sundry ships presently berthed within.

Demora Sulu approached, leaning in from behind to grasp Trujillo by the shoulders and whispering, “Well, it wouldn’t be your wedding if it didn’t spark a shooting war, would it?” She grinned and slid into the chair next to Nandi.

Sulu fixed her gaze on the compartment’s largest and most prominent viewscreen, which currently displayed real-time strategic information from the sector in question. A swarm of icons, presumably representing Tholian vessels, were pouring across the border. Scant few starships, represented by delta-arrowheads, stood ready to oppose them.

Her mischievous smile from a moment before evaporated. “Those poor souls are going to buy time for us with their lives,” Sulu noted grimly.

Captain Th'thaorhok, a lean Andorian with a receding hairline sitting a few seats down from them, shook his head in bewilderment. “This makes no sense; it isn’t time. You could set an atomic clock by their expansionist phases. Last time they came boiling out of their territory, I was a lieutenant aboard the Victory. The Assembly shouldn’t be doing this for another decade.” His antennae twitched in obvious vexation.

“It is… atypical, a pronounced deviation from their established pattern,” agreed Lt. Commander Sahvor, the Vulcan skipper of the scout, Niels Bohr. He was within earshot of the conversation from further around the circumference of the massive table thanks to his acute hearing.

“Sirs,” said Lt. Commander Withropp of the Zelenskyy, as he took the seat on the other side of Sulu. He glanced up at the live feed on the display, frowning. “They picked the perfect time to do this. Practically the entire fleet is on the Klingon border right now.”

Sulu reached out to toggle the LCARS interface set into the tabletop in front of her, highlighting one of the Starfleet icons nearest the border incursion. She enlarged and enhanced the image on another screen below the primary viewer, calling up the ship’s registry. “Damn,” she said with a mordant sigh. “That’s Lucas Kelley out there on the Stalwart.”

Trujillo glanced over at Sulu, still toying with the unfamiliar sensation of the ring on her finger. “Your former exec? Isn’t he on an Oberth?”

Sulu nodded fractionally. “Yes. Try and guess how long he’ll last against the Tholians in that.”

Trujillo reached out a hand to grasp Sulu’s forearm, giving it a little squeeze. “I’m sorry, Demora.”

“Gentle-beings,” a voice announced over the PA, “Admiral Saavik.”

The officers stood in unison as Saavik strode into the room, followed by a gaggle of adjutants and support personnel who fanned out to man several of the consoles ringing the outer bulkheads. Saavik moved to a lectern set into the conference table immediately below the primary viewscreen and the assembled officers returned to their seats.

“At twenty-two nineteen hours zulu-time, sensor buoys along our border with the Tholian Assembly detected no fewer than sixty-three of their vessels of various classes approaching Federation space. They crossed the border at high warp, and our automated defense outposts were only able to destroy or cripple a few of their ships before they were overwhelmed.

“With a significant number of our available ships posted to the Klingon border at present due to the recent crisis, we will be hard pressed to meet this incursion with sufficient force to blunt it immediately. This will likely devolve into an attritional battle, with Starfleet establishing successive defensive lines and engaging in a fighting retreat to try and safeguard our colonies and outposts in that sector.

“We are scrambling all available ships to converge on that area, and we’re presently forming Task Force Alamo in situ to try and slow the Tholian’s advance.”

Several Humans around the table winced or shifted uncomfortably at the designation Saavik had selected for the grouping of unfortunate ships which would be thrown into the path of the oncoming threat formation. It was a suicide mission, and Saavik had named it such.

The admiral inclined her head in Trujillo’s direction. “Commodore, you will be leading Task Force Gauntlet, comprised of all vessels currently docked in and around 443, and every ship we can arrange to rendezvous with you en route.”

“Yes, sir,” Trujillo answered, having already called up a list of the available ships. She split her attention between Saavik’s briefing and assessing each ship’s readiness for departure.

“Task Force Gauntlet will attempt to flank the Tholian formation while coordinating with any survivors from Task Force Alamo. If that goal is not feasible upon your arrival, your secondary mission will be to triage defense of the effected sectors, safeguarding those outpost and planets that you can, while bypassing those whose defense would be ineffective or prohibitively costly in ships and personnel.”

Sulu and Withropp were already busy taking notes for Trujillo, who had paused in her ship-status assessments to look up at Saavik with a curious expression.

“Apologies, Admiral, but I have a question.”

“Proceed.”

“You mentioned that a number of Tholian ships were damaged or neutralized by one of our border outposts.”

“That is correct,” Saavik affirmed.

“Unless I’m mistaken, sir, our armed outposts in that region are few and far between. Oh, we have sensor buoys aplenty, but not many weapons platforms. The Tholians could easily have avoided all of those weapons-capable stations, yet they chose to cross into Federation space within the weapons envelope of an armed outpost. Why?”

“We don’t know,” Saavik replied. “They appear to have engaged in a number of inexplicable actions thus far that don’t conform to their established patterns, but our analysis of their behavior hasn’t resulted in any satisfactory answers as yet.”

Trujillo nodded. “Understood, sir.” She called up her list of available ships, cross-referenced with the sector’s personnel database. “We have a number of craft in drydock in need of crews and command officers which would otherwise be available to us. I’d like permission to sidestep the usual personnel channels and have the other task force ships and the starbase contribute qualified staff to fill those vacancies.”

“Granted,” Saavik said succinctly. She called upon her Vulcan half and offered a raised eyebrow. “Any objections if I continue, Commodore?”

Trujillo answered with a thin-lipped smile. “None, sir.”

Saavik completed the briefing with the requisite strategic, tactical, and logistics preparations currently underway.

“I know that you all have much to do in the next two hours. Task Force Gauntlet will depart in two and a half hours with every vessel we can muster. I will be available for further consultation. You may contact my adjutant to arrange a meeting in person or via comms. This briefing is concluded and you are dismissed.”

Some of the command officers departed immediately to ready their ships, while others conferred with each other over various preparations.

Trujillo turned the Triple-C into a command and control node, a function for which it had been designed. Sulu, Th'thaorhok and Withropp assisted with coordinating the task force’s command hierarchy and departure logistics as Trujillo busied herself selecting available personnel to fill the many gaps in several ships’ command crews.

Activating comms via the LCARS interface at her seat, she put a call through via the station’s civilian communication net.

A surprised voice answered, “Go ahead?”

“It’s Nandi. I need you back. Congratulations, your retirement lasted less than thirty-six hours. I am employing the reserve activation clause to return you to service. Brevet promotion to full commander and I’m giving you the tactical scout Gol with Jarrod as your XO.”

There was a noticeable delay before Glal replied, “What’s the magic word?”

“Order?” Trujillo growled, “As in this-is-an-order?”

Glal cleared his throat noisily, something Tellarites excelled at. “You know, a nice, relaxing stint in the brig does sound appealing about now.”

Sulu had to turn away, her shoulders shaking with silent laughter at Trujillo’s predicament.

Trujillo sighed. “Please,” she finally offered, albeit reluctantly.

“In that case, I accept your reactivation, promotion, and command of the aforementioned starship.”

“Grand,” Trujillo exclaimed, severing the channel. She turned to Sulu and Th'thaorhok. “With personnel from the other ships and others seconded by the starbase, we can get underway with thirteen ships, picking up another three on the way.”

Th'thaorhok’s antennae curled in a gesture that accentuated his frown. “Sixteen ships. That’s not much of a fleet to fight an invasion with.”

“No, no it’s not. But then, no one ever said doing our duty would be easy.”

* * *

Task Force Gauntlet

USS Reykjavík – Shangri-La-class attack cruiser – Commodore Nandi Trujillo

USS Yorktown – Excelsior-class heavy cruiser – Captain Demora Sulu

USS Yi Sun-Sin – Excelsior-class heavy cruiser – Captain Adilah Idrissi

USS Shras – Andor-class missile cruiser – Captain Oshath Th'thaorhok

USS Orion – Constellation-class cruiser – Captain Everett Wong

USS Zelenskyy – Miranda-class light cruiser – Lt. Commander Eldred Withropp

USS Vancouver – Loknar-class frigate – Captain Stanek

USS Churchill – Chandley-class frigate – Commander Kaikoura Agarwal

USS Perseus – Wasp-class frigate – Lt. Commander Ulit Toom

USS Robau – Abbe-class missile destroyer – Captain Ian Griffiths

USS Honolulu – Centaur-class destroyer – Captain Shen Quan

USS Senator – Akula-class destroyer – Captain T'sai

USS Gol – Akayazi-class tactical scout – Commander Glal

USS Itoman – Okinawa-class scout – Lt. Commander Erasmus Boone

USS Niels Bohr – Laevatein-class scout – Lt. Commander Sahvor

USS Basford – Oberth-class scout – Lt. Commander Drex Miller

* * *