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Chapter Text

Task Force Alamo

USS Excalibur – Excelsior-class heavy cruiser – Captain Alexander Marshall

USS Relentless – Tempest-subclass (Miranda) torpedo cruiser – Captain Chuul

USS Ahwahnee – Constitution-class cruiser – Captain Talra Zha'Thaal.

USS Shackleford – Avery-class frigate – Captain Millicent Chang

USS Proxima – Al Salemi-class frigate – Commander Ta’anva Uresh

USS Yucatan – Larson-class destroyer – Lt. Commander Chiyo Watanabe

USS Stalwart – Oberth-class scout – Commander Lucas Kelley

* * *

Captain Alexander Marshall stepped out of his ready room onto the bridge of the starship Excalibur, his expression a stolid mask in the face of Admiral Saavik’s disturbing news.

He was a large man, standing 6’2”, and if the captain’s rank insignia on his uniform hadn’t commanded instant respect, his bearing would have. He possessed piercing green eyes, thick brown hair and an athletic build that he was proud to have maintained well into his forties.

His Caitian executive officer, Commander Tristienne D’Vorr, emitted a quiet growl in recognition of her captain’s poker face. She rose to vacate the command chair, her mane of feline hair, so like that of a Terran lion, flowing out and away from her face.

“Sir?” she hazarded.

He leaned in, speaking for her ears only. “We’ve been selected to lead the task force to head off the Tholian incursion.”

Her growl grew louder, this time more predatory than alarmed. “Isn’t that a good thing, sir?”

He shook his head fractionally, glancing around to assure their relative privacy. “Seven ships, and Excalibur’s the largest. This isn’t a counter-offensive, it’s a suicide mission. Saavik gave us the code name of Alamo, a tragic last-stand defense from Earth’s 19th century.”

D’Vorr’s whiskers bristled. “Understood, sir. We will all do our duty.”

“That was never in question,” he replied heavily. “However, I have no intention of throwing all of our lives away needlessly. There has to be a way to slow the Tholians down without killing ourselves in the process. It’s up to us to find it.”

He handed D’Vorr an iso-chip he’d been clutching in his hand. “I need you to make notifications to the CO’s of these six ships. Have them rendezvous with us at the coordinates I’ve selected. I need this done quickly and discretely, then join me in my ready room so we can confer with the other ships on route to our assembly point.”

She palmed the chip, offering a slow-blink, the Caitian variant of a nod. “When do we inform the crew, sir?”

“Soon,” Marshall said, before turning on his heel and returning to his ready room.

* * *

USS Reykjavík

Commander Davula entered the ship’s windowless briefing lounge, located behind the bridge under the same ablative armored blister that protected the command center. The briefing room was being utilized as a C-&-C for the task force, with portable workstations having been set up around the perimeter of the conference table.

The XO held up a data-slate, her expression one of curiosity tinged with concern. “Update from the Diplomatic Corps, Commodore. It appears the Tholian ambassador to the Federation is unable to explain what’s happening along our mutual border. The DC says it’s the closest they’ve ever seen to a Tholian completely losing it. It appears the Tholian delegation is having difficulty even making contact with their government, and what they’re getting back apparently doesn’t make much sense.”

Trujillo took the slate from her, adding it to the growing collection of similar devices arrayed before her on the tabletop.

“That jibes with the lack of strategy we’re seeing from them so far,” Trujillo observed. “No feints, no attacking secondary targets, just a straight run in towards the Longlax-Teko system.”

“What’s there?” Garrett wondered aloud.

“Not much,” Shukla answered. “One Terran colony established in 2167 by some of our first warp-capable colony ships that left Earth in 2146. They tried to make a go of it on a marginal Class-L planet, but eventually had to be evacuated by the 2180’s. There’s an automated lithium cracking station on the fourth planet that was also abandoned in the 2290’s after we switched over to isolinear circuitry.”

“Longlax-Teko isn’t the problem,” a gruff voice issued from the end of the table opposite Trujillo.

Lieutenant Titus Helvia, a great brute of a man, had come aboard just an hour before departure, the commodore’s selection for their new chief security/tactical officer. A native of 892-IV, he had been raised on a world unaccountably similar to Earth, a fact that still defied explanation from the finest Federation minds some fifty years after its discovery.

It was a planet upon which the Roman Empire had never fallen and had instead gone on to conquer the globe. Helvia’s family had fled Magna Roma, as it was known to its population, victims of one of the planet’s endemic political power struggles. A refugee in the Federation, his file indicated that Helvia had joined Starfleet as an honorable avenue by which to repay the rescue of his family from their pursuers.

He stood 6’4” with a muscular build that seemed to threaten the seams of his uniform tunic. Sandy blonde hair, cut so short as to constitute mere stubble, only served to accentuate the ferociousness contained in his deeply set blue-grey eyes and his pronounced jawline. Helvia was the end result of countless generations of patrilineal eugenics in the upper echelons of Magna Romanii culture, sorting for traits of intelligence, guile, and physical prowess.

Just below his Starfleet combadge on the left breast of his uniform tunic was a religious emblem that had received special dispensation from command. Five joined gold links of chain, the symbol of the Children of the Son, were displayed prominently.

Helvia called a computer image to life on the compartment’s main viewer, showing the projected course of the Tholian fleet nearly intersecting with another star system on its way to the Longlax-Teko system.

He continued in his gravelly voice, “Draius Prime and Draius Secundus are populated planets in the Draius-Arigulon star system. Both worlds are warp-capable, and the Draiians have begun exploring the possibility of Federation membership. The combined population of both planets is eight-point-seven billion. The Tholian fleet will come dangerously close to that system on its approach to Longlax-Teko.”

Davula directed an appraising expression towards Trujillo. “Is Task Force Alamo going to intercede in defense of the system, sir?”

“Unknown,” Trujillo replied. “I haven’t spoken with Alamo-Actual as yet.”

“Who is leading that task force, sir?” Shukla asked.

“Alex Marshall of the Excalibur,” Trujillo replied. “He was our XO on the Athena at Tomed. Got us safely through that shit-show after Captain Urum was killed. He came away with a medal and a promotion.”

“So, he’s good in a fight?” inquired Davula.

“None better,” Trujillo confirmed. “If anyone can slow down the Tholians with a handful of ships, it would be him.”

“Given the number and type of ships under his command, sir, it would seem a head-on assault is out of the question,” Helvia postulated.

“Inadvisable, yes. Impossible, no,” Trujillo countered. “There are possibilities for ambush or flanking maneuvers, dependent upon whether the Tholians slow to sub-light at or near either of those systems.”

Garrett raised a hand, still not completely comfortable with speaking up without acknowledgement after a year aboard.

Trujillo smiled despite the circumstances. “Yes, Ensign?”

“Sir, has Starfleet done a comprehensive assessment of the Longlax-Teko system since all this kicked off? There has to be something they’re after, something that might not automatically occur to humanoid sensibilities. The Tholians are so vastly different from us, not only physically but mentally and culturally, that the answer could be right out in the open. Perhaps we’ve just missed the obvious?”

The commodore inclined her head in Garrett’s direction. “I can think of no one better qualified to make such an assessment, Lieutenant.”

Garrett blinked. “Sir?”

Trujillo looked to Davula, as if on cue. “Commander, I don’t believe Starfleet would be inclined to take the word of a mere ensign, should she make an important discovery in this endeavor. Don’t you agree?”

“Oh, absolutely, sir,” Davula acknowledged with a smirk.

“Let’s do something about that, shall we?” Trujillo prompted.

Davula stepped forward, presenting a small case that everyone in the room instantly recognized aside from Garrett.

“Ensign Rachel Garrett, step forward and be recognized,” Trujillo said, rising to her feet.

The rest of those seated followed her to their feet as Garrett stepped up to her, still looking somewhat dazed.

“I have determined that whether or not you choose to pursue a post on the Yorktown, by virtue of your bravery, tenacity, and professionalism, you’ve more than earned a promotion.” Trujillo opened the case, producing the new rank insignia. “By order of Starfleet Command, you are hereby promoted to the rank of lieutenant, junior-grade, with all the rights and privileges thereto. Congratulations.”

There was a round of applause and Davula and Trujillo busied themselves replacing Garrett’s ensign chevrons with her new lieutenant’s insignia on her shoulder clasp and left forearm. There were handshakes all around before Trujillo announced, “Alright, people, back to work. We have a potential battle to plan for.”

* * *

Alexander Marshall inclined his head towards his superior who was still light-years away, though heading in his direction with all due haste.

A decade earlier aboard the Athena when Marshall had been the ship’s executive officer, Nandi Trujillo had been a bright but headstrong security/tactical officer, one that he’d had to snap into line on more than one occasion. He had never had cause to doubt her abilities in a fight, but she had often sought battle when other, more diplomatic possibilities were present.

Now by some weird twist of fate, she was his superior. Last he’d heard, Trujillo had run afoul of Command by bucking orders during a recent confrontation with the Cardassians. Now, suddenly, she was Starfleet’s golden child after facing down the Klingons in their home system and garnering a promotion in the process. Marshall smelled political patronage all over Trujillo’s advancement. In his experience, career opportunists were seldom shy about sacrificing others in order to continue their rise up the ranks.

“Captain Marshall,” she said with the appropriate solemnity. “Though I’m glad to be working with you again, I wish the circumstances were different.”

“Likewise, Commodore,” Marshall replied, having elected to address Trujillo by rank rather than as ‘sir.’

“I won’t pretend this isn’t awkward for the both of us, Captain. My first XO from my first command on the Phobos, Bayan Jiemba, made commodore three years ago. I don’t think the ink was dry on his captaincy before he made flag rank. I ended up taking orders from him on several occasions, so, I can empathize.”

“Thank you, Commodore, but that isn’t necessary. I fully appreciate and abide by the chain-of-command.”

Trujillo nodded approvingly. “May I enquire as to your plans vis-à-vis the Tholians?”

“We’re still firming those up on this end. They’ve proven very direct in this push, and it doesn’t seem they’re after any identifiable class of target. This doesn’t seem to involve territory, per se, and they’ve passed right by a couple of frontier Starfleet outposts only a few parsecs off their course that they could have easily moved to attack.”

“Agreed, we’ve seen the same on our end. None of this is adding up, and I’ve got my best people trying to divine what their ultimate goal might actually be. The Tholian ambassador even insists he doesn’t know what’s happening or why, so I don’t think a diplomatic solution is in the cards, at least not through official channels.”

“You don’t see any point in opening a dialogue with them?” Marshall asked, his tone a bit sharper than he had intended.

Trujillo paused, sensing the emotional undercurrent to Marshall’s question. “I believe talking is always preferable to fighting, Captain. I’m simply pointing out that it may be up to you to open that dialogue, as doing so through official diplomatic channels isn’t possible at the moment.”

“I… see,” Marshall answered, not having expected such a response from her.

Trujillo sighed. “Look, I won’t pretend I wasn’t a trigger-happy hot head when we last served together. We both know I was. Despite my having made my career running from one hot-spot to another for the last decade, I’ve learned the value of avoiding avoidable fights. I very much hope you and your task force won’t have to open fire on the Tholians, and that a different solution to this crisis can be found.”

“That’s good to hear, sir,” Marshall answered, surprised to have utilized the suffix unconsciously.

“I’m also not trying to override your command prerogatives here. I’m only asking about your plan to better coordinate with you upon our arrival.”

Marshall inclined his head, accepting this additional olive branch. “Understood, Commodore. I’ll loop you in as soon as we’ve settled on a plan of action. At present, they’re a little over three hours out.”

“One last thing, Captain,” Trujillo said, appearing conciliatory. “If this all goes to hell despite our best efforts, I’ll take the hit regardless of whose plan it was. If political cover is all I’m good for, at least I’ll have had some utility.”

“That’s very kind, Commodore, but unnecessary. I stand behind my decisions and my actions, come what may.”

Trujillo nodded. “Something I learned from your example, Captain Marshall. Good hunting, should it come to that. Perhaps ‘good talking’ is more hopeful?”

Marshall grinned at that, despite himself. “I’ll take it. Thank you for checking in, sir. Excalibur, out.”

* * *