The Last Battlefield

Posted on Nov 13, 2016 @ 2:45am by Captain Michael Turlogh Kane

Mission: Fortress: Earth

"THE LAST BATTLEFIELD"

(Continued from "Yorktown")
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"Show me [heroes], and I'll write you a tragedy."
- F. Scott Fitzgerald

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Captain's log, supplemental - having saved the Phoenix from the plasma fire, we are still heavily engaged in the Battle of Earth. We have been joined by mysterious allies led by the USS Anubis, but the victory has not yet been won...

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Location: USS Century, entering the fight
Stardate: [2.16]1112.2230
Scene: Main Bridge


Dexter Juraj Marxx, Admiral of the Fleet and commanding officer of the USS Century, watched the main viewer as the starship he led moved forward to engage the super-satellite that had been plaguing the fleet's right flank. Nearby, the Phoenix's lights were illuminating as power flooded back into her systems, but Dex's eyes never left the target. Hanging in the high atmosphere against the beautiful backdrop of the Terran homeworld, the super-satellite was moving too, angling through space to a destination only its onboard computer knew.

The Century was entering the fray because of the precarious state of the battle that had raged all day. When the first shots had been fired, the USS Monarch and her battlegroup were over the western European seaboard, but as the day had wound on, so had the planet turned inexorably beneath them. The Monarch herself had been destroyed over New York City, and now, hours later, the western coast of North America was below. The solar terminator was rushing westward too, out into the Pacific Ocean now, as the daylight moved into evening on the surface.

As the battle had progressed, Starfleet had begun to gain the upper hand, but it had not lasted long. Presumably in response to some computer code buried within their systems, the satellites had begun to join up, fusing themselves together in order to maximise their effectiveness, and it had worked well. Casualty figures had hit five figures not long ago, with over thirty starships now either destroyed or abandoned. The starfighters of the Midway were pancaking by squadrons to be rearmed and refuelled, averaging two minutes' turnaround time, their pilots not able even to catch their breaths before being flung out into the mayhem of battle again. The numbers that came back were fewer each time.

Be at my side, All-Father, as I lead these people into battle. Give me the strength to do what needs to be done for victory. Grant me the courage not to turn away even if it means my own death.

Ensign Gavok, his Tellarite Tactical officer, turned to report. "Message from the Phoenix, Admiral. Captain Kane on audio only."

Dex nodded. "Marxx here. Go ahead, Captain!"

[[The Phoenix is back online, Admiral, and we're ready to fight. We've got your starboard and will follow you in.]]

Dex set his jaw. "Acknowledged, Phoenix. Let's make it count." He gestured to Ensign Chopra at the conn. "Full impulse toward the target."

She nodded and keyed in the command. The super-satellite was already being assailed by half-a-dozen destroyers that flitted around it like moths to a flame, lances of fire flickering between them. As Dex watched, the super-satellite reached out and snuffed out one of the moths with a burst of phaser fire.

For the last time, he glanced around at his people, taking in Cassidy at Ops, the Tellarite Ensign Gavok at Tactical, and Ensign Chopra at the conn. Young officers, eager for experience and glory, who had recently risen to their department head positions because their predecessors were all Neo-Essentialists. His eyes stopped their wandering when he looked at Chopra - the young Human woman bore such a striking resemblance to Breanne that he sometimes thought that the All-Father had put her on board to keep his heart strong. Indian by birth, Ensign Chopra was a skilled pilot who would make a fine command officer some day in the future, long after Dex had gone home to Vega and left Starfleet behind for the last time.

As if feeling his eyes on her, Ensign Chopra glanced at him and smiled shyly before returning to her work. The All-Father's Great Wheel never stopped spinning. Dex inwardly focused on its slow turning, over and over in an endless circle, that had no beginning, no end. The souls of the dead were spun in the wheel, entering it when they died and exiting it when they were reborn into the next life. One day, his soul would enter the Great Wheel too. Perhaps he would see Breanne again if she was still there, or perhaps she had already left it to begin a new cycle of existence somewhere in the universe. Perhaps, on some peaceful world orbiting a beautiful alien star, she was at this moment opening her newborn eyes to a new world, a new loving family, a new life. It was a comforting thought, that his dead child would live again.

"Weapons range in forty seconds," reported Cassidy at Ops.

Dex steeled himself. The Century was an ageing ship, and even though they had shorn her of most of her firepower during her refit last year, she still had teeth, and now it was time to bite.

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Location: USS Phoenix, a few kilometres away
Scene: Deck 3, drive section - battle bridge


Michael Turlogh Kane was feeling a little claustrophobic here on the battle bridge, but was determined to make the best of it. With the main bridge in the saucer section completely destroyed, he and his bridge crew were exercising command and control of the Phoenix from here - the ship's secondary bridge located high up in the 'neck' of the drive section. It duplicated everything on the main bridge - command, conn, ops, tactical, science and engineering stations - but packed it all into a smaller space.

With the plasma fire put out and most of the critical systems restored, the Phoenix was ready for action again. She was damaged, true, and many of her deck-by-deck systems were offline, but the critical ones, though diminished, were all ready for action.

Lieutenant Byte had returned to the Ops position. The android looked terrifying, one side of its head completely shorn of the bioplast it wore as skin. Underneath, Byte's gunmetal duranium skull was clearly visible, one mechanical eye swivelling in its socket, various servos moving around it. There had been no time to conduct any repairs, so Byte looked less human than it ever had.

Mackenzie Procter had relieved Virgil Silsby at Tactical. Procter was much more of a by-the-book sort of officer than Silsby or Barton were. Kane guessed that she had not taken it well when he had given Barton the department head position, but that had been a necessary decision in order to keep the peace with the Limbo refugees, and just as she was a professional, Mackenzie Procter had kept quiet about it. Now, she was concentrating on the data stream rolling down her display, saving what she needed and deleting what she didn't, while simultaneously watching the status of the ship's myriad systems.

Gan Hualing was at the conn. Young and almost-desperately trying to maintain a professional facade, the Chinese ensign was probably also trying not to think about what had happened to her predecessor on the main bridge. The Phoenix's flight control officer, Russ BaShen, was dead - he had been sucked out into the vaccuum of space when the Phoenix's bridge had been hit during the initial confrontation with the nearby super-satellite - and Ensign Hualing was probably painfully aware of that fact.

The other bridge officers - Ensign Elgin at the engineering station and Ensign Trimble at the science station - were more known to him than Procter and Hualing, but that didn't mean that Kane felt any more confident in them. The past few hours had taken it out of everyone aboard the ship, and there wasn't a soul on board that wasn't tired and under immense stress. Combat was not something that the average starship captain rushed headlong into, but if it had to happen, everyone had to pull together or nobody would get out alive. So the crew did just that - muddled their way onward, obeying orders as they came in, desperately hoping that nobody else would screw up enough to get them killed.

Fourteen of the Phoenix's crew complement were dead so far, their bodies lying under sheets in one of the cargo bays. No time to mourn them, not yet, and if the battle did not go well then many more might be joining them. That was a sobering thought.

On the main viewer, the downward-angled nacelles of the Century were visible to the upper left, slightly ahead as she led the Phoenix onward towards the target. The super-satellite they were fighting was the one that had destroyed at least half-a-dozen powerful starships, including the USS Monarch. Now it was travelling northward along the western American seaboard, seemingly following a pre-set route.

"Thirty seconds to weapons range," reported Procter.

{{Captain!}} exclaimed Byte. {{The other satelites are changing direction again!}}

Kane intently watched the target, but it had not changed course. He moved to Byte's shoulder, and saw that, yes, they were all moving again, all except this one. And furthermore, they were -

"Look!" cried Hualing, pointing at the main viewer.

All across the skies of Earth, the super-satellites were belching forth their weapons again, spewing sicky green phaser lances and quantum torpedoes into the void, but their targets were not the Starfleet vessels that swarmed around them. Incredulously, Kane watched as the super-satellites began firing at *each other*, oblivious to the threats posed by the Starfleet ships. They didn't hold back either, unleashing everything in terrifying displays of destructive power. As the amazed bridge crew watched, first one, then another, then another splashed fire in the sky of Earth, erupting into enormous fireballs.

Kane looked around at the amazed faces of his bridge crew.

"Have we done it?" said Procter. "Have we won?"

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Location: USS Century, as before
Scene: Main bridge


The bridge crew of the Century were seeing the same thing, and were getting a flood of excited reports from around the fleet as the Aegis super-satellites began to destroy each other. A slew of starships were veering away from the battle now, letting their enemy get on with killing himself, and what a job he was doing! The battered remnants of the Monarch's battlegroup were leaving the super-satellites to kill themselves, gunning their engines to a higher orbit away from the destruction below.

First one, then another, then *another* super-satellite exploded in the distance, and the Tactical displays lit up in response to this wonderful new development. Gavok, the young Tellarite Tactical officer, could barely keep up. "Admiral, the Imperial and her battlegroup are disengaging from combat. They report all enemy targets destroyed."

"The Zhukov?" asked Dex, as mildly as he could.

"Intact and operational, Admiral."

Dex smiled. The All-Father was indeed watching over them. "Advise the Imperial to begin rescue operations. Send us progress reports every hour."

Cassidy, the Century's Ops officer, gestured to main viewer. "Sensors indicate one target remaining, Admiral."

Dex looked ahead. It was the super-satellite that had destroyed the Monarch and inflicted such bloody carnage on the fleet's right flank. He wondered why it was still intact - none of the other super-satellites had tried to attack it, and had restricted their fire to each other instead of this one. He supposed it was possible - no, it was probable - that Richard Edgerton had thought to include a failsafe device, and this was it. There was one weapon of mass destruction left, constructed and programmed to operate independently in the event of such an occurrence.

The western coast of North America stretched out beneath them on the main viewer, the sun beginning to blaze a magnificent golden-orange as the bulk of the Earth moved slowly between it and the remainder of the fleet. Dex looked down, a thought making his lips dry with worry - if that was correct, if this satellite was really a weapon of last resort, then there was likely only one target it was now interested in, given its location.

"Mister Cassidy," he said, stepping down to the Ops station, "how long until that satellite is overhead San Francisco?"

Cassidy looked aghast as he realised the implication of the question. "Less than two minutes, Admiral!"

Dex spun on his heel, turning to Gavok. "Hail the Phoenix!"

"Audio channel open, Admiral!"

By the All-Father, Dex thought grimly, wasn't Paris enough for that madman? The Federation's capital city had been sundered - was he now seeking to cut Starfleet's throat? "Captain Kane! The last remaining target seems to be making for San Francisco! It's imperative we destroy it now!"

[[Kane here -understood, Admiral! We're with you!]]

"Take the lead, Phoenix!" Dex cut the connection and watched the enormous dreadnought slide ahead in the main viewer, its violet nacelles churning with nascent power as they ate up the miles to the target. The Century side-slipped in behind - better to give the Phoenix her shot first. That was, after all, what she was built for.

"Any other starships in range?" he asked Cassidy, already knowing what the answer would be. Orbital maneuvering was a slow and turgid business, even for smaller starships like the destroyers, and once the fleet had begun to turn away from their targets, they would have to swing back around for another pass, something that would not be done immediately.

Cassidy checked the datastream. "The starships Courageous and Kumari are closest. They're turning to support."

"Will they - "

"Not in time, Admiral."

Dex set his jaw. On their own for now, then. He nodded and glanced at Ensign Chopra. "Steady as she goes, conn."

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Location: Space, the shooting gallery


The battered USS Phoenix, her hull pockmarked and pitted with damage, trailing a river of debris from her destroyed main bridge, strikes first, lashing out with everything she has in her diminished arsenal. A web of white-hot phaser beams and polaron cannon streaks the divide to the target, and a volley of crackling quantum torpedoes spatter onto the super-satellite's shields like rain.

The satellite's shields hold.

The Century emerges from the shadow of the dreadnought and throws what she has against the target - phasers, torpedoes, an antimatter spread - pummelling the target with a desperation borne of the fact that San Francisco Bay is now almost directly beneath them.

The satellite's shields hold, and its riposte is deadly.

A wall of torpedoes vomit forth from the super-satellite, spewing from launchers on both dorsal and ventral sides. They seem to be fired indiscriminately, because many miss, veering away into space to await the activation of their self-destruct protocols, but several do not miss. They slam into the violet shield bubble of the Phoenix, battering her senseless, sending the mighty dreadnought reeling like a punch-drunk fighter. The Phoenix sags dangerously and creases the Earth's atmosphere, her nacelles flickering again at the enormous damage wrought on her defensive systems.

Other torpedoes splatter against the Century's forward shields, penetrating them in two spots - there, they carry on to crash with fire and death upon the century's superstructure. One of them blasts right through the saucer section, exploding an ugly exit wound right through the middle of the C at the beginning of her name, sending shattered shards of the hull spiralling into space.

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Location: USS Phoenix, reeling
Scene: Deck 3, drive section - Battle Bridge


Kane was reeling right along with the ship. The klaxons were blaring - the ship screaming in pain - and the lights kept flickering on and off. It was a cacophony of madness, and the view wasn't much better. A main conduit had blown somewhere in the ceiling, sending a shower of sparks raining down on his head, and several consoles were offline.

"Damage report!" he roared over the din.

Byte's face was all the more terrifying in the gloom of the wounded bridge. The android's station was completely offline - as Kane watched, Byte gave up trying to activate it and turned around. {{Unable to report, Captain - we have another main computer failure.}}

Kane swore aloud, turning the air blue. "Bridge to Engineering!"

Through the haze came the crackle of a reply. [[Engineering! Maynell here! Captain, we're dead in the water - our ODN fuses have blown across the board! We're running on emergency batteries, sir!]]

"Get my ship operational, Mister Maynell!" bellowed Kane at him.

[[I *can't*, Captain! We were lucky to recover from the plasma fire! That last hit has crippled us! I need all damage control hands on deck right now!]]

Kane slammed the dead control panels of his armchair in frustration. "Have you got any good news for me?"

[[We're alive, sir.]]

Kane looked up to the main viewer, which was winking on-line and off-line like a scratched eyelid. Through the murk, he saw that the satellite had stopped moving, and was slowly turning on its axis, facing downward, looming over the doomed city of San Francisco like Damocles' sword. He looked to Procter. "Have we got communications?"

She shook her head silently.

"Conn, can we move?"

Ensign Hauling had taken a nasty blow to the face when the impact of the satellites' torpedoes had sent her head bouncing off her control panel. An ugly bruise was forming high up on her right cheek, but she was still working hard, trying to make sense of the readings on her flickering display panels. "Warp and impulse engines offline, Captain. Starboard thruster not responding, only twenty per cent power in port thruster."

"Use it to stabilise the ship and keep us from falling into the atmosphere." Kane looked ahead as the satellite prepared to do what it was made to do - destroy the city of San Francisco, and the heart of Starfleet along with it.

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Location: USS Century, listing
Scene: Main Bridge


The damage was extensive, but it wasn't total. When the satellite's torpedo volley had struck the ship, Dex had been flung to the floor by the force of the impact, but when he picked himself up, it was clear to see that the ship was still in one piece. Everyone on the bridge was shaken, but not hurt, and as one were getting their bearings, but Dex knew from long years of experience that the Century had been heavily damaged. He could feel it through the deckplate.

"How badly are we hurt?" asked Dex, staggering to Cassidy's side. Over the Texan's shoulder, he watched the damage reports come in.

"We've got heavy primary hull damage, multiple breaches," reported Cassidy. "Power's gone on deck eight, it's exposed to space. Admiral, there's a dangerous plasma spike in the starboard nacelle. We need to shut down non-essential systems and try to vent it out of the ship."

"Do it," nodded Dex, looking up at the main viewer. The satellite was drawing to a halt over San Francisco, like it had all the time in the world. "How soon can we get underway?"

"Damage control teams report major stress damage throughout the ship," said Cassidy grimly. "They're looking at several imminent stress breaches in the secondary hull. Admiral, our rivets are strained to the edge of tolerance." As if to punctuate his words, a terrible shudder ran through the Century, a great rattled creak from somewhere deep within the ship herself.

Dex thought furiously. "Give me internal comms."

"Channel open," reported a still-dazed Gavok at Tactical. "Reception is patchy below decks, Admiral."

Dex took a breath before speaking. "All hands, this is the captain! The ship has suffered a major primary hull breach and is not fully space-worthy. Therefore, I am ordering all non-essential personnel to abandon the ship, effective immediately. However, this ship can still put up a fight!The target satellite is menacing San Francisco, and we *must* stop it, by any means necessary. Therefore, I am calling for volunteers to remain aboard the ship to man critical systems. If you choose to remain, understand that you may not live to see your loved ones again. Bridge out."

Cassidy's panels began to flash alerts as, in the decks below, the hundreds of men and women from all across the worlds of the Federation who made up the crew of the USS Century rushed to their emergency stations and designated escape pods. As another wracking shudder shook the ship, shook her right down to her core, the escape pods began to fire away from the Century, spiralling away from the stricken flagship, bound for a perilous journey down through the Earth's atmosphere and into the vast waters of the Pacific Ocean.

Dex watched the data show all this, but he also saw something else. The Engineering deck signalled 'Ready' to the bridge, and so did the torpedo room, and then the shield generator rooms signalled their readiness, and he knew that there were people down there, men and women who had not left their posts, who were standing firm in the face of this terrible danger, who were choosing to fight on.

He looked around the bridge, seeing readiness marked on the face of all his young officers, their stern resoluteness to do their duty to a higher calling. Ensign Gavok's chest swelled, Lieutenant Cassidy nodded resolutely, and Ensign Chopra gave him a smile that made his old heart so very glad. Like the Century crew of yesteryear, they were rising to the task before them, and all their predecessors who had served alongside the younger Dexter Marxx - Deacon Reese, Callista Alaica, Lorn of Borg, Jacen Katana, Robert Collis to name just a few - would have been proud that their legacy was intact. It was all so long ago, but somehow, the spirit of the Century was alive again.

"Escape pods away," said Cassidy quietly. "Admiral, the target satellite has achieved geo-synchronous orbit over San Francisco."

Dex nodded. The Century was in for the fight of her life against a target that had already blasted half the fleet into ash. There might not have been familiar faces at the controls, but Dexter Marxx had learned a long time ago that, if you wanted your people to work at their best, you sometimes had to let go of their leashes.

He placed a hand on Ensign Chopra's shoulder, feeling warmth in his heart as Breanna smiled back at him. "Take us forward, conn."

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Location: USS Phoenix, down but not out
Scene: Deck 3, saucer section - battle bridge


Michael Turlogh Kane and his bridge crew stood up as one as, through the damaged main viewer, they saw the Century begin to move forward again, aiming directly for the super-satellite. The satellite was paying them no heed, fixed as it was on moving overhead specific ground co-ordinates, and against its bulk the Century looked like a little child heedlessly lurching out onto a busy road.

Byte, its face sheared and shorn and robotic, watched impassively. From the rear of the bridge, Asta Elgin and Stephanie Trimble shared a glance, while Mackenzie Procter and Gan Hualing flanked Kane.

"What are they doing?" asked Hualing.

"They're trying to stop the satellite from destroying San Francisco." Kane had no idea how Marxx was going to do it. The Century was no match for the satellite, unless -

{{Captain,}} said Byte, {{the Century will be destroyed. It is a certainty. Why is the Admiral not giving up the fight?}}

Michael Turlogh Kane looked at the ravaged face of the android. "Because that Admiral is Dexter Marxx."

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Location: USS Century, as before
Scene: Main Bridge


Dex was rooted to the centre of his bridge as the satellite loomed large in the main viewer. As he looked on, he saw a portal roll open on its ventral side, pointing downward towards the helpless planet, the prelude to the destruction of five thousand square kilometres beneath it. He doubted that there was anything that could stop the satellite now - Edgerton's insanity would have made that certain. Tens of millions of people in San Francisco were doomed, and along with them would fall the nerve centres of Starfleet Command, the Academy, and, most bitterly, the site of the founding of the United Federation of Planets two hundred and seventy years ago. Standing between Cassidy and Chopra, watched over by Gavok from the Tactical station behind, Dex could feel the tension in the air.

"What's the plan, Admiral?" asked Cassidy. The young Texan was trying to sound more confident than he felt.

Dex glanced down at him. "Range to target?"

"Uh, just under a thousand kilometres." Cassidy looked uncertain. "We're well within its weapons range."

"It won't fire on us. Yet." Dex said it like he was driving nails into a board. "Remember earlier, when the other satellites were responding to their new programming to fuse together? They could have destroyed the Phoenix, but they didn't. Once they're fixated on something, they concentrate on accomplishing their directive."

Gavok spoke up from the rear of the bridge. "You think we can get close enough for a lucky shot?"

Dex winked at him. The young Tellarite smiled back excitedly.

A series of warning chimes erupted from Cassidy's console. "Admiral!" he exclaimed. "Thaleron generation underway in the target! Estimate sixty seconds until emission!"

Dex steeled himself. "All power to shields, Mister Cassidy, and I mean *all* of it. We have to get close enough. We have to survive to get close enough, do you understand?"

"Yes sir!" Cassidy's fingers danced across his panel. "Transferring all emergency power to shields!'

"Admiral!" warned Gavok. "The satellite is firing!"

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Location: Space


The satellite does indeed fire, but it doesn't fire the thaleron. There isn't enough of that built up in its generators, but the soulless machine has plenty of reserve power for close-range phasers and quantum torpedoes. Now, seeing an insect drifting too close, it reaches out a mighty hand to swat the thing away.

The Century's sky-blue shield bubble is hit by everything that the satellite has left. Phaser lances scythe into the shields, carving them up like a Sunday roast, while the torpedoes fly through the gaps the phasers have made, crashing into the stricken starship's hull, exploding great chunks of it to pieces.

Through the withering barrage, the Century perseveres. Her starboard nacelle explodes and takes out three decks with it, but she comes on. A plasma surge cripples the impulse engines and kills five volunteers in the engine room, but she still comes on, rolling with the punches, driven by nothing but heart and momentum, a dying man walking into a hail of bullets. Her saucer section is cragged and pitted, and then a huge explosion rips a quarter of it away, sending a trail of sparks down into the atmosphere of the planet below. Her deflector dish shatters into a million pieces, gutting her belly and making her list forward drunkenly.

Still the merciless blows rain down. Torpedo after torpedo blows the ship apart piece by piece, and the Century, finally, begins to slow down. Just when it looks like the next hit will surely kill her -

- the satellite stops firing. Thaleron build-up has reached maximum levels, and San Francisco, like Paris before her, is now doomed.

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Location: USS Century
Scene: Main Bridge


Dexter Jurax Marxx picked himself slowly from the floor, tasting his own blood in his mouth. There was a gash on his forehead from where he had slammed into the deckplate, and he wiped away the blood while he surveyed the ruin of the bridge.

Ensign Gavok was dead. The Tellarite's charred corpse still sat at his post at the Tactical station, but the console's explosion had torn his body apart.

Lieutenant Cassidy stared lifelessly up from the floor, neck broken after being flung from his station during the awful battering. Dex reached down and closed Cassidy's eyes with his fingertips.

Ensign Chopra was alive. The young Indian woman had no visible external wounds, but she was obviously badly shaken. Slowly, she struggled to fixate her attention on her controls.

The main viewer was still on. It filled up their world. Through its lens, the open thaleron was clearly visible, much closer now, ready to vomit forth its horrific cargo onto the city below. That was why it had stopped firing on the Century - it was ready now to kill fifty million people.

"Admiral?" Ensign Chopra looked around in a daze.

Dex looked at the Ops panel. No reports from the other decks. Shields gone, power levels negligible. Life support sputtering, main computer offline. But where there was life, there was hope. He gently touched Chopra's shoulder. "Ensign, I'm right here. Look at me. We have to concentrate now. The satellite is preparing to fire the thaleron, and we can't let that happen."

Chopra looked at her panel. Her readouts showed her the same thing that Dex had seen. "Shields are gone, Admiral. We've got nothing left to fight with."

Dex smiled at her. "One last effort, Ensign. Move the ship forward."

Chopra took a moment to realise what he was asking her to do, then moved to her task. "Collision course laid in, Admiral."

Dex reached down and helped her touch the control to engage thrusters. The Century inched forward on whatever power was left. "When the thaleron is unleashed, we'll act as a lightning rod for it. Thaleron consumes organic matter, it can't damage the tritanium in our hull. It'll dissipate and won't reach the surface, Ensign, do you understand?"

Chopra nodded dumbly. Together, they looked up at the satellite's thaleron emitter. From within, a little spot of green appeared, then bloomed into a huge, ugly torrent of putrefaction that strained and struggled against its confines. The thaleron leaped forward -

"Oh no, Admiral!" cried Chopra. Her face was screwed up into a mask of terror, and the tears burst from her eyes. ""Admiral, I don't want to die! I'm afraid! I don't want to - "

Dexter Marxx gently put his great crimson hand over her eyes, and closed his own, the All-Father's peace in his heart.

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Location: Space


The thaleron leaped forth from the super-satellite, angling doward onto its target - Starfleet Headquarters in San Francisco's Presidio. But it never got there - there was something in the way, something that gently drifted directly into the emitter, that plugged the radiation and saved the city and the lives of everyone in it.

The thaleron engulfed the Century, irradiating the ship completely, from shattered primary hull to crippled bridge to smashed nacelle. It poisoned its way from stem to stern, eating into the organic material aboard.
Nothing could have lived through it, and nothing did.

When it was done, the satellite shut down, burned out of its energy. The last of the Aegis satellites was dead.

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Location: USS Century
Scene: Main Bridge
Time Index: One hour later


In the darkness of the Century's bridge, three cobalt-blue pillars of light split into reality, and three transporter beams whined. When they faded away, three figures stood there wearing environment suits, faces eerily underlit by their helmet lights.

Michael Turlogh Kane stepped forward, looking around the shattered bridge. The Century was still intact, and it would have been safe to breathe except for the fact that everything on the ship was completely irradiated, so this away team was wearing fully-protective suits.

Erik Morningstar, captain of the Anubis, leaned down to check the corpses on the silent bridge, those of a young Human man and a Tellarite. There were no life-signs from below decks. Everyone else was dead. He shone the lights of his suit around, the beams linking up with those of the third member of the away team - Siobhan Reardon of the USS Zhukov.

They found Dex lying on the deckplate behind the conn position, still alive, but the end was near. There was another body in the conn position, that of a young Human woman, dead and slumped forward on her station, one of her hands dangling down, enveloped in the hand of her captain, who lay beneath her on the deck.

Kane felt a pang of pity at the sight. Dexter Marxx's injuries were as bad as they had expected them to be. He was lying there, eyes burned out and blinded by the radiation, skin charred and ravaged, but chest still heaving through the pain he must have been feeling. How he was still alive was nothing short of a miracle.

"Who's... who's there?" whispered the Admiral.

Kane knelt down and took his left hand out of the dead conn officer's and held on to it. Siobhan Reardon did the same with Dex's right hand while Erik Morningstar looked on.

{{It's me, Dex,}} she said. The tears were falling from her cheeks inside her helmet, and the helmet voxcaster made her voice sound tinny, but Dexter Marxx still managed a smile when he heard her voice. {{Captains Kane and Morningstar are with me.}}

Dex tried to speak through his smile. "The planet... safe?"

{{Yes,}} wept Siobhan. {{You saved them, Dex. You saved all those people.}}

{{The Aegis satellites are all destroyed or offline,}} Kane said gently. {{We've won, Admiral.}}

Dex closed his eyes. His breathing was shallower now. "Good... good. I'm... glad."

{{Thank you for everything you have done, Admiral,}} said Erik Morningstar.

Dex nodded, eyes closed, still smiling.

{{Thank you, Admiral,}} said Kane meaningfully. {{No-one will ever forget what you did here today.}} He gently squeezed the Vegan's enormous hand. {{You're about to become immortal.}}

Through the pain, Dex gave a little chuckle, eyes closed now, seeing other vistas beyond this one.

{{Thank you for our life together,}} said Siobhan.

Dex's mouth opened. "Every minute... a joy. Can see... Breanne now. My... how she's... grown up." He whispered something inaudible, a prayer to the All-Father in his own language to accept his soul into the spinning of the Great Wheel, and took a deep breath that he slowly exhaled.

{{I love you,}} said Siobhan.

But Dexter Marxx was dead.

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Captain's log, supplemental - with the defeat of the Aegis satellites and the death of Richard Edgerton, our long crusade to defeat the Neo-Essentialists is finally over. We have lost many friends along the way, and in the days ahead there will be mourning and remembrances. There will be tears, and we will do what we have always done - draw strength from one other, comfort one another, and see each other through the dark hours.
And we will recover. Our tears will dry into happy memories, our desire to rebuild and restore will give us purpose, and we will again look to the future.

This story has been a long one, and it is over.

But in another way, our stories have just begun.

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NRPG: 'Fortress: Earth' has come to an end with the final defeat of Richard Edgerton and the destruction of the Aegis satellite network. More than that, our Neo-Essentialist metaplot has also come to and end after two-and-a-half years of solid writing.

For now, it's time to consolidate and take a breath. We're going to launch into "Aftermath" - a series of short character-centric stories that deals with the future shape of the Federation, the restoration of its government, and also the personal stories of your characters. I'll set all that up in my next post. If you *must* post in the interim (and why wouldn't you?), just concentrate on your characters' immediate situation, and maybe their rescue from the Red October and reaction to the final victory, checking in with me if you need to write something different.


Jerome McKee
the Soul of Captain Michael Turlogh Kane
Commanding Officer
USS PHOENIX


"He speaks an infinite deal of nothing!"
- Shakespeare's "The Merchant of Venice", Act 1, Scene 1.117
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