First Contact

Chapter 462

CAPTAIN'S PERSONAL LOG

Stardate 8536.173

The Dakota had made dock at Starbase-19 in order to undergo refit and repair after a four month sweep looking for refugees. Engine updates and repairs, including some additional modifications to the Dakota were necessary. I ordered the removal of the infantry assault transporters, with the exception of a single one of that size, and additional troop lodging and assault shuttle berths.

Additionally, with the SUDS being red-dotted, I have ordered all personnel aboard the Dakota will no longer carry SUDS. I cannot explain why in any logical manner to my Spock's satisfaction, but my Riker and Worf agree with me.

This must be another prong in the enemy's attack against humanity. Not just the Terran Confederacy, but against the Federation and all other human organizations.

I've put out a call for Redshirts. Three years ago I would have been laughed at, now I saw ship Captains swapping out to Redshirt uniforms. I was able to add another full Regiment of Redshirts before the other Captains began putting out a LFM Call, where I was able to pick and choose.

Interestingly, I have a full company of Klingon Battle Ragers and a Company of Romulan Assault Marines. They arrived the day after we did and their leaders sought me out with an LFG request.

Additionally, I was informed that the Dakota has been entered in Starfleet ship registry as an "Murica Class Warship" with my Scotty and LaForge credited with the improvements and design.

So the Dakota is now canon to act as an Admiral's flagship for major fleet engagements.

How weird.

We hope to leave Starbase-19 within the next thirty days. Precursor attacks as well as Unified Council battlegroups are swarming Federation and Harmonous Cluster space.

--Admiral Jeff Picark 8873

CAPTAIN'S PERSONAL LOG

Stardate 8536.262

LOCATION: Borg Collective RP Space

This is the third Borg Cube we've found drifting with all hands lost.

McCoy stated something about massive cyberware and bioware rejection, including synthetic flesh rejection. My Pulaski concurs, pointing out massive genetic degredation far beyond anything we've ever seen. My Beverly has pointed out that the Hive Mind Gestalt Generator was completely melted down, and it looks as if the neural damage to the Borg LARPers started from their Hive Mind Gestalt Adapters.

I've recorded the names of the LARPers and downloaded their clone and SUDS master files from the cubes before engaging the scuttling charges.

We are currently heading back to Starbase-14 to report this information.

--Admiral Jeff Picark 8873

CAPTAIN'S PERSONAL LOG

Stardate 8536.325

We met with a V'ger cloud twenty hours ago. It was, startling, to say the least. A relic of the old "Troubles of Stardates Past" Event some four thousand years ago. At least it was still following Event rules and once we interfaced with it we were able to gain the info download.

The V'ger Cloud calls itself "The Engine" and follows a Prime Directive of protecting a 500 LY bubble around it. Since it is at the edge of the Long Dark, nobody has noticed it out here.

The download of Precursor war machine types as well as data on the Lanaktallan battle groups was invaluable.

My officers and I discussed at lengths what to do with The Engine. As per Event rules we should shut it down, using standard V'ger Event protocols, but my Riker and my Guinan both agreed that leaving the Engine in place at this time might be the best idea.

My Scotty and LaForge got together and made some modifications to its GameShark Codes, ensuring that it can be disabled remotely. However, I have doubts that their plan will work, as the Engine, like any V'ger Event Entity is capable of self-modification.

But, I hate to say it, that is a problem for another Captain on another Day.

Echoes of "A Problem for Another Day" Event.

Those were simpler times.

We will continue our scouting patrols.

--Admiral Jeff Picark 8873

CAPTAIN'S PERSONAL LOG

Stardate 8536.351

Where to start? I'm so tired it's not even funny. Still, right now the ship is at Yellow Alert and I'm trying to set a good example. Most of my crew has been awake for over thirty-six hours and performance and safety metric issues are beginning to crop up.

My Riker is in command. He's out of medbay, but seeing as he was once a Space Force Navy officer, he has my confidence even if he is still injured.

I supposed I should start at the beginning.

We were dropped out of warp by an interaction between our engines and a large object mass in the lower jumpspace bands, which also forced the object out. Immediately we knew it was going to be a problem.

"SHIELDS UP! EVASIVE ACTION! GO TO RED ALERT!" Picark barked, looking over at Worf-8712, who was quickly going through his control console data. "Talk to me, Worf!"

"They dropped out of jumpspace approximately one point two million kilometers from us and immediately launched missiles at us before they even brought up their shields. They're firing nCv Cannons, prepare for impact!"

The belts autodeployed and tightened down, making Spock-9161 give a pained noise as his tightened slightly off center before it compensated.

"Captain, I've got Mantid War battle code variants!" Uhuru 9909 said, one hand against her earpiece.

"Order all security forces to 'we are being boarded' positions! Order the armories open!" Picark snapped. He looked at his Worf, who was a natural born Klingon with nearly fifty generations of Klingon genetic heritage in his cells. "Weapons free, Mister Worf."

"Aye aye, sir," Worf snarled. He looked at his board. Literally tens of thousands of missiles were racing toward the Dakota but his scanners informed him they were low end nuclear explosion forged X-Ray lasers, right down to what frequency they would be using. He tabbed up trans-phasic torpedoes and a brace of gamma torpodoes, slapped the algorithm scramble for the triple layered shields, and began picking out targets on the massive Precursor vessel in front of us.

"Captain, the vessel is making a least time course for the Dakota," Sulu-8872 said, looking up from his instruments.

"Captain, this vessel bears a very high resemblance to early Human/Mantid War vessels rather than vessels from the latter era of that conflict," Spock said without looking up. "Logically, this is not a Mantid Free Worlds vessel, but rather a Percursor Mantid Autonomous War Machine."

"I concur, Spock," Admiral Picark said, watching the viewscreen closely.

The shoals of missiles roared in, reaching standoff distance, and detonated.

The Dakota's shields were no longer LARPer shields, but rather current generation Space Force shields, running with the proper gear. Millions of X-Ray lasers clawed at her shields, looking for any weakness in the ship's protective fields.

Less than a hundred managed to get through to the middle shield.

"INCOMING nCv ROUNDS! BRACE FOR IMPACT! EVASIVE ACTION!" Worf called out. "Returning fire!"

The Dakota heeled over on its side and dove down and to the right, lifting the saucer section slightly to protect the vital warp engines with the leading edge of the thicker bridge shields.

"Scans show," Spock started.

The Dakota shuddered and buckled as hundreds of nCv shells grazed the shields. Only two hit square enough to penetrate to the second layer.

"Shields at 78.9%, Captain," Mister Worf growled.

"Scans show life signs, Captain," Spock said. "Massive Mantid signatures throughout the vessel."

Picark looked up, wiping blood from his nose. "Do a high impulse phasic scan! I want you to find the largest open chamber with life signs with the strongest phasic signature," he barked.

At least I'm not asking for a nineteen word long sentence to be scanned by a twelve word long piece of tech that can just be summed up with 'phasic scanners', Picark thought to himself.

"Aye-aye, Captain," Chekov-9329 said, his accent slipping slightly as he concentrated.

"Weapon impact in five, four, three, two, one..." Worf growled.

The subspace scanners showed the effect immediately. The massive ship's battlescreens flared brightly enough to mask the ship, rippled repeatedly, then gave out in a shower of sparks that echoed for a ten thousand mile radius.

Eight photon torpedoes and one trans-phasic torpedoe hit, the final phasic shielding flaring a bright purple enough that the edges were white. Battlesteel shattered and exploded outward from the hull, one of the massive hives on the surface of the huge ship vanished as if removed with an ice cream scoop, and two of the huge array of nearly a hundred engines went dead.

"Firing volley two," Worf said, adjusting his sash.

"Minor damage where the trans-phasic torpedoe hit, cosmetic damage from the photon torpedoes," Chekov said. "Getting phasic array scans back... now!"

Picark looked at the screen down by his elbow. He should have been surprised that the thickest concentration of phasic energy was underneath the largest of the hive mounds.

"Is its shields still down, Mister Chekov?" Picark asked.

"Unknown, sir, the vessel is emitting heavy jamming," he admitted.

"Uhura?" Picark asked without turning around. He trusted her, she'd been solid as a rock for the last few years.

"Definite Mantid battle code, Captain, but not any we've seen before. We should forward it to Starfleet Command and the Mantid Battlegroups," she said, one hand still pressed against her earpiece. Her voice was cool, calm, unruffled.

The Dakota, even as large as it was, managed to slip past the next volley of nCv shells and get beyond the range of the missiles that had swooped in from the flank to try to rip the Dakota into pieces. The return fire smashed against the massive vessel, easily the size of EuroSinia on Old Earth, making pockmarks here and there.

There was an audible snarl to everyone aboard the Dakota and everything seemed to stop.

Every crewman froze in midaction. The eVI ship's computer froze. Even the local VI systems for the various ship's systems held their breath.

Worf-8712 felt his secondary nervous system kick in, tasted the sharp bitter taste of venom in his mouth from his vestigial venom glands, and forced numb fingers to move.

The Dakota mounted a heavy weapon that was completely out of canon for anything outside of a Murica Class Warship. It took twice for him to poke the correct buttons.

Picark looked up, shaking his head, the overwhelming psychic pressure that pushed down on him seeming to tatter and burn away as Jeff/Captain Picard/Admiral Kirk all screamed at him to WAKE UP! and his heart hammered in his chest.

Worf tried to bypass the Captain's authorization but the console wouldn't accept it.

The Dakota's VI systems had been dead for nearly five seconds and the OldTrek backup systems kicked in, fiberoptic cable, logic gates, manual systems that needed no thinking wire computer systems.

The Dakota went from floating dead in space to leaping forward under power.

Picark looked down at the flashing light on his Captain's console. He blinked twice and pressed his thumb clumsily against it as the pressure in his brain increased, trying to force neural scorched tissue to obey a command from a hostile and alien mind.

The line blinked on Worf's command console and he slapped his hand to verify the Pike Shot Cannon.

Deep in the ship's mainline hull a massive shell was loaded into a breach. The firing port cover irised open.

Picard steered with one hand, blood running from one bloodshot eye, his ears bleeding, half slumped in his chair, half of his face drooping and paralyzed.

The barrel of the weapon poked a mere ten meters past the edge of the Dakota's hull.

The Dakota faced the massive Mantid Hiveship.

"FIRING SUPERSTRING COMPRESSOR CANNON!" Worf roared. "TODAY IS A GOOD DAY FOR YOU TO DIE!"

The whole ship howled in stress as the massive cannon fired, compressing a comparatively large captured superstrings down to smaller than a quark. The buffer spring roared as it took the recoil, one of the shock dampener clamps cracked with a sound loud enough to shatter holograms, reality itself shimmered and fractured around the muzzle of the barrel and the paint on the Dakota's hull around the cannon barrel suddenly turned blue.

The Omniqueen was growling to herself, flailing her bladearms as she tried to hold the minds in the ship still. They were all maddened, howling, baying, growling, screaming, bellowing in rage, fury, and barely restrained madness.

Reality shattered in front of the strange ship like a mirror hit by a rifle round. It shattered again, a third of the distance to the Omniqueen's ship. Again at half. Then again and again and again.

She barely managed to drop her control of the crazed ship and get her personal phasic protections up.

The round hit.

It missed her. Picark had been shooting by eyeball and it was amazing he even hit the ship anyway. A piece the size of California broke free as the slug of compressed superstring material hit and flattened eight hundred miles of armor, machinery, and maintenance spaces into an ultradense fifty meters.

The entire Hiveship shuddered, began to tumble, as cracks larger than the Grand Canyon appeared on the hull, away from the compressed ultra-dense divot that had penetrated halfway through the ship.

Everyone on the bridge gasped as the Omniqueen's control was released.

Before anyone could react, the ship made a jumpspace translation.

"Ahead slow, subspace scanners on that piece of debris. I want to know who that was," Picark said, using a handkerchief to wipe the blood from his face. He turned to his Gunnery/Security Officer. "Good job, Mister Worf."

"A fine shot, Captain," Worf admitted.

The piece proved to largely be made up of armor. However, small spaces were found at the edge and boarding parties searched the wreckage while we kept out scanners on full to keep an eye out for that ship's return. There were no fatalities among the crew, although several Andorrans suffered the equivalent of a concussion.

Aboard the ship were Mantids, but comparison between modern ones and these showed that these were even more regressive than Human/Mantid War Era mantids.

We found eighty-five alive. Green maintenance caste who are confused and having difficulty adjusting to having no overmind. I have ordered one of the cargo bays converted to shelter for them to live in while we make speed for Starbase 11.

I have ordered phasic arrays put around the cargo bays and set Scotty and LaForge to increasing the Dakota's phasic shielding after what just happened. They're suggesting putting additional phasic shielding between deflector Alpha and Beta, Beta and Gamma, as well as interlacing it with the hull integrity field.

I have authorized their modifications.

Lets not do that again.

--Admiral Jeff Picark 8873

CAPTAIN'S PERSONAL LOG

Stardate 8536.333

We were enroute to Starbase 11 when the emergency alert came across the subspace communicator.

All ships return to New Terra. All Star Fleet vessels are to report to the New Cisco Stardock.

I have a bad feeling about this.

In other subjects, the little green mantids know little to nothing beyond their assigned duties. One made reference to eternal screaming.

They like gravy baked turkey with pickled beet cubes.

Right now they seem harmless, but we are being careful to keep them isolated from any ship's systems.

They mostly seem content to play with children's toys pulled from the refugee stores and to talk with our Trio.

--Admiral Jeff Picark 8873

CAPTAIN'S PERSONAL LOG

Stardate 8536.337

Following my instincts I stopped by one of the forward operating bases and sent Worf across to parlay for me.

If I'm right, if my hunch pans out, I'll need the help.

If I'm wrong, well, my pride can take the laughter.

--Admiral Jeff Picark 8873

CAPTAIN'S PERSONAL LOG

Stardate 8536.341

How to put this.

New Terra was under attack by Mantid forces when we arrived. Two of the massive Hive Ships were engaging New Terra defenses while another was engaged with Space Force. Their psychic attack, surpressing all thought, was working well on Star Fleet vessels and New Sol defenses.

For a minute I cursed the fact that the Federation had refused to recreate Fortress Sol.

Subspace scans showed that Mantid forces had landed on New Terra, as well as glassing attacks had already been used.

The Mantid Hive ship immediately turned its attention to the Dakota and its escorts.

But Mendleson Era Post House Mouse Klingon Birds of Prey are nearly two thirds the size of the Dakota and solely manned by true-blood Klingons with noble house lineages, and I'd shared my data with them.

The surprise could be felt through the tang of blueberries on my back teeth as we ignored the command to be still and drove at the Hiveship.

One of the Klingon ships was a massive D-19 Class ship, armed with a Sunbreaker Class weapon.

The Klingon ships engaged the Hiveship while I ordered the Dakota at full speed to make attack runs on the two Hiveships attacking New Terra.

The Superstring Compressor Cannon had been repaired and we had five shots left in the magazine. (Sidenote: I am hereby authorizing Nanoforge and Creation Engine use outside of Canon. I'm done trying to worry about ladder points or canon)

We had to manuever to ensure there was nothing behind our first target.

The first shot hit it center mass and it started to break break action.

While we were reloading and replacing damaged components on the Pike Cannon we maneuvered to engage the second Hive Ship. Return fire was less effective than the huge Hiveship we had engaged, the phasic assaults were also weaker by a great magnitude. The Dakota took minor damage with no loss of life in the exchange.

Our second shot hit hard and the phasic energy flash was visible to the naked eye.

Both ships broke contact, jumping to jumpspace. The ship the Klingons were attacking followed suit.

The Klingons went in pursuit, but I ordered my Redshirts to arm up and report to the dropship bays. Using my memories of Jeff I had a scan run for phasic energy points and used surgical orbital strikes to eliminate forces in that area.

The first landings are going well. The mantid troops are unused to human combat. My men are providing the key resource.

The Dakota carries two divisions of Redshirts, with full armories and support.

As of this writing the majority of Mantid troops are surrendering, with more joining in as phasic energy points are eliminated through orbital fire.

--Admiral Jeff Picark 8873

CAPTAIN'S PERSONAL LOG

Stardate 8537.065

Admiral Picark was taken into custody by Starfleet Military Police on charges of reckless endangerment, unauthorized cross faction teamups, and the possession and use of Terran Confederacy Space Force capitol ship weaponry.

Crew morale is angrier than I've ever seen it.

I'm meeting with several Klingon officers out past the Oort Cloud.

The majority of the Klingon vessels left in pursuit of the Mantid vessels.

They agree that this may be the start of a Third Human/Mantid War.

As if we don't have enough problems.

I've served with Jeff for several years now. He is a competent and careful officer, but this war is making monsters of us all.

I fear what the crew may do.

And I fear what I may do.

--Riker 2173

FEDERATION NEWS FLASH

Star Fleet today has begun the trial of Admiral Jeff Picark, famous for his defense of the Harmonous Cluster as well as numerous rescues and refugee operations. Star Fleet opening arguments stress that Admiral Picark's use of orbital strikes led to significant destruction and loss of human life. Additionally, his possession of grey market Space Force capital ship weaponry, blatantly illegal, and use of it within far orbit of New Terra, was careless and impulsive.

Arguments by the defense take place tomorrow.

NEXT UP: MANTIDS? OLD FOE OR NEW FRIENDS?

>>>Precursor Mantids, so, new friends. Save you a click.

Jeff sat watching as the prosecutor went on about how the fallout from his orbital strikes had led to millions being forced to seek treatment for radiation poisoning. How 11.2 billion people had been put at risk by his criminally negligent authorization of orbital strikes launched from a ship that was so far out of Star Fleet engineering specifications that it was virtually a new class.

He knew it was all true.

And knew he would have done it again.

The back doors of the court room crashed open and the sound of phasers being fired on stun reached him even as he turned to look.

Romulan military forces, special forces from the looks of it, were kneeling down and firing rapid fire into the crowd. Two threw stun grenades and four rushed forward. Two grabbed Jeff, wrestling with him, even as they put a hood over his head.

"REMEMBER ROMULUS!" one yelled, throwing another stun grenade.

They drug Jeff Picark from the courtroom.

FEDERATION NEWS FLASH

ROMULAN SPECIAL FORCES CAPTURE ADMIRAL PICARK IN A DARING COURTROOM RAID

ROMULAN GOVERNMENT CLAIMS RESPONSIBILITY, INSISTS IT WILL PUT ADMIRAL PICARK TO DEATH!

WHAT DOES THIS MEAN FOR STAR FLEET?

>>An accused war criminal is going to be executed by the Romulans, keeping Star Fleet from having to do it. Saved you a click.

FEDERATION NEWS FLASH

THE DAKOTA EXPLODES WITH ALL HANDS APPROACHING NEW TITAN SHIPYARDS DURING DARING BORG RAID ON NEW SOL SYSTEM!

IS THIS WAR WITH THE BORG?

>>No. Saved you a click.

FEDERATION NEWS FLASH

ROMULANS BROADCAST EXECUTION OF ADMIRAL JEFF PICARK! STAR FLEET SENDS STRONGLY WORDED MISSIVE TO ROMULAN DIPLOMATIC TEAMS!

DOES THIS MEAN WAR?

>>No. Save you a click.

The high security team marched in perfect unison as the prisoner was brought to the office of the Praetor. The human was heavily shackled, a bit in his mouth, and only able to take small steps that forced him to hurry to keep up.

The door swept open, revealing the lavishly decorated offices of the highest ranking member of the Romulan government. The Praetor was facing away from his desk, looking out the window at the capital city of Romulus, the light of Eisin shining down on it.

The guards moved the human over the chair, secured him to it, and removed the bit from his mouth. They stood behind him, their weapons off safe, letting the human know that he was still under guard.

Finally the chair swivelled around, revealing the Romulan politician.

He grinned widely.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't Admiral Jeff Picark. Rumors of your death seem to be vastly premature," he smiled.

Jeff nodded, saying nothing.

"If you suspect this is all a trick, you're right," the politician said. He slowly poured himself a drink of glowing blue alcohol. "But it's not on you."

Jeff raised an eyebrow, watching as the Romulan took a long drink.

"My spies had determined that certain corrupt members of Star Fleet were going to use this to send you to a prison planet or have you executed," he said. He took a deep breath and let it out. "As you know, the people in Star Fleet as well as our beloved game, have begun looking at this as our chance to forge an actual star nation rather than a larp."

He shook his head.

"With Terra out of contact, the Confederate Senate dissolved, they see this as their chance," he said.

He set the glass down and refilled it.

"We of Romulus, however, we know that in the middle of a war for a very survival you don't start a civil war," he said.

Jeff nodded, still remaining silent.

"You have saved people regardless of their game status, their species, anything. Including Romulan miners and civilians," the diplomat said.

Jeff nodded again.

"You've saved Klingons, even Mantids," he said.

Again, Jeff just nodded.

"With that in mind, working with some of our old RP friends in the last of the Borg, we managed to spirit away the Dakota and its crew," he said.

Jeff sagged slightly in the chair, relief filling him.

"Let him go," the diplomat said. He turned the chair around. "Put him where he'll do the most good."

The guards began unlocking Jeff's shackles. He stood up and started moving toward the door. The Romulan's voice stopped him.

"When I started playing, two hundred years ago, I was Star Fleet," he said. There was silence for a moment. "You walked me through how the game was played, gave me tips, and never betrayed me when I looked up to you. To me, you have always embodied Star Fleet."

"Now, years later, it is my turn to repay you when Star Fleet attempts to betray us all," the Romulan said. "It was good to see you again, Captain."

"You too, ensign," Admiral Picark said.

SHIP'S LOG THE DAKOTA

Stardate 8537.219

Admiral Jeff Picark has taken command. Course set for the Contested Zone.

END LOG