Prologue: Casualities of War

 

October, 2375

USS Kirov, Geosynchronous orbit above San Francisco, Earth

 

Commander Jerran Terel looked out the large window of his quarters briefly, watching a shuttle fly by, as he sat down to put on his boots.  “When are those fighters from the Nimitz supposed to come in today?” he asked, speaking in the general direction of the bedroom.

 

LT St John Briggs had just finished zipping up his shirt and was putting on his uniform jacket as he walked out.  “Around ten-hundred.  Last I’d heard, two of the fighters were having some intermix problems, so they had to slow down.”

 

Terel walked to the mirror, meticulously making sure the pips on his collar were straight.  He’d only had the third solid pip for about a month now, though he’d been the XO of the Kirov for a little over a year and a half.  “You’re going to rub the finish off that thing if you keep touching it,” St John said as he came over and playfully adjusted Terel’s combadge by about a half a degree.

 

“Just wait till the next time you’re promoted,” Terel said with a grin as he put his arms around St John and pulled him closer.

 

“Why bother now?  I figure I can coast along and just ride your coat tails.  In fact, I’m thinking of retiring, a nice life of leisure on the holodeck writing new programs involving the beaches on Risa while you work your butt off for a captain’s chair.”

 

Jerran laughed and said, “You’d get bored if you couldn’t tinker with shuttles and fighters anymore.”

 

“You’re probably right.  And the open shuttlebay doors do give one of the best views on the ship.”

 

Jerran smiled and kissed his partner before saying, “Alright, Lieutenant, get to work.”

 

Before St John could respond, an alarm sounded and Captain Zane’s voice came over the intercom saying, [Yellow alert!  All hands, yellow alert!  Senior officers to the bridge!]

 

“Just in time,” St John said as he touched Jerran’s cheek and walked out the door.  Jerran watched him leave for a split second, then left to go up to the bridge.

 

 

“What’s going on, Captain?” Commander Jerran said as he got out of the turbolift and walked up to look over the shoulder of the tactical officer.

 

“The Sol System has some unexpected guests, Commander…  The Breen.”

 

“The Breen?  What do they want?”

 

Zane rubbed his goateed chin and said, “I have no idea, and they’re not answering any hails.  ETA?”

 

The tactical officer replied, “They’re just about to cross the Mars defense perimeter, sir.  Still no response to hails from Starfleet Command or any other ships.”

 

“Surely they didn’t come for a fight,” Jerran said, watching the tactical display.  “We outnumber them almost 10 to one in this system.”

 

“Captain,” said Commander Chang from Ops.  “Commodore Steele is ordering us and the Georgia to form up on his flank.”

 

Zane nodded over to Jerran who immediately turned to the helm and said, “Set course for the Perseus, 101 mark 4.  Half impulse.”

 

“We’ve lost contact with the Mars defense perimeter, Captain!” the alarmed tactical officer said.

 

Perseus is signaling us to go to battlestations,” Chang said.

 

Zane nodded, clenching his teeth as he said, “Red alert.  All hands to battlestations!”

 

The klaxons sounded and even more crewmen filed onto the bridge to assume damage control and backup functions.

 

“Where are they, LT?” Jerran said as he turned to the tactical officer.

 

“We’re getting telemetry from Utopia, Commander.  They say the Breen are warping towards Earth now.”

 

“The Perseus is moving into a defensive formation with Admiral Blousse’s squadron,” Commander Chang said.

 

Jerran moved over to the secondary tactical console as Zane said, “Helm, keep us on Perseus flank.”

 

[Shuttle OPS to bridge] 

 

Jerran was comforted as he heard St John’s voice over the comm.  “Bridge here,” he responded.

 

[Fighter squadrons Alpha and Gamma are ready for launch.  Beta and Delta are in prep now and will be ready in 5 minutes.]

 

Jerran looked over to Zane, who nodded acknowledgement back to his XO.  “Launch fighters,” Jerran said.  “Have them form up in front of us, defensive patern November.”

 

On the viewscreen, the bridge crew watched as the twelve fighters launched from the Kirov’s forward shuttlebays and took up formation in front of them.  They looked a lot like a flock of birds as they moved into a delta formation in front of the cruiser.  Off to the Kirov’s starboard bow the Galaxy class Perseus moved through space, appearing very slow and graceful compared to the fighters zipping around the formation of starships.

 

Jerran looked up from his tactical console and said, “The forward sensor pickets have picked up the Breen fleet.  They’re now at 100,000 km and closing.”

 

[Admiral Blousse to all ships.  Ahead full impulse.]

 

Perseus is heading out, Captain,” the helmsman reported.  “We’re staying in formation.”

 

Zane nodded and said, “Stand by phasers and photon torpedoes.  Don’t fire till you see the whites of their eyes.”

 

Jerran grinned slightly and said, “I don’t think they have whites in their eyes, sir.”

 

Zane raised an eyebrow and said, “Come to think of it, I’ve never seen a Breen without one of those damned helmets, so I wouldn’t know, either.”

 

“Breen fleet in weapons range in 15 seconds, Captain,” the tactical officer said nervously.

 

“On screen.”

 

The viewer area in the front of the bridge wavered for a moment to display a three dimensional view of space before the Starfleet ships.  The Breen ships were completely alien looking to the Starfleet crew, as were the Breen themselves.  The Romulans had a saying: “Never turn your back on a Breen,” and now the Federation fleet could see why.

 

The lead Breen ships began firing on the Starfleet ships.  The flagship, the USS Agamemnon, was the first to get hit.  They were unprepared for what the Breen had to offer.

 

Agamemnon’s been hit,” Jerran reported.  “They’re not returning fire.”

 

Perseus is moving in to help,” Chang said.

 

“Keep on them, helm,” Zane ordered.

 

“One of the Breen ships is moving to intercept us, Captain,” Jerran said.

 

“Evasive, but stay on Perseus flank.”

 

Two bolts of green energy lashed out from the Breen cruiser as it turned towards the Kirov.  The first was mostly dissipated on the ship’s shields, but the second struck the hull, sending lightning throughout the entire surface.

 

The bridge lights flickered on and off as consoles exploded, occasionally giving flashes of light to the smoke filled room.  “Report!” Zane said, trying to shout over the explosions as he got up off the floor in front of his chair.

 

“We’ve been hit by some sort of energy dampening weapon,” Jerran said.  “Shields are down, weapons are inoperative, and helm is not responding.  I can’t even get anything on external sensors.  We’re dead in space, Captain!”

 

As if to accentuate Commander Jerran’s last statement, another salvo of Breen disruptor blasts struck the ship at various points.  “We’re loosing auxiliary power, Captain,” the ensign at the engineering sub-station reported.  “Life support is failing.”

 

Jerran looked over at engineering and said, “The shuttlebay forcefields?!”

 

“I can’t tell much with the internal sensors, Commander, but it looks like we lost those during the first volley.”

 

“No,” Jerran said quietly as he looked down at his console.

 

Zane looked around for a moment as the ship rocked around him and said, “All hands, abandon ship!”  The captain stood at his post for a moment to make sure everyone was off the bridge before heading to an escape pod himself.  He looked over at Jerran who was still standing mutely at the tactical console.

 

“You too, Commander.”

 

Jerran looked up at the captain, who could tell that the half Vulcan, half Bajoran first officer was fighting back tears.  “I…. I have to get to the shuttlebay.”

 

Zane pulled out his phaser and fired it at Jerran before he could make a move towards the turbolift.  With the tactical officer’s help, they dragged Jerran to the lifeboat bay on the deck below.  By the time he woke up a few minutes later, they were already away from the Kirov, which was now a burning wreck in space.  Jerran put his hand against the window, watching as the ship burned, and then finally exploded.  Jerran simply slumped back down into the acceleration chair, staring off into space as the Breen continued towards San Francisco