“Sensors are picking up six Klingon D-7battle cruisers approaching the station, Commander,” replied Lieutenant Haniff Jackson from where he sat at “the hub,” the platform’s conference table into which had been integrated eight workstations, each tied into the station’s primary systems and from which almost any aspect of Starbase 47’s operation could be monitored and controlled. The computer interface seemed tiny and frail beneath the security chief’s massive dark-skinned hands. He was hunched over his console, his red uniform tunic stretched across his broad torso to the point that Cooper was sure it simply would rip to shreds if Jackson flexed his muscles. “They’re coming in weapons hot and deflector screens powered up. Our ships have formed a perimeter around the station and are holding position.”
Looking to where Lieutenant Judy Dunbar sat at another of the hub’s stations, Cooper asked, “I don’t suppose they’re responding to hails?”
The communications officer shook her head, looking up at Cooper and brushing a lock of light brown hair from her eyes. “No, Commander.”
It had only been a matter of time, Cooper knew. In recent months, the political situation with the Klingons had been steadily deteriorating, with many Federation diplomats and Starfleet military experts concluding that the mounting tensions with their longtime adversaries—as well as the isolated yet increasingly frequent confrontations—would escalate to open hostilities. Cooper was not surprised when the Code One alert from Starfleet Command reached the station, notifying all ships and installations that the Federation, for all intents and purposes, now was at war with the Klingon Empire.
Even now, in the few days that had elapsed since the alert was dispatched, skirmishes between Starfleet and Klingon vessels were on the rise all along the border. In one of the more distressing reports Cooper had read, two Klingon cruisers had attacked and destroyed a Starfleet hospital ship in the Kalinora Sector, claiming that it actually had been engaged in espionage. Assaults on other ships, as well as forward observation outposts, unmanned subspace communications relay stations, and even one starbase, had been reported. Starbase 47, given its location away from well-traveled Starfleet patrol routes and its proximity to Klingon space, also offered a tempting target for enemy attack, and that did not even take into account the empire’s increased interest in the Taurus Reach.
“Let’s see them,” Cooper said, looking up from the hub to the array of large rectangular viewing screens dominating the upper portions of each wall of the command center. In response to his order, Jackson keyed a string of commands to his workstation, and the images on several of the screens shifted to show varying views of the different approaching enemy vessels.
“They’re breaking formation and moving to equidistant positions around the station,” Jackson reported. “Current distance is seven thousand kilometers.” To emphasize his point, the security chief pointed to one of the overhead viewers, which currently displayed a tactical schematic of the station and the surrounding region. The image depicted a large blue circle representing the station at its center and four smaller circles corresponding to the Starfleet vessels that would form the first line of defense should the situation escalate to that point. Six fiery red arrows maneuvered around it in formation—the Klingon vessels.
Feeling a knot tightening in his gut as he watched the deployment continue to unfold, Cooper saw his mounting anxiety mirrored in the faces of the command-center staff. The pulsing indicators on the screen might put forth the notion that the odds were almost even despite the greater number of Klingon ships, but Vanguard’s executive officer knew better. The U.S.S. Endeavourwas the largest and most powerful of the four Starfleet vessels at the station’s disposal, but from there, things began to slide very much toward the Klingons’ favor. The Endeavour,along with the Locknar-class frigate Akhieland the Saladin-class destroyers Hannibaland Theseus,was all the ship-based firepower that could be mustered to the station’s aid when it became clear that an enemy attack was imminent. The Miranda-class Buenos Aireswas away from the station on assignment, and the only other available Starfleet ship, the Sagittarius,had been ordered to remain within the relatively safe confines of its hangar bay. The tiny scout-class vessel would be no match for a Klingon battle cruiser and did not possess armaments necessary to play even a supporting role in what might well end up being a brutal battle.
“Receiving a hail from the Endeavour,” reported Dunbar, her eyes narrowing as she listened to the communication being filtered through the Feinberg wireless receiver in her left ear. “Captain Khatami’s requesting instructions.”
Cooper drew a deep breath in an effort to quell his growing unease. It had been a long time since he had seen combat, and he never had experienced a situation that required him to protect a stationary target. Though Starbase 47’s own defenses and those of its accompanying starships should be enough to hold off the worst of any imminent Klingon attack, there were no reinforcements if things went sour.
Always the optimist, aren’t you?
“Try to raise the Klingons one last time,” Cooper said, nodding to Dunbar as he gave the order. Then the sound of turbolift doors opening behind him caught his attention, and he turned to see the station’s commander, Rear Admiral Heihachiro Nogura, stepping into the command center.
Thin and lean, the Asian man paused on the center’s main floor, standing calm and composed amid the furious activity taking place around him. Cooper knew that the admiral had seen and managed his share of crises, and that experience appeared to be guiding him now as his eyes took in all of the information presented on the various viewscreens around the room. Watching Nogura now, Cooper even felt his own tension ease just a bit.
The respite was short-lived.
“We’re being targeted,” Jackson called out, his voice rising in volume. “All six cruisers are locking weapons on the station. Our ships are maneuvering to intercept.”
This was it. War had come to Vanguard.
“Notify Khatami and the others that they’re clear to engage the moment any of the enemy ships opens fire,” ordered Nogura as he climbed the steps to the supervisor’s deck and moved to stand opposite Cooper on the other side of the hub. Cooper knew that the admiral—who seemed to possess almost Vulcan-like hearing—likely had picked up every word spoken by anyone in the command center since exiting the turbolift. “Jackson, have engineering transfer power from all nonessential systems to the shields.” Nogura spoke the words with a quiet yet palpable authority, with no excitement or even a hint of worry or uncertainty.
Settling into one of the hub’s empty seats, Cooper used its workstation to call up the latest status from each of the station’s primary systems. He felt his heart rate increasing, sensed his breaths coming quick and shallow in anticipation of what the next minutes might bring. Feeling a rush of warmth, Cooper reached up to tug at the neck of his uniform tunic. To him, it seemed as though the temperature in the command center was increasing by the second.
Then intense heat washed over his fingers, and he jerked his hands away from his workstation, flinching at the sudden, unexpected pain. At the same time, he realized that his chair also was growing hotter, and he pulled himself to his feet. All around the command center, personnel were rising or stepping back from their stations, wearing mirrored expressions of shock as they looked to the upper deck—and Admiral Nogura—for guidance.
“What’s happening?” Nogura asked. He, too, had stepped away from the hub, and Cooper now saw the air shimmering over the table as heat radiated upward.
Jackson shook his head. “I don’t know, Admiral.” He leaned closer to his workstation, studying the status monitors. “All weapons systems on the station are offline. The same with our ships.” Frowning, he added, “And the Klingons, sir.” Looking up, his brow was knit in confusion. “What the hell’s going on?”