Outpost 5004 pt 1

Prologue

In 2379, Outpost 5004 was little more than a mineral research laboratory on an insignificant planet, and a stopping point for Starfleet crews switching assignments. The system was located along the Federation/Klingon border though held little strategic value even in the days of conflict between the two powers.
The outpost was run by a civilian scientist whose teams worked independently though often collaborated with Starfleet. The outpost’s only mark of importance was that the research facility had once contributed to the development of artificially created Dilithium. It was, by any definition of the word, unremarkable.
In 2386 however, the outpost had changed beyond belief. Starfleet armada’s entered the planet’s system on a regular basis, a mobile yet still extravagantly large repair facility orbited the planet and the small outpost on the surface had expanded to incorporate a large hospital, flight hangers and the command headquarters of the area. The system itself gained a reputation as being the first hurdle to the opposition and the task force stationed there became known as ‘Pericles’ due to its relentless work in holding back the endless tides of the enemy.

The enemy found this change to be of little consequence. The massive firepower patrolling the system was viewed as underwhelming and they showed this disrespect in their continuous and unforgiving attacks on the outpost. For eight years they invaded the space with clinical and terrifying force and for eight years, the defenders pushed them back but always at a price and always with more trouble. In 2394, the final attack loomed.


2394 – January 12th
Task Force Operations Officer’s Log:

The most recent attack consisted of five standard cubes. By the standards of late, it was light and considering the large force present in the system, I am forced to worry as to their motives. The Borg are relentless and without fear but they are not unintelligent and had no opportunity to take this stronghold from us with a force of only five vessels. That is a fact which they should know well.
Our losses were heavy as always – nine ships were completely obliterated and nearly all hands were lost onboard them. Numerous fighters were also lost, leaving the ground base with less than 30% of its full compliment. Once again I find myself questioning just how much longer we can hold out. The force defending the outpost is less than half of what it was a month ago and the various ships in orbit are heavily damaged and their crews are exhausted. The ground hospital is overflowing with injured crewmembers and the repair facility in orbit is understaffed and overworked. I am also saddened to report that the latest reinforcements that were rushing to this system have not arrived and we have been unable to contact them. I fear the worst.
News reached us today of the successful attack on the Borg shipyard in Cardassian Space. Hopefully, it will increase the length of time before another attack comes however the enemy still has a stronghold in Klingon space and despite their emotionless front, I fear they will seek revenge. As the main and yet also weakest point along the line, I am sure that this is where they will strike hardest. Plans are already in place should we need to evacuate but the mass transport needed will take time and the lowering of the shields will make our vessels dangerously vulnerable. Besides which, I have discovered the terrible truth that even if we are crammed like sardines, not everyone in this sector will fit aboard the vessels capable of fleeing. The only small comfort I have is knowing that the decision does not ultimately lie with me. Not for the first time, I pity the commander of this force.


Chapter I: Memories

Major James Hunter was a very different man from the blue-eyed lieutenant who had first set foot aboard a starship more than a decade ago. His once blonde hair had grown darker and his skin had tightened due to the harsh surface conditions on the planet. Whilst he still cut an impressive figure, numerous wounds covered his body and he walked with a sober solemnity that had been lacking before. His eyes had also lost their sparkle and he couldn’t remember the last time he laughed openly. The trials of war were showing through and he made no attempt to hide it.
The course of war had also ‘promoted’ him though he often wished it hadn’t. His previous posting – the Concorde class Zeus had been destroyed in orbit of the outpost and being the most senior military officer present at that time, he had taken over the responsibility of the outpost’s defence. Since then, Captains and Admirals had arrived to direct the fleet in the space above but Hunter retained command of the ground forces and the fighter squadrons stationed on the base itself. The duty of his position wore on him and he sighed heavily as he contemplated the situation.
Six vessels were left above the planet. Two Defiant’s, one Ambassador, a useless Oberth, a sixteen-year old Excelsior and a Galaxy-refit.
Hunter knew the last ship well though the crew wasn’t what it was when he had been onboard. The Paladin had joined the defence of the outpost the previous year and though she had taken her fair share of knocks and bruises, Hunter couldn’t help but be impressed by the way in which she had stood up to the beatings from the Borg. She was the only ship still standing since that time – the others present had arrived later and hadn’t been exposed to the amount of firepower that she had. But strong or not, she had taken wounds and one of the most serious, in Hunter’s opinion at least, lay in the hospital.


Task Force Pericles, Outpost 5004,
December 24th, 2393

Fighters were largely useless against the Borg. Though their nature made them exceptionally hard to lock on to, their small-scale weaponry made them nearly completely ineffectual against the massive enemy vessels. This didn’t discourage the pilots however. Bravely flying into battle, often in fighters held together through nothing more than sheer willpower, they developed strategies and combined attacks on Borg subsystems so that even if only to an extent, the attack was disrupted.

On Christmas Eve, what meagre celebrations were in place were disrupted by the approach of a Borg force consisting of four cubes and two spheres. The fighter crews rushed to their craft and raced ahead to disrupt the Borg movement and give the various starships time to prepare for the assault. From the command centre on the planet, Hunter directed the fighters in their attack.
“Squadrons Alpha through Hotel, go after the cubes and try to disable their primary weapons systems. Don’t get involved in a lengthy firefight – just distract them. Squadrons India, Juliet and Kilo chase after those spheres and knock out their tractor emitters.”
A chorus of ‘roger’ and ‘acknowledged’ rang through the intercom. Whilst the spheres were capable of launching a substantial attack, they paled in comparison to the larger cubes and so often attempted to hold craft in position long enough for a cube to bombard it with fire. If their tractor beams went, they would occasionally withdraw back into Borg territory.

The pilot leading Juliet squadron was an old acquaintance of Hunter. Captain Elisabeth French was the senior pilot onboard the Paladin and had dated the marine when they attended boot camp together. The two had almost resumed the relationship onboard the Paladin but neither had made the move and so they remained merely good friends. Hunter was well aware of French’s position but had so far trusted in her ability as a pilot and kept his emotions away from the command lounge. In the back of his mind however, his thoughts kept turning back to the fortunes of Juliet squadron.

French increased thrusters and headed towards the nearest cube with two accompanying squadrons to each side of her. India was stationed onboard the Sovereign class Ark Royal – the flagship of the task force’s commander, Admiral Mendoza – and she had flown with them over four times in the last two weeks. Kilo however, had just arrived onboard the U.S.S. Jakarta and remained unproven in her eyes. Nevertheless, she hoped they would pull through – they needed everyone they could get at this stage.
“This is Juliet One, entering weapons range in fourteen seconds. Squadron, target the emitters in section bravo and fire on my mark. Once the foxes are loose, prepare for evasive maneuvers: pattern Tango Three.”
As the small fighter entered weapons range she flipped the cover off the torpedo release switch and pressed her thumb down hard. Two golden bolts shot away from under her craft and sped towards the darkness of the sphere. “Squadron, fire!”
Almost immediately, eighteen more bolts joined her own and began to zero in on the target. Four seconds later, the modified photon torpedoes impacted in a bold explosion that ate at the side of the Borg vessel and completely destroyed the targeted emitters.
But the Borg knew that battles weren’t won with a minimum of systems. Even before the explosion had dissipated, another emitter shot out a beam towards the ten fighters grasping for a hold on one of them.
“Evasive maneuvers!” In a pattern practised a hundred times, the fighters split into three different directions before swirling round and launching a trio of barrages at the cube. Before they hit though, the cube reached out and locked onto one of the fighters. If the Rogue class vessel had been a capital ship it might have had a small chance but the sphere didn’t need to wait for its bigger brother to deal with a solitary fighter. For a brief moment, the tractor beam glowed with an evil green and the tiny craft was crushed under its power. Then the retribution came. Three salvos of torpedoes crashed into the side of the sphere and were quickly followed by an immeasurable number of quick fire shots from the remaining fighters. The fire danced against the hull of the vessel as the Borg struggled to cope with the rapidly fluxing phaser frequencies.

Hunter focused in on the attack. The sphere wasn’t badly damaged but the concentrated fire from the fighters had taken its tool on the tractor beams and now they flashed less and less. He tapped the display and watched the combat centred around the other sphere. Despite the extra fighters facing it, this one seemed to be having more success in hitting its targets with a combination of high powered tractor beams and energy bolts. Four fighters had already been lost and as he watched, another was crushed by the immense force of an undamaged tractor beam.
“Juliet One, give me a sit rep.”
French’s voice filtered through clearly. “We’ve got one more emitter group to knock out then we’ll hopefully be done. Torpedoes are performing well and are comepletely destroying the systems – they won’t be regenerating in a hurry.”
“Finish it off then move onto the second sphere. The other squadrons aren’t having as much luck as you. And don’t just write off your sphere – there’s no guarantee it will retreat.”
“I’m no rookie sir – I’ve got this one covered.”

French rolled her fighter to the right as the sphere tried unsuccessfully to lock onto her. Following a random course but always keeping one eye near the top of the sphere where the final emitters lay, she began to weave in and out of the recurring beams. As the green arm reached out in front of her, she pulled back on the flight stick with all her might bringing the craft up in a manoeuvre that might have pulled it apart in an atmosphere. In space however, it worked well and the fighter moved along the edge of the beam until it was retracted, only to be pursued by two photon torpedoes. They impacted impressively on the emitter though their yield obviously hadn’t been enough as another shaft shot outwards and snatched at the heels of the fighter as it moved out of range.
“Anyone else got a shot?” asked French over the comm.
“Juliet Niner closing in…” the line turned to static. Turning as much as she could and looking over her shoulder, French swore as the fighter was destroyed by an emerald shot from the Sphere. As she looked though, four more torpedoes collided with the sphere and the resulting explosion meant that the final emitter had been taken care of. As more fire began to hit the sphere, it turned and began to reverse course. The remaining fighters turned their attention to the last sphere.
“India squadron, this is Juliet One, how’s it going?”
“India One; not good. They’ve adapted to our photons and most of our fighters aren’t equipped with quantum torpedoes. Phaser fire just isn’t cutting it.”
“Standby, we’re on our way.” French flipped the switch to the left of the HUD and spoke to the mission commander. “Juliet One, we’re moving in to attack the second sphere. They’ve adapted to the other squadron’s torpedoes and given the amount we fired at the first, it’s likely we’ll only get a couple of salvos off before they adapt to ours too.”
“Acknowledged. Do you have quantums.”
“I have four and so do three others.” Quantum torpedoes were in short supply and as such, were only doled out to pilots who could put them too good use. “But that might not be enough to knock everything out. How’s the fleet looking?”
Hunter glanced over to the various reports coming in from the orbiting starships. “They need all the time you can give them but if they adapt to your weapons break it off and come home.”
“Just because we can outmaneuver the zombies doesn’t mean we can outrun them; we’ll be sprinting like hares with the dog on its heels all the way sir.”
“Understood. As soon as the fleet’s ready, they’ll come – just hold on.”
French didn’t respond. She had entered weapons range and one by one, her entire squadron had released their torpedoes towards the nearest emitter grouping. She watched intently as they closed on their target and smiled grimly as the first few impacted upon the black hull of the craft. The smile soon disappeared however when at least half of the torpedoes were intercepted by a dull green shield.
“Dammit! They’ve adapted. Those of you with quantums, target the secondary emitters and you others, try and attract some of their fire. We can’t afford to miss with these ones.
As the fighters engaged the enemy, Hunter changed the display in front of him. It now showed a map of the system with the various ships identified on it. The Starfleet capitals were taking far too long to arm but then in the case of most of them, over half the crew was dead or seriously injured and the vessels didn’t stand a chance individually. Until they were all ready, they would wait in orbit of the outpost. Hunter saw the sense in it but as his eyes moved to the top of the screen, his thoughts were with the fighters. The four Borg cubes and the sphere that had supposedly retreated had breezed through the eight squadrons sent to intercept them and were advancing quickly and the small number of fighters left would have no chance when they arrived. Switching the display again, he watched a probe’s view of the fighters’ battle. A disturbing amount of debris cluttered the image but he could clearly make out the blue glow of two quantum torpedoes headed towards the mass of the sphere. When they burned out against green shielding, his heart sank. The Borg had adapted to every active weapon in the system. The fighters were defenceless.

A chorus of shouts and screams emanated from the fighter cockpits as they began the fretful retreat. The sphere still had functioning tractor beams and they were a good deal more accurate than the various weapons platforms onboard the vessel. Over half the total number of fighters sent to combat the vessels had been destroyed or damaged beyond repair and as she threw her fighter around in an effort to keep it in one piece, French unleashed a tirade of curses at anyone who cared to listen. The two ineffectual torpedoes had been hers and her shock at how quickly the Borg had adapted to them almost cost the marine her life as she was slow to react to an outstretched tractor beam. That lapse in concentration had given her a hard time as the enemy sought to take advantage of her slip. The fact that the first of the cubes had just entered weapons range was not lost on her either.
“Juliet One to base, the enemy is closing and we can’t slow them down. Get your thumbs out and get up here! My squadron…” Her speech stopped abruptly as the fighter was dragged up from behind and held in place by a Borg tractor beam. French stared up in anger at the inverted view of the sphere that had trapped her. As the steady hum of the beam began to increase in pitch she slammed her fist on the eject switch in a futile attempt to escape the trap. The beam had locked all her controls and she could do nothing but watch as the intensity of the green light surrounding her increased.
From out of the corner of her eye, a volley of shots sped towards the sphere and careened into the vessel causing much more damage than a fighter could manage. Turning round, the pilot grinned as she saw the Defiant class warship, Schmidt launch its unforgiving attack on the sphere. Soon it was joined by the larger shape of the Nebula class, Bocelli and within seconds, the combined firepower ate into the enemy and destroyed the vessel from within by detonating at the core.

Hunter watched the entire event from the command suite. His heart had jumped into his throat when French’s fighter had been trapped and he had shouted for joy when Starfleet had finally arrived. His joy was short lived though. The cubes had arrived and they weren’t phased by the loss of the first vessel. As well as the main attack directed at the two ships guilty of destroying the sphere, a solitary bolt was shot towards the stationary fighter. It impacted upon the port wing and sent the craft into a long spin which culminated in a terrible explosion. As the fire faded in the vacuum of space, what little may have been left of the fighter was destroyed as the cube which had fired flew straight through the debris.
Hunter was motionless in his silence. Though he had never admitted his feelings to himself, let alone anyone else – they were there all the same and now his only thought was on the low possibility of a single person’s survival.