Declaration of Exodus

From TFC Galactopedia

Admiral Allen Rikes sighed as he tapped the ‘mute’ command on his ready room’s terminal, the sound of ‘Lord Sher Khal’Saad’ ending abruptly, he had heard enough, and his heart was both heavy and soured. Mars gone, the President dead? Starfleet Command surrendering? They were abandoning the millions of refugees from this war, a war that the Federation had never wanted to begin with. A war that they had lost.

He looked over at the painting of his home, the Tidewater, that he had always had, first simply in his quarters, then in the ready room of the Alexi Leonov, and now his flag room on the Oriskany. He sighed, he was very much a dog of his heritage. The same land that had bound Lee and Washington to History, the same land that his ancestors had fought so hard to defend, and ultimately failing in that, was now once again occupied. Virginians, he thought with a sad smile, never really did seem to join fully the ‘world state’ idea. Rikes figured that they were just too stubborn and independent. Most Virginians kept their identities, even throughout all the centuries.

But now, he thought. Now the Tidewater was occupied, along with France, Washington, San Francisco, all of Earth. The setter frowned bitterly, looking at the screen, the Arc d’Triomphe, Napoleon’s grand monument, originally to his own ego, but later becoming a symbol of French pride, one of the most prominent landmarks of Earth, and rows upon rows of those white-armor clad storm troopers marching under it in triumph. That had been the scene four centuries before, a man named Hitler trampling the French pride adding an insult to their already humiliating defeat. Khal’Saad had definitely learned his Earth history, and apparently decided to repeat a page of it, making his message clear.

Rikes and his Task Force had faced Khal’Saad exactly once, several months before, and it had been one of the few times that the tiger had not won out-right. Rikes had retreated from the field, which gave Khal’Saad a tactical victory, but he had never intended to fight it out as it was. His whole order of battle had been to rescue Task Force-58, the Yorktown’s fighting formation, and the civilian ships it had been guarding. Rikes had saved the refugee vessels, but had only been in time to save the Yorktown, minus most of its Starwing, and two of her Nebula escorts. Then, he had retreated in good order, surprisingly taking very little damage. He was sure Khal’Saad considered him a weak fool, if he even knew of him at all, but his job had been accomplished, and that was how Rikes measured success. The fact that Task Force-77 had given the Federation its one tangible, and solid victory in the war now no longer mattered. The Government that he had served, no longer existed.

So, Rikes thought. Who do you serve now? He turned to the large viewports of his flag room, the horribly battered USS Yorktown, Oriskany’s more powerful sister hung in space before him, her battle scares giving mute testament to the valor of her crew in protecting the refugee vessels, a battle that had cost many their lives. Hanging as protective watchdog was the Venture, Rikes’ old friend’s ship, somehow, through an act of fate on a multi-year exploration mission and had just returned to the Federation in time to witness its demise.

Then, several vessels drifted into view. The first was the Arco, the massive box-like construct that was essentially a dry-dock with warp engines and a bridge as Yorktown slowly maneuvered to her. That had been Rike’s ace in the hole throughout the latter portion of the war, keeping it hidden away in a ‘just in case’ that he had seen coming more reality, than fear. Then several refugee ships, with their accompanying tenders, and other support vessels of the immolated TF-58 and his own TF-77.

His eyes hardened, knowing now what he served, he turned, taping a command out on his terminal, accessing the bridge. “Captain, open a channel to all ships gathered in system, order them to open their ship-wide COMMs. For address, and do the same with ours in one hour.”

The voice of Oriskany’s captain, who served more as her executive officer at times with Rike’s position aboard her began to speak. “Admiral, we… we just received a transmission from Earth…”

“I know Liana, I know, I have seen it as well.”

“Sir, are we…”

“One hour Captain, and I want the squadron leaders and CAG DeBois on the bridge as well.”

Rikes could feel the hesitation in the Betazoid’s voice, but, she simply said. “Yes sir, one hour.”

Rikes spent that hour at his desk, fighting melancholy with his sense of duty, and composing his words. This had to be remembered by his officers and sailors, the refugees he protected not as a resignation, but a declaration of hope. Rikes looked at the words as he finished, memorized them, knowing he would most likely improvise, but not caring. He stood, straightened the admiral’s uniform he wore, and strode out of his flag room.

He looked across his bridge, his lynx Betazoid captain, Liana Jinra sat in the command chair, all his other officers at their stations. Captain DeBois, the vixen Commander Air Group of Oriskany’s embarked starwing stood with her squadron commanders, Rikes’ godson, Chaser McLoude looking his usual serious self, the new Lt. Commander’s pips on the almost too young officer still didn’t seem right since his assumption of command of the VF-33rd “Starfighters” with their original commander, “Pappy” S’lonn had taken on the mission of rebuilding Yorktown’s immolated starwing. Rikes however turned from his brief glance of his godson. He was an officer under his command, having earned his promotions, and not through patronage, and that was that. He had other things to think of, other duties to perform.

“Lieutenant H’rann?” Rikes looked at his Andorian eagle COMM officer.

“The channels are open Admiral.”

Rikes paused for a moment, not for dramatic effect, but mere composure, and a moment of thought before he started. He needed both to get through what he was to say.

“Gentle beings of Task Force Seventy-Seven, Fifty-Eight, the Arco, and all other ships in this system. No doubt you have all just heard the announcement from Earth, by Grand Admiral Sher Khal’Saad of the Galactic Empire. He has announced the end of the war, with the destruction of Mars, the death of the President, and the surrender of Starfleet Command.

“Along with this announcement, the Grand Admiral has given his first edict as ruler of the Alpha Quadrant. All vessels under the banner of Starfleet, wherever they be, are to stand down and surrender to agents of the Galactic Empire, and submit peacefully to integration into the Galactic Empire as the Emperor’s faithful subjects.”

Rikes looked about his crew then rather unceremoniously, removed his Starfleet commbadge and simply let it drop to the floor with a muted ‘thud.’

“As of this moment, neither I, Oriskany, nor the ships of Task Force Seventy-Seven are under the Starfleet banner. The Command is gone, and with it the authority under which we have served. Task Force Seventy-Seven will not stand down, along with any ship that wishes, we will continue upon our last course of action. That is to be protectors of the civilians in the ships surrounding the task force. It is to them, the beings in those ships, that we now serve, and they have chosen, to continue on to their new homes. Any vessel, and crewman, who feels that, under his conscious must stand down and submit to the rule of the Galactic Empire, will be allowed to leave of his or her free accord.”

Rikes paused, looking at his crew, somewhere along the line, he did not know where, every commbadge had disappeared from uniforms, some littering the carpeted deck of the bridge as his was, others placed on their consoles, as if reminders of what they once use to serve.

“To all the ships gathered, to any within communications range who may wish to join us, I will not promise easy flight. While we have the services of the Arco and other supply ships, we are traveling on short supplies, and will have to find replenishment along the way. The Empire may very well peruse us. That is their choice, and if they do, I will give you my pledge that we will fight the most vicious of fights to protect our people, our families, our friends. While I am alive, I will promise you, to see you to the end of your journey. You have my solemn word and vow, that through everything, I will stay faithful to you, and the crews under my command.

“As of this moment, the Federation may not exist, and our Exodus begins, but where ever we may travel, whatever we endure, we will never forget who we are, where we came from, or what we stood for. It is as much a part of us as our genetic code, and we cannot be robbed of that, I will not allow it.

“As of now, the Exodus begins, and God bless all of you on our journey.”