Chapter 5
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CHAPTER Five:

Captain Skat Felisar stood with his arms crossed, a foul expression on his face. They were on the Antares station, newly transported from one of the cargo bays-turned-residences on board the FELIX. Refugees streamed past him on their way to the ships that would be taking them until more permanent homes could be found; ships with strange names like YEAGER, CAROLINA, and BERLIN. Skat's lip curled as he watched green uniformed furs help a ragged red panda with long black and white hair step up onto a transporter platform. A worn and tired vixen followed close on her heels, leaning on the arm of a large, grumpy-looking bear for support.

Personnel from the FELIX, including the bossy doctor and his nosy counselor sidekick, were helping to offload the JAVELIN's former occupants. Skat viewed the entire operation with distaste. These people were his responsibility, but Starfleet had taken every vestige of power from him when they rescued his foundering ship. The feline captain had taken just about all that he could stand from his Federation ‘rescuers', and now a tiny squirrel with an earring was trying to order him around.

"You listen, and you listen good," he growled. "I am not letting a bunch of blasted 'fleeter busybodies take my ship away from me--"

Her ridged nose wrinkled in slight distaste, Commander Costran Kylee took a deep breath and resisted the urge to cross her own arms. "Mister Felisar, " she said in a tightly controlled voice, "Your ship, if that's what you choose to call it, is no longer in operational order. I am acting under the orders of the commander of this base to have you relocated to a new facility. You and your people will be treated with the utmost respect and given new homes, a chance to move on with your lives. But while we are willing to go to great lengths to ensure your health and comfort, that--" the Bajoran pointed out the large window at the wreckage of the JAVELIN, "--is absolutely out of the question. The only furs who will be going back onto that scrap heap are engineers with analysis equipment and hazmat suits!"

The commander and her people had only been dealing with Captain Felisar for a short period of time, but they had all come to the same conclusion about the opinionated captain--so long as he insisted on being able to retain his ship, there was simply no way they would be able to get through to him. He clung stubbornly to the gutted carcass of the JAVELIN, as though his captaincy only counted so long as he had his ship. The fact that he was being dressed down by a squirrel two heads shorter than him only added to the bleak irony of the situation.

The rest of the refugees had been considerably more cooperative. Most were genuinely grateful to have reached the Federation, some moved to the point of tears by something so simple and so precious as a warm blanket and food for their children. Compared to the stories Commander Costran had heard about life on the other side of the Rift, life in the Federation was truly Utopian. She swallowed an exasperated noise at the belligerent feline towering over her. "Felisar, that ship is scrap and we both know it. My orders are to get you to new accomodations on board the YEAGER, and by the Prophets I'm going to do it."

Skat sneered down at her. "Nothing you can do will make me move from this spot."

Costran frowned, fingering her holstered phaser thoughtfully, and then snapped her fingers. Cal Cooley and Mike Haith appeared at her back as if by magic, the normally goofy security furs looking surprisingly solemn. "I've told you once, Mister Felisar, and I will not tell you again. You are, under no circumstances, going back to that ship. Now, you can go quietly to the new radiation and vacuum-free quarters we have provided for you, or these men can stun you and drag you there. The choice of how you get there is yours, but you will go."

Skat began to protest once more, and the commander cut him off with a gesture. "Not another word, Mr. Felisar. Your comprehension is not strictly required. Your compliance, on the other hand, is."

After a moment of tense hesitation, Skat snarled something that might have passed as an affirmative and stalked away in the direction of the transporter platforms. Commander Costran watched him go with a faint sense of satisfaction, rubbing just above her ridges in hopes of staving off the headache that was forming behind her eyes. She gestured to the security officers. "Make sure Mr. Felisar goes where he is supposed to go, and nowhere else. I don't trust him on his own."

Cal saluted. "Sir."

The commander turned back to the flood of refugees with a sigh. It was going to be a long day.

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Lanna Tigris watched the yard dogs work on the USS YORKTOWN. The new carrier ship hung against the blackness of space, silvered hull illuminated by the powerful worklights and the light of Antares A and B. The YORKTOWN was one of the new carrier designs which had been brought online with the rest of Project Phoenix.

"I still can't believe she got that through," Cyber Hare said as she gazed at the nearly complete ship. As one, the two officers lifted their drinks in silent salute to Admiral Minovsky.

Lanna spared the taller officer a glance. The first officer looked like she'd been run ragged. Lanna sympathized. They both were going on far too little sleep and far too much stress. Such a state had become "situation normal" for the FELIX's senior staff.

"The chief's a stubborn one," Lanna commented with a hint of pride. "After seeing the stuff in the Far Galaxy? I'm glad she was finally able to put something through." What was unspoken was a shared hope that it wasn't a case of too little, too late.

"I'm just glad we're not being refit to handle any of those fighters," Cyber mused. Lanna arched a brow.

"Not that I disagree, but any particular reason?"

Cyber shrugged. "We have enough craziness going on with the transwarp drive, we don't need to pile on fighter capability. We're too small for it anyway."

"And?" Lanna prompted.

Cyber rolled her eyes. "You haven't had to deal with some of the pilots yet." She heaved a long-suffering sigh.

"Lemme guess, arrogant, cocky, type-A personalities that think they're better than everyone else because they get to zoom around while we all fly in straight lines? Have I forgotten any stereotypes?"

The blue hare chuckled into her mug. "That about covers it." She grimaced in remembrance of the pilots she had encountered on the Starbase. "I even ran across someone I knew in that mix," she said, rolling her eyes. "I don't remember him being this way, but the rumor mill says he's more arrogant than all the rest of the pilots put together. With any luck, you or I won't have to deal with any of the pilots," Cyber reasoned cheerily.

Lanna clanked her mug against the XO's in a toast. "Hear, hear!"

"qpla!" Cyber responded with a wink.

**********************************************************************

"Hey, this stuff is pretty good!" Kim held her bowl up for a refill, which Starsyde chef Andrew Neowulf obligingly gave.

"Told you so."

The young lioness scrutinized the orange goo. "But you still won't tell me what's in it."

"Nope, sorry."

A shrewd look crossed the girl's face, but Neo only smiled. "And if you're thinking of taking a sample to Lieutenant Tigris for analysis, you can forget about it. Who do you think gets her bloodwine for her?"

Kim scowled. "No fair."

"Tough break, kid." He returned the pot to its place on the rear counter behind the bar. "So," he said, turning back to the girl. "I heard they were offloading the refugees we picked up from the JAVELIN to the station today."

Kim shrugged, her attention still focused on lunch. "Dunno. Nobody said anything to me."

A faint frown creased the wulf's brow. "Well… it made me wonder. Shouldn't you have gone with them?"

"Why?" Kim asked, ears flicking. "Nobody told me I had to, and 'sides, I like it better here. Refugees are smelly and whiny, and nobody 'cept Kytlar let me do anything useful."

Neo looked surprised. "I thought you were… Didn't you have family on that ship? Was Kytlar your…" he paused to think. "Mother? Sister?"

Kim shook her head. "Naw. My partner. She used to be in the Rebellion, but she quit after most of her people got killed. She looked out for me, but she's dead now. That wolf killed her before he messed up our engines. Kytlar was the closest thing I had to family. Say, do you think they'll let me dissect his corpse?"

Neo stared blankly at her. "Uhh… No. I don't think that's an option."

She sighed. "Figures."

"Kim," Neo's voice was gentle, careful. "Do you have any family?"

"Yeah, somewhere." The girl scratched her head. "I've got a dad. Last time I saw him he was alive. He didn't know I'm his kid, but I figured it all out myself later. I hope he's still alive. If I ever see him again, I'm gonna tell him he's a petaQ for leaving me behind," she stated determinedly.

Neo cleared away her now empty bowl. "You've been hanging around Lanna too much."

"I like Lanna."

"She didn't seem too fond of you when she discovered what you did to her replicator while she was on shift."

Kim scowled. "Hey, I apologized for that. I even put it back together it again. Nobody told me I wasn't supposed to take the replicator thingy apart and reprogram it. Not like there was anything really interesting in its stored memory anyway. All I did was tweak it a little."

Neo chuckled. "Well, that explains some of the issues that have been cropping up all over the ship."

Kim let her chin rest in her hands, ignoring his comment. "I hope they let me stay here for good. With the JAVELIN and Kytlar gone, I'm out of a job. Besides, the food's better here."

"Kim . . ." Neo narrowed his eyes at her. "How old are you?"

"Fourteen," the lioness blinked blue eyes at him. "Why?"

"Ah . . . nothing. Just," he shook his head. "Never mind."

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Operation Swift Hammer -- Mission minus 00:4:14

Space yawned empty around the jet-black hull of an Imperial reconnaissance craft. Designed to melt seamlessly into the background of open space, its outer skin mirroring perfectly the ever present microwave hum of the universe, it appeared to any outside observer aware of its presence like a dead hulk in space -- its interior, however, was alive with tense expectation.

This craft was a forward observation post, one of thousands deployed over the last months and tasked to carefully listen to the beating heart of the Federation itself. Earth's sun, designated Sol II by its more technically-minded inhabitants, was a barely visible pinprick at this distance, just at the inner rim of the system's Oort cloud. To the watchful furs within the vessel, armed as they were with sensitive equipment, it might as well have been right next door.

Months had been spent passively monitoring communications traffic and watching ships come and go, cataloguing each with efficient precision, without apparent purpose -- until now. A single, softly flashing alarm made its presence known in the cramped confines of the ship's bridge, and the communications station officer's eyes noted its message and turned slightly to the conn.

"Commander, we have received flash traffic -- Emergency Action Message on the secure hyperlink channel, designated Alpha priority. Recommend alert status One."

The communications specialist was a young lynx, barely graduated from the Academy -- however his smooth, calm voice betrayed none of the wracked nerves he was feeling. Exceptional patience and self control was a prerequisite for this sort of assignment, after all. His commander, a slightly older canine of mixed heritage, nodded.

"Acknowledged, Com/Scan -- officer of the watch, bring us to Alert One status if you please. XO, you have permission to authenticate."

The ship's executive officer joined the communications specialist at his console, both inserting their rank cylinders into pre-slotted apertures simultaneously -- the result was the alarm's low tone going quiet, and the flashing alert signal shifting in color from red to green. The XO straightened immediately and turned to his senior with a professional nod.

"Sir, the message is verified and authenticated. I am forwarding it to your console now."

The commander's eyes glided swiftly over the message as it scrolled across his personal console viewscreen. A slow smile spread over his features as he read what it contained. Pressing the purge key with a casual gesture, he reached up for the shipwide communications control, flicking the circuit to On.

"All hands, this is the captain. As you all know, as of nine hours and fifty-seven standard minutes ago, the Galactic Empire has been in an undeclared state of war with this so-called ‘United Federation of Planets' whose activities we have been monitoring. The Federation is unaware of this state of war, continuing on about its daily life without an inkling of the mighty fist which is poised to crush it."

The canine cleared his throat, relishing the words that he had waited so long to deliver to his men. "I have just received a message from Grand Admiral Khal'Saad himself, thanking us for our patient work and advising us that in approximately three minutes and fourteen seconds, the entity known as the United Federation of Planets will cease to exist as a power in this quadrant of the galaxy. War calls us, gentlemen, and in a very few moments we shall begin to record its first birth-cries. All hands, stand to your stations, double-sharp. Continue rigging for super-quiet. May the Emperor's blessings go with us. That is all."

The crew of the ship found their commander's smile infectious, and even the most calm and patient among them could feel the excitement of a predator poised in that final moment before the leap and kill.

**********************************************************************

Admiral Allen Rikes stood facing the wide window of his briefing room, arms folded across his chest. Four of the new Boyington starfighters were out practicing maneuvers beyond the boundaries of the shipyards; at this distance the vessels looked like a swarm of silver dots. Though the setter's eyes followed the small craft as they spun and twisted in a mock dogfight, his thoughts were elsewhere. It seemed that a particular captain's youth had finally betrayed him, as many in Starfleet had feared it someday would.

The admiral had given Captain Xavier two days to give a full report of the FELIX's encounter with the JAVELIN and the Romulans at the Rift. Those two days had come and gone without so much as a peep about the conflict or the health of the personnel injured in the altercation. As much as he wanted to see Xavier succeed, the admiral could no longer afford to wait for the young captain. The Romulans wouldn't interfere with a Federation ship's operations without good reason, and "saving" officers from an explosion on a Rifter vessel was not one of those reasons. Depending on what information the captain was withholding, the fleet's entire operations in the proximity of the Rift could be in jeopardy. Time had simply run out.

Whatever was happening on board the FELIX, whether it was simply the usual internal politics of a starship or something more sinister, the admiral could not continue to be kept in the dark. Rikes had ordered Xavier to bring his lieutenant commander and the two security experts to his office to give him a full report on what had happened on board that Romulan vessel. According to what little information he'd been given, those security experts were at the center of this episode. Allen Rikes was not the sort of admiral to give in to paranoia, but he could not bring himself to believe that the captain's so-called experts would pose no danger to his personnel.

The door slid open and Rikes' eyes flicked to the reflection in the window. Xavier led the group, spine stiff, a disapproving frown marring his face. Lt. Commander Tigris was only a few steps behind her captain, as unreadable as Commander Hare had been when the FELIX first arrived. Rikes turned to greet the two officers with a nod. The captain practically snapped to attention, his chief engineer assuming a more relaxed at-ease position. The air around them was strained and tense, feeding into Rikes' suspicion that an argument was imminent.

"Captain Xavier, Commander Tigris, welcome," the admiral said formally. "Where are your security experts?"

"Your officers wanted to make sure they were not bringing weapons, sir," Lanna replied.

The admiral's gaze flicked to the door as a petite, white-furred vixen stepped into the briefing room. Zannah kept her face as blank as her half-Klingon friend's, struggling to avoid snapping to attention the same way that Marc had. It was an impulse that dated back to her aborted days as a cadet at the Imperial Academy. The admiral's authoritative presence demanded respect on an instinctive level, and his calm in the face of Marc's nervousness only added to the fear that she had been reading from the captain since their arrival at Antares. She only hoped that her other apprentice would react well to the older canine; they were here to give their report, not to start a fight. The last thing the two Jedi needed to do was add to the already high state of tension.

Perdia stepped tentatively into the room in Zannah's wake, the admiral's eyes widening at the sight of her. Allen Rikes had seen a great number of surprising things in his career in Starfleet, but this was a new one. The redheaded girl's eyes spoke of years of hardship, but she couldn't have been more than sixteen or seventeen. She looked younger than even the greenest of cadets he'd seen at the Academy. The admiral turned his head and narrowed his eyes slightly at his officers. Xavier's ears were turning pink in either defiance or embarrassment, but Tigris remained impassive, one eyebrow raised.

"Sir," Lanna stepped forward slightly. "May I introduce specialist Zannah Lyles and specialist Perdia Detami?"

"Sir." Zannah inclined her head respectfully. Perdia followed the vixen's lead, her nervous gulp audible in the quiet room.

"A pleasure, ladies," the admiral responded politely, giving the three adults a hard look before turning his attention to the mountain cat. "Miss Detami, how old are you?"

Perdia raised her head nervously. "Sir?"

"Your age, Miss Detami."

"I--s-seventeen standard years, sir."

Marc swallowed his own nerves. "She's old enough to apply for the academy, sir."

"Not without special dispensation, captain." Rikes folded his hands behind his back, watching the four carefully.

"Sir, I wouldn't put Perdia, or Zannah, or any member of my crew in undue danger," Marc interjected. "They are a part of my family."

Rikes' eyes narrowed again as he recalled what he had read in the captain's file before this meeting. Xavier and his wife had adopted a teenaged orphan shortly after their marriage. "Captain, are you trying to tell me that this is your daughter? That you allowed your untrained child to beam onto a ship in imminent danger of explosion?"

The insides of the captain's ears had turned crimson. "Sir, I--Perdia is--"

"Perdia knows how to handle herself," Tigris interrupted calmly. "I would not call her untrained, sir."

The admiral quirked a brow. "Commander, you may have been running main engineering when you were knee-high to a power coupling, but Starfleet doesn't operate the same way," he reminded her quietly.

Tigris nodded, her lips twitching to suppress a smile. Many of her taller engineers would say that she was still only knee-high to a power coupling. "That's true, sir. But I will personally attest to Perdia's combat capability. I've watched her spar with Commander Fuhrer and hold her own. She's got a level head and she knows Far Galaxy technology and customs." While the latter might not have been strictly true, Lanna didn't want to get into the details of Perdia's past. She had never seen the admiral so angry, not even when they had informed him of a fellow admiral's betrayal of Starfleet. "I would not have allowed her to accompany my team if she were not capable."

"Be that as it may, commander, I am not happy that an underage civilian was put into a dangerous position." Rikes held up a hand to stop the arguments before they began. "No matter how well trained she might be, she is a child, and we protect our children. I do not want to hear of an underage civilian being involved in Starfleet operations ever again."

"Yes, sir."

Rikes nodded sharply. "Captain Xavier, you will join me in my office before we begin this briefing." The ice in the admiral's voice caused the flush in Marc's ears to spill down his cheeks, but the captain did not argue. He took a deep breath and straightened his tunic before following the admiral into the office, never once looking back at the three women who had accompanied him.

The door of the office slid shut, the hissing sound impossibly loud to Perdia's ears. "This is my fault."

Zannah frowned and moved slowly to one of the chairs. The pain in her healing leg was not quite gone, and with the admiral in his office she saw no reason to keep standing. "Perdi, this isn't your fault. Thinking like that won't help us right now. Come sit with me, and we'll go through some of your exercises."

"But we don't have time," she muttered reluctantly, plopping with teenaged awkwardness into the chair beside Zannah's.

Lanna looked uneasily to the admiral's office and took a seat a short distance from the pair. "Oh, I think we have all the time you need . . ."

**********************************************************************

More than 45 minutes had passed in uneasy silence when Perdia opened her eyes. The girl had moved over to the large window that looked out on the spaceyards; in the strange reflected light, her purple eyes had an eerie quality. "Someone's coming."

"I haven't sensed--" Zannah fell silent, her own gaze turning expectantly toward the door. "What else do you feel?"

Perdia took a slightly unsteady breath as she climbed to her feet. "Not sure. Maybe friend, maybe . . ."

"Maybe not," Lt. Commander Tigris finished, her hand hovering over her phaser. All three women were standing by the time the door slid open to reveal the admiral's Bajoran aide de camp. If the petite squirrel was surprised not to see Admiral Rikes or the captain, her face didn't show it.

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything," she said politely, her voice slightly dry, "but I have more guests here to see the admiral."

"Oh, so we're guests now?" another woman spoke from behind the squirrel, blinking as she stepped into the room. The adjustment from the bright artificial lighting of the hallway to the dark view framed by the large windows made the striped grey feline blink and raise one half-gloved hand to shield her eyes. "At least it's a step up in rank . . . I think."

Perdi blinked and moved closer to Zannah, an uncertain look written all over her face. "Who are you?" she asked warily, eying the holster strapped to the leopardess' hip. The empty leather pouch had a blaster's shape, not a phaser's, though it was currently empty. The wolf they had faced had worn a holster just like it.

"You first." The woman lifted her chin and stepped out of the doorway to admit two more felines; one a white-furred woman and the other a lion.

A snarl erupted from Lanna's throat just before a reddish-gold energy bolt flying across the room to slam into the lion's chest before any of the other women could make a move toward the tigress. Both of the new women reached for their empty blaster holsters; Perdia's hand hovered over the hidden pocket that concealed her lightsaber. Only Zannah kept her cool.

The vixen stepped forward with the help of her cane, one hand extended slightly toward the others. "There's no need for anyone to get upset," Zannah said firmly, her quiet voice filled with calm and the power of the Force. "It was just a stun bolt. He'll be fine, and the commander will not shoot him again."

Her apprentice snuck a look toward Lanna; the shorter woman did not look at all like she was prepared to lower her phaser. The white-furred cat watched them warily, while the leopardess knelt to take the lion's pulse. If the expression on her face was any indication, she was ready to jump Lanna for the offense.

"There isn't any need for violence here." Zannah kept her face calm and blank. "We're not going to hurt you. No one here is going to hurt you."

"Yeah, then what the frak was that?" the leopardess growled. "I'll not have you attacking one of my people!"

"Your people?" the Klingon repeated, her voice low with anger. "That p'taQ tried to kill us all!"

"Like hell he did," she snapped, surging to her feet with a fighter's grace. "I didn't see him do one damn thing to you--"

Lanna stalked forward to kick the lion while he was down. Perdia had to grab her around the waist with both arms to hold her back.

"Let me go. He deserves what he got, and more--"

In the chaos, none of them had heard the office door slide open. "What is going on here?" Admiral Rikes demanded, staring at the situation from the doorway. Marc hovered behind him, shock written visibly on his face. Commander Costran had gone so far as to pull her phaser out and point it carefully toward the combatants.

"A slight misunderstanding, sir," Zannah said carefully, once again finding herself resisting the urge to snap to attention.

"A slight misunderstanding," Rikes repeated acidly, moving toward them. "A slight misunderstanding should not involve phaser fire!"

Lt. Commander Tigris looked at the admiral with fire in her eyes. "That lion is the same one who tried to assassinate the president during talks with the Empire two years ago," she said as evenly as she could.

"What?" Marc muttered, his comment going unheard.

Rikes gave one long, slow blink as if he wasn't quite sure what he'd heard.

"Security is already on its way, sir," Commander Costran informed him quietly, her phaser trained on the newcomers. "I called them when this started."

The admiral nodded and looked to Perdia. "Unhand my officer, Miss Detami."

"But--"

"Do as he says, Perdi." The redheaded feline looked toward Zannah, then gave a slight nod and released the angry tiger.

Rikes returned his attention to the three new furs, though most of it was directed at the lion, who had already begun to stir. "What is going on here, Commander Costran? Who are these people?"

"I can introduce myself, thanks." The short leopardess ran a hand through her hair, leaving green and yellow strands standing on end. "I'm General Inazuma Anaea of the Cornet's Vengeance Rebels." She glared at the 'fleeters. "And I'll thank you not to shoot any more of my men, if it's all the same to you."

"Give me a good reason," Lanna retorted with a growl.

Perdia swallowed and stepped forward, her empty hands held up at shoulder height. "Everybody just calm down." Power and authority filled her voice, making the teenager sound much older than her 17 years; at her words, General Anaea and Commander Costran both visibly relaxed their posture.

"Perdi," Zannah said sharply, but the damage was already done. Admiral Rikes was staring at both of them like he'd never seen them before.

"What skill is this, Captain Xavier?" There was an edge of ice to the admiral's tone, a coolness that raised the hackles on the necks of all the furs present.

Marc winced and stepped forward carefully to stand with his crew members. "I can explain, admiral."

"Save it," Inazuma interrupted uneasily, shaking off the effects of Perdia's words. The security personnel who had filled the doorway behind her kept their phasers pointed at her uneasily, ready to shoot at the slightest provocation. "I'm not here chit-chat, and I'm sure as hell not here to get shot. I'm here because we're all in danger. I'm here to help you."

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The security personnel who flanked Sam Stone with phasers drawn had done little to alleviate the tension that pulsed through the admiral's office like a living thing. No one, even General Anaea and the other woman who had come with them, K'Tir, seemed to be comfortable with how quickly the lion was recovering from the stun bolt.

"The hell did you shoot me for?" he muttered angrily, flexing his hands. "I didn't do anything yet."

"Yet," Admiral Rikes repeated. "Are you aware of the charges that Commander Tigris has laid at your feet? Attempted assassination of the Federation president and negotiating diplomats, assault with a deadly weapon against multiple officers of the fleet . . ."

Stone glared up at them with heat in his blue eyes. "Oh, sure, blame the brainwashing victim."

Zannah frowned, leaning forward in her chair. She and Perdia had been relocated off to the side of the room, out of the others' reach. "Brainwashing?" she asked softly, taking the risk and drawing attention to them. "The Empire brainwashed you?"

"Some admiral of theirs," Stone retorted, frowning at her as he sniffed the air. "You don't smell like a 'fleeter."

The vixen's smile was slight and more than a little cold. "Strange. I didn't know that Rifters used their noses to figure out who's what."

Admiral Rikes shook his head. "Enough, all of you, enough." He met the lion's gaze calmly. "Give me one good reason that I shouldn't have you tossed in the nearest brig and never let out."

"Been there, done that." Stone leaned forward, his tail swishing in agitation. "Listen, 'fleeter, you don't understand. I was brainwashed. I didn't know what the hell I was doing, and even if I had, I couldn't have stopped it. And it was one of those Imps that did it. They were trying to kill their own people. I was just the method of execution."

"And why would the Imperials want to execute one another?" Rikes asked softly.

"Hell if I know. I'm just the muscle. Not like they confide in you when you get tossed in their stupid prisons."

"Mr. Stone was rescued from an Imperial penal facility," General Anaea interjected. "The prisoners were all kept separately from one another. No contact with other sentients. Irregular food and water delivery. Most were political prisoners." She looked them over uncertainly, as if trying to decide who among them she could trust. "One of them claimed to be one of yours."

"No Starfleet personnel have been lost on the other side of the Rift, General Anaea," Marc answered with a frown. "There were only a handful of us who were ever their captives, and we all escaped."

"You escaped from the Empire?" Inazuma snorted. "Damn, that's rich. Next thing I know you're going to say you're some sort of long-lost Jedi. I didn't come here for storytelling hour." She turned her attention away from the suddenly uncomfortable-looking captain, fixing her gaze on the admiral. "He didn't say Starfleet. He said Federation. Section 31, or something."

Admiral Rikes went very still, his breathing slowed. Captain Xavier's crew stood by exchanging uncertain looks. "Section 31?"

"Yeah." The petite leopardess, who stood a full two inches shorter than even Lt. Commander Tigris, tossed her brightly-colored hair out of her face. "He also said you wouldn't believe us. That we had to give you proof." She dug into her pocket and surfaced with a bright silver isolinear chip. "My men got this from him before he died."

Perdia rubbed her arms, staring at the chip. "I have a bad feeling about this," she muttered quietly, virtually ignored by the older furs.

"Very well, General Anaea," he said slowly. "For now, your man may remain out of the brig, but you will be under guard at all times until this . . . information can be verified."

"I don't know how admirals on this side of the Rift work," the general replied, "but don't put it off the way our admirals sometimes do. That dead agent of yours told my men that the Empire's built a new Death Star, and that those big-eared Romans of yours gave them a cloak for it."

Lanna drew a sharp breath. "A Romulan cloak? On one of those--space stations?"

"That's what he said, Lt. Commander Tigris." Inazuma allowed herself a small shudder. "A planet-killer that you can't detect. Can't see. Can't sense. One minute you're there, and the next . . ." She clenched her hand into a fist, pounding it against her open palm. "Boom. You're dead."

"And what proof do you have to offer us, General Anaea?" Rikes asked carefully.

"The Empire isn't proof enough?" Inazuma met Lanna's gaze, the two women glaring at each other. "Haven't you studied their history? Don't you know about their planet killers? Hell, I heard some of you had even seen one of the damn things. There's rumors that a few 'fleeters were prisoners. The Green Beret survivors still talk about some Admiral Rumfold--"

"Admiral Rumsfield?" Rikes asked shakily. "He is no longer an admiral. He was convicted--"

"Yeah, whatever." Inazuma held out her hand, showing the admiral a small isolinear chip that gleamed against her fur. "We found the men that Rumsfold sold out in an Imperial prison, along with that Federation spy of yours. He had this. He said that it held all the proof his people would need." The general's gaze flicked around the room, taking in each of the Federation witnesses. "Don't you think it'd have to be pretty damn convincing for me to risk my tail getting through the Rift to you?"

The admiral swallowed and took the chip from Inazuma's hand. "We'll see what this holds."

"Just scan it, admiral. Scan it, and you'll have your answers."

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Operation Swift Hammer -- Mission Plus 00:01:32

At that moment, four thousand hyperspace capable Imperial assault fighters left the swirling vortex of between space and re-entered the void of the rest of the universe. Four thousand more had completed the same maneuver thirty seconds earlier, and another four thousand more had done the same thirty seconds before that. Four thousand black-helmeted pilots armed and locked their weapons on targets carefully harvested over months of cautious planning, received authorization to fire, and did so.

If anyone had been able to correlate the sudden disruptions in the network of long-range subspace relays that served as the communications arteries of the entire Alpha Quadrant, three seconds later they would have seen two hundred and fourteen more relay stations, and the traffic which they served, consigned to oblivion. Andor, Epsilon Eridani, Meklon IV, and Ferengniar joined Vulcan, Trill, Bajor, Quo'Nos and countless other worlds in the ever-widening net of silence.

Thirty seconds after that, the Romulan frontier went icily quiet. The fleets which patrolled this march of space, in a panic, began to hail the nearest Neutral Zone stations, but to no avail. Signals piled atop one another as those few relays which remained struggled to cope with the sudden massive inflow of information, adding to the sudden chaos.

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"Why are we here, again? We're docked." Lt. Steve Raymond sat back in his seat at the FELIX's helm console, a look of boredom on his face. "It's not like the ship's gonna float away without us knowing."

"Procedure. The rules tell us to do something, we do something." Lt. J.G. Michael Haith shrugged, leaning boredly on the Tactical console and gesturing vaguely at the viewscreen. "Might as well enjoy the view."

"You mean those over-armed, over-engined, undersized shuttles they're putting on the ORISKANY?" Commander Hare chimed in from Ops, having forgone the captain's chair. "And the overbearing Type A personalities that come with them?"

"Hey now, I heard that." Steve turned in his chair to look back at Cyber, smirking with fake indignation. "Just because I'm assigned to the helm on this tub doesn't mean I have to like it. Smaller ships like those new fighters are hilariously fun, especially when they've got comparatively oversized engines."

"Thank you for the demonstration of a Type A personality, lieutenant." The hare grinned back at him before she returned her attention to the Ops console.

"Perfectly welcome, ma'am." The raptor snapped off a loose two-fingered salute, and leaned back in his chair. "I actually got an offer to go back to Earth for the Starfighter Command test program a few years after I got out of the Academy."

"You obviously didn't accept, since you're here now." Haith asked, somewhat distracted by the looping and gyrating fighters on the main viewscreen. "Why didn't you?"

"That's easy." Raymond shrugged, turning to regard the displayed fighters gyrating and spinning in mock dogfights. "I didn't feel like it."

"But you just said you think small ships like fighters are fun to fly." The snowcat quirked a brow at Raymond, confused. "I'd love to get my hands on one of the new Starhawk hulls and tinker around with it."

"Fighters are only fun up until you realize you're being shot at nearly every time you go out for a spin." The raptor at the helm snorted. "And there's no room for improvement in any of those systems. Now, if you really want something to tinker with, have you seen some of the smaller designs that've come through the Rift . . .?"

"You mean the light freighters?" Haith snickered to himself, rolling his eyes. "The ones held together with tack-welds and no small amount of luck? I wouldn't touch one of those with someone else's ten-meter pole."

"I hate to interrupt such an intelligent conversation," Cyber stared at the Ops console, fingers dancing over control surfaces. "But I think I've got something over here."

"You think?" Steve's eyebrows went up in surprise. "After hearing about that stunt with the transporters, I thought you were sure of everything."

"It's all a carefully-crafted illusion meant to intimidate the ensigns. I assure you that I'm just as Terran as either of you." Commander Hare tried to smile, but her solemn eyes never left the display on the Ops console. "I'm seeing some rather unusual subspace communications traffic, almost a pattern of some kind . . ." Her head snapped up. "Lieutenant Haith, connect me to the ORISKANY. If this is what I think it is, then we have a situation on our hands."

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Marc trailed along behind the admiral as they hurried into his office. Rikes was eying the chip in his hand with distrust, turning it over and over as he looked for any flaws. At long last he handed it to the captain with a level look of anger. "This conversation may have been interrupted, Captain Xavier, but it is far from finished. Putting underage civilians in jeopardy in place of a trained adult is the sort of reason we invented the courts-martial system."

The captain swallowed, his ears flattening against his hair. "Yes, sir," he intoned, his voice like stone.

"Give me your tricorder."

Marc took a moment to find the pocket he had slipped his tricorder into before turning it over to the admiral. Rikes gave the chip a quick scan and frowned at the results. The chip was undamaged, but the data appeared to be heavily encoded. Despite the Rifter general's claims, no alarms had started going off.

Rikes strode briskly to his desk and snatched an empty PADD from the surface, snapping the chip into place. The screen lit up almost immediately, fading to a dismal brownish-black. There was a slight burst of static from the PADD before a weary voice speaking Federation standard English could be heard from the device's tiny speakers.

"My name isn't important. The information that I have for you . . . that is."

A maned wolf's face appeared on the small viewscreen, the pale fur streaked with soot and dirt. "We can talk later. I've got orders to get you back to our vessels before the Imperials--"

"No." The unseen speaker sounded incredibly weary, his voice filled with pain. "Listen to me. I'm a Federation agent. Section 31. They'll know what it means." A fit of harsh coughing broke the audio stream into static. "There's a chip, a device in my hand. You give that to your leader. You get it to Antares. Put it in a datapad . . . you'll find directions. You get it to Antares, and you tell them they're building a cloaked station."

"A cloaked station?" the wolf scowled up at the admiral from the PADD screen.

"A Death Star. A cloaked Death Star. The Romulans . . . they're collaborating . . . chip will prove it."

The datastream froze, leaving the two men with an image of the wolf's shocked and frightened face. Marc stared in dazed disbelief. "That -- that's impossible, that--you can't cloak something that big--"

The look the admiral gave Xavier as he passed would have frozen liquid hydrogen. "This chip contains information on a plot between the Empire and the Romulans to cloak a battle station capable of destroying a planet, captain. Given what we know of the Imperials and their new friends, I'd say it's not even improbable."

Xavier swallowed hard. "Y-yes, sir," he muttered.

Rikes nodded and tapped his combadge. "Rikes to Costran. Commander, find me the fastest, high-security civilian vessel in transporter range. You have two minutes to secure passage for two to Earth on board it. Commandeer it if you have to."

"Sir, we can't--"

The admiral turned on Xavier, the tips of his fangs showing. "One more word and I strip you of rank here and now," the elder canine growled. "I'll lock you in a bloody box and shove you out an airlock if it comes to that. It's your choice." Without another word, the admiral strode from his office, the fox hurrying along behind him.

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The deep black stare of the Oriskany's Betazoid captain met Cyber's evenly on the main viewscreen of the FELIX. "I appreciate your report, Commander Hare," the lynx said calmly, "But none of my officers have noticed any such pattern developing."

"I didn't notice it at first, Captain Jinra. Not until I compared the data from Sector 14 with Sector 30 . . ."

Captain Jinra frowned at Cyber, Steve, and Michael before she glanced off-screen, her attention focused on another member of the ORISKANY's bridge crew. "I'll have my people give the communications relay another look, but--"

"Captain!" The lynx turned and glanced off of the screen again. "I'm getting an emergency hail from Deep Space Nine. Audio only."

"Play it," Jinra ordered.

"This is Commodore--" the signal faded into static briefly. "--Deep Space Nine. Cardassian war vessels have been sighted in proximity and are firing on the station and all area craft. Requesting immediate assistance from Antares, we--"

"Captain, we've lost the subspace signal."

The Betazoid lynx gave a soft hiss. "Commander Hare, I'm going to have to cut this conversation short. Send all of your data through to the CIC and get your crew back on board as fast as you can. I'm contacting the admiral."

The viewscreen went blank.

"What . . . what's going on?" Lieutenant Haith stammered, staring numbly at Cyber.

The hare swallowed hard, her own gaze fixed on the Ops screen as more and more subspace beacons blinked out of existence. "They're coming . . . Raymond, get the crew. Haith, contact the captain. Now!"

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Zannah looked up sharply as the admiral and Marc returned from the inner office. She had seen Marc look ill at ease on more than one occasion -- the birth of his twins was especially memorable for the few furs who had not broken out real alcohol in their honor -- but seeing a look of iminent doom on the face of someone as collected as Admiral Rikes was reputed to be made her want to be very, very far away from Antares. The sooner, the better.

"General Anaea," Rikes nodded to her sharply. "The information on this chip seems to be accurate. But to send you back to your people puts my people at too great a risk. I can't have you or this information captured, and if the Imperials sincerely do wish us harm -- there's no telling what could happen. I have a request for you and . . ." he trailed off, eying the white-furred feline who had accompanied the general. "My apologies, but I didn't catch your name."

"K'Tir," she answered coolly, her heart sinking with the realization that she would not be going home anytime soon.

"Ms. K'Tir. My apologies." Rikes held the PADD out to his guest, letting Inazuma take it from his hand. "I need the two of you to travel to Earth with this information. If they really do have a cloaked Death Star out there, then the president needs to know immediately. My people have a ship waiting to transport you--"

Commander Costran burst into the room, panting, her eyes wide in her face. "Sir, we need to leave. Now. The ORISKANY has just informed us that Imperial vessels have been sighed at the Pluto Defense Network, targeting subspace relays--"

"Dancing inbred Romulans in tutus," Lanna muttered under her breath, her words lost to most in the chorus of less creative curses from the other Starfleet personnel.

Captain Xavier blinked at his engineer, but the admiral had either missed or ignored the Klingon's outburst. "Mister Stone will be kept here for safety reaosns. We can't put him near the president -- not after what happened last time. He will be safe, but you have to go. Now."

Everyone ignored the way that Sam snorted and rolled his eyes. "Safe my ass. I'm not supposed to be safe. What do they think I am, a useless tigger?"

"I wouldn't have chosen for your people to find out about the Empire firsthand," General Anaea said mildly, taking the PADD from the admiral's outstretched hand. Despite her easy words, the feline's eyes were hard.

Rikes accepted the comment with a nod. "Commander, get them to their ship. We haven't got any time to spare."

"Sir." Costran led the two taller women from the office with a brisk salute for the admiral, who turned to the rest of the furs.

"Xavier, we will finish this another time. Get to your ship. Your people," the admiral's eyes drifted over Zannah and Perdia, "will remain here until this is settled. They can keep Mister Stone company while we're in the field."

Marc swallowed. "But sir--"

The admiral quelled his retort with a stern glance. Lanna's gaze flicked over the two Jedi before she took the captain's arm and quietly pulled him from the room with the rest of the FELIX's personnel.

The door slid closed behind the exiting party with a soft hiss. Zannah waited a three count before turning back to Rikes. "Admiral," she began. "With all due respect--"

"Ms. Lyles, I will tolerate no argument on this point. You are safer here than on the FELIX. I cannot allow civilians on the firing line." Rikes tugged his uniform jacket straight and started for the door.

The vixen squared her shoulders, drawing herself up to her full not quite five-and-a-half feet. "It's been a few years, admiral, but I was not always a civilian. I can--"

Rikes gave her a look that bordered on cynical. "Pardon me, Ms. Lyles, but I do believe the FELIX can do without your, hmm, ‘cultural expertise' this time. This is hardly a matter that calls for an outside security consultant." His gaze turned to spear Perdia, who winced as if struck. "Especially an underage one."

"Admiral Rikes," Zannah began again.

This time, it was a sharp guffaw from the mercenary lion that cut her off. "Cultural?" He snorted. "What were you doing? Advising the 'fleeters on what Imp commanders like to have at teatimes?"

The Jedi whirled on him, real anger and frustration warring in her eyes. "No one asked for your input, huttspit," she growled at him.

Stone's expression darkened, his booted feet dropping from the admiral's coffee table with a thud. "Hey, I say what I want, when I want. You got a problem with me?" His hand dipped toward his holster, forgetting that Starfleet security had already relieved him of his blaster.

Zannah had to fight to stop her own hand from edging toward the pocket that concealed her lightsaber. "Maybe I should." She glowered back at him. "Lousy rimkin."

"Enough!" Rikes barked, pulling their attention back to him. "Ms. Lyles, Mr. Stone, and Miss Detami, you will all be staying here for the immediate duration of this emergency. A member of my security team will remain with you to ensure the safety of all parties involved." He glared at each member of the trio in turn as he drove home his point. "I will deal with each of you when this crisis is past. In the meantime, I would appreciate it if you would try not to kill one another. Good day."

They watched the admiral storm out of his office in uneasy silence, leaving them alone with one of the stern-faced security officers who had helped to restrain Sam before.

Zannah took a steadying breath and forced the tension out of her limbs. "Well," she commented to Perdia, "That could have gone better. Sorry."

The younger feline shook her head. "I don't think he was going to let us go anyway. Not after . . ." she trailed off, not wanting to bring up what she had accidentally let slip before.

"It's okay, Perdi. We'll work something out," Zannah reassurred her pupil.

Sam, ignoring their exchange, dragged himself upright and swaggered to the viewport. Perdia eased away from him, wrinkling her nose in distaste when the lion stretched his arms out over his head. The lion ignored them. "Just great," he muttered loudly. "Stuck on a lousy 'fleeter station with a couple of smelly Rifters."

Zannah frowned. "We can hear you, you know."

"I'd watch who I was calling smelly if I was you," Perdi muttered under her breath, earning a scowl from the tall mercenary.

"You think I care?" Stone glanced over his shoulder at them.

"No," the vixen retorted coldly. "I doubt very much that you care about anything beyond yourself, Mr. Stone." The lion shrugged and returned his gaze to the shipyards visible through the viewport. Zannah turned away, ignoring him. "Well," she commented glumly to the empty air. "One way or another, it'll be over for us soon enough."

"No." Perdia's voice was unusually soft, the girl frozen at the far viewport. Zannah turned to face her apprentice with a questioning look.

"Perdia?"

"It's only just beginning," she rasped, her violet eyes glazed enough to make her look blind as she stared straight ahead. Stone swore and backed away from her. "So many ships."

"The hell kind of people are you?" he demanded, a spooked look on the lion's face. "Spicers?"

Zannah stared at her apprentice for a moment, scarcely noticing she had moved until she was at Perdia's side, sitting and taking one limp hand in her own. "Show me," she commanded, opening the bond between them. It was something they had practiced a few times while trying to help Perdia deal with the nightmares that plagued her. Before she let her eyes fall closed to drop into trance with her apprentice, Zannah caught wary looks from both Stone and their Federation watchdog. Uncaring, she submerged her consciousness, joining Perdia's vision.

Sam Stone scowled at the pair of women seated across the room from him and carefully maneuvered so that he had as much furniture between himself and the spooky femmes as possible. He'd only seen that kind of look on the worst of the spice addicts. The mercenary backed up against a screen embedded in the wall, cursing when a low beeping sound filled the room. "I didn't touch anything!" he whined.

The greenshirt stationed at the door paled. "That's the proximity alarm."

"Yeah, well--" Stone's acerbic comments died in his throat as the shipyards were cut out of view by a swarm of small black ships that cleared the way for a perfect fleet of white, daggerhead shapes that hung in battle formation against the stars.

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