[Galaxy] War Stories: Garroway, Henry, Killburn - Battle End

[Robert]

[ Endeavor, Bridge ]

"What's the word on our hull polarization?" Garroway asked loudly.

"Still offline," replied engineering over the intercom.  "Can't expect 
to take a hit for every ship that's fallen back and not scratch the paint."

"Can't expect not to take another hit, either," Garroway replied.  "At 
least they don't know we're wide open at the moment, but if those last 
enemy ships want to finish off some of us, I'd like to think we could 
stop them."

The chief engineer on the other end of the intercom got the implied 
order: 'Hurry'.  "Aye, Admiral."

Endeavor had been flying circles around several collection points for 
ships that had fallen back for emergency repairs, or worse.  Seawolf, 
Ranger, and Challenger were in bad shape, and more ships were still 
joining them.  Garroway wished that they could consolidate the ships, 
but that would make them a target.  So Endeavor continued circling 
alone, the last escort in Gamma Group long since sent into the battle in 
a give-and-take for re-enforcements.

Hopefully, though, the last give-and-take had been made.  With so few 
Klingon ships left, and the Romulans not risking any more appearances, 
it was almost over.  Enemy vessels were all but eradicated in almost 
every area of the battlespace, except for one small corner.  "What's the 
word on the hold-outs?"

Helm announced, "the remaining battlecruisers are forming up in the 
middle of a debris field.  No threat to Gamma Group, but they've ignored 
all hails for a surrender."

"That debris is going to make it hard for our ships to score a hit," 
commented Stone at armory.

"That goes both ways, Commander."  Garroway replied.  "They're stalling."

"Reinforcements?" Stone asked.

"I think they believe the Naussicaans are still inbound."

"Then this will be easy pickings.  We've got them surrounded.  They're 
sitting ducks."

"And swarming around them to finish them off only makes /us/ easy 
pickings if the Romulans decide to start hitting us again.  Unless 
something happens, and soon, we're only going to lose more people."


----------

[ Romulan Command Ship, Bridge ]

"The Klingons are protesting this tactic, Admiral," the young officer 
said.  "They are close to disregarding your order and returning to 
ship-to-ship combat."

"Just get them to stay a little longer..." the Romulan Admiral replied 
quietly.  He was a picturesque image of a calm battle-experienced elder 
officer, watching the scene play out with an almost detached interest. 
"Anything on long-range sensors?"

"Nothing yet, Sir."

"We only need to hold until the Naussicaans arrive, then we commit 
enough of our ships to have the prime cadre fall back safely.  Then just 
sit back in warp as more human ships are lost and Starfleet realizes how 
ill-conceived this attack was."

"Ill-conceived?" the young officer said, suddenly realizing he was out 
of turn.  "My apologies, Admiral, but they have broken this fleet.  They 
caught us unaware and destroyed-"

"These aren't the only ships we have, Commander," the Admiral said with 
infinite patients.  "And we have a healthy supply of Klingons and 
Naussicaans, both of whom are cheap to acquire.  All the Humans have 
done is expose their entire fleet.  This is but /one/ battle, Commander, 
and after this they won't be able to afford another."

The young commander nodded as the words of the elder officer sank in the 
long-term ramifications of what was happening.  They have destroyed 
several of a limited number of Starfleet ships, and the fresh Naussicaan 
forces will only finish off those already heavily damaged, like that 
/Challenger/ or /Meridian/ -- what a loss /they/ would be!

"Our long-range sensors?" the Romulan admiral asked.  He kept reminding 
the younger officer because he knew the excitable commander would surely 
be distracted.

"Nothing yet, Adm-" he did a double take, "Yes, Sir!  I have three ships 
coming out of warp."

"Only three?" The Admiral inquired as he looked away from the 
viewscreen.  "The fighters must be masked by the raiders.  Scan again, I 
want to know just how many Naussicaans they've brought, and it better be 
the number we agreed upon."

"They're not Naussicaans, Admiral!"

"What?!"  The elder military man's calm finally broke.

"Three heavy Starfleet ships inbound from the Naussicaan's last known 
course!"

"Damaged?"

"Some," the young commander said as he found his own calm out of grim 
resignation, "but not enough to matter, Sir."

"Hail all Romulan birds," the Armiral said with equal measure of anger 
and disgust.  "Retreat.  Now."


----------

[ Republic, Bridge ]

"Klingon battlecruisers in sight," called tactical.

Captain John J. Henry smiled.  "Well, Lieutenant, say 'Hello'."

"Aye, Sir," replied the red piped weapons man, "arming torpedoes, full 
salvo."

"Fire for effect."

Coming from the streaking stars of warp speed to the flash and debris of 
war was a startling and exhilarating experience, and one of those 
moments that Henry would never forget.  The near immediate sound of a 
rapid torpedo spread was almost like music.  Unlike Hawke, Henry didn't 
hide his admiration for the more uncivilized of acts.  War was an 
occasion not to be missed.  When he saw cannon fire and torpedoes fly 
from Shenandoah and Yorktown around him, he couldn't help but chuckle.


----------

[ Mir, Bridge ]

Killburn sat in the command chair as his ship drifted in space.  Of all 
the systems that failed, he regretted life support the most.  Only 
moments ago he was ordering power diverted from that particular system, 
and now it was the only one he really cared for.  Instead, he had only a 
working viewscreen.  He expected to see the shot that would kill them, 
but it was a welcomed relief when he found them alone among the various 
debris scattered across this battlespace.  "Just another piece of old 
junk," he had mused, his weariness referring to both the current state 
of his ship, and his own self evaluation.

But while the damage control teams worked frantically to restore 
something, anything, that would allow them to defend themselves in case 
they garnered some unwelcomed attention, Killburn and his bridge crew 
sat watching the battle, magnified to pick out the pertinent details as 
if scrutinizing a recorded sports game.  It was a lopsided sports game, 
but it was still ongoing.

"Time," Killburn called to science.  It was a regular check on the 
countrown until their air would become toxic.

"Twelve minutes, Captain," replied science, who seemed more interested 
in the events on the viewscreen.

"That was an exit from warp," commented armory.

Helm, who had been given control of the camera, located the subject of 
armory's notice and magnified.  "It's Delta Group."

"Look at that firepower..." armory trailed off.  Fresh cruisers letting 
loose with everything they had left was surely a sight anyone who fired 
weapons for a living would appreciate.

"They didn't all hit home, though," Killburn observed.  "That debris 
field is protecting the Klingons."

A flash from the center of the field indicated that enough /did/ hit 
home to make a difference.  A secondary flash told Killburn how tight 
that Klingon formation was, and what a folly it was to seek refuge in 
the field.  The destruction of one ship meant the destruction of 
another, and yet another was surely to be much worse off than it was before.

"Ships entering warp," helm reported.  He panned over and zoomed out to 
catch the sticatto bursts of Romulan ships fading into vision and 
suddenly shooting away from the battlespace.  Armory raised his eyebrows 
and said in quiet surprise, "they held back a lot a lot of ships..."

"Time."

"Ten minutes."

The view shifted back to the debris field and the Klingons now 
thuroughly surrounded by Starfleet vessels.  Luddington and Aurora were 
blocking Mir's view, but the sudden activity indicated something was 
happening.  Flashes of phase cannon fire.

"Now that the Rommie masters are gone, the Klingons don't have to sit 
around and wait to die," Killburn mused.  "I'll bet however many of 
those battlecruisers were left just tried to push through the field and 
take someone with thiem."

"They're gone now," armory nodded.  He looked at Killburn.  "So, what 
about us?" he asked, perking up.

Killburn looked at the inset panel on his captain's chair, smashed and 
dark.  As limited as those controls were, he had none to operate 
himself.  "Frank," he called to comms.  "Tell engineering that 
communications just became top priority.  We need to let someone know 
we're still alive before we aren't anymore."

"Aye, Sir."

"Time."

"Eight minutes."


----------

[ Endeavor, Bridge ]

Garroway watched as the last torpedo from the last ship hit home and 
destroyed the last enemy in the battlespace.  There were no cheers, no 
applause from the bridge of the Endeavor.  Just the collective release 
of a breath held since it all started.  And for Garroway it all started 
much longer ago.

"Hail all Group Leaders," he called.  "I want a count of our remaining 
ships, and a detailed acconting of casualties.  I want all heavy ships 
flying a perimeter in case the Romulans try for one last pass.  All 
other ships will scan debris for survivors, broken bulkheads have 
priority over escape pods.  We'll get everyone we can in due time."

"What about the Romulans?" asked Stone.  "We could pursue..."

"Negative, Commander," Garroway shook his head.  "We're done here."  He 
nodded to comms.

"Aye, Admiral.  Contacting group leaders."

Garroway sat back in his chair.  He didn't feel the same relief he 
thought he would.  It wasn't that he wasn't as relieved or excited as 
everyone else, but he really didn't feel like he belonged here.  Not 
anymore.  Not when Suzy and their child were on Earth waiting for him. 
For the first time ever, a desk didn't seem like a prison.

He rested on that thought a moment, that realization, before shaking his 
head and taking a deep breath.  He turned to comms again, "Get me 
Starfleet Command," he announced.  "They need to know what we've 
accomplished here."


-----
Garroway, Thomas R.
Starfleet Commander
(The First Era)

Capt John James Henry
Commanding Officer
FCL-02 Republic

Capt Robert H. Killburn-Collins
Commanding Officer
NCL-04 Mir

(apb Robert)