Broonal was seated at the communications console on the bridge of the flagship of Strike Force Nova. He couldn't believe his good fortune. Six weeks ago he was graduating with his Gollwin Academy class alongside his roommate Gorlma. When the orders came in, Gorlma had been disappointed to find he'd been assigned to a fighter group, the Phoenix Squadron. Broonal had no assignment when he watched his friend and fellow Dralasite ship out for Fortress Pale, but days later, his orders had come through. Fresh out of the academy, he was assigned as Senior Communications Officer on the Admiral Clinton itself!

He'd barely unpacked his duffel bag when Admiral Hendriks boarded the battleship Admiral Clinton and transferred his command there. Since that time, Broonal had been working sixteen hours a day relaying messages to various ships and stations and helping coordinate the organization of the strike against system F.S. 37. This was the first major engagement with the Sathar in years, and Broonal was fortunate enough to be in the middle of it all. Now, the tension flowed through his body as they neared visual range on the Sathar held world in this system.

All crew were suited up in their spacesuits, and final depressurization was underway. Commodore K'tick'k, Captain of the Admiral Clinton, and Admiral Hendriks, who was in command of the overall strike force, were on the bridge. Now, all eyes were on the Sensor Officer, as the results of the last sensor sweep came in.

"Still no Sathar vessels detected, but they may be on the far side of the planet, or behind any one of the seven moons. Radio emissions from the planet indicate they have a deep space tracking facility which is aware of our fleet," the sensor officer reported calmly.

"Have the assault scout Sparrowhawk do a flyby of the planet at a distance of 80,000 kilometers," Admiral Hendriks ordered. "Along the way, we should be able to get some idea of forces behind the moons as well."

Broonal wasted no time relaying that order and heard a prompt acknowledgment from the Sparrowhawk, as the small ship's twin atomic engines accelerated it toward the planet. "Keep a visual on that ship during it's flyby, and maintain full sensor sweeps." The bridge lapsed into silence once again, as all eyes turned toward one of the bridge display screens. Variable power astrogation telescopes magnified the Sparrowhawk continually so that it didn't appear to be moving away from the Admiral Clinton..Three minutes went by, then four, and nothing changed. Then a radio message came in.

"We have detected one Sathar Heavy Cruiser, Echo-class, behind the sixth moon. He's using it to hide from the fleet, we'll have a view behind the next moon in aproxima---" A bright flash from the monitor lit up the bridge momentarily.

When Broonal's vision returned, he assumed that the telescope must have shifted out of alignment with the Sparrowhawk, because it wasn't on the screen anymore. Then he noticed the wreckage. Small hull sections drifted away from each other at a leisurely rate, spinning end over end into space. The calm of the bridge was shattered as orders were barked out, and G-forces from the sharp turn to port slammed the crew into their seats. Broonal gradually became aware of the Admiral's orders.

"Inform all other vessels, there are mine patterns spread around sector 14. There are probably more, but that's the only sector we can identify now. Have the Z'gata and the Rebecca Sanchez swing around on heading two-four-five to do a distant flyby. Tell them not to close range on the planet yet, just do a long range sensor sweep."

As Broonal relayed the orders to the frigate and destroyer, he heard the sensor officer report, "The heavy cruiser is swinging around the moon and moving to cut off our ships' flyby. No other contacts yet."

Captain K'tick'k swung his seat toward the helm officer, "Plot an intercept course, best acceleration, ready all weapons and fire when ready." Admiral Hendriks stared at a tactical plot and began to personally relay orders to the rest of the fleet. Broonal was too busy relaying incoming messages to hear what was said, but glanced once at the tactical plot screen. All available ships were rushing the enemy heavy cruiser and would destroy it as soon as they drew within weapons range.

That's when another bright flash lit up the bridge, this time accompanied by a sharp lurch to port. We've just struck a mine field, thought Broonal. Damage reports started pouring into his station. He read them, disregarded the minor damage reports, and yelled to Captain K'tick'k, "Sir, the forward maneuvering thrusters are out, and deck three reports heavy damage."

"Helm, steer us away from the planet, Comm, get Damage Control Teams two and three working on that thruster now."

Just as Broonal began to relay orders to the damage control center, he heard the Sensor Officer report, "Captain! Two Seeker missiles are active, six thousand kilometers aft and to the port side!"

Seeker missiles, Broonal thought, as if the minefield wasn't bad enough! Seeker missiles were dropped off in a region of space like a spread of mines. When activated by the launching vessel, it closed on the largest ship nearby. When it's sensors indicated the range to it's target was less than two kilometers, the powerful nuclear warhead would detonate. Even it the vacuum of space, such an explosion nearby can destroy a small starship in a single blast. Now, two of these were active nearby, and accelerating toward the nearest Federation vessel.

"What are their targets?", the Captain asked, more to himself than to the Sensor Officer.

"Working on plot now, Captain" the Sensor Officer replied automatically. His fingers flew across the keyboard at his console until the two seekers appeared on the Captain's tactical plot. The Captain studied the plot for a few seconds. When it became clear that the Seekers were indeed homing on the Admiral Clinton, he turned to his Defensive Systems Officer.

"Defensive Systems, launch six ICMs in defense, three per incoming Seeker."

"Aye, sir, plotting interception range and course", the young Dralasite replied nervously. There was no way a ship as ponderous as a the Admiral Clinton could outrun or outmaneuver a Seeker missile, so the Interceptor Missiles, or ICMs, were the only hope for the ship to avoid damage. The odds of the interceptor missiles actually detonating close enough to disable or destroy the incoming Seekers were slim individually, but by firing more than one at each incoming Seeker, they were more likely to score a hit or make the Seekers dodge so far that they couldn't reacquire their target. Broonal just hoped they would be sufficient for the task. Broonal twisted around in his seat to try to see if the ICMs were still on course, but an incoming message distracted him before he could make out anything.

The message was extremely broken and barely intelligible. Had he not put his hands around his helmet speakers to hear better, he would not have been able to make out anything at all. Fortunately, his species "felt" sound vibrations across their entire body, so when he surrounded the speakers with his fingers, the transmission came through clearer. "---is the Rebecca Sanchez, we have ident--- repeat six light cruis--- under heavy fire and requesting supp--- accelerating away from---"

"Captain!", Broonal yelled, "The Rebecca Sanchez just reported, she's being jammed, but I heard them say something about identifying six light cruisers."

Admiral Hendriks unbuckled his seat harness and walked over to Broonal's station. He grabbed his suit's connector jack and plugged it into Broonal's Comm station. "Rebecca Sanchez, this is Admiral Hendriks, we couldn't copy your last transmission. Say again, over." Silence filled the channel. "Z'gata, Admiral Hendriks, do you have the Rebecca Sanchez on radar over."

"This is the Z'gata, negative, but we're just coming around the third moon now. We'll let you know when we have her on radar."

A bright flash on the main viewscreen in the direction of the Seeker missiles signaled that an ICM had found it's target. The bridge crew waited impatiently for another flash, as both Seekers were of nearly the same range from the Admiral Clinton, and if one ICM had hit the first seeker, the second couldn't be far behind. The next radar sweep showed the ICMs to have overshot their target. The second Seeker had gotten through.

The Captain shouted, "Is there time enough to launch another spread of ICMs?"

The Defensive Systems Officer was busy with the calculations, but shook his head 'no'. Captain K'tick'k keyed the shipwide intercom, and announced, "All hands, brace for impact. Damage Control Teams one and four, standby." The crew waited nervously as the seconds counted down. Admiral Hendriks hurried back to the command platform to strap into his seat.

Maybe it missed us, Broonal thought hopefully, as by his reckoning, the Seeker should have detonated several seconds ago. He felt the impact, rather than heard it, as he was tossed so violently against the restraining straps of his seat, he nearly passed out. When he recovered his senses, he felt as though the ship was spinning end-over-end. Once again, damage reports flooded his station. Conspicuous by it's absence was the report from Engineering.

"Captain, Engineering hasn't reported in."

The Helm Officer turned toward the Captain, "Sir, engines are offline. The only engines working are the aft maneuvering thrusters."

Captain K'tick'k shouted into his intercom unit, "Damage Control Teams one and four, get down to Engineering and report back immediately. Helm, get us out of here, best possible speed."

Admiral Hendriks looked up from the Tactical display. "Retreat? You must be joking! We've only taken minor damage, and the weapons are all still ready. If we retreat now, there will be a large gap in our line." Captain K'tick'k glared at him, and must have switched to a private intercom channel, because Broonal couldn't hear what the Captain was saying to Admiral Hendriks. Their obviously heated discussion continued for a while, punctuated by sharp gestures. Finally, the Captain turned back toward Broonal and patched back into the general bridge intercom.

"Comm, get an update on the Damage Control teams heading for Engineering. Helm, maintain this course, continue to close with that heavy cruiser."

"Sir!", the sensor officer called out urgently, "New radar contacts emerging from behind the planet, as well as the moons. I count thirty three unidentified contacts sir, various sizes."

"I need more information on what we're facing. Comm, coordinate the incoming sensor reports from the other ships, one of them must have a better idea of the size of the new Sathar vessels. Helm, what's the range to the planet?"

"90K kilometers, that Echo-class heavy cruiser is in weapon's range now at 110K kilometers."

"Gunnery stations," the Captain ordered, "fire when ready at the Echo-class heavy cruiser."

The seconds ticked by as the fleets continued to close. Captain K'tick'k and Admiral Hendriks watched as the tactical display was continually updated by new sensor information. The data showed a real fight shaping up. Sixteen Sathar warships had been identified, none smaller than a destroyer. There were seven light cruisers and four heavy cruisers.

Three of the heavy cruisers identified were the new Lima-class vessels. These warships were among the most modern and deadly of the Sathar warships yet encountered. They were beyond firing range, but that would change soon as they continued to accelerate toward the UPF fleet. The old Echo-class cruiser was still over twenty thousand kilometers closer to the UPF fleet and was the only logical target.

Broonal felt a thrumming sensation in the deckplates beneath his feet that signaled the firing of the Admiral Clinton's powerful Proton battery. The main screen showed the Echo-class heavy cruiser as the beam sliced into the hull just aft of it's bulbous command center. Portions of the hull spun away into space, but the damage seemed fairly minor. The range to the enemy cruiser clicked down to less than 70K kilometers as more and more weapons from the UPF fleet found their mark. The enemy cruiser's return fire scored two laser hits against their ship, but other than minor damage to the hull, it had no effect.

One last salvo from the Admiral Clinton, and the Sathar cruiser would be nothing but a drifting hulk. Then Broonal noticed the bow of the heavy cruiser slowly align itself with his ship. The bore of the massive disruptor beam cannon fixed in the nose of the cruiser pointed directly at the Admiral Clinton.

Captain K'tick'k barked out, "Activate the Stasis Screen now!" Before the Defensive Systems Officer could respond, wave after wave of energy pummeled the ship, as the beam of alternating protons and electrons crossed the distance in a microsecond. Sparks flew from Broonal's console, and the bridge lights flashed brightly before burning out as millions of volts flooded the electrical system of the ship. The computer's circuit breakers insulated that critically vulnerable component of the ship, the massive computer that controlled everything from weapons to reactors, but it would be a few seconds before the monitors and consoles came back on line.

Broonal waited for the bridge emergency lights and viewscreens to cycle back on. The intercom had gone into unpowered mode, which severely limited range, but it was still possible to communicate. While waiting for his console to finish it's reinitialization, he surveyed the rest of the bridge and was shocked to see the wiring glowing white hot near the tactical display. It had melted the wall near the display, and, to Broonal's horror, the Vrusk lying on the floor near it.

Then Broonal noticed the rank emblem on what was left of the Vrusk's chest. Captain K'tick'k is dead!

Admiral Hendriks stood over him, and called into the intercom, "Get a medic to the bridge NOW!" Turning toward Broonal, he said, "Get me a damage report as soon as you can, also check on the progress of the damage control teams, we may need to shift teams two and three to repair the new damage."

Almost a minute after the disruptor cannon hit, the viewscreens remained dark. Admiral Hendriks paced restlessly around the bridge, as though willing the consoles to come back to life. "Get a team up here now! These systems should have been back on-line thirty seconds ago. I need to know what's happening out there." Hendriks gestured vaguely toward the planet.

As if by his command, the viewscreens and consoles crackled back to life. What it showed made Broonal wish they hadn't. The UPF fleet was being encircled by the Sathar armada which continued to swarm out from behind the planet and moons. Broonal had difficulty counting how many Sathar ships there were, distracted by his efforts to contact the damage control teams, but it looked like the Sathar fleet had doubled in size.

"Bridge, this is damage control team three", and urgent voice yelled over Broonal's intercom system, "We've got a massive electrical fire on decks four, five, and six. We need more help to get this thing under control."

Broonal relayed the information to Admiral Hendriks, who denied the request for more manpower. Getting the engines back on line was his top priority, without them the ship was a floating target. The battle was not going as planned. On his videocom radio, he saw message after message of requests for assistance, damage reports, new Sathar ships identified, and mine patterns that had been stumbled upon by UPF ships, always with disastrous results.

The Admiral Clinton was rocked by several more hits. Four Sathar warships had drawn into firing range, and battered the flagship mercilessly with salvo after salvo of energy weapons and lasers. To make matters worse, the electrical fire just four decks below the bridge continued to melt it's way through systems and wiring. As system after system failed, Admiral Hendriks gave his final orders.

"Lieutenant Broonal, send a subspace message to Fortress Gollwin. Tell them our status and tell them we've failed. I'll try to get as many ships out of here as I can."

Hendriks turned to one of the last working viewscreens and opened a videocom radio channel to Commodore Plandral on the Destiny-class light cruiser Vanguard. After a few seconds the Yazirian appeared on the monitor. "Commodore, I'm transferring fleet command to you. The Admiral Clinton is too severely damaged. Gather as much of the fleet out as you can. Regroup in the Zebulon system. We'll try to cover the withdrawal as long as we can. Good luck, Commodore Plandral."

His tone was so calm, it hardly registered with Broonal that he'd heard an admission that everyone on the ship was going to die soon. The Sathar do not take prisoners unless it suits them, and surrendering the Admiral Clinton would never happen anyway. We'll fight until the bitter end, and if our lives can buy the escape of one ship, I'll die a little bit happier. Not a bad way to go, besides, I've always dreamed of dying a hero.

Broonal stayed at his post until a nearby explosion killed the Disruptor cannon gunner. Without a second thought, Broonal unstrapped himself from his now useless console. He unbuckled the corpse, and after dragging it out of the seat, he buckled himself into the new station. Quickly learning the new controls, he targeted the nearest enemy vessel in his weapon's firing arc and pressed the trigger. By the time the weapon had recharged it's energy coils, the electrical fire had burned it's way to the bridge. Broonal and the rest of the crew of the Admiral Clinton died at their posts, fighting a hopeless battle not for the Frontier, but to try to buy time for their comrades on other ships. For the valiant crew of the flagship of the ill-fated expedition, the war was over.

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