"Angel, priority one communique for you," Erpla said from her station.

"Put it up," he said, again relishing his seat.

The floor underneath him thrumming with the engine behind him. Bristling with power to destroy, to be beautiful and deadly.

"I can't. It's from Drake Sir," she said and he could tell she'd turned towards the center to look at him, as had everyone else.

Well, except Katrok. The helmsman had been especially calm and dutiful since they'd left the planet. Intriguing.

But also it wasn't surprising, the Section 31 spook was bound to contact him during this at some point.

"Put in up," Angel said again.

And Erpla did as she was ordered.

A scarred and pale face came on the screen, no older than Mark himself.

Colonel Davis routinely wondered: Do people recognize him from the Academy when he contacts them? Or am I the only one?

They'd been at the Academy together. They'd had classes together. The man was brilliant, but he'd been a spook even then, only flashing his intellect and cunning before letting the others think they were better than him.

Angel found it unnerving. A man that was willing to lose like that. Was willing to accept defeat and dishonor in such a way.

That was not Angel's way.

At least - well, he chose not to think on it too much at the moment.

"Jesus Christ Angel! I put on there for your eyes only!" he said, the anger entirely evident.

It'd been five years since they'd last spoken. Apparently Frank didn't see the need much to hide his feelings.

"This is my senior staff Frank. Whatever you have to say, offer, divulge- you can say it to them," Angel said from his seat, folding his hands in his lap.

The man calmed down quickly still though.

"Fine. I was merely trying to prevent them from seeing you compromised is all."

"You think you have something?"

"Oh I know I have something. Something you're going to care very much about. Actually, I'm glad your first officer is watching. He seems to keep you in check-"

"Get to the point spook."

They stared at each other.

"If you insist," he said with a smile. "Have you been recieving the intelligence packets from Bravo's surface?"

"You mean the intel from within the KDF HQ. Course," Angel said. He didn't notice the uneasiness of his first officer, Grant feeling a knot in his stomach form.

"Ever notice how they stopped so suddenly?" Grant stood up with the words from the scarred man.

"Captured?" Angel said, now more attentive.

And starting to connect the dots himself.

"The best assumption," Drake said, before smiling cruely. "That and this-"

A vid played then. An interrogation log.

In the room, hanging from chains and naked, shaved bald, cut, bruised, burned.

Was a woman Angel recognized instantly from the contours of a body he'd spent eons memorizing and loving.

He stood, hand clenched into fists.

Such was his way. The way of the gun. The warrior.

But he saw the eyes. Those green eyes that had captured Mark Davis years before. Months before had committed to him forever as they'd gotten married on Tracy's ship.

They were bright. Burning. Alive.

"Didn't know your wife was down there did you Angel?" Franklin Drake prodded, reveling in the moment he thought he owned.

Grant expected his best friend to react as he knew he would.

With action. With promises.

What he saw changed Commander Anderson from that day forth.

His friend became a flag officer for the first time.

He'd always been a leader. He'd always led from the front and quick to make decisions and win battles.

It's what made him so good.
.
But Grant had always been the politician half of them. The "think first". And here was Angel, sitting back down in his seat.

"I do now," Angel said, tapping into his armrest to the fleet around them. "I suppose you'd like us to get her out of there?"

Drake looked severely disappointed.

"Black Mouse is an invaluable tool for Section 31 and the Federation. If you can, Colonel, extract her for debriefing."

"Got a line on where she is?" he said, fingers trembling ever so slightly the Grant could see.

"In the dark wing of the northside of the HQ. Three levels down. After that we don't know."

"Preciate it Frank. We'll see what we can do," Angel said, for effect smiling slightly.

_________________
Semper Paratus - Always Ready

Semper Invictus, Semper Vigilans - Ever Invincible, Ever Watchful

Captain Huxley entered main engineering for their status report. He preferred to visit the departments to hear how they were doing first hand rather than have a PADD brought to the bridge. It gave him a chance to stretch his legs and besides, the crew seemed to like the attention.

But just as soon as he'd stood the engine room staff at ease a young ensign burst in, his flustered face indicating he had obviously run to engineering from the bridge. He handed the captain a PADD on which flashed the words "highly classified."

The U.S.S. Beagle was currently far into deep space, where normal subspace communication was inefficient and could take weeks to arrive. Instead the ship's only contact with the federation was in smaller text only messages that could be transmitted faster. This message had obviously just come from the admiralty, hence why an ensign had had to rush it to him instead of it being broadcast via the combadge.

Huxley entered the relevant access codes and the message revealed itself. It was brief
"The U.S.S. Beagle has been reassigned to the 12th fleet"
Followed by a rendezvous co-ordinates and appropriate signatures from Starfleet Command.

Begrudgingly the captain apologised to engineering for cutting his visit short and began to head back to the bridge. En-route he opened up communication with the helmsman.

"Lieutenant, prepare to take us to warp. We have a new course...."

_________________
=/\========================/\=
1st Lieutenant Thomas Z. Huxley
MAC, Foxtrot Squadren
12th Fleet, United Federation of Planets
=/\========================/\=

The Battle of Bravo.

It was the largest mass of Federation vessels any of them had ever seen. Even during the Dominion War had so many vessels come together.

Colonel Davis had drawn up the plan, now they were executing it.

Val'rulal kept her eye on the tactical map by her side as they sprinted at full impulse into the system.



Five hundred eleven vessels.

Escorts were triangles, with Angel's 'flagship' hollowed out.

The lead science vessel was hollowed out as well as her own.

At the tip of the formation, her wedge of cruisers would hit them first.

Of course, they didn't know exactly where they were. Orbital platforms numbered in the dozens, but the rest of the KDF fleet had gone dark, cloaking as soon as they'd gotten a few days out.

The battle over Charlie had weakened them though.

Scans had registered only 250 or so enemy ships to contend with.

But they would have surprise on their hands. And that was never to be underestimated.

Angel knew they'd use that advantage to flank them. That's why they were more in a block than a line.

Val knew what her job was.

To punch a hole in whatever defense they had.

They were the tanks, the hardest to kill.

Once they tore through the initial line, the escorts behind her would finish off whatever they'd wounded. Then they would split into three distinct parts. All curving around to make another run.

Her and the center section would go up and over, or under and below. The right and left flanks would break off to the right or left, the Locksley was to make that call.

The purpose of that maneuver was, if turning right, for the right flank to wound and broadside the enemy rear left flank, while the left flank would finish them off.

Then they would make another run, only the left flank would cut in front of the right as they completed their turn, now a full 270 degrees around from their original heading, and repeat the process to the enemy right flank.

Her and the center section's job was to wreak havoc from above or below, helping out.

As they continued forward, 25 KDF cruisers suddenly decloaked from the port flank, raining disruptor fire upon the left.

So it began.

_________________
Semper Paratus - Always Ready

Semper Invictus, Semper Vigilans - Ever Invincible, Ever Watchful

As the U.S.S. Beagle warped towards central Federation territory they began to re-establish video communication with Starfleet and a clearer picture of their mission came through. Apparently a large engagement was occurring and they would fill the holes in the ranks left by this battle.

Huxley wasn't sure whether to be pleased with Starfleet planning so objectively or dismayed at the cynicism which had replaced the optimism that first sent humanity to the stars.

_________________
=/\========================/\=
1st Lieutenant Thomas Z. Huxley
MAC, Foxtrot Squadren
12th Fleet, United Federation of Planets
=/\========================/\=

With the Klingon and Federation fleets heavily engaged, neither side noticed a small group of Federation starships enter the system at high warp, slowly only as they came into engagement range. Though even if they did, they probably would've disregarded the small group at first glance.

At the head was an intrepid class starship, the Guenidier. The exterior was largely similar to the lightweight exploration ship from which it took it's name. However, tucked underneath it's saucer section was a pair of custom dilithium focused phase cannons, in short, miniaturized versions of the Lance employed by the Galaxy-X dreadnaught. Completely unknown to anyone was the the advanced dual warp chamber design, giving the ship an unrivaled powerplant.

A Destiny class starship, the Myazaki and a Sovereign, the Reverence flanked the Guenidier. Neither ship showed outward signs of heavy modification, but both dwarfed the tiny intrepid. Behind the three ships leading the charge, were a pair of Nebula cruisers, and behind them, covering the rear, was a single Galaxy class starship.

The two Nebula cruisers looked normal... except that there were no windows along the entire saucer section. Inside, squadrons of two-man fighters prepared to launch. Both ship's normal complement of beams had been replaced with close range point defense turrets and their deflectors shield units were four times the size of a normal Nebula.

The Galaxy in the rear, the Novara also looked normal, but inside, non-essential systems had been stripped out to add additional rear beam banks and torpedo launchers. In short, the entire group of ships had been designed for a singular purpose. To fight, especially outgunned.

The group slowed to impulse at the edge of weapons range, opening fire immediately. The first round was a volley of torpedoes and the main cannons on the Guenidier, all targeted on a single Klingon ship. It broke apart almost immediately. Then came the phaser volley, all targeted again on a single ship.

The Klingons began to break off, relieving the main 12th fleet from bombardment upon the left flank. At that exact moment, the fighter craft on the Nebulas were released. A cloud of small ships descended upon the larger and slower Klingon ships. Shields flashed, before breaking down under a near constant stream of small phaser turrets and micro-photon torpedoes.

The Klingons returned fire on the carrier ships and their escorts, which were now circling the slow KDF group, raining phaser fire from afar. Klingon torpedoes were being shot out of the sky by the point defense turrets on the Nebulas. The few torpedoes and the volleys of disruptors fire impacted a solid shield bubble, encircling the tightly packed group of ships.

The shield bubble was being generated from the Nebulas, both having extended their enormous shield grids to cover the entire group. In short, alot of disruptor fire was being wasted, but that left the main fleet free from the ambush.

On the bridge of the Guenidier, Admiral Sean Cunningham watched the battle carefully. He'd hail them after it was done.

OOC: long textwall, let there be gratuitous amounts of violence.

_________________

[center] | Siruzu's Biography | Klena's Biography | Ayira's Biography | Star Trek Guenidier

Two hours before the final space battle:

Grant came down the hall way and pushed the button, his friends' voice saying he could come in from the emitter.

He entered the room and saw exactly what he expected. Angel in full kit, pistol holstered on his chest, the sniper rifle slung with the assault rifle on the chair ready to be picked up. He had a pack also, which was getting loaded with rations.

"What's the plan?" he asked, not bothering to try and talk him out of it.

"Get down to the surface. Do what I do best."

"Want to take Katrok with you?"

"Nah, I'll just get him killed."

"Anything we can do to help?" Grant asked, a split second before there was a beep of Angel's combadge.

"Sir, priority channel coming in for you Sir," came Halnn's voice.

"We're cloaked correct?" Angel asked.

"Affirmative Sir."

"Go ahead with it I suppose," he said, going to his main panel on the wall.

A moment later a person Angel hadn't seen in a long time came up on the screen.

"General Wolv," he said, instinctively crossing his arms behind his back, Anderson doing the same even though he was severely to the side.

"You know why I'm calling Mark. You know Franklin is trying to get rid of one of the biggest thorns in his side. And now I see he's about to get his wish," the aged man said. "And I'm retired."

"Sir, once a MACO, always a MACO."

"Screw that Angel. Why go down there? Finish this battle. Finish this fight. Big picture."

"Because my wife is down there Sir. Because if I finish this fight, if I don't go after her, the chances-" he began.

"She's a spook Angel. You know that. You've always known that. All the fights you had with Drake and you go and fall in love with the one woman that would guarantee to always be on the other side from you. You might need to accept that this one's gone."

With those words, Grant saw the change. That change that made Mark Davis arguably the deadliest being in the known galaxy. When that - look - came to his face, anything was within his scope. Genocide. Murder. Unconscionable things.

"That's not a choice," his hands came unclasped. "There is no acceptance. There is only getting her out of that hell hole as fast as possible. And it does have a tactical purpose: she will break. Everyone breaks. It's just a matter of time. Imagine the intelligence threat she poses.

I'm getting her out of there. And you're not going to stop me. Not in all of your wise gaze and patience. This is something you're not talking me out of."

He reached behind him and picked up the rifle, snapping it to the low ready out of habit.

"What if I ordered you?" Wolv said.

There was a pause as the two men looked at each other through technology and space.

"Well I guess it'd be fitting wouldn't it?" he said, smiling that smile that worried Grant when he saw it. It always meant bad things, on varying levels, but bad things.

"You brought me back to this uniform. This life. It's only fitting you'd take it away," he reached over, taking his rank off his collar, his combadge off his chest and set them down.

And he picked up his pack and walked out.

"You going to do anything Captain Anderson?" he was asked.

Grant looked up at the screen, feeling the words he'd just been told.

"In what regard Sir?"

"A civilian has given you notice that he intends to join a battlefield, against military authorization. I'm giving you an order to stop him."

"Sir, you're retired," Grant said. "And I didn't see anything. I could of sworn I saw a shadow out of the corner of my eye as I came in the room, but I can't be sure."

"Anderson-" Wolv began.

"Sir," Grant interrupted. "We both know Mark pretty well. One thing I've noticed about him - he's good. Not just good, great, at just about everything he tries. And when he puts his mind to something, it gets done. People around him die. They're not on his level. They try to be, but they always come up short. His crew, his friends. But that woman, she's the closest thing he's found to be his equal.

And he's not going to lose her.

That I can promise you Sir.

And I've never officially covered for him. Never. Not with all of his insubordination and close calls and fiery temper. Never have I lied for him. Crossed that line.

But I will Sir. Right now.

Right now I will look the other way, I will look you in the eye and swear I've never heard of Mark Davis before in my life, if that's what it takes.

He is my comrade, friend - brother.

Anderson, out."

_________________
Semper Paratus - Always Ready

Semper Invictus, Semper Vigilans - Ever Invincible, Ever Watchful

It was night. Dark.

Perfect.

He pulled the trigger on his silenced sniper rifle, the 1 mm thick antiproton bolt easily traveling the 2 km needed and destroying the bridge between the Gorn guard's brain and the rest of his nervous system. Before his partner could call up for help, Angel did the same to him, this time hitting him directly above the ear and sending brain matter across the rooftop behind.

Angel scanned both the surrounding rooftops and the security net.

Nope, no one noticed. I now have 4 hours before they're found.

The cityscape was silent and spooky. The moon was a quarter into the sky with another hour and half before the second moon came up as well.

He took a breath and focused through the scope on the doorway to the roof, squeezing off one more round into the latch and rendering it sealed. It would make whoever the next shift was suspicious, but until the busted their way onto the roof itself his insertion would be unnoticed.

He stood up and brought the rifle with him, disconnecting it from the neural interface, breaking it apart and putting it in his pack. With the pack securely on his back again he activated the rappel harness and hopped over the edge.

Both hands and both boots were required for the harness to work, but work it did and damn well. He slid at roughly 20 kpm until he was ten meters off the street, when he slowed to a stop. He let his HUD work through his helmet as he scanned. The street level patrol wasn't due for at least 15 more minutes and after 20 seconds of cautious wait he slid the rest of the way down.

The streets were deserted. Most if not all of the Poighet were off planet on Charlie, now refugees and waiting for the 12th Fleet to liberate their home. There was no trash either, the resistance having used improvised explosive devices before they’d been defeated. It made for an unreal battlefield. Aside from the structures there was nothing. No where to hide. That was the intent and it was smart.

He picked his way carefully, slowly making his way towards the KDF HQ, staying in the shadows and constantly checking his scanners for any alert that he was spotted.

If they know I'm here who knows what they'll do.

The thought had even occurred to him that Drake might tip them off. Why he would do so Mark couldn't fathom, but he didn't put it past the spook. When they did find out he was here they would surmise a couple of several things.

A) He could be a team of soldiers.

B) He could be coming to end the campaign.

C) He could be a small team.

D) He could be solo.

E) He could be coming for their prisoner(s).

All of these things were good and bad for Angel.

If they thought A: they would looking for 4-10 soldiers, instead of just one. Looking for a big target tended to make people fail to notice a smaller one.

B: They would guard the General in charge and the other command. Probably by putting them all in one centralized location, knowing the Klingons as Angel did. This meant they would be focused on the command structure and not on the prisoners.

C: They would now be looking for exactly what he was. They’d tighten the holes in their security and would sweep for the subtle differences. Many options would close if they went this route but not all. It would make it harder but it would also make them over-confident.

D: 50% of the worst case scenario. If they did figure out he was solo as soon as he was discovered (as was bound to happen sooner or later) they could pin him down. The only options at this point would be retreat (not an option), brute force (not much better) or capture in the hopes they wouldn’t execute him on the spot and that he could get away once inside.

E: The other half to the worst case scenario. Once it was figured that he was coming for the prisoners they would lock it down or kill her/them. At that point the only way in would be brute force or incapacitation.

All the options were possible. All had different routes and forks and complications.

Suddenly something popped up on his HUD.

At a range of 100 meters, his reactive scanners relied on other stimuli before they activated and interpreted the information to his brain.

TYPE: HOSTILE
RANGE: 84 METERS
QTY: 3
SPEED: 7.8 MPS

At this point they’d picked up the routine patrol’s scanning energy and had notified him.

Shit.

He brought his silenced assault rifle around as he went to the corner behind him and took cover. He crouched and ran through the plan.

If they come down this street there’s no way they’ll not discover me. If it’s a foot patrol they’ll be slow to get here. If they’re faster that means they’ll either be on a native transport or a skiff. If they do discover me I’ll have to hit commo first, then the leader, then mop up. If they get a signal out-

The signal came around the corner and made its way to its right and toward Angel.

Okay, that’s decided.

He peered around the corner, using his firing hand to unhook the EMP grenade.

The skiff was a dark brown KDF patrolling vehicle commonly used for grunt work. The front floated off the ground while the back was adhered to the ground by two large wheels, meant to take the load while the front merely steered. In the back sat another soldier with the Level 2 twin disruptor machine cannons.

Pointed to the rear. Which made it important to roll the grenade and hope they didn’t notice. The grenade would disable commo and if he timed it right he could hit the commander first, the driver closely after and the turret soldier last. Hopefully while he was pointed the wrong way.

The problem was the angle. The blast screen would be in the way long before he had a shot. The probability that they saw the grenade was pretty good in this barren urban setting.

None of the options were good, but it’s what he had.

He rolled the grenade still while behind the corner of the building, trying to get it right based off the HUD. It didn’t take long.

“pOs contact!” came the shout.

“That didn’t take long,” Mark said to himself as the grenade went off.

The unintended side effect was that the skiff’s front hovering power went offline. The turret was on its own power and circuit of course, but it still threw them all off.

He rounded the corner with his rifle on his left shoulder, all the smaller a target for his enemies. The commander of course was still behind the blast screen.

“Figures,” Angel whispered against the buttstock of his weapon.

Instead he opened up on the still rear facing turret gunner. The shot hit home at the back of his head, causing him to slump in death. Angel then focused on the driver, but he’d reacted faster than Mark had thought he would. Instead of going for his rifle or trying to fuss with the skiff he merely pulled out his pistol and began firing.

Angel had to back around the corner of the building as the shots impacted with the concrete-like material.

He’s not a bad shot either.

“ghaH tugh 'emDaq 'e'!” he heard the commander spout in Klingon.

Great, so the commander was splitting them up. This became a lot harder with them spread apart.

Suddenly several more things popped up on his HUD.

MAJ ALLEN
RANGE: 42 METERS

SGT DELYT
RANGE: 42 METERS

1LT QWEL
RANGE: 43 METERS

He came round the corner and opened up on the driver, the other MACOs assaulting the running commander as he was raising his rifle on the exposed Angel. The driver hulked behind the screen as one of the MACOs turned their rifle on him, ending his life.

The whole thing lasted no more than 20 seconds.

_________________
Semper Paratus - Always Ready

Semper Invictus, Semper Vigilans - Ever Invincible, Ever Watchful