Behold: Humanity!: Dead Blood, page 2
"How could she tell?" Speaks asked. "Was there some way to pin down roughly when? They seemed adept at weaponry and computer technology. They're obviously fairly recent."
Dreams shook her head. "All of them had antibodies in their system for something that should be impossible," Dreams leaned forward something. "They had antibodies due to a vaccination regimen for a virulent plague virus with a rather innocent sounding name. One that's been extinct since before humanity created their global information network."
Speaks frowned. "Which one?"
"Smallpox."
-----
Despite the fact they were still reeling from the unexpected turn of events at the Entry Point, the Atrekna felt a cold satisfaction at what they had accomplished.
Throughout the Feeding Systems, the bright raging spark of feral primitivism had been extinguished.
Sure, there were a few outliers, a few datapoints that had not been subdued, but already the Atrekna had been able to establish themselves on several of the ancient worlds beneath a cool red sun.
The ferals had been eliminated.
The food had no future but enslavement and a return to their proper place. The Mantid would be destroyed, as they should have been before. The Lanaktallan would be re-gentled and return to being consumed.
Hive worlds for the Great Extractor Species would be established.
They would domesticate the remains of the Galactic Stub.
Then would come the domestication of the galaxy, and eventually, the universe itself.
It all belonged to them.
After all, what could stop them?
-----
Behold.
Humanity.
Chapter Two
CAPTAIN'S PERSONAL LOG
Stardate 8536.173
The Dakota had made dock at Starbase-19 in order to undergo refit and repair after a four month sweep looking for refugees. Engine updates and repairs, including some additional modifications to the Dakota were necessary. I ordered the removal of the infantry assault transporters, with the exception of a single one of that size, and additional troop lodging and assault shuttle berths.
Additionally, with the SUDS being red-dotted, I have ordered all personnel aboard the Dakota will no longer carry SUDS. I cannot explain why in any logical manner to my Spock's satisfaction, but my Riker and Worf agree with me.
This must be another prong in the enemy's attack against humanity. Not just the Terran Confederacy, but against the Federation and all other human organizations.
I've put out a call for Redshirts. Three years ago I would have been laughed at, now I saw ship Captains swapping out to Redshirt uniforms. I was able to add another full Regiment of Redshirts before the other Captains began putting out a LFM Call, where I was able to pick and choose.
Interestingly, I have a full company of Klingon Battle Ragers and a Company of Romulan Assault Marines. They arrived the day after we did and their leaders sought me out with an LFG request.
Additionally, I was informed that the Dakota has been entered in Starfleet ship registry as a "Murica Class Warship" with my Scotty and LaForge credited with the improvements and design.
So the Dakota is now canon to act as an Admiral's flagship for major fleet engagements.
How weird.
We hope to leave Starbase-19 within the next thirty days. Precursor attacks as well as Unified Council battlegroups are swarming Federation and Harmonous Cluster space.
--Admiral Jeff Picark 8873
CAPTAIN'S PERSONAL LOG
Stardate 8536.262
LOCATION: Borg Collective RP Space
This is the third Borg Cube we've found drifting with all hands lost.
McCoy stated something about massive cyberware and bioware rejection, including synthetic flesh rejection. My Pulaski concurs, pointing out massive genetic depredation far beyond anything we've ever seen. My Beverly has pointed out that the Hive Mind Gestalt Generator was completely melted down, and it looks as if the neural damage to the Borg LARPers started from their Hive Mind Gestalt Adapters.
I've recorded the names of the LARPers and downloaded their clone and SUDS master files from the cubes before engaging the scuttling charges.
We are currently heading back to Starbase-14 to report this information.
--Admiral Jeff Picark 8873
CAPTAIN'S PERSONAL LOG
Stardate 8536.325
We met with a V'ger cloud twenty hours ago. It was, startling, to say the least. A relic of the old "Troubles of Stardates Past" Event some four thousand years ago. At least it was still following Event rules and once we interfaced with it we were able to gain the info download.
The V'ger Cloud calls itself "The Engine" and follows a Prime Directive of protecting a 500 LY bubble around it. Since it is at the edge of the Long Dark, nobody has noticed it out here.
The download of Precursor war machine types as well as data on the Lanaktallan battle groups was invaluable.
My officers and I discussed at lengths what to do with The Engine. As per Event rules we should shut it down, using standard V'ger Event protocols, but my Riker and my Guinan both agreed that leaving the Engine in place at this time might be the best idea.
My Scotty and LaForge got together and made some modifications to its GameShark Codes, ensuring that it can be disabled remotely. However, I have doubts that their plan will work, as the Engine, like any V'ger Event Entity is capable of self-modification.
But, I hate to say it, that is a problem for another Captain on another Day.
Echoes of "A Problem for Another Day" Event.
Those were simpler times.
We will continue our scouting patrols.
--Admiral Jeff Picark 8873
CAPTAIN'S PERSONAL LOG
Stardate 8536.351
Where to start?
My Riker is in command. He's out of medbay, but seeing as he was once a Space Force Navy officer, he has my confidence even if he is still injured.
I supposed I should start at the beginning.
We were dropped out of warp by an interaction between our engines and a large object mass in the lower jumpspace bands, which also forced the object out. Immediately we knew it was going to be a problem.
"SHIELDS UP! EVASIVE ACTION! GO TO RED ALERT!" Picark barked, looking over at Worf-8712, who was quickly going through his control console data. "Talk to me, Worf!"
"They dropped out of jumpspace approximately one point two million kilometers from us and immediately launched missiles at us before they even brought up their shields. They're firing nCv Cannons, prepare for impact!"
The belts auto deployed and tightened down, making Spock-9161 give a pained noise as his tightened slightly off center before it compensated.
"Captain, I've got Mantid War battle code variants!" Uhuru 9909 said, one hand against her earpiece.
"Order all security forces to 'we are being boarded' positions! Order the armories open!" Picark snapped. He looked at his Worf, who was a natural born Klingon with nearly fifty generations of Klingon genetic heritage in his cells. "Weapons free, Mister Worf."
"Aye aye, sir," Worf snarled. He looked at his board. Literally tens of thousands of missiles were racing toward the Dakota but his scanners informed him they were low end nuclear explosion forged X-Ray lasers, right down to what frequency they would be using. He tabbed up trans-phasic torpedoes and a brace of gamma torpedoes, slapped the algorithm scramble for the triple layered shields, and began picking out targets on the massive Precursor vessel in front of us.
"Captain, the vessel is making a least time course for the Dakota," Sulu-8872 said, looking up from his instruments.
"Captain, this vessel bears a very high resemblance to early Human/Mantid War vessels rather than vessels from the latter era of that conflict," Spock said without looking up. "Logically, this is not a Mantid Free Worlds vessel, but rather a Precursor Mantid Autonomous War Machine."
"I concur, Spock," Admiral Picark said, watching the viewscreen closely.
The shoals of missiles roared in, reaching standoff distance, and detonated.
The Dakota's shields were no longer LARPer shields, but rather current generation Space Force shields, running with the proper gear. Millions of X-Ray lasers clawed at her shields, looking for any weakness in the ship's protective fields.
Less than a hundred managed to get through to the middle shield.
"INCOMING nCv ROUNDS! BRACE FOR IMPACT! EVASIVE ACTION!" Worf called out. "Returning fire!"
The Dakota heeled over on its side and dove down and to the right, lifting the saucer section slightly to protect the vital warp engines with the leading edge of the thicker bridge shields.
"Scans show," Spock started.
The Dakota shuddered and buckled as hundreds of nCv shells grazed the shields. Only two hit square enough to penetrate to the second layer.
"Shields at 78.9%, Captain," Mister Worf growled.
"Scans show life signs, Captain," Spock said. "Massive Mantid signatures throughout the vessel."
Picark looked up, wiping blood from his nose. "Do a high impulse phasic scan! I want you to find the largest open chamber with life signs with the strongest phasic signature," he barked.
At least I'm not asking for a nineteen word long sentence to be scanned by a twelve word long piece of tech that can just be summed up with 'phasic scanners', Picark thought to himself.
"Aye-aye, Captain," Chekov-9329 said, his accent slipping slightly as he concentrated.
"Weapon impact in five, four, three, two, one..." Worf growled.
The subspace scanners showed the effect immediately. The massive ship's battlescreens flared brightly enough to mask the ship, rippled repeatedly, and then gave out in a shower of sparks that echoed for a ten thousand mile radius.
Eight photon torpedoes and one trans-phasic torpedo hit, the final phasic shielding flaring a bright purple enough that the edges were white. Battlesteel shattered and exploded outward from the hull, one of the massive hives on the surface of the huge ship vanished as if removed with an ice cream scoop, and two of the huge array of nearly a hundred engines went dead.
"Firing volley two," Worf said, adjusting his sash.
"Minor damage where the trans-phasic torpedo hit, cosmetic damage from the photon torpedoes," Chekov said. "Getting phasic array scans back... now!"
Picark looked at the screen down by his elbow. He should have been surprised that the thickest concentration of phasic energy was underneath the largest of the hive mounds.
"Is its shields still down, Mister Chekov?" Picark asked.
"Unknown, sir, the vessel is emitting heavy jamming," he admitted.
"Uhura?" Picark asked without turning around. He trusted her, she'd been solid as a rock for the last few years.
"Definite Mantid battle code, Captain, but not any we've seen before. We should forward it to Starfleet Command and the Mantid Battlegroups," she said, one hand still pressed against her earpiece. Her voice was cool, calm, unruffled.
The Dakota, even as large as it was, managed to slip past the next volley of nCv shells and get beyond the range of the missiles that had swooped in from the flank to try to rip the Dakota into pieces. The return fire smashed against the massive vessel, easily the size of EuroSinia on Old Earth, making pockmarks here and there.
There was an audible snarl to everyone aboard the Dakota and everything seemed to stop.
Every crewman froze in midaction. The eVI ship's computer froze. Even the local VI systems for the various ship's systems held their breath.
Worf-8712 felt his secondary nervous system kick in, tasted the sharp bitter taste of venom in his mouth from his vestigial venom glands, and forced numb fingers to move.
The Dakota mounted a heavy weapon that was completely out of canon for anything outside of a Murica Class Warship. It took twice for him to poke the correct buttons.
Picark looked up, shaking his head, the overwhelming psychic pressure that pushed down on him seeming to tatter and burn away as Jeff/Captain Picard/Admiral Kirk all screamed at him to WAKE UP! and his heart hammered in his chest.
Worf tried to bypass the Captain's authorization but the console wouldn't accept it.
The Dakota's VI systems had been dead for nearly five seconds and the OldTrek backup systems kicked in, fiber optic cable, logic gates, manual systems that needed no thinking wire computer systems.
The Dakota went from floating dead in space to leaping forward under power.
Picark looked down at the flashing light on his Captain's console. He blinked twice and pressed his thumb clumsily against it as the pressure in his brain increased, trying to force neural scorched tissue to obey a command from a hostile and alien mind.
The line blinked on Worf's command console and he slapped his hand to verify the Pike Shot Cannon.
Deep in the ship's mainline hull a massive shell was loaded into a breach. The firing port cover irised open.
Picark steered with one hand, blood running from one bloodshot eye, his ears bleeding, half slumped in his chair, half of his face drooping and paralyzed.
The barrel of the weapon poked a mere ten meters past the edge of the Dakota's hull.
The Dakota faced the massive Mantid Hiveship.
"FIRING SUPERSTRING COMPRESSOR CANNON!" Worf roared. "TODAY IS A GOOD DAY FOR YOU TO DIE!"
The whole ship howled in stress as the massive cannon fired, compressing a comparatively large captured superstrings down to smaller than a quark. The buffer spring roared as it took the recoil, one of the shock dampener clamps cracked with a sound loud enough to shatter holograms, reality itself shimmered and fractured around the muzzle of the barrel and the paint on the Dakota's hull around the cannon barrel suddenly turned blue.
The Omniqueen was growling to herself, flailing her bladearms as she tried to hold the minds in the ship still. They were all maddened, howling, baying, growling, screaming, bellowing in rage, fury, and barely restrained madness.
Reality shattered in front of the strange ship like a mirror hit by a rifle round. It shattered again, a third of the distance to the Omniqueen's ship. Again at half. Then again and again and again.
She barely managed to drop her control of the crazed ship and get her personal phasic protections up.
The round hit.
It missed her. Picark had been shooting by eyeball and it was amazing he even hit the ship anyway. A piece the size of California broke free as the slug of compressed superstring material hit and flattened eight hundred miles of armor, machinery, and maintenance spaces into an ultradense fifty meters.
The entire Hiveship shuddered, began to tumble, as cracks larger than the Grand Canyon appeared on the hull, away from the compressed ultra-dense divot that had penetrated halfway through the ship.
Everyone on the bridge gasped as the Omniqueen's control was released.
Before anyone could react, the ship made a jumpspace translation.
"Ahead slow, subspace scanners on that piece of debris. I want to know who that was," Picark said, using a handkerchief to wipe the blood from his face. He turned to his Gunnery/Security Officer. "Good job, Mister Worf."
"A fine shot, Captain," Worf admitted.
The piece proved to largely be made up of armor. However, small spaces were found at the edge and boarding parties searched the wreckage while we kept out scanners on full to keep an eye out for that ship's return. There were no fatalities among the crew, although several Andorrans suffered the equivalent of a concussion.
Aboard the ship were Mantids, but comparison between modern ones and these showed that these were even more regressive than Human/Mantid War Era Mantids.
We found eighty-five alive. Green maintenance caste who are confused and having difficulty adjusting to having no overmind. I have ordered one of the cargo bays converted to shelter for them to live in while we make speed for Starbase 11.
I have ordered phasic arrays put around the cargo bays and set Scotty and LaForge to increasing the Dakota's phasic shielding after what just happened. They're suggesting putting additional phasic shielding between deflector Alpha and Beta, Beta and Gamma, as well as interlacing it with the hull integrity field.
I have authorized their modifications.
Let’s not do that again.
--Admiral Jeff Picark 8873
CAPTAIN'S PERSONAL LOG
Stardate 8536.333
We were enroute to Starbase 11 when the emergency alert came across the subspace communicator.
All ships return to New Terra. All Star Fleet vessels are to report to the New Cisco Stardock.
I have a bad feeling about this.
In other subjects, the little green mantids know little to nothing beyond their assigned duties. One made reference to eternal screaming.
They like gravy baked turkey with pickled beet cubes.
Right now they seem harmless, but we are being careful to keep them isolated from any ship's systems.
They mostly seem content to play with children's toys pulled from the refugee stores and to talk with our Trio.
--Admiral Jeff Picark 8873
CAPTAIN'S PERSONAL LOG
Stardate 8536.337
Following my instincts I stopped by one of the forward operating bases and sent Worf across to parlay for me.
If I'm right, if my hunch pans out, I'll need the help.
If I'm wrong, well, my pride can take the laughter.
--Admiral Jeff Picark 8873
CAPTAIN'S PERSONAL LOG
Stardate 8536.341
How to put this.
New Terra was under attack by Mantid forces when we arrived. Two of the massive Hive Ships were engaging New Terra defenses while another was engaged with Space Force. Their psychic attack, suppressing all thought, was working well on Star Fleet vessels and New Sol defenses.
For a minute I cursed the fact that the Federation had refused to recreate Fortress Sol.
Subspace scans showed that Mantid forces had landed on New Terra, as well as glassing attacks had already been used.
