As the ground based training evolution came to a conclusion on the planets surface, the ten vessels in orbit started to make their opening maneuvers of the final phase of the Joint Exercise. The scenario for Phase 3 would be a general engagement, essentially a fleet action between the opposing teams. When compared ‘pound for pound’ it would appear to a lay onlooker that the Blue team, with its Carrier, Heavy Escort, Light Cruiser, and two Frigates would have a slight advantage in the impending melee. But to anyone who was tactically literate or familiar with the vessels that comprised the Red team, the potent pairing of a Bortasqu’ and Vor’cha class vessel actually gave them a decisive advantage in terms of staying power and heavy weapons.
“Wong to all ships, focus on the Vor’nak lets get them off the board early again. Fighters focus on their To’Dujs. Runabout groups stay on their Birds of Prey. Let’s finish strong, Trenton out.” The Captain closed the channel.
“Sir, the Vor’nak is sticking close to momma this time. Looks like they’ve learned their lesson.” Dawes reported.
“We have to get behind them boss, use our speed and maneuverability to our advantage, we won’t survive long against the throw weight of their forward facing weaponry.” Mee IH squeeked from the XO’s chair as his head and flippers waved about while he simultaneously used his VR headset to monitor the ships status and systems.
“Lasage, evasive pattern cappa 3. Rear torpedos prepare to fire, focus everyone on the Vor’nak. Mee IH get on the horn to the rest of the ships, have them push past the enemies capital ships. We need to keep them turning and stay out of those forward firing arcs” Wong watched as the Malem decloaked and knocked out two Arrow class runabouts, crippling one of their hunter killer groups that had been so effective during the convoy phase.
Mee IH tied himself in to the subspace channel they had open with the rest of the ships, “Trenton to the fleet, I’m sending rendezvous coordinates behind the big boy. Push through after our initial strike on the Vor’nak. Don’t fight them head-on.”
“He wants us to do what now?” Captain th’Zorati shook his head, exchanging glances with Kendra Ral, the Strategic Operations officer aboard Orpheus, as she relayed the orders from the flagship.
“Surely it would make more sense for our division to tackle the Bortasqu and leave Trenton to tackle the smaller craft with the starfighters?” Lieutenant Ruas lent over from the tactical station and regarded the Captain closely, hoping he would intervene.
“We’re leaving Omaha vulnerable. Surely he can see that?” Commander D’Kel suggested, looking over the tactical readout in the bottom left quadrant of the main viewer.
“Helm,” th’Zorati barked, hushing the din, “relay orders from the flagship and have the division divert course as requested. Take us to the target.”
“Adjusting course and speed Captain,” helm officer Taren confirmed with a singular nod.
Smashing his fist against the tactical rail, Captain Prenar rerouted his angry steps and made for the command chairs at the heart of the bridge, linking up with his XO who watched his every step. This entire exercise had not been easy for the Cardassian.
“We’re supposed to fight through. Us, a frigate, supposed to fight through and regroup on the other side,” Prenar slumped into the command chair and tried to compose himself, but failed.
“Not exactly Noli, is he?” Charisma smiled sheepishly as she took her seat next to him, referencing their own squadron commander, who had not been invited to this particular soirée.
“I refuse to believe she would have been so… reckless,” Prenar frowned.
“She’d have been more creative in her response rather than blunt force trauma,” Commander Nilssen agreed from tactical, but tried to shrug it off. “Shall we join the dance, Captain?”
“Attack pattern theta three,” Prenar agreed, “auxiliary power to forward shields. Helm, keep us in tight to Orpheus. We’ll use her as a screen.”
A chorus of acknowledgements preceded the surge of the ship’s engines as she moved into position alongside their division flagship, hoping the Gagarin could provide the cover the frigate would need in order to remain in the game.
A Few Moments Later…
“Whoa, and the Trenton has just declared a ram. Interesting. This now leaves the Malem and a bunch of To’Duj fighters versus the Omaha and a couple of runabouts.” Carver said from the co-pilots chair of the Danube class runabout. After watching the rivetting actions unfound before him, Carver noted the ‘ram call’ was actually the most effective play that Captain Wong had available to him, and gave the Blue team a real chance at victory.
It turned out to be for naught though as the Malem decloaked and fired another furious fusilade from her formidable forward weapons suite.
Carver looked at the training plot readout on his display and winced as he saw that the Omaha had suffered crippling blows to her engines and shields. After another pass by the Malem her icon on his screen turned red denoting the ship had been ‘destroyed’.
“A Danube and an Arrow versus, a Malem and 4 fighters…Ooop! Make that 2 fighters.” The Range control ships pilot whistled as the blue teams Danube killed two of the To’Dujs with flurry of phaser fire and micro-torpedoes.
“And boom goes the tricobalt.” Carver laughed as the Malem decloaked again and easily dispatched the the pesky Danube with its disruptor cannons. Tyrone checked the training plan and saw that the Danube was being piloted by the Trentons Wing Commander, LCdr Vaughn Ingram himself.
“Yep, that will be that, Minor Tactical Victory for Red.” The pilot joined the Captain in a little laugh as the Malem swung around and chased down the sturdy and fiesty but ultimately overmatched Arrow-class runabout and dispatched it with haste.
After Carver had announced the end of the exercise and thanked all the participatants he closed the channel, swiveled his chair, stood up and stretched having been in the co-pilots seat for a few hours straight.
“So, sir, I take it you won’t be taking the Senior Attache job at Joint Base Dathon then?” The pilot grinned as he recalled their conversation the day before where Carver had diviluged that he had narrowed down his choice for his next assignment to either becoming the Senior Starfleet Attache at JBD or becoming the CO of the new Inter-Allied Trenton Squadron.
“No, I don’t believe I will Lt. The Trenton, Vor’nak, and Malem all performed extremely well here, the chance to command the three of them in a Squadron is not something I’m going to pass on.”
“Since you’re moving on from your current job, how would I go about applying for it? Seems like an excellent way to springboard my career sir.” The pilot chided.
“Careful what you wish for Lt. I’ve spent seven of the last eight and a half years sitting behind a desk or working in the maw of the bureaucracy that oversees Starfleet. I put alot of hard work in to being the Director of Field Training to get Admiral Barr to let me pick my next posting. But if you like judging the performance of ships and units and designing training scenarios I could put in a good word, the Field Training and Doctrine Department of Training Command is always looking for good people.” Carver turned and walked over to the replicator at the rear of the cockpit.
“Ahhh, on second thought, I prefer just being a regular, old, seat of the pants pilot type sir.”
“Smart man.” Tyrone replied as he retrieved the Risian Seltzer he had ordered.
