A Time for Action

Posted on 09 Sep 2015 @ 2:03am by Commander C. Kos

1,710 words; about a 9 minute read

Mission: History
Location: Captain's Ready Room, USS Agincourt
Timeline: Late 2375

Ensign C. Mackenzie Kos stood in front of the doors to the Captain's office. Although she'd been serving on the Agincourt for a while, this was the first time she'd been summoned to Captain Newhouse's Ready Room. Kos had spent several months onboard during her last year at the Academy and, upon graduation, had been assigned full-time to the Excelsior-class ship. As a cadet, she'd worked in several departments, working shifts in astrometrics, engineering, and on the bridge at both ops and the helm.

Since her commissioning as an Ensign, she'd been assigned as a helmsman, but still worked in the other departments on occasion. She had just come from the Astrometrics lab. With the war still raging, Astrometrics had been repurposed to monitoring and tracking fleet movements. Mac had been working with the Agincourt's Executive Officer on updating the fleet intelligence database when Captain Newhouse called for her.

She touched the announcer, and immediately the doors opened, responding to the Captain's vocal command. Kos stepped into the office and the doors closed behind her. Sitting at his desk was Captain Stephen Newhouse. He was a tall, thin man who generally seemed very serious and detached. Mac had seen him interact with the senior staff enough to know that he had a lighter side, but he didn't indulge in it very often. At least not publicly. In private, for all Mackenzie knew, Newhouse might have joked and laughed for hours. But I doubt it.

"You wanted to see me, sir?"

Newhouse looked up from his desktop terminal. "Yes Ensign. Have a seat," he said, motioning to the chairs across the desk from his own. Mac sat, rather rigidly, and looked intently at her Commanding Officer.

"We've gotten orders. A combined Federation, Klingon, Romulan fleet is going to attempt to liberate Cardassia. We're trying to end this war."

"Yes, sir," was the only response she could muster. Her biggest struggle so far in her Starfleet career was that she tended to be intimidated by command-level officers. And department heads.

"We will meet up with the fleet in three hours. Two hours after that, we will enter Cardassian space. I want you on the bridge."

Kos stared at the Captain. "Uh...are you sure, sir?"

Newhouse nodded. "You've proven yourself to me, Ensign. Lieutenant Cassaway will be at the helm since he has more combat experience. And, of course, Lieutenant D'Antoni will be at Ops."

"Yes, sir. Where would you like me, sir?" she asked, still uncertain whether she belonged on the Bridge in a large-scale battle.

"You, Ensign, will be at Mission Ops to provide support to D'Antoni. Your engineering skills will come in handy for keeping the bridge running too." Newhouse pressed his fingertips together, his wrists still on the desktop before him. "This will be your first major combat experience. I certainly hope it's your last."

"Yes, sir. I hope so too," she responded, her mind racing about the dangers that awaited them.

"Be on the bridge in three hours, Ensign."

"Yes, sir." She stood up to leave.

As she approached the doors, Newhouse spoke again. "'We make war that we may live in peace.'"

She recognized the quote. It was a favorite of an interstellar relations professor at the Academy, Admiral Winger. "Artistotle."

Newhouse smiled. "Admiral Winger's Strategy and War class?"

"Yes, sir," she responded. "It was a good class." She paused, uncertain if she wanted to reveal his famous familial connection. "I've actually known the Admiral for some time though. He and my dad used to go back and forth on things all the time. When the Admiral was the liaison to the Federation Diplomatic Corp."

"William Kos is your father," Newhouse stated, having just made the connection.

Mackenzie nodded. "Yes, sir." She was uncomfortable with people knowing that her father was a well-known diplomat.

"The Ambassador is highly regarded by many people. There are several high-level officials who have tried to get your father to run for President, but he continually refuses." Newhouse quickly added, "Diplomatically, of course."

Although she hadn't had regular contact with her father in several years, Mackenzie was aware of the following her father maintained. She knew that he wouldn't like the attention he received. The senior Kos loved his work as a diplomat and negotiator, seeing it as his calling in life, his way to help. He didn't do it for accolades; he did it to ease the suffering caused by conflicts throughout the galaxy. Mac knew that her father would never want to walk away from that work to enter politics. Ambassador Kos wasn't a good fit for a largely administrative job like President of the Federation.

"Yes, sir," she responded. "He would believe his talents are better used elsewhere."

The slender Captain smiled. "That is essentially what he says whenever he's asked." The smile left Newhouse's face. "Go get some rest Ensign. I fear that the impending battle will not be an easy one."

With a nod, Mackenzie left the Captain's Ready Room. She went directly to her quarters and tried to calm her nerves. Sleep wasn't a option as anxiety had flooded her system. She picked up a PADD and tried reading a technical manual for a prototype runabout class, but she couldn't focus on the words. Instead, her mind was fixated on the importance of this battle. She had been in several skirmishes during her time aboard the Agincourt, both as a Cadet and now as an Ensign. But those had been much smaller engagements, with far less on the line. Encountering a trio of patrolling Jem'Hadar ships was very different than going toe-to-toe with the bulk of the Dominion/Cardassian/Breen fleet. Not only was the scale different, but the stakes were larger too. If this operation was successful, the Dominion War, which had seized the Federation and her allies for nearly 2 years, might finally be on the wane. If the Federation lost, the tides would turn decidedly in favor of the Dominion.

=====

"Cruiser Group Seven, protect the left flank!" came the order over the fleet-wide communication channel. Lieutenant Cassaway maneuvered the Agincourt with the rest of their group to bring weapons to bear on the Breen flotilla attempting to outflank the Allied fleet. At different times, Mac had heard Captain Sisko, Admiral Ross, and General Martok all issuing orders at different times. Occasionally, Romulan General Velal could also be heard, though he was much less vocal that the other three.

"Tactical," Captain Newhouse said, his voice louder than usual to be heard above the noise from the fleet channel, "weapons are free. Pick your shots and fire at will."

Mac, pulling her eyes away from the Mission Ops console where she was monitoring the ship's EPS system, watched Commander Timoshkin's fingers expertly manipulate the tactical console. Timoshkin was a towering man from Vladivostok. Standing 6'6 and possessing an impeccable physique, the Agincourt's Tactical had recently received a promotion to XO. This came on the heels of the previous XO being assigned to the Agincourt's sister ship. the Onondaga, as Captain. Timoshkin had befriended Mac early during her time on the ship. He had gone out of his way top help then Cadet Kos acclimate to live on the Agincourt. Unfortunately, Kos had damaged their friendship when, after sharing a meal (and too much wine), she had wound up in bed with the older man. Since that night, Timoshkin had been distant with her. It hurt Mackenzie that he treated her like that, but she had to give the giant Russian his space.

"Torpedoes away, full spread, maximum dispersal," Timoshkin informed the Captain, and, by extension, the rest of the Bridge.

"We've got incoming!" D'Antoni shouted from Ops. Mac's eyes shifted to the viewscreen and saw the two torpedoes heading for them.

"EVASIVE!" Newhouse commanded.

Cassaway's hands moved at light speed to try to avoid the enemy projectiles. "It's not working!"

"Fifteen seconds to impact," D'Antoni sounded.

Feeling her stomach sink, Mac happened to catch Timoshkin looking at her. She tried to prevent her fear from showing, but was certain that she was failing miserably.

The impact from the Breen torpedoes tossed Kos ten feet from where she had been manning the Mission Ops console. She was having trouble getting to her feet until a familiar, strong hand grabbed her arm and pulled her up. "Report!" Timoshkin yelled while wrapping an arm around Kos. He looked down at her and whispered, "You're okay. You're strong." He then released her as D'Antoni read him damage reports.

"Captain?" Timoshkin said, looking at Newhouse, who was still sitting in the center seat. The Captain was unresponsive.

Cassaway, who was still piloting the ship even though one arm was clearly broken, glanced over her shoulder. "He's gone Commander."

Timoshkin closed on the command chair in three steps to discover that Newhouse was in fact dead. It looked like the EPS relay under his seat had blown. Assuming command, Timoshkin began barking orders. "Cassaway, I need you at tactical. Mac, take over at helm."

Though terrified, Mackenzie sprinted to the front of the bridge and took a seat next to D'Antoni.

"Back us off, Mac. We need a little breathing room."

Mackenzie forced herself to focus her fear into action. She pulled the Agincourt back behind the other ships in their group. She could hear Timoshkin giving orders to Engineering, but she was focused on piloting the Excelsior-class starship to whatever safety there still was in the universe.

=====

The battle ended. Cardassia was liberated. The Dominion War was over. Timoshkin was promoted to Captain and remained in command of the Agincourt. His first action was to award the bridge crew medals. He then transferred Mac off the ship. He told her that he couldn't face her every day knowing that he had crossed the line with her, while she was still a Cadet. Her new posting was as a diagnostic engineer on the USS Murmansk. She was excited to be working in engineering, but sad to be forced away from the Agincourt, and Captain Timoshkin.

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