The Battle of Caer Bannog--Prelude

[will_marx 0]

THE BATTLE FOR CAER BANNOG- PRELUDE

 

 

“Rhydin Approach, this is the Wild Stallion. Requesting landing clearance, Starfleet Headquarters,” Will Marx requested over the subspace channel.

 

“Wild Stallion, this is Rhydin Approach Control. Pending validation of clearance code, standby for landing clearance.” Rhydin was, either fortunately or unfortunately near the hunting grounds for the Dread Pirate Roberts. Starfleet wasn’t taking the situation near the system lightly, and all Federation- and allied-registered merchant ships had to transmit a one-time use code received from the last navigation buoy before the system. Vessels registered directly to Starfleet Command, or any of her subordinate commands, had the codes hardwired.

 

“Understood, Approach,” the one-eyed special operative replied. It was a seamless system. Starfleet’s computers would query his IFF transponder which would download the code, which would then allow the approach control computers to do an actual sensor analysis of the ship’s hull configuration to see if it matched up with what was in the database. But, it wasn’t totally foolproof; a cloaked ship could theoretically get through the system, but then the older Romulan and Klingon cloaking systems available on the black market leaked exhaust gasses. And those could be detected, and then that would bring down the two Antietam-class battleships in the system on the offender like a metric ton of bricks.

 

“Wild Stallion, Rhydin Approach Control. You are cleared to land at Sector Headquarters. Contact Tower on 135.375.”

 

“Roger, Approach Control. Going to 135.375, for Wild Stallion.” As the light freighter entered the atmosphere, and closed on Rhydin City, Marx changed his radio settings. “Rhydin Tower, Wild Stallion, inbound to land.”

 

“Roger, Wild Stallion. Enter right base, runway 36 Right.” Marx read back the instructions, and, as he neared the parallel runways near the sector headquarters building. “Wild Stallion, cleared to land.”

 

“Roger, cleared to land.” Sitting in the cockpit of his freighter, Marx chuckled at the incongruity of the situation. Here he was, flying a starship capable of sustained warp 5 speeds and hover landing, landing like he was flying his father’s T-6. Granted, FADM Marx had the runways built in the first place after he took command so he could fly in from the Ranch in his T-6. The Wild Stallion crossed the threshold of the runway directed, and the tower advised him to turn next taxiway and taxi to fleet parking.

 

Setting the ship down, Marx walked down the ramp, and smelled the air of home. He grew up here, spent his whole life here, although he could trace his routes back to Earth, Rhydin was home. For him, the air held a myriad of alien scents that made Rhydin home. But the moment was broken when a Security gold shirt walked up to the ramp, a customs armband on his left arm. “Nature of visit to Rhydin, sir?”

 

“Official business with the Sector Commander, Ensign,” he replied coldly.

 

“Anything to declare?”

 

“No.”

 

“I’ll need to search your ship, sir.”

 

“Ensign,” Marx said, starting to get frustrated, “I have an appointment to see the Sector Commander in the next five minutes. If I don’t get to the Admiral’s office, I will ensure that you are assigned to a garbage scow on the Regula run.”

 

The ensign was starting to get flustered. This was not the normal customs inspection. “S-Sir…”

 

“Ensign, if you do not clear me within the next minute, you can kiss any chance of getting off that scow until you’re ready to retire. I am understood?”

 

“Yes sir.” he made an entry on his padd. “Welcome to Rhydin, sir.”

 

Raising the platform, Marx nodded, and stalked off to the headquarters building.

 

 

Office of the Sector Commander

Rhydin Sector Headquarters

10 minutes later

 

 

Marx walked into the outer office, adjusting his uniform tunic. It’d been almost a year since he’d last worn one, and felt out of sorts in it. He was stopped by the Admiral’s secretary. “Can I help you, Lieutenant?”

 

“I need to see the Admiral,” he replied, noting that she was also a lieutenant.

 

“Do you have an appointment? The Admiral is a very busy person.”

 

”I do not, however the matter I need to discuss with him is of vital importance to the Federation.”

 

“I’ll see if he’s available,” the lieutenant replied. She walked into the inner office, letting Marx cool his heels. As much as he was loath to admit it, when Admirals MacPherson and Edson were in command, nepotism had proven to be a useful thing since they remembered serving with his father. With the new commander though, it seemed like it was a hindrance.

 

“The Admiral will see you, Lieutenant,” she replied, emphasizing his rank. Obviously she hadn’t recognized the green in Marx’s tunic, identifying him as a member of Special Operations.

 

“Thank you,” he replied, with forced civility. Manners, he remembered both Lil and Nodoka saying, are as important to diplomacy as a show of force. They allow both sides to come to an accord quicker than by show of force alone. He walked into the Admiral’s office, and saluted. “Sir, Lieutenant William Marx reporting.”

 

Fleet Admiral Gendo Ikari looked at the lieutenant standing before him, behind white-gloved, steepled hands. “Lieutenant, this is the second time in a month that you’ve barged into my office. I hope you have a…reasonable explanation this time.”

Marx dropped the salute, after realizing that Admiral Ikari wasn’t going to return it. The Admiral’s facial expressions were impossible to read behind those steepled hands, and his eyes were barely readable behind the red glasses he wore for that particular reason. “Yes sir, I do. The Dread Pirate Roberts’ fleet is assembling at Caer Bannog. It seems he’s gotten wind of a Federation convoy heading for the sector he operates in, and is planning to raid it. This gives us the opportunity to strike, and render this threat impotent.” Ikari hadn’t offered the lieutenant a seat, and there were two sitting in front of the Sector Commander’s desk, thus keeping Marx standing at ease.

 

FADM Ikari sat there, listening, his fingers still steepled. “What resources will SOCOM require for this operation, Lieutenant?”

 

“SOCOM requires approximately 30 ships, sir. At least one, preferably two, should be a carrier. The Dread Pirate Roberts has a number of shuttles configured as fighters and assault craft.”

 

“I see. So, SOCOM is requesting approximately half my fleet for this little endeavour, and half my available Antietam-class carriers. And how would this look if the Breen or some other hostile force,” a subtle reminder about what lay on the other side of the Mu Wormhole, “should attack this sector?”

 

“You will still have half your fleet in place sir, and most of them are newer than what Admiral Marx had when he took on…that other force, sir. That should be sufficient to hold until reinforcements arrive.”

 

“And I have a third of that force, Lieutenant, regardless of the fact that most of those ships are newer.”

 

“Yes sir, I’m well aware of that.”

 

“And who will be in overall command of this endeavour? SOCOM, or the fleet?”

 

“Starfleet will remain in operational control of the naval assets, sir. As this will be a Starfleet operation, SOCOM will be acting independently of Starfleet, but have administrative control of the force. We will be designating targets, unless there is a specific and credible threat against the fleet. And until the destruction of the Dread Pirate Roberts’ forces, your appointed commander will maintain tactical control.”

 

“Very well then,” Ikari said. “First and Fourth Squadrons will be detached for this operation.”

 

”Sir, I’d like the possibility of having the Second Squadron available as a reserve,” Marx said, respectfully. Even if he despised his father for mucking around in his personal life, the late Christopher Marx was still a tactician that had an excellent military mind, and Will hadn’t seen any reason to not listen to that, and just fight over his personal life.

 

“I will think about it, Lieutenant. You have your support. Dismissed,” Ikari said, effectively ending any further conversation.

 

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Edited November 10, 2005 by will_marx