Chapter 6: Making Plans

Legatus Tavrus, who once was Major Talok, felt a sense of deja-vu. Not too long ago he had walked the same corridors on his way to a meeting with the Praetor. Thankfully the news were better this time. What remained to be seen was if, considering the news he had were not the best, the Praetor could resist the urge to shoot the messenger.

After the disasters at Betazed and Salem One the Imperial Fleet had finally achieved a victory and the fission weapons, a ridiculously barbaric concept, had worked. But such victories proved somewhat hollow. What was the point in subjugating colonies and planets, if the weapons used in the process made the annexed planets uninhabitable for hundreds of thousands of years?

Four weeks had passed since the Praetor had installed him as the Imperial Fleet's supervisor of the Tal'Shiar and this time had done nothing to increase his appreciation of this organization. From what he had witnessed during his time on Vulcan, organizations like the Vulcan V'Shar were much more effective and skilled in the shady world of underground operations. The latest failure of their own operatives on Earth was testament to that fact. The Vulcans would never have failed like that.

The heavy doors opened and Tavrus performed the Imperial salute as soon as he had crossed the threshold. D'Deridex seemed to be in a good mood, Tavrus noticed. So there might be a way to survive this after all.

"Legatus Tavrus," the Praetor acknowledged. "These are indeed good news I hear about the latest battle, but I do know that some have a penchant for exaggerating their deeds, while I have come to know you as a more reliable voice of reason. So let us know what the Tal'Shiar thinks of the latest developments."

"The Tal'Shiar agrees that it was a glorious victory Excellency, however it is our duty to look beyond the battle and not all is that good."

"Let us know then," Admiral Valdore demanded boldly. Tavrus had to force himself not to snort at the mans nerve. Not too long ago the Admiral was in acute danger of being taken outside by a firing squad, but a single victory seemed to have 'reinvigorated' his sense of superiority.

"Our last attempt at destabilizing the influence of the Terrhasu by re-organizing remaining members of "Terra Prime" has failed miserably. The Coalition has been finalized and is now beyond the point where undermining tactics would prove effective. We are fighting against three races at once."

"Was the Coalition not made up of 4 species?" the Praetor asked. "I have received four declarations of war."

"Only Vulcan, Andoria and Terha are present in the battle fleets. The Tellarites are stationed around all major Coalition planets and Colonies. Such is their advantage in numbers that they can afford to surround each planet with a near impenetrable fleet of heavily armed defense cruisers."

"What can we do to bolster our numbers?" the Praetor demanded. "Valdore, where are all our ships?"

"A majority of our forces are bound at the Klingon border," Valdore admitted. "The Klingons lack the courage to attack more than one opponent, so when this Coalition was formed, they chose to attack us instead."

"Or they were just not stupid enough," Tavrus remarked dryly.

"You think this is a stupid endeavor?" the Praetor asked with an offended look at Tavrus.

"With all due respect, Excellency, yes I think so."

"I hope you have something good to say for yourself," D'Deridex spoke in threatening voice. "You know how little effort it takes to summon a firing squad."

"You may have me shot and I will accept any judgment you deem fitting," Tavrus declared. "But may I remind you, Excellency, that we currently have only a fleet of 40 battleships against the Coalition, as all other forces are needed to save the Empire from the Klingon onslaught. Also, our first victory came at unacceptable cost. We annexed the Galorndon system, but in the process we rendered it uninhabitable for generations. We annexed a completely useless piece of rock. We may have destroyed the dilithium deposits, but with the talent of the Terrhasu to foster peaceful relations with every species they meet, they will find new ones."

"Your words have merit," the Praetor conceded. "What is your suggestion?"

"Instead of heading out, looking for small victories, we need to concentrate all possible resources on building new ships and solving the Klingon problem first. We will not be able to fight at two fronts simultaneously."

"Ridiculous," Valdore protested. "We would be rendered idle for almost a year."

"That is about the time we should have taken to prepare, instead of rushing headlong into an attack with too few forces at our disposal," Tavrus spat angrily. He was now past the point of caring. Some people needed to hear a few truths. "With all due respect of course. I'm starting to believe that I spent all those years on that forsaken desert planet for nothing. All the data and conclusions I have brought back from my time on Vulcan have been summarily ignored. We have become so used to being the dominant force in the quadrant that we have forgotten that there are worthy foes out there, which we can't just force into surrender with a handful of warbirds."

"Calm down, Legatus!" the Praetor demanded. "We hear your words. They certainly have more merit than Valdore's, even if they are dangerously close to insubordination."

"I beg forgiveness," Tavrus said.

"Granted," the Praetor decreed with a wave of the hand. "Valdore! You have nine months, not a day longer and I want to see a fleet that can rival coalition numbers. Until then we concentrate on the Klingon problem and will limit the Terrhasu campaign to hit-and-run attacks with a small fleet. Is that understood?"

"Perfectly, Excellency."

One look at Valdore told Tavrus that he was in dangerous territory. The dirty looks of the Admiral made it perfectly clear that he wasn't pleased by the bigger influence he had with the Praetor. Not too many would have gotten away with what had just happened.

Now if the veruul would just learn to concentrate his energy on the war effort instead of trying to ingratiate himself with the Praetor.

"John, it's good to hear from you," Gardner said when Archer's face appeared on the screen. "I take it you've regrouped your ships?"

"We did. We are back at Salem One and have started doing repairs."

"Good," the Admiral said. "Lorian will arrive in a few days, We've stuffed tons of supplies in his ship. Distribute them as you see fit."

"What are our further orders?"

"None so far," Gardner said. "The V'Shar have reported that the Romulans have other problems right now. Looks like the Klingons are trying to use the war to help themselves to some Romulan space."

"First good news in a while," Archer said dryly. "I never thought I'd be happy to have those guys around."

"The Vulcans and Andorians have ramped up production of Suurok and Kumari cruisers until Tucker has finished the Molotok prototype. The Tellarites have handed over two shipyards where we can pump out destroyers and frigates. As the ships arrive at Salem One assemble balanced fleets of 30 to 40 and send them out to patrol the sector, but keep at least a hundred ships around the station."

"You are not building any new NX classes?" Archer asked after acknowledging Gardner's info with a nod.

"It would be a waste of resources. Both Vulcan and Andoria are building battle cruisers, but no frigates or destroyers. We would end up with an unbalanced fleet and we can pump out 5 smaller ships in the time the others build a single cruiser."

"Understood Admiral."

Trip and Malcolm where on their way to docking port Alpha-3. The last of the requested old Intrepid class ships was on approach, so they would now have enough space for all the workforce and the accompanying entertainment venues. All five ships were 25 years and older and had already been slated for break-up so they were in need of a good refurbishing and the civilians, who were contracted to renovate and later run the ships, were aboard this last ship.

As an exercise, a joint group of Buran and Enterprise Gamma-shift personnel had been sent to man the stations for the transfer from Neptune bone-yard to Jupiter station. Hoshi had taken command.

"Seen that, Malcolm?" Trip said and handed him a PADD with a Vulcan news bulletin.

"Very funny, mate," Malcolm snorted. "Somehow my Vulcan is a bit rusty."

"Tap the picture," Trip instructed.

"Blimey!" Malcolm exclaimed. "That looks like three Suurok class battle ships being built at the same time."

"Exactly," Trip said with a satisfied grin as they reached the docking port, where the airlock was already pressurizing. Now the work would start in earnest.

He did a double-take when the door opened. There were a lot of civilians waiting to enter the station, but right at the front were two very familiar faces.

"Mom, Dad?" Trip asked in disbelief. "I'm happy to see you, but this isn't really the best time for a visit."

"Who says we're coming for a visit, boy," Charles said. "Have you forgotten that I was already an engineer when you were still in your diapers?"

"Yeah, I know," Trip said, while behind them the other newcomers were herded out by Malcolm's security officers. "But you went into early retirement after you had to leave Florida."

"When I read that the government had inherited the AP shares and was planning to have them work exclusively for Starfleet, we applied for a job with them. There's just no way that our son and daughter-in-law are out here fighting a damn war and we sit on our butts at home waiting for what's coming."

"But mom is definitely not an engineer," Trip said.

"But a trained cook, you goof," his mother interrupted. "Somebody has to feed all those people. They even sent me to the Vulcan and Andorian Embassies to learn their cuisine. I can tell you, the Andorians have some really interesting meat selections."

"So I take it you will be running the mess hall, Ma'am?" Malcolm joined in. "Captain Malcolm Reed," he added and shook the hands of both Tucker parents.

"One of the mess halls, young man," she replied. "I was told there will be three."

"Alright, everybody," Trip said and indicated them to follow. "Time to greet the masses."

About 150 civilian workers were assembled in one of the big storage halls on the station. Trip stood on a crate in front of the crowd and waited for the idle chatter to die down.

"Alright, everybody," he spoke into his communicator, which was hooked up to a pair of loudspeakers on the ceiling. "My name is Fleet Captain Charles Tucker III. I'm the one running this joint, so welcome to Jupiter Station everybody."

A short applause interrupted his speech.

"You've all seen that the ship you arrived on looks a bit second hand and we have four more of them. The Bozeman and the Whitehorse are already being worked on by the permanent staff of the station, but Fairbanks, Galena and Anchorage will be your job. We won't interfere much with what you do with them, but keep in mind they will be your living place for many months, so don't be too miserly on the interior design."

Short laughter and a few 'suggestions' could be heard.

"For the first week you may decide whether you want to be shuttled back to earth every night or stay here, but after a week we expect that at least one ship is in a condition that allows you to stay here. From then on shuttle service will only be available on Friday evening and on Monday morning back here. Well then, let's go to work everybody."

Noisily the workers assembled around their assigned team leaders as those began to fill them in on the details.

"Your herd," Trip said to Malcolm and walked out of the hall.

"Come!" Trip said.

Charles Tucker jr arrived with a stack of PADDs and Trip started wondering, just how many of the damn things were out there. He had handed out and received so many of them lately, he was starting to worry that he would soon start dreaming of them.

"Raided the library, Dad?" he joked with with a nod at the devices.

"Funny, boy, really funny," Charles joked back and put them on Trip's desk. "Kimball has made me team leader for Galena and we've decided she'll become the 'entertainment ship', so to speak."

"Kimball's the civilian overseer, right?" Trip asked for clarification.

"That's him," his father confirmed. "We've got some ideas, but we'll have to knock out quite a few bulk heads."

"In section C is a storage area for scrap metal. We are reusing everything."

"Yeah, Kimball already told us. Wish they would have given us such comprehensive briefings in my time. It was always just 'Do this. We don't care how'," Charles chuckled.

"So, if I read that correctly," Trip said, putting the PADD in a docking station that displayed the contents on the top of his table. "We have what looks like a bar, the mess hall ... What's that?"

"So far only an open room, but Kimball said we need some meditation chamber for the Vulcans. Trouble is, we don't know what to put in it. I thought, maybe T'Pol could help with that."