Nasera, successful. Janoor, successful. Now Leonis, the greatest success yet on many levels. But far too many engagements still hung in the balance: Sevury, Lungurn, Arriana, Izar…

The tide was turning. But Alexander Beckett was not about to presume it would do so in Starfleet’s favour. Not yet. The Fourth Fleet’s arrival had changed the odds, but only enough to put everything on a knife edge. One wrong outcome too many, and nothing would stop the Lost Fleet’s momentum.

‘The Mariner’s package forced a task group to withdraw,’ Captain Styre reminded him. His chief of staff stood near the door to his office on Farpoint Station, still as a statue. He hadn’t realised he had spoken aloud, but she knew better than to read his mind. That would be a court martial offence, after all.

‘That means nothing,’ Beckett scoffed. ‘The Vorta may have outranked the task group’s leadership, but will it be enough to convince the fleet? Or the Dominion have betrayed us, and the forces at Ciater withdrew to protect new arrivals with new orders. Don’t jump to conclusions, Styre. I taught you better than that.’

The cool-eyed Betazoid tilted her head. ‘You also taught me not to entrust duties this serious to a captain like Kobahl. The reports from Mariner are disastrous. Command will jump at the opportunity to discredit anything that comes from the mission. She was too green.’

But Beckett gave a serpent’s cold smile. ‘Was she? Or was she exactly disposable enough for this mission? I don’t need Kobahl to come out the other side. I needed her to deliver a package. Command would likely condemn anyone who did what she did. Best not to waste too precious an asset.’

That made Styre shift her feet. ‘You won’t intervene?’

He waved a dismissive hand. ‘Perhaps. If I have the capital to spend. She made more noise than I cared for.’

‘Speaking of noise.’ His chief of staff pulled a fresh PADD from under her arm. ‘More rumblings from Reyes.’

Beckett rolled his eyes. ‘That woman is a case study on why you don’t keep spooks in Intelligence their whole careers.’ He leaned forward and reached for the teapot on his desk to pour the amber liquid, now sufficiently brewed, into a cup of delicate china. ‘She thinks this is happening because Starfleet is cold and uncaring and bureaucratic, or weak and idealistic and soft, and only she knows what needs to be done.’ A mocking hint entered his voice. ‘She’s needed to believe that her whole career so she can function. To justify her existence. Now it’s blinded her to the truth.’ He sobered, jaw tightening as icy blue eyes stared into nothing, and the next words came in ashen tones. ‘Something is fundamentally wrong in Command.’

The truth that he also believed that only he knew what needed to be done did not enter the discussion. Perhaps that hypocritical notion began to creep up on Beckett as he shook his head and said, more clearly, ‘Constellation?’

‘Nothing,’ Styre sighed. ‘They might be dead.’

‘I shouldn’t have sent a scientist. But do you know how hard it is to find a scientist with killer instincts?’ Beckett sipped tea in impotent outrage. ‘I fear the truth won’t help us. Results will help us. Any word from the Pioneer?’

‘Not yet. Nor the engagements in the field. But if they prevail…’

‘They have to prevail. Too many of these battles have been lost. Pesak, Messif, Shangris – all unscathed. D-218-C still stands, and if they finish their work to incorporate Breen energy-dampening weapons into Dominion ships, this war may be over no matter what. And can someone,’ Beckett pressed on with a snarl, ‘get me a win that isn’t rotten through with JAG investigations or massive civilian losses?’

Styre looked a little startled at this. ‘Any investigations would take time…’

‘The last thing we need,’ he pressed on, jabbing a finger at her, ‘is for Command to paint the Fourth Fleet as violent renegades who turned what they’re calling a border skirmish into a rampage where regulations and ethics went to die.’

‘Surely serious legal repercussions require Command to acknowledge that this invasion has even happened?’ Styre ventured.

‘I think that once this is over,’ Beckett grumbled, ‘there’s a high chance they will. The story will change to say that Starfleet rode in on white horses. But if the Fourth Fleet is up to its eyeballs in accusations of misconduct, mutiny, and murder, we won’t be painted as saviours. We’ll be painted as the monsters who let it happen. Not to mention, for God’s sake, what do these people put a uniform on for if they’re acting like this? What do they think they’re protecting by spitting on our principles? What is the point of a Federation whose corners are dipped in blood? I would throttle Rourke with my bootlaces for his short-sighted, self-important sanctimony were he here.’

Styre looked like she was considering pointing out this wouldn’t help the Fourth Fleet’s legal circumstances, and normally he was fond of her dry, sardonic, cold manner – so long as it wasn’t turned on him. But she was saved from the need to restrain herself, and he was saved from the question of needing a new chief of staff by the comms blaring and Admiral Allard’s voice coming through.

‘Ops to Admiral Beckett. Long-range sensors have detected a Dominion strike force of significant numbers. They’re heading for Farpoint.’

Beckett’s jaw tightened as his eyes landed on Styre. ‘So it comes,’ he rumbled. ‘The inevitable.’ He stood, eyes rising to address thin air as he keyed the comms. ‘Understood, Allard. We knew this was likely. Mobilise our defences. I’ll board the Caliburn and join them. Beckett out.’

‘I’ll check in with Admiral Dahlgren,’ Styre said briskly.

‘Do that; this will be easier with the Anthony here,’ Beckett said, straightening his uniform. ‘And put out an alert to all Fourth Fleet ships within range. If we can’t hold Farpoint, we can’t hold Deneb.’

In Play:

• This is Part 1 of a finale for the Lost Fleet storyline. Dominion and Breen forces will engage Starfleet at Farpoint Station, with the resolution posted by the end of the FA on Sunday June 25th.
• Any ships ‘available’ and/or that have finished their storylines can respond to Beckett’s call to arms. There will be a battle of Fourth Fleet and TG514 ships against Dominion and Breen forces. You may write your ship joining such an engagement, choosing to participate in the pitched battle or any skirmishes nearby.
• Do not write the resolution of the main battle. The Intel Office will do so.
• Admiral Beckett is a prick. Do not take his opinions as anything but a reflection of that.