Crack! Crack! The replica Winchester bucked against Milo’s shoulder as he levered another round into the chamber. With each shot there was satisfying ping and the bullets hit true against the steel target. When the rifle was empty Milo shuffled to the next station as he did he was drawing the Colt revolver and in fanning motion he emptied the six shots into the target in rapid succession.

“Time!” the judge shouted. He was a lean Betazoid man wearing a nineteenth-century suit and a bowler hat.

Milo tipped his Stetson to the judge and holstered his pistol and stepped away from the firing line.  Milo was a crack shot, but nothing compared to these men and women, and he was sitting dead last. When he got back to the station he was going to build a holodeck program to practice.  Next time he wasn’t going to embarrass himself.

The roar of engines drew his attention skyward.  A single grey beetle shaped ship lead a formation of six more ships as the flew low over the landscape.  They were heading for the city center. As the approached the edge of the city the ships slowed to a hover before dipping below the horizon.

“Those aren’t Federation,” someone observed.

“No, they’re Goddamned Dominion ships!” Milo growled as he slapped his combadge, “Talon to SB75.”

No response.

Milo repeated his request. Still no response from the station. He tapped his combadge a third time, “Lieutenant Commander Talon to Betazed Transporter control one to beam directly to SB75.”

Again there was no response.

“No go commander,” The judge said worry and fear etched on his face. “All communications are down.”

Milo looked around. Not a single shuttle, speeder, or even bicycle was anywhere around.  Everyone had just transported to this remote shooting range. He rushed to the shooting line and picked up two Winchesters and reloaded them from the nearby ammo box, and filled his pockets with ammunition. There was a horse tied to the fense and Milo shoved one of the rifles into the saddled scabbard. Drawing the reigns Milo swung into the Western style stock saddle.  “Sit tight,” he shouted at the others before spurring the horse into a full gallop heading for the city.

Federation Landing Zone: Sword…

Runabouts Mialoss and Rappahannock broke through the clouds escorted by fighters.  There were a dozen other shuttles and runabouts from around the Federation fleet shuttling ground troops to the planet to repel the Dominion invaders. The runabouts attached to the USS Denver set down, but left their engines spooled up, and as soon as their passengers had exited the ships they lifted off and shot into the sky.

Collins jumped out the shuttle before it took off. His team had taken position behind some rocks. Soon the Dominion would be upon them.

Viat was always near the first in and one of the last out of any fire zone landing. “Spread out down the line so we can cover Collin’s flank.”

A large group of Jem’Hadar had seen the runabouts land and the moved on the elite Starfleet security team.  Their rifles raised and keeping to cover as much as possible nearly one-hundred moved towards their enemy.

A newly commissioned Ensign took a polaron blast to the chest sending him to the dirt. He never even got a shot off.  Another Jem’Hadar dropped his shroud behind a Chief Petty Officer and plunged his kar’takin into the man’s back. The Jem’Hadar smiled as the victim convulsed on the ground drawing his final breaths. “Victory is life,” the Jem’Hadar said softly.

Raising his phaser rifle, Gus fired at the attacker. The Jem’Hadar dropped. He spat. “Not this time, coward.” His face was neutral, but his eyes weren’t. Addressing the team, he added, “Short bursts. Cover your teammates. Eyes and ears on a swivel, people.”

“Don’t fire blind!” Collins yelled. “Wait for them to decloak before firing!” 2 Jam Hadar appeared 500 feet in front of him. He fired off two quick blasts, hitting each Jem Hadar in the head, their heads exploding.

They were outnumbered, outgunned, and out-trained.  “Ramirez, Bazooka.” He pointed to a cluster of soldiers in the distance, dropping their cloaks. The nearly two-meter tube was a bit clumsy but packed a punch. “Cover fire!” Gus yelled as he added the weight of his rapid bursts to his teams. Interlaced between the TRT members were the other members of the crew, filling out their lines. That way, the TacTeam could shepherd as many as possible. That they would lose people was blatantly obvious. The ferocity was surprising to even Gus. The tube fire carrying the explosive charge close enough to the pack that a small handful went down. 

Collins watched the group of Jem Hadar disappear in the blast. He was starting to lose too many people. “Everyone! Prepare to advance to the next ridge line! Stay down. Squads 2 & 3, lay down suppression fire!” When the squads opened fire, “MOVE!!” yelled Collins. 

There was a thundering of hooves as a cowboy in complete regalia crested the rise. He raised his rifle and made two quick shots sending two Jem’Hadar reeling. He rode into the the center of the Starfleet line and using the rifle as a club he struck a third across the head breaking the wooden stock. 

He dropped out of the saddle drawing his Bowie knife as he did. In two quick motions he cut the cinches letting the saddle fall to the ground. He peeled off the bridle and slapped the horse on the rump with the flat of his blade. He scooped up a Jem’Hadar rifle lying on the ground and shot a fourth.  “Who’s in charge of this shit show?” The cowboy demanded. 

Collins, caught off guard momentarily, responded. “I am, and you the hell are you?” Collins kept firing at the Jem Hadar.

“Milo Talon,” the man replied as he picked off another Jem’Hadar. Milo didn’t bother stating his rank or position.   He technically outranked the man, but he wasn’t there to take over. “What’s the staus of the Starbase?”

“As far as we know, it may have been overrun.” Collins responded.

“There’s a planetary security office two clicks to the northeast.  I suggest we hook up with the locals,” Milo said.

Collins didn’t know what to make of the person, but getting some support from the locals was better than being picked off one by one staying here. “Agreed.” Collins looked around. “Pack up! We’re heading northeast!”

From the other side, the Vulcan Tactical Officer couldn’t hear the exchange and couldn’t care less at the moment. As long as it was a supporting action, that was a positive event in his eyes. In fact, the diversion allows Gus to spur his troops to provide covering fire. They needed more. In an instant, an idea came to mind. Whether it was a good idea, only time would tell. Crouched behind a small rise, he popped the cover off of a type 1 phaser (Cricket) and rigged the circuitry. Seeing a potential grouping forming, he activated the weapon, it’s shrill started low and built rapidly. Gauging the distance, Gus threw the phaser and yelled “COVER!”

It tumbled in flight, not being very aerodynamic for that purpose, landing a bit short of a three Jem’Hadar. The resulting explosion created a huge crater in the middle of the pack, throwing dirt, rocks, and bodies. In the long run, throwing hand phasers wasn’t ideal, but it was time to be creative. Viat led from the front. 

It was time, the Jem’Hadar might be unshakable, but he wanted this. “Attack!” Backing Collins’s play, Viat ordered his squad forward. Near the front, a Jed’Hadar uncloaked feet in front of Gus. Completely instinctively, he then used the type 3 phaser to buttstroke the enemy, the crack of the neck apparent. “Damn,” the rifle power cell cracked. Tossing it aside, he grabbed the polaron weapon from his attacker and kept moving. 

Collins moved his unit closer. 2 of his unit were killed, while at least 15 Jem Hadar bit the dust. He kept an eye on the visitor in case he proved to be a Changeling, sent to infiltrate their lines. 

Milo took an energy blast to the shoulder.  He stumbled and fell face-first into the grass. He rolled to his feet, swearing in pain.  It had been a glancing blow, but the wound bled, the anti-clotting agent in the weapon aiding in the hemorrhage. 

The TRT was holding its own, at least for the moment. If they took the surrounding space, the next reinforcements would be Starfleet. If not, Gus pushed the thought from his mind. 

It took a better part of four hours to push their way to the security office two kilometers from the initial landing zone. Once they had pushed through the initial Jem’Hadar line resistance had been fairly light,  but they could hear fighting going on all over the city as they approached.   

Still armed with a Jem’Hadar polaron rifle Milo had two more slung over his shoulders. In the shadow of the skyscrapers, he lead the team around a corner. The planetary security building was in smoldering ruins.

A series of Federation photon torpedoes airburst close enough away for the TRT team to see and hear the assault a dozen kilometers away. Massive amounts of EMP were causing problems with comms. Several of the TRT comm badges hissed and crackled.  =^= “annock….respond.=^= 

Three Jem’Hadar fighters flew overhead. A bolt of phaser energy reached out, striking the lead vehicle, clearly from a capital ship-sized phaser bank. A second later, it exploded.  The remaining fighters peeled off, being chased by two Danube class runabouts. ”This is the runabout Rappahannock. Bloody hell, she needs a shorter name. We’re coming in hot. New LZ 200 meters west of the security building. 2 minutes. We’re bugging out.”

The site of the runabouts brought cheers to the group. Then the bug out order was heard. They would still need to fight to the clearing. Parade ground just to the west of the building, as Gus conjoured up the image of the layout.  At the smouldering ruins at least should be less of a target, having been destroyed. Gus turned, “Ramirez, I want that bazooka ready just in a case. We also may need to spike it before we leave.” Ramirez nodded, reaching for the reload, knowing Gus intended so as to not leave any usuable material behind.

“We’re not giving up with a fight! New power packs in your weapons! ARE YOU WITH ME?” Collins yelled.

Milo nodded. He tossed the polaron rifle he was carrying to the ground not knowing how much energy was left and and switched to a spare. “Lead the way Mr. Collins.”

“We’ll head this way,” pointing to a point where the Jem Hadar were scattered. “Hopefully we won’t run into many.”

During a very brief respite, Gus checked as best he could on the alien weapon. “Take a heartbeat, gather your thoughts. This is where things got hairy. Ingress and egress. 

Two minutes later, two runabout started the set-down sequence. Noses facing the same direction, it allowed the runabouts, to horizontally stagger and cover each others field of fire. 

“LET’S GO!” Collins, at the front, led the troops, his troops, started running forward to cut off the Jem Hadar and clear the landing area.

Milo fired and a Jem’Hadar fell. Quickly adjusting his aim he shot another one aiming for Collins.  It was pure chaos.  This was nothing like the stories of battles he had read about. Even the rare training simulations weren’t like this. His arm ached where he had been hit and blood was still seeping through the bandage.  “Damn Dominion,” he muttered under his breath.

Collins laid some suppression fire to give his people a better chance at making to the ship. If a Jem Hadar showed his ugly face, it got a rifle blast in the face.

Shouldering the polaron weapon, Gus’s right hand fell to his sword. He’d take to the ancient Indian Kukri design at a glance. Its 41cm blade was hardened steel, and weighing less than a half kilo, and made short work of most things. Plant or animal.

The runabouts were close. Safety was rignt there, just a few meters away. They had pushed the Jem’Hadar off the parade grounds,  but it was only temporary.  At the airlock Milo paused.”

“Lieutenant Collins,” Milo shouted over the noise

Collins called to him while he kept firing. “What??”

Milo pulled off his gold wedding band and handed it to Collins, “Tell my wife… Tell her I love her. My post is here, not the Denver.”

Collins took the ring. “Are you crazy? You’ll be court martialed for desertion. Plus….if your not around, a lot of guys will be waiting to date your wife.”

Milo chuckled,  “Let them. I not worried about her.” He placed a hand on Collin’s shoulder.  “My post is here. Yours is on the Denver. Keep my wife and kids safe. I’ll help organize resistance cells. We can’t just let the Dominion have it without some sort of a fight.  Hell of a team you got here.”

Gus took off his short sword, sheathed it, then yelled at Milo as he tossed it to him. “Bring it back. Used.”

“I can’y promise I’ll be able to return it, but it will be used.” The man turned and jogged into the city,  disappearing amongst the buildings. 

Collins cursed under his breath. “Damn him.” Once the ship’s bay doors opened, he got his people safely on the ship.

Off in the distance to the other side of the LZ, the steady but oddly patterned crumps of alien artillery could be heard. Thankfully, that was all they heard. Picking up his boot, he locked the cargo door and secured it while yelling. “Lift off Mister Jones.”  

Bridge Later…

Rebecca looked up when Collins walked onto the bridge looking a little worse for wear.  His expression told her that this was probably not a report for all of the bridge to hear.

Standing she motioned for Collins to follow her to her ready room. “Ms. Nalam you have the bridge.”

Collins followed the captain. 

Once safely sequestered in the office Rebecca went to the replicator, “Can I get you something Mr. Collins?”

Collins shook his head. “No thank you, captain.” 

“Okay, what’s the report?” She said getting straight to the point.

He took a breath. “The base was overrun with Jem Hadar soldiers. We took heavy casualties, but we gave as good as we got. Milo Talon appeared and tried to help us. Once we got the teams back on the relief ships, he gave me his wedding ring and asked me to tell his wife that he had to stay to form a resistance cell.” Collins placed the ring on the captain’s desk. “Last I saw of him he was heading off to the west.”

She picked up the ring.  She clinched it in her fist and closed her eyes momentarily over taken by emotion.  After a moment she sighed,  “He doesn’t expect to survive.” She took a deep centering sigh, “Thank you Mr. Collins.  You did well.”

Collins stood up. “Permission to return to duty, captain.” 

“Granted,” Rebecca replied sitting back in her chair. With a heavy heart she watched Collins walk out of the ready room.