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“Welcome to Utopia Planitia, Commander, Lieutenant.”
Benjamin Sisko blinked, clearing the mental fog that had settled in during the hours long trip from Earth. He was in the arrival terminal of Utopia Planitia’s spaceport with his son. An Andorian commander stood before him, offering him a hand to shake.
Sisko numbly took the hand and shook it.
“It’s a pleasure, Commander...”
“Shran – and before you ask, I am not related to the one in the history books. It happens to be a common name on my part of Andoria.” Shran turned to Sisko’s left and shook the hand of Hranok, the former tactical officer of Sisko’s last posting, the USS Saratoga.
Sisko felt his son take a step closer to him. He put his right arm around the boy’s shoulders. “This is my son, Jake.”
“A pleasure to meet you too, Mr. Sisko.” Shran shook Jake’s hand, then looked straight at Sisko. “I’m glad I caught you here, before the competition asked you to be on their staffs.”
Hranok asked the question that Sisko was struggling to put together. “I’m sorry sir, but I’m afraid I don’t understand. We were ordered to report to the Anti-Borg Ship Development Program—“
“Thanks to the ASDB, we no longer have one Anti-Borg Ship Development Program.” Shran’s antennae quivered a bit, a sign of agitation. “They’ve started reactivating mothballed development programs and allowed new ones to start, which means I have to compete with each and every one of them for personnel, even though mine was the first. We started after the Enterprise first encountered the Borg.”
Almost two years earlier, Jean-Luc Picard’s Enterprise-D made a horrifying discovery: some force had simply scooped up several bases along the Romulan Neutral Zone... and it hadn’t been the Romulans. A few months later, thanks to the intervention of the supposedly omnipotent alien Q, the Enterprise discovered the culprit in System J-25: the Borg, a cybernetic hive mind that assimilated other species by force. The Enterprise, a top of the line Galaxy class starship, had thrown everything it had at the enormous cube vessel the Borg used. While the Enterprise had scored some impressive first hits, the Borg neutralized the Federation ship’s weapons with their regeneration and adaptation abilities.
Starfleet had begun research and development into new weapons and tactics to counter the Borg, but they could only do so much in a year and a half. A little over a month ago, a single Borg cube annihilated 40 Federation starships at Wolf 359, along with a squadron of Klingon ships sent by Chancellor K’mpec. Benjamin Sisko, then first officer aboard the Saratoga, and Hranok had been there and witnessed the slaughter in space... and aboard their own vessel. The Borg caught the Saratoga in a tractor beam, drained the shields, and fired a single beam that destabilized the warp core and killed dozens of people, including Sisko’s wife, Jennifer. Sisko and Hranok were the only bridge officers that survived.
Sisko felt Jake press even closer to him, but that was not in the forefront of his thoughts, especially he and Shran looked into each other’s eyes. No, what Sisko felt, what Sisko knew, was that he and Shran were somehow kindred spirits. He didn’t know the depth of that connection yet, but for the first time in far too long, he was intrigued by something outside of himself.
But before Sisko could say anything, Shran’s eyes slid over to Jake, and Sisko could see that Shran realized the boy wasn’t ready to face the specter of the Borg yet. “Well, gentlemen, I’ll get you three get settled in. I’ll send a formal description of my program to you in a few days – that’ll make it easier for you two to volunteer to be on my program, since the personnel department fast tracks voluntary assignments.”
Shran stepped back and melted into the throngs of people flowing through the terminal before Sisko and Hranok could say anything.
For Sisko, the following week blurred together into a single, unending day. Settling into their new quarters on Mars, getting Jake enrolled in school, and slowly memorizing the names and faces of Jake’s teachers were the only things he consciously processed. The sleepless nights dreaming of the burning Saratoga, the dreamless nights where he simply collapsed into bed, and the dozens of messages aimed at convincing him to join one project over another were purged from his brain. But he did remember Shran and the unspoken bond they shared.
That was why Sisko and Hranok were going through security sweeps as they entered the development wing of Space Station Alpha-1, one of the many orbital facilities set aside for administrative and non-construction related tasks at Utopia Planitia. Despite the deluge of offers to work on other programs, the two of them had independently wound up on the same one. Sisko suspected that Hranok figured Sisko would join Shran’s team and acted accordingly, either out of loyalty to his former superior or out of a sense of obligation.
Hranok had dragged Sisko out of his destroyed quarters on the Saratoga, away from the body of his wife, saving his life.
Neither man had spoken about that moment since. Whatever Hranok’s reasons for silence were, the fact of the matter was that Sisko himself was in no state to talk about it. The rational part of his mind said Hranok was right to pull Sisko out of that room, that Jennifer was dead when he got there, and staying would’ve been suicide.
The emotional part of Sisko fumed, blaming Hranok for forcing him to abandon his wife, just so he could watch the Borg vaporize her body and the Saratoga.
Years of Starfleet training helped Sisko keep that resentment in check, but it was hard to look at Hranok and not feel a lance of anger and pain in his heart.
Once on the other side of the security checkpoint, a Vulcan security officer escorted them to their destination. A sign on the bulkhead next to the door read STARSHIP DEVELOPMENT GROUP 4. The doors opened to reveal a nondescript office annex with a few chairs, replicators, and display screens, completely devoid of people. Sisko and Hranok looked at each other in shared confusion.
“This is quite unusual, sir.” Hranok frowned, comparing what he saw in the room to what his Starfleet training told him should be there. “None of the usual security or personnel seem to be present.”
“I wonder if that’s because of the heightened security outside or because they have some hidden security inside.” Sisko shrugged. “Either way, we have orders to report here, even if no one’s home.”
As soon as both men stepped inside, the familiar clipped tone of a Starfleet computer spoke. “Lieutenant Commander Sisko, Lieutenant Hranok, report to the conference room.”
A strip of status lights on the left bulkheads began blinking.
“Well, at least we know where to go,” Sisko muttered.
A corridor in the rear wall of the annex led to a turbolift and refresher facilities on the left side, while the right side was barren aside from status lights, some signs saying LEVEL 1, and a few displays. Sisko wondered why the right bulkhead didn’t lead anywhere; while space stations had less internal volume constraints than starships, they still tended to be densely packed, especially when the station wasn’t expected to serve civilian traffic. Even things that rarely needed maintenance, like computer cores or high volume data storage, required some way to easily access them.
The main office area was a murmuring sea of blue and gold shirts. There were a dozen computer stations in the main area and along the left bulkhead, either arranged in back to back pairs or with a third station on one end, with a lone curved station in the back. On the right were two doors; the blinking status lights led to the closer one. Sisko and Hranok walked towards it, but Sisko took time to peek at the work a Deltan security officer was doing: analyzing the data records off one of the ships destroyed at Wolf 359.
The conference room was a standard, familiar layout: rectangular table with ten chairs and display screens behind the ends of the table. The only deviation from the norm were the two holoprojectors at both ends of the table. That surprised Sisko; practically every ship launched or refitted in the past five years had gotten and rejected those holoprojectors. While they displayed three dimensional objects fairly well, they also needed to constantly rotate the projection around to let everyone read two dimensional text, making it harder to actually read it. It was simpler, easier, and more efficient to display things on the screens.
I suppose having a hologram of your ship design close by helps, Sisko thought, but I could do without the dizziness.
Then Sisko realized something was missing – the rest of the project staff. He and Hranok were the only ones in the room.
He looked at Hranok, who seemed just as confused as he did. “Are we early, sir?”
The door swished open behind them, and as they turned, Commander Shran entered the room, followed by a Tellarite gold shirt, a Saurian science officer, and a Hispanic gold shirt. “Commander, Lieutenant. I see you’re right on time.” Shran turned to his subordinates, introduced Sisko and Hranok, then began introducing them.
“This is Lieutenant Commander Terek,” the Tellarite gave a quick nod, “head of project engineering. Lieutenant Commander Kasek Okeg here,” the Saurian gave his best attempt at a smile, “handles our data analysis and simulation setup. And Lieutenant Commander Macha Hernandez here,” the female gold shirt smirked a bit, “has been trying to think up all sorts of new weapons to kill Borg with.”
Sisko couldn’t help himself from smiling. “I see this project is a bit heavy on commanders.”
Shran gestured for everyone to take seats before replying. “It’s a consequence of the heavy security on all anti-Borg projects and some of the cutting edge R&D the ASDB is working on. Lieutenant Commanders have the minimum security clearances to see the abstracts on some of these things. Naturally, department heads get higher clearances than that, but that’s only on an as needed basis.”
“I see.” Sisko leaned back in his seat. “I assume that I’ll be a department head.”
Terek grunted and seemed ready to say something, but Shran spoke first. “That’s exactly right. However, it’s vital that we get you up to speed on the project’s progress so far... and why we need your experience.”
Terek pressed a button on the table and the holoprojectors sprang to life. A starship appeared, fairly squat in appearance, with a triangular saucer section, a traditional engineering hull directly attached to the saucer, and nacelles almost even with the large first deck. Sisko leaned forward and squinted; there was a section of the triangle missing at the bow, leaving room for two huge torpedo launchers and some phaser strips; on the perimeter of the saucer were two more forward facing launchers.
“This was our prototype design,” Terek explained, “based on the combat debriefings and data logs of the Enterprise crew. Eight decks of high speed, heavy weapon carrying starship, intended to intercept the Borg and fight in support of heavier cruisers. Unfortunately...”
Okeg picked up where Terek left off. “Unfortunately, thanks to what we learned from Wolf 359, this ship would only last minutes, at most, in an actual confrontation against the Borg. That’s due to the ship’s design, which is highly vulnerable to Borg cutting beams and—“
“And our tactics, which were totally ineffective against the Borg,” Hernandez added. Sisko heard a bit of frustration and bitterness in her voice. No, it’s not just her. Shran and Terek are like that too. I only noticed it because Okeg is the only one who isn’t like that.
“Believe it or not, but we got lucky,” Shran added. “We never started construction on this design. No one died because of it. But we’ve got an opportunity to make a better design, one that can do the job properly, and that’s where you two come in. You were there. You saw what worked or didn’t work firsthand. And you know what you would’ve wanted, but didn’t have. Let’s hear it.”
Sisko looked at Hranok, sitting directly across from him. The Bolian seemed ready to say something, but was holding back for some reason Sisko couldn’t fathom. He gave Hranok a small nod and that seemed to reassure him enough to voice his thoughts. “Our tactics and weapons were completely unsuited for facing the Borg, sir. We spread out and attacked from separate vectors, giving the Borg an opportunity to hit our ships one at a time and never gave them challenging targets. Most of the ships there didn’t have burst fire torpedo tubes, and our phaser arrays aren’t suited for rapid fire. If we had a higher volume of fire and were able to get in closer, we might have been able to slow them down longer.”
Hernandez and Sisko grimaced at that, but Shran nodded. “What about you, Commander Sisko? What would’ve helped?”
Sisko folded his hands together and collected his thoughts, then looked Shran in the eye. “We needed a fleet of ships with the attributes Mr. Hranok described. But they also need to be maneuverable enough to make the Borg miss at close range, tough enough to take some hits and keep fighting, and devoid of anything that could compromise performance. The smaller the better, so it’s easier to build, easier shield, and easier to pilot.”
“You want a pure warship,” Terek leaned forward, “but crammed into a fighter sized package? That’s absurd!”
“The ship doesn’t have to fighter sized,” Sisko countered, recognizing the Tellarite wanted an argument. “It just has to handle like one. Something around the size of a D-12 Bird of Prey could do the job.”
Terek shook his head. “A conventional hull geometry couldn’t stand the stresses! The nacelles pylons would shear off at high impulse speeds in a ship that small!”
“Then we don’t use a conventional hull geometry!” Sisko let a little frustration seep into his voice. “The Steamrunner and Saber classes have proven that you can attach the nacelles directly to the main hull without any problems—“
Shran held out his hands, stopping the argument in its tracks. “That’s enough gentlemen. You’ll have more time to discuss things in detail, especially since Commander Sisko will be the design lead from this point on.”
The veteran team members seemed shocked by this, but Sisko turned to Shran with a slight smile on his face. “I assume you’ve been in touch with some of my shipmates from the Okinawa, sir.”
Shran returned the smile. “I knew a few people who were aboard during your tours of duty on that ship and they mentioned your interest in ship design. And given your engineering background, that would make you an ideal candidate for the job.”
The rest of the meeting was a formality, assigning Hranok to Hernandez’s team and giving he and Sisko various reports and documents to catch up on while they were added to the project’s security databases. Sisko felt invigorated by the job; he wasn’t some administrator helming a desk and stewing in misery at a peripheral position, he was crafting a weapon to strike back at the Borg. All of his pain and rage would be the fire that ship was forged in.
Curzon would’ve laughed if he heard that. Sisko found his thoughts drifting to his old friend, the legendary ambassador Curzon Dax. He’d say I was getting into the Klingon spirit.
But Curzon was dead, with the Dax symbiont having moved on to Jadzia; Sisko was one the few non-Trill Curzon had confided that fact to, and he was proud to say that he’d never shared that secret. Then again, it was very easy to tell people about all the adventures he had with Curzon, so it wasn’t that hard a task. I really should get in touch with Dax once this all settles down.
Settling into the new routine was a challenge. Sisko was wading through half a dozen documents a day, learning about various designs and technologies the program had already been assessed. It was tedious work, only moderately interesting, even to someone interested and versed in ship design. But it did teach him what had been tried and what could applied to his own design.
The office dynamics were hard to adjust to, after years of serving on a ship. The engineering and tactical groups shared the Level 2 work space; Sisko had his office there, one he shared with Hernandez and Terrek. Hernandez and Sisko got along well enough, but Terrek toed the line between professionalism and insubordination. Sisko gave the Tellarite every benefit of the doubt, but by the end of his first week, he knew Terek hated the fact that Sisko was the new design lead. It had to be dealt with sooner or later, but not immediately; there was still a chance that Sisko could earn Terek’s respect though his work.
Thankfully, Sisko had already settled on a name and design philosophy for his new ship. The Defiant would be an embodiment of that old engineer’s chestnut that a brick could fly if you strapped enough engines to it. It didn’t have to look pretty, like most Starfleet ships, but it had to kill Borg. Anything less than that was utterly unacceptable.
But designing the ship first and designing everything else to be crammed into the hull, especially one that Sisko didn’t envision growing beyond 150 meters long, was antithetical to everything he knew about modern ship design. The ship was supposed to grow and change along with the technology designed to go in it. When Sisko mentioned this to Hernandez while they were having lunch, she just shrugged.
“That’s something a lot of team members had a hard time dealing with on the first design.” Hernandez plucked a cherry tomato from her salad. “But then we realized that this isn’t a normal ship we’re designing, so we could bend or break some of the rules.”
“I see.” Sisko took a deep sip from his raktajino. “Any good news on your end?”
“Two things, actually. First of all, R&D has finally locked down a spec for quantum torpedo casings—“ Hernandez caught Sisko’s look of confusion. “Sorry, I figured you’d gone through all the weapon designs by now. Quantum torpedoes were a top secret new type of torpedo—and I’m talking “so secret, we don’t dare tell anyone outside a handful of people” secret. They use a quantum tunneling effect to breach shields and deliver more energy to the target. Problem is that they have to use plasma warheads due to unpredictable quantum behavior with anti-matter, so they’re technically weaker than photon torpedoes. Anyway, they locked down a casing spec, so we can design a launcher and make sure it’s backwards compatible with photon torpedoes.”
“I’ll take as many as you can fit on the Defiant,” Sisko joked. “Might mean the quarters get even smaller though.”
“Well, maybe the second bit of good news will make things a bit easier for the crew. Your pal Hranok came up with an idea on how to get rapid fire phasers. We build them like disrupters: linear cannons with high speed focusing coils.”
Sisko’s eyebrows rose. “If it’s that easy, why haven’t we done it before?”
“Because Starfleet doesn’t like weapons that can’t be tuned and used in various ways.” Hernandez sighed. “It’s the old ‘we’re not a military, even though we do the military’s job’ problem.”
Sisko nodded. Starfleet had gotten laxer and laxer on its military role during the decades of peace with the Klingons, to the point that captains who upheld military standards of discipline were a minority. Starfleet’s overall mindset wasn’t suited to facing something like the Borg, an opponent who couldn’t be negotiated with, just annihilated.
“Anyway, I had Terek look over what Hranok came up with, and he doesn’t think the system can work without some sort of capacitor. Something about the EPS conduits not being able to take that kind of constant strain, and we all know what a headache a burst EPS conduit is.” She grimaced and poked at her salad. “What about you? How’s your design coming?”
The corners of Sisko’s mouth moved up a few microns. “You’ll see it tomorrow, on the holodeck.”
Every Starship Development Group at Utopia Planitia had a dedicated holodeck, two stories high, built into their office space for testing and simulations. The bulkheads that puzzled Sisko when he first arrived were the exterior of the holodeck’s upper level, allowing outside observers to check the progress of the simulations. For this briefing, Sisko opted to leave the holodeck in its natural state, a black room with yellow grids on every surface except the entry arch, and created a meter long holographic model at about shoulder level.
As Hernandez, Okeg, and Terek filed into the room, Sisko noted their reactions to his concept design, basically a flat box with a curved front, two smaller boxes sticking out the side for nacelles, an even smaller box on the bow for the deflector dish, and the first concept’s bridge dome. Okeg was leaning in as close as he could, studying it to deduce the purpose of each design feature. Hernandez just smiled, while Terek looked at it and grunted.
“So, Commander,” the Tellarite pointed right at the bridge, “you decided to steal some ideas from our design.”
Sisko sighed internally. “Building the bridge into a larger first deck was too good an idea not to use, especially with a ship this small. Ideally, she’ll only be about 120 meters long.”
Terek grunted and walked around the holographic model, looking for something else to argue about.
“What’s she packing? And how long do you intend to have people live in this sardine can?” Hernandez’s smile was infectious; Sisko felt a smile of his own growing.
“I’d say two forward and one aft quantum torpedo launchers are a good start, plus those pulse phasers you told me about. I’ve even given you a deflector dish to play with.” Sisko paused. “But the Defiant isn’t a ship for long duration missions. Ideally, her crew size should be about fifty and she shouldn’t be sent out on missions lasting more than a few weeks, but I think a three to six month cruise could be doable.”
Okeg straightened out and looked at Sisko. “I assume you envision this ship deploying from a station on short notice or simply patrolling a system prior to being called into deal with a Borg incursion, sir.”
“Exactly.” Sisko’s left hand wrapped around his fist. “We station a dozen or so Defiants in each system and scramble them all to intercept the Borg whenever they get within range.”
“You really think a fleet of these things could destroy a Borg cube?” Hernandez’s skepticism was clear to see.
“Ideally, yes.” Sisko’s smile slipped. “Realistically, I think a dozen Defiants could do enough damage to slow the Borg down, perhaps long enough for a fleet to arrive and finish them off.”
“It’ll be hard to do that with this thing.” Terek waved a hand towards the ship. “It can’t even get past warp 8!”
Sisko pursed his lips and mentally counted to five. “Subspace dynamics isn’t one of my strong suites, Mr. Terek. Perhaps you could explain the flaws you’ve discovered.”
Terek and Sisko locked eyes for an interminable amount of time, but Terek at last backed down. But he didn’t respond to Sisko’s verbal challenge directly. “Computer, switch to manual model edit mode, and mirror all changes.”
Once the computer acknowledged the command, Terek turned to Sisko. “I assume these are armored nacelles.”
“They are.”
The Tellarite grunted, then yanked down the bottom of the starboard nacelle, which the computer dutifully duplicated on the other side. “The warp coils need to be away from the bulk of hull’s mass and have direct line of site for optimum efficiency. Since you’re not putting them on pylons, the best option is to drop them below the hull to meet those conditions, while keeping them armored.”
“Is that all?” Sisko asked mildly.
“I haven’t even begun... sir.”
“I’ll be waiting for a full report on the flaws you’ve discovered.” Sisko turned to Okeg and Hernandez. “Any other suggestions?”
“The design is conceptually sound,” Okeg said, “but further evaluation is impossible until the design is a bit more... refined.”
Hernandez shrugged. “All I can say is that we’re going to need more phasers to provide better firing arcs, but without a better hull design, I can’t really start figuring out optimal placements yet.”
Sisko nodded; everything they said made sense. “Alright, I expect to see proposals for simulation criteria and phaser loadouts by tomorrow. Mr. Terek, you’re on the same deadline. Dismissed.”
“Commander Sisko, this is Shran. Please meet me in my office.”
Sisko, halfway through pushing his chair away from desk, paused and looked up at the ceiling. What’s this about? Sisko frowned; the duty shift was almost over and he wanted to get back to his quarters quickly to work on dinner. He replayed the message in his head; Shran said please, which meant that whatever this was, it was likely to be informal.
The first thing Sisko noted when he stepped into Shran’s office was how big it was. Admittedly, it was identical to the second level office, just without the partitions separating the individual workspaces. But their absence, and the presence of various couches and a window, made it seem absolutely cavernous, since Shran’s desk was tucked in close to one corner.
“Take a seat Commander, this shouldn’t take long.” Shran motioned to the chairs in front of his desk. “How’s Terek? Borderline insubordinate and hard to deal with?”
Sisko didn’t bother hiding his surprise. “How did you—“
“Terek behaved the same way when the team was first put together. He doesn’t have much regard for superiors who haven’t proven that they deserve respect.” A thin smile formed on Shran’s face. “It took me six months to earn that respect.”
“I see.”
“Don’t worry Commander, you’ll probably earn it much faster. You’ve already gotten to the conceptual design phase, which is the big hurdle.” Shran’s smile grew bigger. “You’ll probably be surprised by what Terek will do to it though.”
Sisko raised his eyebrow, but Shran pushed on. “I’ve just received some interesting news. First, one of Commander Shelby’s anti-Borg taskforce recommendations is a shift to swarm tactics—something you were ahead of the curve on and the Defiant is well suited for.”
Sisko frowned. “But...”
“The second piece of news is that the Council and President unilaterally rejected the proposal to bolster the orbital defenses of our planets, saying it was a ‘belligerent act that does not represent the peaceful nature of the Federation.’” Shran’s antennae quivered and naked anger was plain in his voice. Sisko sat there in shock, astounded by the apparent disconnect from reality... then he remembered what happened during the Cardassian border wars and the war with the Tzenkethi. The Federation and Starfleet refused to do the same thing then. What makes you think things would be any different now?
“I think it’s clear, Commander,” Shran managed to avoid choking on his anger, “what we’re dealing with here. People blind to the fact that our comrades, our friends, our families—“
Sisko’s heart skipped a beat as he thought of Jennifer, buried under metal panels and support beams, in their burning quarters.
“Did you know my sister and over a dozen close friends, from the Academy and various assignments, died at Wolf 359?” Shran watched Sisko shake his head, then he turned to the window. “The worst part was knowing we could do nothing. We can not let that happen again.”
Now Sisko understood what drew him to this project. He and Shran were two of a kind, brought together by mutual suffering at the hands of a common foe. This was something only they could do.
“I’m open to suggestions.” Sisko felt comfortable leaving off the “sir”—Shran certainly wasn’t being formal and the whole conversation was probably off the record anyway.
“Come up with some sort of euphemism to disguise the fact that it’s a warship. It won’t fool anyone in Starfleet, but the Council aren’t as sharp. The ship itself is easy to sell as an equivalent to Klingon Birds-of-Prey, so we don’t have to worry about that.”
SIsko nodded. “Anything else?”
“This meeting never happened.” Shran turned to Sisko and smiled sadly. “Have a nice night, Commander.”
Shran’s words were prophetic. Terek didn’t just list the flaws of the design, he produced a more streamlined version that he claimed could hit warp 9... if it had the right warp core. Sisko was so impressed that he had it tested as soon as possible. It didn’t meet expectations; while it could get past warp 9, it didn’t have the sublight maneuverability Sisko wanted. That began the months long process of tweaking each aspect of the hull design, searching for the right combination of shapes and engine placements to achieve optimal performance. Sometimes the deflector housing was short and the nacelles wide and swept forward; at one point, the ship was basically a saucer with nacelles jutting out the side, a deflector housing poking out the front, and stepped stern; the penultimate design featured a short deflector housing and short, curved nacelles that gave it a stumpy appearance. The final design had a longer deflector housing and longer, angled back nacelles that exuded speed, power, and strength.
Even as the hull was being shaped, Sisko was designing parts of the interior to slot into the final design. The bridge crystallized early in the process: a compact room with a small viewscreen in front, directly in front of a combined conn and ops station and the captain’s chair, with other stations along the outer bulkheads. The quarters were inspired by 20th century submarines: basic racks built into the bulkheads, with the captain’s quarters having one rack, senior officer quarters having two, and the rest of the crew packed into rooms with six racks. The three torpedo rooms were packed with five racks of ten torpedoes each, giving the ship a staggering 150 torpedoes for a ship its size.
Other members of the team help craft other parts of the Defiant. Terek and his team designed a powerful, compact warp core that could push the ship past warp 9 if the structural integrity field held up, while Hernandez’s team refined the pulse phaser concept into a practical design. Both items were handed off to dedicated research and development facilities, while both teams focused on other aspects of the ship. One of the engineers even designed a set of landing gear once she heard that Sisko planned to call the ship an “escort,” a bit of gamesmanship Sisko appreciated.
Sisko’s days were a somewhat tedious blur of meetings, simulations, and reading through reports, but the nightmarish cast of his dreams was fading. He no longer feared being in the burning Saratoga, unable to help his wife and impotently staring at the Borg cube that vaporized the ship. More often, he found himself on the Defiant’s bridge, leading a fleet of Defiants against a Borg cube and unleashing their fatal fury on it. The gouts of flame and debris that emerged from cube as the tiny ships pounded on it brought an odd sort of comfort to Sisko, even though his subconscious kept adding odd bits of reality to the dream, like exploding consoles and conduits that would kill random people.
But a new restlessness settled over him. Sisko and Shran had to brief the ASDB and secure their authorization to take the ship into the prototype production phase. Piles of padds accumulated on Sisko’s desks in his office and his quarters as he strove to familiarize himself with practically every aspect of the Defiant and her proposed construction. There was no relief when the briefing’s date was set; it was the day after Jake’s class would take a weekend excursion to Jupiter’s moons Io and Europa. He could not chaperone, no matter how much he wanted to; he knew Jake wouldn’t enjoy the trip if Sisko and all his anxieties were there.
The Che Xiaowen Gymnasium, named after one of the longest serving Martian governors, offered Sisko an outlet. The massive four story building, only a few blocks from his quarters, had been built in the mid-22nd century and filled with equipment for every type of exercise or sport imaginable in that period. Over the centuries, the equipment had been upgraded and holodecks installed, but one set of fixtures remained intact through all that time: three boxing rings on the third floor.
What he didn’t expect was his sparring partner: Hranok.
It wasn’t the first time they’d sparred; it had been a semi-regular occurrence in their time on the Saratoga. But Sisko and Hranok had drifted apart in the months since their reassignment, due to the gulf in their positions. As they touched gloves, Sisko could feel an odd tension between them.
Sisko and Hranok danced around the ring, trading jabs and taking each other’s measure. Hranok had a bit more power, Sisko had a bit more speed and elusiveness; neither really mattered, since they were both pulling their punches. Sisko threw a sweeping right hook; Hranok countered with a flurry of punches that Sisko blocked with his forearms.
“So, how have you been?” Sisko asked through gritted teeth; the pins and needle sensation was already creeping into his forearms.
“Alright.” The laconic Bolian jabbed at Sisko. “I spend a lot of time answering questions about design specs.”
Sisko grinned as he threw some jabs of his own. “Now you know how I feel.”
He ducked back as Hranok threw an upper cut, briefly bouncing off the ropes before unleashing his own series of punches.
“You know,” Sisko said, catching his breath, “I never thanked you.”
“For what?” Hranok also took a few deep breaths.
“For dragging me out of my quarters on the Saratoga.” Sisko took another deep breath. “It... was the right thing to do.”
The corners of Hranok’s mouth lifted up a bit as the two continued sparring.
The ASDB briefing was grueling, three hour long affair. The captains and admirals on the acceptance board knew their stuff, pitching hardball after hardball at the Sisko and Shran. While Sisko had an intimate knowledge of the ship, its functions, and intended performance, Shran covered the logistical considerations of building it. He emphasized that 80% of the internal systems were identical to the ones on other starships, as well as the speed and ease of building a Defiant class ship. The board members jotted down notes on their padds throughout the briefing, right up until it was adjourned without a clear authorization for construction.
Two weeks passed; the design team kept refining certain aspects of the design, but it was merely polish work. Even Sisko found himself with enough time on his hands to look through all the new anti-Borg weapon concepts, even the small arms. But the news finally came at the end of the second week: the Defiant would be built.
As cheers filled the SDG4 offices, Shran delivered the bad news: “Unfortunately, the Antares Shipyard was selected to handle the actual construction. We’ll be consulting with them as they go through the process.”
A chorus of groans followed. Everyone present had contributed to design process in some way, and having the construction outsourced to a different shipyard, even if it was better suited to build a small ship like the Defiant, meant that most of them wouldn’t have the satisfaction of being there to witness its test flights. At best, a handful of the existing staff would be able to go the shipyard in person during construction and testing, and almost all of them would be from the tactical and engineering groups.
“On another note, I’ve been promoted to captain and am being reassigned to the Sovereign class development group and... certain related projects,” Shran added. “I’ll be here for a few more months, at which point I’ll transfer command to Commander Sisko.”
That was perhaps the most shocking bit of news to Sisko, even as he accepted Hernandez and Terek’s congratulations. It made no sense for Shran to leave when they were on the cusp of achieving their goal. Something else had to be going on.
And as he was about to leave the office, he got his answers.
“I expect you have some questions, Commander.” Shran casually walked up beside Sisko as he left his own office.
“I do,” Sisko admitted. “Starting with your choice to work on the Sovereign project... sir.”
Shran’s eyes scanned the room and he lowered his voice. “It’s because I want to guarantee the ideas we had and the lessons we’ve learned on the Defiant project get passed on to the Sovereign and the Deep Space Tactical Vessel.”
Sisko’s eyes widened, and Shran continued at normal volume. “The Sovereign is guaranteed to be the replacement for the Excelsior class. She’ll set the standard for future classes. How could I pass up an opportunity like that?”
“That would be an impressive feather in your cap,” Sisko admitted. He now saw Shran’s angle; by taking part in the design process, Shran could mold future Federation starships into more combat capable designs. There were rumors that Starfleet was looking for a new flagship design, since the Galaxy class ships kept running into problem after problem. If the Sovereign was a successful, combat oriented design, other designers would take their cues from it and keep the trend going, possibly for decades. “What I don’t understand is why now?”
“Because this project has past the point of no return,” Shran replied. “The Defiant will be built. All the political and design hurdles have been passed, and the Antares Shipyard will handle the logistics of actually building it. You don’t need me and if everything’s a success, you’ll be in a better position to captain the Defiant herself.”
Sisko’s heart skipped a beat as they exited the hall leading to the security checkpoint. Captaining the Defiant had merely been the stuff of his dreams. To know that it was within his grasp was exhilarating.
“Of course, you need to get yourself a promotion to commander before I leave,” Shran added. “The personnel bureau prefers commanders have at least a few months that rank before they’re considered for commands.”
“I’ll get right on it.” As Sisko made his way to the transporter room, the sensations of being on a ship slowly washed over him. The thrum of the impulse engines, the hum of the lights, the beeps and chirps of the computers...
He was ready to take command of a real starship.
Getting a promotion to commander had been easier than Sisko had expected, perhaps suspiciously so. But he never really had time to see if Shran had pulled some strings or if his Wolf 359 survivor’s status got him that promotion. The Defiant’s construction was grinding to a halt.
The problem was not putting together the ship itself. The Defiant had a modular construction, speeding assembly of the ship. But three critical modules weren’t complete: the warp nacelles and the engineering module. All three contained brand new systems that hadn’t left the lab yet, which meant that those modules sat in a spacedock, while the rest were being phaser welded together to create a ship that couldn’t work without them.
The warp core was proving the most troublesome, which wasn’t unexpected. Sisko had been honest with himself: getting a three deck tall warp core with a power output matching a Galaxy class’s warp core was bordering on the impossible. If not for Okeg’s simulations showing it could work, he wouldn’t have even sent Terek’s design to R&D. But this was the Defiant’s Achilles heel: it had to have this warp core to work; there simply wasn’t anything nearly as powerful in Starfleet’s inventory.
The problems with the pulse phasers were minor inconveniences by comparison. They worked perfectly if the emitters were aimed straight ahead, but the pulses lost cohesion every time the angle of the emitter changed. And unlike a Klingon Bird-of-Prey, the pulse phasers couldn’t physically move to provide off-axis fire; they were built into the nacelle cowling, therefore the emitters had to move instead. So the final assembly on the nacelle cowlings had to wait, never mind their installation on the Defiant, which had to wait until the engineering module was installed anyway.
The morning conference room briefing with his department heads brought more good news.
“We’re not going to have quantum torpedoes for the trials,” Hernandez flat out stated. “I don’t know if the R&D team was overly optimistic or lying through their teeth, but 25% of the newest batch of prototypes didn’t work within design parameters.”
Sisko’s hand ran over his mouth as he sighed. “Do they have any idea what the problem is?”
“The busted ones don’t quantum tunnel energy properly. According to the specs, the energy should be hitting the hull or arriving within a meter of it,” Hernandez explained, “but these defective ones are unpredictable. A few of them are actually delivering the warhead’s energy inside the target, which is fine, but most of them overshoot the target and unleash the energy against the inside of the shield, which means it goes out into space. Worse, there’s no obvious difference between a functional torpedo and defective one.”
“It might be molecular or subatomic scale defects in the quantum tunneling device,” Okeg offered. “I recall reading about how such defects prevented the miniaturization of Heisenberg compensators for shuttlecraft transporters, until improved manufacturing techniques overcame those issues.”
“Well, it’s their problem to solve,” Sisko said. “Is there any good news?”
“The warp core team thinks they have a solution,” Terek grumbled. “Instead of a conventional intermix chamber, they want to go with a “slush” style one instead.”
Sisko frowned. “I haven’t heard of that before.”
“Of course not!” the Tellarite barked. “It’s been nearly a century since Starfleet used them in the Constitution class refit, although the entire core was the intermix chamber in that design. They were phased out because of complexity and reliability issues.”
“I don’t really see how it would solve the problems they’ve been having with the warp core,” Sisko admitted.
“It’s rather ingenious, really. The problem they had was that the dilithium crystal geometry was ideal to generate a certain level of power, but it underperformed if you needed more or less power. With the slush chamber, they can make sure there’s optimal matter/antimatter interaction with the crystal at all power levels and you get the performance you expect and need.”
“How soon can they have a working prototype?” Sisko was already running mental calculations on how big a delay the project could take and still get trial runs done in 2368.
“Within a month, at most,” Terek replied. “A week or two if they could find a Vulcan who helped design the old slush warp cores and could provide information that wasn’t formally documented. They might have to redesign some components around the intermix chamber to accommodate the slushing mechanisms, but that shouldn’t take too long. Most of the existing prototype core should be reusable.”
Sisko felt a grin spread across his face. “Excellent.”
It took two catastrophic failures due to improper matter-antimatter flow, but the Defiant finally had a warp core to call its own. The core’s installation in the engineering module prompted a minor celebration, as the development team thought it signaled the end of their troubles. It was not.
Two more months passed before the pulse phasers were completed, function tested, and installed in the nacelle cowlings. The sheer anxiety of the development team and the construction team at Antares resulted in the design, construction, and flight-testing of Defiant specific shuttlepods in the interim. But once it was all said and done, and the nacelles properly installed, the Defiant was finally ready for its preliminary flight tests.
One thing that didn’t sit well with Sisko was the fact that none of the development team would be aboard the ship during its test runs. Intellectually, he knew that it was a smart decision; it would be terrible to lose highly skilled and knowledgeable personnel in a freak accident, especially if those people could’ve been key to discovering the accident’s cause. But he reluctantly accepted that it would never happen and that there was a side benefit: he could chaperone Jake’s field trip to Ceres over the weekend before heading to Antares to see the weapons tests.
The atmosphere in the test monitoring room was electric, reminding Sisko of holographic recreations of NASA mission control centers. The room was smaller and less crowded, with all the monitoring stations on the perimeter of the room and a few standalone display monitors set up in the middle, but the overlapping chatter sounded the same. Sisko suspected he could drop any historical mission control team (well, maybe not the Phoenix’s) into this room and they would feel right at home.
One monitor showed the Defiant’s itinerary for the day: a widely dispersed set of surplused freighters, all moving at different speeds, directions, and distances from the Defiant. The first phase of the test was to see how the ship’s targeting sensors handled simple targets. Then jamming and other interference would be brought into play, to see if the Defiant’s countermeasures functioned properly. Then, hopefully, the ship could unleash its phasers on the mostly helpless freighters, which only had a standard suite of evasive maneuvers loaded into their autopilots.
Sisko looked over at Terek, who was grumbling to himself and stabbing away at a padd in his hand. That was nothing unusual, especially on a test run like this, but to Sisko, a little curiosity could go a long way to avert problems in the future.
“I’m just monitoring the performance of the structural integrity field generators,” was Terek’s half-annoyed, half-amused response. “There were some spikes during the sublight flight test, so I’m collecting performance data to do some predictive analysis before the warp trials.”
Sisko nodded in approval. “Let me know if there’s a problem.”
He looked at the monitors showing live feeds from the Defiant’s bridge and engineering. “Hopefully, it won’t be anything too serious.”
A little over a week had passed, and the Defiant continued to perform well in testing. There were some glitches, which was to be expected with a prototype starship. They ranged from the inconvenient—lights going out on some decks during high intensity maneuvers—to the potentially deadly—torpedoes veering off at right angles halfway to the target. But they had all been fixed in short order and the testing schedule hadn’t been disrupted. The first warp test flight, topping out at warp 4.5, had been a success.
Terek’s predictions had held true: the load on the structural integrity field generators would severely increase during stressful maneuvers or increasing warp speed, then settled down afterwards. Projections showed that even at the Defiant’s top speed, warp 9, the structural integrity would hold up to rigorous maneuvering. There was no reason to worry about the second warp test flight, which aimed for half an hour at warp 9.
The problems began at warp 8.5.
In the time between the Defiant reaching that speed and Sisko returning from a quick trip to the refresher, about five minutes, the ship shuddered twice, each instance lasting only a few seconds. When it happened again, Sisko felt like his chest was drenched in ice water. He was dimly aware of Terek barking orders at the engineers aboard the Defiant, the personnel in mission control talking over each other, and Hernandez’s nervous fidgeting.
Miraculously, the Defiant managed to steady herself, only shaking a bit every ten minutes or so. She completed her half-hour at warp 8.5, and then Commander Surat, the test crew’s captain, asked a simple question: “Are we a go for warp 9?”
Sisko felt almost every set of eyes settle on him as he turned towards Terek. The Tellarite nodded.
“You have a go for warp 9.” Sisko paused, mulling over the worst case scenarios. “Be ready to drop out of warp if it’s too dangerous. The Thunderchild will tow you back to Antares.”
The Thunderchild was an Akira class ship shadowing the Defiant, recording data on the latter’s performance. If a disaster struck, it was her job to rescue to the test crew and salvage whatever was left of the Defiant.
“Understood, Commander. Surat out.”
The Defiant hit warp 9 and all hell broke loose.
The live feeds of the test crews began blurring. At first, Sisko thought it was a subspace communications issue. Then the images began shaking violently, to the point that the personnel on the screens were only distinguishable as colored blurs. Alarms began blaring in the control room, while Terek shouted “Structural integrity field generators are redlining!”
Sisko’s heart skipped a few beats when flares of light appeared on the internal feeds, signs that conduits were failing or overloading. As he snapped off orders to the Thunderchild, he barely caught Surat’s orders to shutdown the warp drive over the panicked voices in the control room. The shaking worsened as the Defiant plummeted from warp 9 to warp 7.5 before the Thunderchild could tractor the smaller ship and ease its deceleration.
And all the while, there was a familiar mix of acid and bile in Sisko’s mouth: the taste of defeat.
A week later, Sisko had a post-mortem for the Defiant.
It was a grim combination of reports from the shipyard crew repairing the ship, Terek, and Okeg. The most optimistic part was that it would only take a week to do a comprehensive metallurgical scan of the hull, just to ensure that the hull hadn’t been damaged during the warp 9 test and the subsequent rough deceleration. If the hull wasn’t riddled with microfractures, there was a good chance that the Defiant could avoid getting scrapped.
The bad news was the one-two punch of Terek and Okeg’s reports. Terek’s basically boiled down to the fact that the warp core was too powerful for such a small ship; unless structural integrity field technology improved in the next few years, the ship could never safely run at maximum power. Okeg’s provided the scientific explanation for why it happened; it was little comfort to Sisko, who could see the writing on the wall.
There was no way to spin the reports to the ASDB in a positive light to keep the project alive. The Federation had already forgotten the Borg; there were some holdouts in Starfleet Command who still took the threat seriously, but they could only do so much. At best, they could keep the Defiant in mothballs until structural integrity technology caught up with the demands the ship placed. At worst, the Defiant would be gutted and tossed in a surplus depot; Sisko had heard that many prototypes wound up at the Qualor II depot.
Sisko sighed and rubbed his eyes. It felt like he’d aged a decade in the past week; there were all sorts of aches and pains he never noticed before, along with an unending sense of fatigue. As he forwarded the reports to the ASDB, along with his own recommendations, Sisko began to dread what awaited him in his sleep.
The ASDB’s pronouncement was quick and to the point.
“As of this date,” Sisko, reading the statement to entire staff, rattled off the stardate, “all work on the Defiant class program is suspended, and may resume pending further developments in structural integrity technologies. USS Defiant, NX-74205, will be placed in storage at the Antares Shipyard once all damage to the ship is fully repaired.”
Sisko set the padd down and tried to look everyone in the eye. “Captain Shran has offered to take anyone from the Defiant team onto the Sovereign project. You’ll receive a message detailing the procedure soon.”
His throat was dry, and he swallowed in a futile effort to moisten it. “It’s been an honor and privilege to work with all of you on this project. I’m proud of the work we’ve done together, and I wish you well at your next posting, wherever that might be. Dismissed.”
Sisko watched his people file out of the office, catching snippets of murmured conversations here and there. Hernandez was thinking about rotating back to shipboard duty; Terek wondered if Shran need quality engineers; some analyst whose name escaped Sisko wanted to join a weapons development team. And that was just the beginning.
But all Sisko could think about was the fact that he’d failed, and the sense of fatigue that never seemed to go away.
Months passed.
Sisko had accumulated roughly half a year’s worth of leave before the Saratoga had been destroyed, and his Wolf 359 survivor’s status entitled him to an extra six months. He’d gone on leave as soon as the Defiant team completely cleared out of Starship Development Group 4 to make room for whatever new class Starfleet was going to create now. He wasn’t sure how long ago it’d been, but it had to be close to two months. Most of that time was spent with Jake, looking at job openings for orbital habitat construction, or building model ships, with an occasional trip to New Orleans to see his father.
While he kept in sporadic touch with friends and colleagues from Starfleet, he couldn’t deny the growing sense that there was nothing there for him anymore. If Starfleet and the Federation didn’t have the will to fix one little ship, if they preferred to stick their heads in the sand and ignore the harsh realities of life in the galaxy...
Then what was the point, Sisko thought, slipping back into his cabin on the Saratoga, to the moment when he found Jennifer pinned under that debris, of anything we did that day? What was the point of having all those people work on the Defiant?
And what is the point of going back to Starfleet, when nothing will change?
Sisko spent an eternity in that moment, until Jake’s return from school jolted him back to reality.
A few days later, Sisko was back to building models, one of the few things that felt fulfilling these days. His current project was a Daedalus class refit, a ship that looked far simpler than it actually was, thanks to its smooth, practically featureless hull and structural supports extruding from the hull. The model was complete in all respects, save one – there was not a single decal on it. As Sisko mulled over his options, a padd on his desk beeped.
He sighed and riffled through the mass of modeling tools, protective coverings, and padds to find the right one. The offending padd was one he set aside to receive messages; the latest was from Starfleet Command. Sisko felt a sudden wave of exhaustion and dread wash over him, and he spent many long minutes debating whether he should read the message or not. Eventually a morbid sense of curiosity compelled him to read it, despite the fact that there was almost no hope of the Defiant being saved from its early grave.
Sisko’s brow furrowed as he read the message. It was a set of orders for reassignment, since Sisko was no longer formally assigned anywhere to begin with. He read over the message once, twice, three times, to make sure the orders were real.
Starfleet was sending him to the Bajoran system to take command of an old Cardassian space station known as Terok Nor... now designated Deep Space 9.