STAR TREK: REFLECTIONS OF DESTINY

Bittersweet Sorrows

Stardate 8337.8:

The spinning debris field of Starfleet's latest conquest at The Battle of M'druk still captivated Captain Saavik's attention—even as the Marauder-class ISS Berlin and two of her lead escort vessels swooped ahead—to pick up any remaining scent of the enemy fleet's surviving vessels.

Behind the Enterprise, three vessels were starboard aft of her current position: Carefully fanned out like three playing cards—making absolute certain the flagship's flank was secure—while projecting the futility of a potential suicide strike.

That had been a vexing issue is this three year long war with the Klingon-Cardassian Alliance—because the M'druk were battle hardened warriors far more capable of dealing critical damage to Starfleet Command's flagging assets.

Try as she might, even Saavik herself couldn't escape the gnawing doubt and personal feelings of defeat—which hung over every loyal Imperial officer of the Empire.

Though none would dare breech the subject out in the public venue.

Even the Imperial Senate was looking the other way—along with Empress T'Syra—while commanding ships loyal to the Empire to scatter in discrete groups (throughout the quadrant)--to look for a solution to their current problem.

Because—despite their luck and what available assets were at the scene of this battle—Captain Saavik saw no victory in a very long strings of defeat.

Too many lives were lost. Too many ships.

The half-Vulcan, half-Romulan woman pursed her lips in heavy thought—while contemplating their next daring move against the Alliance.

Her communications officer signaled for her attention—at that very moment—but she was pretending to not acknowledge his hand motions for the next few seconds.

Not until her most trusted and loyal officer, Commander George Samuel Kirk—whispered into her ear:

"Captain...Ensign Reager has some valuable information for your eyes only. It would be most wise to accept the flash communique from Command Base in the Orion Sector."

Saavik turned in that moment—her eyes flashing her own annoyance and disgust at her trusted First—even though she knew he was right all along.

With everyone on edge...it wouldn't take much more for frayed nerves to snap and fresh blood to spill all over the Bridge's deck carpeting.

And Saavik had seen some of the glances a few of the ship's other officers and personnel were giving her—for the past few standard months as well: Distrust. Anger. And a rising level of rage and hate: Directed not only at her, but every other Fleet Officer throughout the shrunken borders of a once—powerful—Empire.

While the blame was widespread...? The news services weren't as kind as most had originally banked on.

Events were becoming more frequent—as the bad news continued to roll in every couple days or so: More ships lost, more territory surrendered (or sacrificed) for the sake of strategy (or logistics). The promise of a potential counter strike—deep into enemy space—became whispers of past glories:

Passed down from one child to the next.

Saavik sighed in quiet misery—then nodded absently—just the same.

Getting up out of her seat, she climbed up the stairs and went over to the communications station where Ensign Reager sat at attention—as both his superiors came over to check out his new subspace message.

The young man quickly saluted out of habit—to which Saavik and Kirk nodded all the same.

"Repeat—to me—what you just told Commander Kirk, Ensign." Captain Saavik responded tightly. "And make it fast: We are not exactly in a secure position—right now."

"Yes, Captain." Reager said quickly—before turning around and touching buttons here and there on his console.

The message came of of course—on one of smaller screens—in front of them.

Saavik read the message to herself—per protocol—then turned to her First Officer in question.

"Orion operatives have found something interesting in a sector of unexplored space—at coordinates 97-74-16." She whispered out of earshot of the Enterprise's Communications Officer.

George blinked a couple times in response.

"Captain...that is too damned close to Sector Gamma-041. The uncharted Bajoran star system."

Saavik nodded numbly. "I know. But what choice do we have? Or anyone else in the Empire for that matter?"

"Captain...the Bajorans are not exactly known for their innate hospitality. Some Imperial scout ships that have "accidentally" strayed into their space...? Were never heard from again."

Another nod from the woman. "You don't have to remind me of that well known fact, Commander Kirk. I know: I've had some personal dealings with their elected Overseer. A woman by the name of Ena Aibosa:

Rumored to be as cold and ruthless as the current Cardassian head of government—lead by Legate Jomi Kinril: Responsible for the Battle of Cestus III—where Starfleet lost another fourteen ships of the line.

Kirk stood quietly by her side—loyal and watchful as always.

"So what do we do?" He pressed on.

Saavik turned around in that moment—surveyed the bridge briefly—before her focus of attention became the main view screen itself.

"There's not much glory to be had here, Commander. The enemy may have been defeated here—but they have not certainly been pushed back."

"Not without the damned Alliance bankrolling the ongoing war effort." George grumbled under his breath.

Then he sighed.

"Orders, Captain?"

Saavik resumed her rightful place and sighed softly.

"Let's get the hell out of here. Have all ships rendezvous at Station K-7—at the old Romulan border. Maybe we can get some possible leads from that Ferengi manager: Gegis."

George chuckled in that moment.

"You know he's not going to be that happy to see you—right?"

The other woman remained unmoved—even as the view from her command seat shifted around slowly as the seconds wore on.

"The little worm can bite me. I'm sure Gegis has some valuable information which he can parlay to me privately. Cause if not—?" She drew her blade—caressing the blood-speckled tip slowly.

"...he'll have much more to worry about than just missing a finger."