~\\_               
          \\\\_             
          `\\\\\            -----------------------------------------
           |\\\\\           Starfleet Command, Eighth Fleet (OOC)    
            \\\\\|__.-~~\   
         _--~         ~~/   Defenders Task Group 85.3, "Whitestone"  
       /~         _-~~~'    Embarked on U.S.S. Coronado, NCC-97901   
      ('-//////-//          Rear Admiral Tebrun Lora Kor, Commanding 
       ////// }}-)          -----------------------------------------
     /////~                 Simulation Report                        
  _///~                     Stardate 240211.25                       
 `                          
 _______________________________________________________________________ 
/ Simulation Teaser                                                     |
/ŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻ 

 "The Admiral's mission is going well," Savant said.  "He expects to
 have an answer in a few minutes."
 
 It was two hours after Kelaka had departed the Longshot system.  Two
 very paranoid hours for those in the system.  There had been no more
 explosions, fortunately, but the continued absence of an expected
 attack is almost more wearing than the attack itself.
 
 "Thank you, Savant," Lt. Commander Kariasa Ma'Aru said from her
 station, chewing her lower lip.  "Can you give us any more clue as
 to what he's up--"
 
 Savant didn't let the Intelligence Officer get even that far.  "No
 hints, I'm afraid, Commander," the avatar said, smiling a somewhat
 mysterious smile and floating a few more centimeters off the deck of
 U.S.S. Churchill's CIC.  At Ma'Aru's expression, Savant seemed to
 sympathize... at least slightly.  "It really isn't my place to say,
 I'm afraid.  That is for the Admiral.  He did ask if you'd made any
 further progress on the cause of the explosions, however."
 
 Ma'Aru shook her head and turned off the console in front of her. 
 "Not very much, I'm afraid," she said, tossing her head to get the
 hair out of her eyes.  "We *were* able to determine that the
 explosions were external events, rather than internal ones. 
 However, we've been over all three areas with a fine-tooth comb and
 there's no sign of any minefield, debris, or anything else that
 could have caused the explosions."
 
 Savant frowned.  "I understand, Commander, and I will tell him.  Did
 any of the ships show signs of impact damage?" she asked.
 
 Ma'Aru nodded.  "Quite severe impact damage in one case, but yes,
 all three ships showed it.  However, as I said, we didn't pick up
 any debris or any subspace disruptions that I'd associate with
 nesting phenomenon.  We can't use tachyon nets in this system due to
 all the radiation and even if we could, we haven't picked up any
 folds associated with arriving Pfhor shi--"  Ma'Aru's voice suddenly
 trailed off and a far-away look came to her face.
 
 Savant watched for a few moments, then transmitted the results of
 the conversation to date to the Admiral, on the surface of the
 planet on which the Trill stood.  By the time this was done, Ma'Aru
 had already swung into action... quite uncharacteristically forceful
 action for the young woman.
 
 "Churchill communications, find Commander Drexle-- no, cancel that.
 There's no time.  Patch me in to all ships!  Hurry!" she said,
 rapidly reaching the second holographic table.  A moment later, a
 diagram of the fleet's current defensive posture appeared.  By that
 time, a somewhat startled communications tech, aided by Savant who
 suddenly appeared at his side, indicated that Ma'Aru was on.
 
 "All Defender ships outside Xanadu, launch a single cluster torpedo,
 random direction, maximum possible dispersal!  Hurry!  Hurry!" 
 Several voices started babbling over the comm channels, asking what
 was wrong.  On other ships, orders could be heard being given and
 followed.  Ma'Aru ignored it all, staring at the holographic display
 in front of her, knuckles almost white against the edge of the
 table.  "They didn't fold in," she whispered.  "That's why it's
 taking them so long to get here... they're not folding in!"
 
 The combat-oriented ships and those with the most trigger-happy
 Tactical officers reacted the fastest... Resolute and Avenger,
 Gryphon and Thunderchild, Vanguard and Lan DuLac... the single
 blips of torpedoes emerged from each (DuLac, over-enthusiastic,
 fired six), arcing in random directions before detonating.  For a
 few seconds, the space around Longshot was full of fireworks.
 
 The munitions scattered, and along the outer edges of one side of
 the system... some of them hit... something.  Tiny streaks moving in
 one direction would suddenly be seen to move along an entirely
 different direction, or explode, or bounce off.  It wasn't many,
 and it wasn't for long...
 
 ...but it started a new babble of voices in the open comm channels
 just the same.
 
 "LORASON indicates it hit something moving at relativistic veloci--"
 
 "Munition acceleration indicates whatever it hit has a mass of nine
 to the fifteent--"
 
 "I'm reading a chroniton particle leakage!  Energy damping on a
 massive scale!  Whatever it is must be using almost all of its power
 to--  Dear God!  It's decloaking!"
 
 Whomever the final voice was was right.  Along the "southern" edge
 of the system, held by the Gryphon battle group, a large group of
 Pfhor starships emerged from what was apparently a single cloaking
 field of enormous size.  At the center of the group, 20 kilometers
 long and clearly moving at at least half light-speed, was the
 monstrous Pfhor battleship.  Its engines were glowing fiercely,
 quite probably attempting to slow the behemoth down.  The engines
 weren't the only thing glowing, however.
 
 The battleship was pointed directly at the southern group's central
 carrier.  Four weapons ports came to life.
 
 "Gryphon, from Whitestone!  Get out of there!  Go to warp and get
 cl--"
 
 The ship's Captain and crew didn't receive more than a few words of
 this message.  An instant later, the beams lanced out...  U.S.S.
 Gryphon exploded... and for a few seconds, the Longshot system had
 two stars.

\_______________________________________________________________________ 
\ End Simulation Teaser                                                 |
 ŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻ 

 Defenders Task Group 85.3, "Whitestone" Staff:
    Commanding, TG 85.3:       RADM Tebrun Lora Kor      (Jester)
    S-1, Group Adjutant:       Cmdr. Sieven Drexler      (Brad)
    S-2, Group Intelligence:   LCdr. Kariasa Ma'Aru      (Kari)
    S-3, Group Logistics:      Cmdr. Savant              (Savant)

 U.S.S. Coronado Crew Roster:
    Commanding Officer:        Capt. William Daren       (Daren)
    Executive Officer:         Cmdr. Darek Smith         (Aggie)
    Marine Commandant:         Col. Jeremy Ironside      (Fraser)
    Raptors Squadron Leader:   Lt. Colonel Thomas Wayne  (Masters)
    Chief Tactical Officer:    LCdr. Kyle Marcy          (Marcy)
    Assistant Tactical:        Ens. Tamarith             (Tamarith)
    Chief Flight Operations:   Ens. Maiko D'Rall         (Farrell)
    Chief Science Officer:     LCdr. Isamu Dyson         (Isamu)
    Company Commander:         Maj. Jacob Prescot        (Shadow-FjP)
    Chief Engineer:            Cmdr. Zunite Oswald       (Sonya)
    Assistant Engineer:        LCdr. Jack C. Farley      (CCC)
    Assistant Engineer:        Lt. Aramis Skylooker      (LewisSharp)
    Acting Chief Medical:      Lt. Lauren Dyson          (Natty)
    Bartender:                 PO/1 Bridget Bordeux      (Dolin)
    Civilian Liaison:          S'buuth                   (rev)

 On Extended Leave of Absence:
    None!

 Positions Available:
    Flight Leader:                                       (---)
    Assistant Medical:                                   (---)

------
Jester

Rear Admiral Tebrun Lora Kor
Commanding, Defenders Task Group 85.3, "Whitestone"
embarked on U.S.S. Coronado, NCC-97901
http://www.jestertrek.com/coro2400/