Two

Paul Thunder knew something about Bartokian history... their long, intermittent conflict with the neighboring Khalindarian Empire, and ever-present tensions with the Romulans.  Since joining the Federation in 226, albeit later seceding, it became required reading at the Academy.  The Khalindarians had tried suicide runs before.  A couple nearly succeeded.  But the Bartokian Defense Fleet always stopped them.  Paul had little doubt they could do it again.

Romulans were another matter.  They had tried to annex both systems in the past... yet never by this route.

So this time they had a little help, from unexpected allies: Paul, the United Freedom Front, and the Humanists aboard the new UFS Arcadia... not all Arcadians, yet roughly synonymous in their goals.  The recently formed UFF was too new for the Bartokian government to know of it, with Federation news agencies keeping it under wraps – little more than a handful of Starfleet personnel and various nationals sympathetic to the Arcadian cause, at this point.  Bartok wasn't part of it... at least not yet.

A lot could happen in two minutes, with careful planning... and a lot of available resources.

Minute one:

The Arcadia's bridge crew held back a collective sigh as the Romulan ship fled, struggling to reach its goal: A fast, head-on collision with Bartok VII.  The seventh planet was an outlying one in the system – a relatively short trip from the Oort cloud.  It would not have taken the would-be destroyer long to accomplish its deadly objective, if not for Arcadia interfering, slowing it down and giving away its position.

Paul sent an encrypted message to the Dinaqa.  The information packet included shield harmonics, cloaking frequencies, everything Arcadia picked up from its close encounter with the Romulan ship.  He hoped it helped.  Bartok failed to match Federation technology over the last few decades.  They still operated on a tactically subordinate level.  The Federation, for all of its dark underpinnings, the evil seed at its heart, was a galactic superpower, hundreds of planets strong, reaching other galaxies, sending people across their own without starships, miniaturizing advanced technology, evolving new lifeforms.  Bartok held a tiny region of space by comparison, and resisted something so basic as complants.  They might continue to ignore the possibilities... and, for good or ill, Cerina was half-Bartokian.  Maybe it was because they were aliens, lacking human ingenuity.  But, he owed her, and he came to repay her, doing what he could to stop the Romulan death ship on their doorstep.

He waited a good whole minute, the seconds ticking down, as Arcadia's energy systems repowered.  It seemed like a month.  Surely they knew he was here, with Arcadia, in their home system.  Surely they could decode the encryption.  Or, perhaps they had tired of him, and had nothing left to say.  So be it.  He came, and did what he could.  Even if Arcadia failed to save Bartok VII, he had tried.  Tit for tat.

Minute two.

Before Arcadia could resume pursuit – Paul felt stubborn; he wouldn't let the Romulan go if he could stop it – sensors went wild: Multiple signals, a surge of subspace displacement beyond the system's edge... a wave so powerful it signaled one thing: Transwarp conduits.  A blockade, on such scale that Arcadia itself stood little chance.  They could throw up a subspace disruption field... snare the ship in a zone of no escape, close in, blast it to dust – not that it was necessary.  Federation science could alter field properties of particles naturally saturating the system... ignite a chain reaction, wipe the ship out without ever getting close.  Space itself would seemingly come alive, to destroy them.

But they didn't come just for Arcadia.  Conduits opened randomly, sporadically dumping mines throughout the system at key points.  Paul had seen this tactic; he wondered why they hadn't employed it sooner.  Within minutes, all traffic in the Bartok system would grind to a halt.  No one would go anywhere.  No retaliation... no escape... no war.  Shutdown.  The UFP didn't need to conquer by military force.  They had superior technology, virtually unlimited resources, advanced means of access... and Bartok had given them excuse to use it.  They could blow up the sun, rip away breathable atmospheres, leave every planet lifeless – if they chose.  They could poison the system with deadly biogens, kill off the Bartokians by infecting them and their environments; go back in time, change history, prevent Bartok from ever seceding.  (In alternate timelines, they probably did.  Just not this timeline.)  Such extreme measures seemed doubtful: Bartok had resources the UFP valued, obviously, or they would not be here.  Equally obvious: The Romulan goal of destroying the planet was not the Federation's, maybe nor the Romulan government's... or that goal had changed.  Bartok VII's population might live to see tomorrow.  The ruling council would be forced to sue for peace.  There might be protests, resistance by radicals... but there was little anyone could do for the foreseeable future.

They wouldn't be the only ones.  Starfleet just tested the limit of Paul's willingness to sacrifice – the line he would not cross.  Arcadia was officially in over its head.  Sensors registered more ships on inbound trajectories.

The BDF would at least intercept the invader.  Arcadia's diversion bought the Bartokians that time.  It was up to them to use it.  From his command chair on Arcadia, Paul sent one last message to Dinaqa: Debt paid.  We're even.  Sorry I couldn't do more.  I tried. – and hoped Cerina, if no one else, understood.  Again, there was no immediate response, but he expected none.

That said, it was time to get the heck out of Dodge.  He had his own problems & people to worry about.  In addition to the blockade, Starfleet was gunning for him and his crew.  As Arc's systems finally crawled back online, Paul yelled at Tasha to put the pedal to the metal.  The young woman at helm worked furiously, hands shaking, nerves rattled.  It seemed like all of Starfleet was coming for them.  The massive ship banked, powering up for warp.

Another Universe-class ship jumped out of nowhere, taking Arcadia by surprise with opening shots, still cloaked.  A salvo cleaved the hull, several decks over bridge level.  Stabilizers went wonky.  Shrapnel flew across the bridge; a piece struck Paul.  He almost passed out, then blinked, focusing his way back to consciousness.

In that moment, it happened... one of those strange, unexpected things that could happen, and did, in the mysterious depths of space.  A sensation rippled through Paul, as if in telepathic contact... like a complant, but internalized.  Thoughts.  He was not alone.  Another identity.  He felt it with him, in his mind.

*Do what I say and you'll get Arcadia out of this.  Don't ask questions; there's no time.  Trust me.*

Paul would never have listened to such advice, from a disembodied voice... whose ever it was.  Not normally.  Someone he didn't know, and lacked reason to trust?  Especially in these circumstances?  No one on Arcadia's bridge, certainly.

But a feeling came over him, with the inner voice... a feeling of safety, of reassuring calm.  *It's all right, Paul.  Trust me.*

Inexplicably, it was all right.  Or, it would be.  He didn't know who, how, why... but he trusted it.  The feeling.  The voice.  Later he would wonder if he had abandoned all rationale... but for now, without questioning, without second thoughts, he listened, then started snapping out orders, as if the voice was speaking through him.