The first exchange of fire for the Battle of Vulcan was swift as the four Jem’hadar fighters closed on the Denver, Andromeda, and Texarkana. All three ships held formation as the four fighters split and flew to either side of the Denver, unleashing a barrage of weapons fire and rocking the ship. As they did, the combined phaser fire lashed out at the lead ship as it flew between the Denver and Texarkana, leaving nothing but an expanding ball of ionized debris where it used to be.

Before the three remaining fighters could complete their turn, two torpedoes from the Andromeda struck the starboard nacelle of the trailing vessel, causing it to spin out of control before detonating as its containment failed. With the loss of two of their ships, the remaining fighters turned tightly and dove towards the Denver.

“Status?” Riandri called out as she followed the ships on the screen, expecting a trap.

Rebecca gripped the armrests. The ship shuddered, the hull groaning under the assault. A pair of Dominion fighters split apart, screaming past as they lashed out with their weapons. The Texarkana pitched upward, launching a trio of photon torpedoes. Antimatter explosions erupted in brilliant flashes against the nearest enemy ship. Its shields flared in blues and purples, rippling as they absorbed the impact.

Rebecca shouted above the din of battle. “Mr. Viat, target the lead enemy ship and hit it with everything we have. Jones, keep us on them!”

“Be careful what you wish for, Captain. Hang on, people, this isn’t a sports car.” Arin’s hands flew over the console.  Following the Texarkana’s lead, the Denver pulled up into a half-loop, thrusters firing as the aft section of the Denver drifted a bit, the ship spinning counter-clockwise to complete the Immelmann turn.

Gus wasted no time.” Firing phasers. Photon torpedo, pattern claymore. ” The bow of the ship erupted with a volley of torpedoes racing out in a buckshot pattern.”

Keeping his breathing calm and measured, Farl acknowledged the flurry of reports coming across his panel. Shield strength, hull damage, and structural integrity, all updated him continuously as the enemy’s directed energy weapons slammed into their shields.

“Shields are currently holding at 83 percent, Captain.” Farl calmly announced, raising his voice just enough to be heard clearly. “Hull plating intact, minor internal systems damage due to stress. Engineering reports that they are trying to redirect some of the energy absorbed into the shields to keep them up longer. It’s working for now, but our EPS grid is struggling.”

“Captain, the remaining ships are starting to pull back, both the Texarkana and Andromeda report minor damage. Long-range scans aren’t showing much. We should use this time to improve the defence perimeter in this section,” Jeter said from the observer’s station. “The minefield is at 60% currently. If we move quickly, we may be able to complete it.”

Rebecca’s eyes fell onto the scrolling data from her armrest display. Without looking away, she rattled off orders. “Jones, return to our original position. Farl, get engineering on those repairs now. Jeter, deal with the mines.”

Her fingers drummed against the console, her brow furrowing. Enemy ships had begun to spill into the system, probing their defenses. According to fleet reports, two ships were already lost, while five more were heavily damaged or disabled—hardly an auspicious start.

“On it now,” Jeter remarked as he quickly began distributing orders to the flight crew and transporter teams. “Once in position, we will need 30 minutes to finish deploying the remaining mines with the other ships.”

“Setting course, 186, mark 063, full three-quarter impulse.” Arin Jones reported.

“Repair crews dispatched. Engineering estimates that the EPS grid can be reinforced within 15 minutes if we can avoid taking any hits.” Farl called out after the pilot had finished.

An eerie calm settled over the bridge as the crew of the Denver, Texarkana, and Andromeda waited on station. After the initial probe by the Dominion forces, the space around Vulcan was quiet. “Captain,” Jeter said, “The minefield and sensor platforms have been deployed. They are now moving away from the planet in the direction of the Dominion forces. With luck, we might knock out a few.”

Cardassian flagship…

Bellator stood bound in manacles, her green eyes fixed on the viewscreen as the battle unfolded. The bridge pulsed with activity—the rhythmic chime of consoles, the murmur of Cardassian officers exchanging status reports.

Beside her, Gul Tarbac lounged in his command chair, watching with the ease of a predator that already believed itself victorious.

Tarbac shook his head in disappointment, “The Federation has always lacked the ships needed for a fight. Look at them relying on the Vulcan vessels while the few ships they have remaining hide behind them. We drove them from Betazed, Vulcan will be all the sweeter.”

Bellator exhaled sharply. She knew her—knew how the woman on that bridge would think. Even in this universe, Rebecca Sandoval-no, Talon, wasn’t one to sit back and wait.

“When you engage Denver,” Bellator began, choosing her words carefully, “she’ll order her supporting ships into a flanking maneuver. Expect an aggressive initial attack. Talon always pushes forward when she should hold back. It will likely be an Alpha-4 or Epsilon-8 pattern.”

Tarbac let out a little laugh. “We shall see.” He turned to his coms officer, “Notify the wing that attacked the Denver that the Texarkana and Andromeda are likely to flank her when the attack starts and will respond with either pattern Alpha-4 or Epsilon-8. Have them ready to counter it.”

Looking back at Bellator, he smiled wickedly, “Let’s see if this knowledge you claim is so useful will pay off.”

USS Denver…

A formation of ten ships closed in on them. Rebecca swallowed.  The Dominion wanted this sector, and they were making a good show of it. “Farl, order the Texarkana to flank left and the Andromeda to flank right. Helm, attack pattern Sisko Epsilon-8.” Turning sharply to Riandri, her voice carrying an edge of tension and decision, she said, “I think it’s time to show our hand. Now is a good time to invite our hidden friends to the show.”

Riandri flashed a grin while her hand quickly taped out a series of commands on her display, “I couldn’t agree more. Message sent.”

“Orders delivered and acknowledged. Texarkana and Andromeda are moving into position.” Farl reported. Then, an indicator he’d been patiently waiting for lit up on his panel. “Captain, everyone: the enhanced sensor package we discussed during initial planning is coming online. Tactical and helm, you should see useful data incoming any second now.”

For too long the Dominion had been pushing the Federation and Klingon forces back but now, here at P’Jem there was no fleet caught out of position, no force being hounded while in retreat. They were about to run into a wall Riandri thought to herself. “Captain, I would suggest the Andromeda begin its forward scouting and link in with the surveillance platforms. The sooner we see the Dominion formations the sooner we will have an idea of their plan.”

Rebecca nodded, “Do it.”

“Aye, Captain, setting rendezvous waypoint, course two-one-four, mark sixty-three. Matching speed. ”  Arin watched the viewscreen as the ship responded to his input.

Farl relayed the command from Captain Talon over to the Andromeda. On the viewscreen, he watched as the ship left formation, surging forward to begin their scouting run. After another moment, Farl received some confirmations on his panel.

“Andromeda signals they are receiving sensor telemetry and is forwarding the data to us now. Recommend everyone who has the bandwidth monitor the data stream. Extra eyes will be helpful – anything the sensor net tells us will be subtle.” Farl announced to the bridge.

Farl watched the data stream from the Andromeda carefully, comparing it to the Denver’s own sensor data. He didn’t see anything yet useful yet, but perhaps… there! Farl spotted an echelon of Dominion vessels surging forward. Checking the Denver’s sensors, he noted their location was being masked from them due to the debris from earlier skirmishes.

“Captain, contact! Sensor buoys have located a forward push by the Dominion. They’re trying to hide from us; angle of attack is behind significant debris fields. Andromeda is approaching from the opposite side. No sign the Dominion see us yet.” Farl added their icons to the battle map on the viewscreen, highlighting the Dominion formation and the debris.

“Ms. Jones, lay in an intercept course,” Rebecca ordered her tone sharp but measured. The battle map on her armrest flickered with shifting vectors and threat assessments. Her eyes tracked the enemy’s position, reading their intent before they made their move.

“Farl, initiate active sensor sweeps—I want them thinking we haven’t seen them.”

The bridge hummed with quiet tension, the soft chirps of consoles punctuating the moment. A feint, a play at ignorance—let them believe they still held the element of surprise.

“Riandri, order the rest of the ships into a flanking maneuver, zero-one-four mark two-one.” She hesitated briefly, recalculating, then corrected, “Negative—zero-nine-five mark three-nine.”

With a nod, the command went out to the Federation ships hidden by the magnetic field of the planet. A moment later, responses from the fleet were received: “Orders confirmed. All ships are maneuvering now.”

Arin Jones keyed in a few commands, “Aye, Sir, Plotting a slightly circular course so we don’t show our hand yet. Turn to port, course 273, mark forty-two.”

Farl kept a close eye on the enemy formation now, mentally crossing his fingers they wouldn’t spot the Denver until it was too late for them. “No change in Dominion formation. If everyone holds current trajectories, we’ll get the drop on them seconds before the rest of the fleet becomes visible.”

Gus had an eye on the scanners and was relaying density scans to the helm so Lt. Jones could keep the ship as obscured as long as possible.

Denver emerged from the drifting debris directly ahead of the main battle line. Enemy fire slammed into the Nebula-class, sending tremors through the hull. Consoles exploded, spraying sparks across the bridge. The acrid stench of fried circuits filled Rebecca’s lungs as the lights flickered, pulsing with her racing heartbeat.

“Fire everything!” the captain shouted above the din.

Gus mashed the console in a predetermined manner. A volley of torpedoes raced toward the closest Dominion battlecruiser. Phaser fire parallel to the outbound projectiles. The enemy shield shimmered and rocked.

The rest of the Federation formation emerged from their flanking maneuver, weapons lancing out, led by the Texarkana. Streaks of red-orange phaser fire pierced the distance, slamming into the battlecruiser. Seconds later, the hull split open, and the ship exploded into a brilliant flash of light. The shockwave shook the Denver’s hull with a dull rumble.

“Shift to the next target,” Riandri called out as she reassessed the enemy’s formation, which was designated a Keldon-class cruiser, and relayed the information to the rest of the formation. In a couple of seconds it took for the information to be relayed and acknowledged, the leading Jem’Hadar fighters flew past the Texarkana and the leading edge of the federation formation and into its midst. Three of the fighters exploded as the second line of ships opened fire on them, but not before they targeted an aged Miranda, leaving it powerless, adrift.

Damn! Rebecca thought, seeing the Miranda take damage. We can’t afford to lose any ships.

A pair of Dominion fighters swooped in and hammered the Denver, with the Keldon-class getting its licks in. The yellow Cardassian phaser beam shook the ship, nearly tossing Rebecca from her seat as consoles erupted all over the bridge.  The lights flickered, and the air was heavy with burning circuitry and the adrenaline oozing from the crew’s pores.

Another barrage struck home. The bridge ceiling groaned, then collapsed. Support beams, EPS conduits, and shattered panels crashed down. A heavy chunk of debris struck Rebecca hard in the side of the head, sending her sprawling. Pain flared before her world blurred, her vision darkening at the edges. As she lay on the deck littered with the broken pieces of the ship and blood tricking down the side to seep into her hair and the carpet her vision faded to black.

Riandri was out of her seat as the captain hit the floor and pulled out the tricorder from her belt. “Fire everything we have at the Keldon!” she shouted as she looked at the readings on the tricorder. “Damit,” she muttered under her breath before waving over two crewmen. “Get the captain to sickbay now!”

Milo was at Riandri’s side, his hand on his wife’s shoulder. He felt helpless, watching the crewmen drag Rebecca off the bridge towards sickbay. Every once of his being urged him to follow them, but duty rooted him to the deck. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

He paused next to Riandri and nodded to her. No words were exchanged, but the silence spoke volumes. He silently returned to the tactical station next to Gus. He was letting the man run the show, offering only a second set of eyes and hands when he needed them.

Without another word, she climbed into the command chair as the Denver unleashed a full salvo of torpedoes toward the Cardassian vessel, its shields weakened from the combined fire of the Federation forces. The shields flared, then held as the first three slammed into them but faltered as the fourth passed through, detonating when it impacted just behind the bridge. Small secondary explosions rippled down the length of the cruiser before its power flickered and went out.

The cruiser’s destruction brought a moment of relief as the Federation fleet slammed into the Dominion forces. “I need a status report,” Riandri said as she tried to bring up a report on the command chair’s console, but the support beam stuck through it, rendering it useless.

“Captain!” Ensign Viat exclaimed, “A wing of six Jem’Hadar fighters inbound. They will be within weapons range in ten seconds.”

In a moment of realization coupled with no brain filter, Helm Officer Lieutenant Arin Jones blurted out, “It’s been a pleasure to serve with you folks.”

Suddenly, a volley of disruptor fire tore into the incoming ships. Two exploded instantly, one more started to smoke, and the engines died as the remaining fighters retreated.  Two other D’deridex-class warbirds were in pursuit of other targets.

“Being happy to see Romulans is a new feeling,” Riandri said as she look a moment to catch her break and watched as the medical staff reached the Captain.

Farl finished helping the captain onto a stretcher for the two medical personnel who had come to collect her. Then he quickly returned to his seat. Pawing at the blood matting his fur, he only managed to smear it around. His console beeped at him, showing a surge of radiation without a known source.

“Getting a tachyon surge, port and aft. No source yet.” Farl announced. He had his suspicions, but he wasn’t prone to offering unfounded opinions in such tense situations.

“Romulan Warbird T’liss decloaking, and we are being hailed, ” Gus offered from Tactical.

Tomarah showed up on the viewscreen, “Captain Talon. We could not let our Vulcan brothers and sisters fight alone. Do you require assistance?”

Riandri brushed the mess of blond hair from her face. “I appreciate your very timely arrival, Commander Tomarah. I am sorry to say that Captain Talon has been injured. I am Commander Nalam, the XO.” She looked around for a moment, the bridge in ruins as consoles sparked and smoked, with every member of the crew visibly injured.

Steeling herself, Riandri took a deep breath, “If your ships could give us cover for a few minutes to get a grip on our current status, it would be appreciated. After that, we must rejoin the flight.”

The Romulan woman raised her right eyebrow and steepled her hands. “I admire your tenacity Commander. It will be done.”

Tomarah turned over her shoulder and barked a series of orders in her native tongue.  The small fleet of warbirds banked in different directions and plunged into the fight.

Farl had little time to even think, he was so busy analyzing the battle, sharing data, and coordinating activity on the ship. He was so focused on his panel and relaying reports that he almost didn’t see it coming. An enemy fighter had altered its course. Instead of maneuvering for another strafing run, it was headed… oh no.

“Captain, that Jem’Hadar fighter is going to ram the Texarkana! Attempting to warn them!” Farl relayed the data to his counterpart on the Texarkana, but even as he hit send, he knew it was too late.

Watching in horror, Farl saw the Texarkana’s shields flicker briefly as the fighter punched through them. Hull contacted hull, and explosions lit up the viewscreen as the fighter hammered through the Texarkana’s armor and through their bridge. Farl didn’t know what to say. He had read about the Jem’Hadar and their suicide runs, but seeing it was another matter.

“God damn Jem’Hadar,” Riandri cursed. “Get me a status report on the Texarkana and move us closer so we can provide additional covering fire. I wouldn’t put it past them to hit her again!”

“Captain, the chief engineer of the Texarkana has taken command of auxiliary control, and they have stabilized the damage. They are requesting to stay in the fight,” Milo said, reading from his terminal.

Riandri gritted her teeth as she surveyed the almost crippled ship for a moment before responding, her mind drifting back to her brief meeting with Captain T’Mir and Commander Johanson. “Damn it! We need every ship we can, even if they only have a single phaser bank. They can stay on the flight, but I want them to hang back until they grasp the damage. The last thing I want is them to lose containment.”

“I am not needed here,” Milo said. “If the Texarkana is to continue to fight, it will need its chief engineer. I would like to formally request a transfer over there to take command, and if you would indulge me, I would like to take Denver’s bridge crew from Charlie Shift.”

She turned and looked at Milo for a moment, once again impressed by the man and his professionalism. “She’s yours Commander. Take whoever you need and get that ship back into the fight. We will NOT LOSE VULCAN!”