Thirteen minutes was an eternity, but they had no choice. Racing through subspace as fast as their engines could carry them, all they could do was watch on their scopes as the initial shots were fired. The battle for K’t’inga was on, and they were late.

All veterans forged through the crucible, the Diligent’s senior leadership team gathered in the Combat Information Center at the rear of the bridge to study the high resolution tactical data coming off their sophisticated sensor suite. What more could they do while they waited?

The battlespace was enormous, almost too much to take in, and from the innermost planetoid 0.27 AU from the system’s center to the outermost mining facility set in the rings of the distant K’t’inga VIII, the Vaadwaur were everywhere. The Klingons were doing what they could, but the Vaadwaur armada had caught them completely flatfooted.

“I don’t know what’s gonna be left by the time we arrive,” Commander Ryan Hunt sighed as he studied the display. Not that it took much study to draw such a conclusion as asset after asset disappeared from the map. “The Vaadwaur are running train over them. The outpost at K’t’inga VIII is gone, the fleet yard’s main operational center just went dark, and the enemy is making a hard push for the drydocks at K’t’inga IV.”

“It’s a fucking free-for-all,” Commander Jordyn Kerrigan grumbled. All over the system, clusters of Klingon ships engaged the enemy, but there was no order or cohesion in their movements. It was almost as if every Klingon commander was just chasing whatever was in arms reach. The Vaadwaur, on the other hand, moved with calculated precision, swarming one target and then moving to the next, always pressing and never slowing. Even the exit points of their apertures seemed deliberate, as if every move had been planned ahead of time.

“The maneuverability of the Vaadwaur fighters and escorts is impressive,” Commander Hunt noted, shifting from shock and frustration to a more constructive analysis. The dynamics of the small ships would be something they’d have to consider once they leapt into the fray. The Alita was agile, but not that agile. “They’re using their superior maneuverability to split the Klingon forces apart, picking off the capital ships one-by-one while staying ahead of the B’rels and Mat’Has.”

As if to accentuate the point, a Negh’Var battlecruiser defending the drydocks over K’t’inga VI suddenly vanished from their scopes, it’s escorts a step behind the Vaadwaur. And that meant drydocks were now free for the pickings. The Vaadwaur attack group didn’t wait even a moment. Each drydock was expunged from the map, one after another in quick succession, as the Diligent‘s sensors lost their emissions signature.

“To say the Klingon line is a mess would be an understatement,” Commander Kerrigan scrutinized. K’t’inga was in the core of Klingon territory. They’d understandably relaxed their guard in such a place, just like the Federation did within its own core. It was understandable. Or it had been when subspace was the medium by which your enemy advanced on you. Now, though, the Klingons were on the back foot, scrambling without anything that looked even remotely like a plan. “This is not how you win a fight, especially outnumbered as they are.”

The fact the Klingons were outnumbered was the most shocking part. The K’t’inga fleet yards were the beating heart of the Klingon military-industrial complex, while the Vaadwaur had supposedly been bombed into the Stone Age, but that wasn’t how it was playing out. Somehow, the Vaadwaur had mustered a force that outnumbered the Klingons nearly two-to-one, and beyond the numbers, their tactics were doing a number on the empire’s forces.

“Well, you’re gonna clean this mess up, aren’t you, Jordyn?” Captain Vox smiled as he patted his executive officer on the back reassuringly. “Once we arrive, the battlespace is yours to call.” Commander Kerrigan was one of the most competent combat controllers he’d ever worked with, equal parts fast and precise, able to track the big picture without losing sight of even the smallest details. If anyone could bring order to this mess, it would be her.

“It’s either that or we’re dead by noon,” Commander Kerrigan replied with a light laugh, although inwardly she wondered if the Klingon commanders would listen to her, or if there’d even be enough of them left by the time they arrived to actually mount a real defense.

A callout from the front of the bridge pulled them from their thoughts. “Time on target, one minute!” Lieutenant Commander Coleman announced.

The time for planning was over. The fight was almost upon them.

Briskly, Captain Vox and Commander Hunt broke away from the Combat Information Center, heading back for the bridge, while Commander Kerrigan settled into a familiar spot within the CIC, readying herself for the task that lay ahead.

As Captain Vox stepped back onto the command island, Lieutenant Commander Coleman looked over his shoulder. They were rapidly approaching the K’t’inga system, but he still needed a target. He knew Dorian Vox well enough by now to know the call would be to come in hot, using the element of surprise while they had it, but as to where, he had no idea. There were many options, but none looked particularly good. “Call it as you see it, boss.”

There were hundreds of targets, everything from nimble fighter squadrons to lumbering juggernauts, but going headlong at any of them, Captain Vox knew, was not the right move. As your enemy readied for the kill, it was often the counterpunch they least expected. “What’s the current status of K’t’inga III?”

“In better shape than IV and VI, but that’s not gonna last,” Commander Hunt replied as he reviewed the last updates. “Two heavy battlecruisers, five assault escorts, and twenty fighters breaking on attack. Nothing but a Vor’cha and two B’rels between them and the colony.” That colony, the largest in the system, was home to almost sixty million Klingons and their subjects.

“Then that’s where we draw the line,” Captain Vox declared. “While the Vaadwaur’s eyes are on the Klingons before them, we hit them on the flank and use that wedge to begin a counterpush.” The Klingons were the bait. He looked back at the CIC. “Jordyn, K’t’inga III is the call.”

Commander Kerrigan needed no further guidance. From the back of the bridge, they could hear her as she began to call out to the remaining Klingon forces, attempting to rally them around the plan. “This is Commander Jordyn Kerrigan, USS Diligent, to Klingon vessels in orbit of K’t’inga III. We are monitoring your situation, and be aware that we intend to…”

“T minus 30,” Lieutenant Commander Coleman declared as their executive officer worked the comms from the CIC behind them.

“Helm, adjust heading, zero zero nine mark three, prepare pattern Lima Two,” Captain Vox ordered as he stared forward at the viewscreen with focused determination. He could see the moves before they happened. They’d the Diligent even with the Vaadwaur battlecruisers and then cut hard into their flank as they dropped out of warp, leaving their wide midsections open to the full weight of the Alita’s forward batteries. “Drop us amidship the battlecruisers, as close as you can make it without turning us to a battering ram.” No time to react. Just enough to see the death that was coming for them.

“Zero zero nine mark three, Lima Two, battlecruisers amidship, aye.”

There was still a problem that lay before them, Captain Vox knew. While their forward pulse cannons and torpedo tubes would do a number on those battleships before they knew what hit them, if their maneuverable escorts and fighters came around, the Diligent would be at risk of getting outflanked herself. “Fighter wing, prep for hot drop. Forward launch. Targets are the escorts as primary, fighters as secondary.”

“Hot drop, forward launch, target echoes primary, foxtrots secondary, aye,” confirmed Lieutenant Dalton McCormick from the cockpit of Diligent Alpha-One, the lead ship of the twenty four Valkyrie class starfighters sitting ready to launch from the Alita’s forward launch bays. The  flyboy knew the drill. This was a well-practiced approach for him and his squadron, the captain’s favorite way to drop his small craft into the fray as it gave no time for the enemy to react.

“Time on Polaris?” Captain Vox asked.

“Eight minutes behind us, along with Kloss’ flagship and three Mat’Has,” Commander Hunt reported from tactical.

That was good news. At least as much as he could hope for. There was a decent amount of firepower in that first group between the Odyssey class heavy explorer, the general’s Bortasqu’ class dreadnought, and the three nimble destroyers, and it would be most welcome. The size of Vaadwaur armada in the system meant they’d need those reinforcements as soon as the enemy realized what had hit them. And even then, it’d be a hard fight.

“What about the others?” Captain Vox asked.

“Kennedy and the rest, staggered up to another fifteen behind Polaris.”

That was less good news, but at least Admiral Reyes had taken the sooner-is-better strategy, leaving the slower ships to catch up rather than holding the whole squadron back on account of the pokey Norway. Still, Captain Alleyne was going to arrive so late she’d be on mop up duty, either of leftover Vaadwaur fighters or of Starfleet escape pods – which one it would be depended completely on how the next few minutes went.

“T minus 10,” Lieutenant Commander Coleman announced.

The time for preparations was over. The clock was ticking down.

“Shields to full,” Captain Vox ordered. “Weapons hot.”

“Shields, weapons, aye,” Commander Hunt confirmed.

All eyes shifted forward as they raced towards the enemy.

The cards would now fall as they fell.

It was time to fight.