“Holding steady at warp four point five,” Lieutenant Jenna Friedman said as the USS Tizona jumped to warp, leaving the planet Betazed behind in a mad dash to the system’s inner gas giant. “Thirty seconds to target.”

The prohibitions about using warp drive inside a settled and populated star system had been relaxed with the decision that the Vaadwaur were a hostile power. The laws of physics themselves were still being stubborn. Atlantis could have made the same trip in a third of the time, their engineers confident they’d figured out the Slow Zone effect enough to give them warp six within the inner system. But warp drives and gravity wells still didn’t play nice and Atlantis’ bigger size and mass would have meant she’d need to pull away from Betazed further before going to warp, unlike little Tizona.

“Pump the accelerator, slam on the brakes,” Lieutenant Commander Naazim Al-Kamil commented from the left most of the two command seats on Tizona’s little bridge.

“Yeah, but we do it in style,” Captain Sofia Santisteban answered back with a smile to her first officer. “Hezek, any sign we’re drawing Vaadwaur attention our way?”

The Science station on the bridge was a small alcove, trying to shove as many monitors into as small a place as possible. Hezek Vidaa, the ship’s resident Orion and victim of the universe’s most unruly hair, looked cozy in his cocoon of science, surrounded by every personalised readout he’d set up. Everything that Tizona knew, he had at his fingertips.

“They’re lighting us up with a dozen different sensor systems.” He paused, checking one of the monitors, a finger running under the outputs as he re-read it. “Confirmed targeting sensors are in the mix.”

“Dropping out of warp,” Jenna announced.

Instantly, the streaking stars on the viewscreen became solid pinpricks of light. A great orange, yellow and white banded beast of a planet, Jupiter’s own twin, leaped into prominence, consuming the viewscreen, trying desperately to seize everyone’s attention. But the small, brilliantly white moon smack in the middle of the screen was the true jewel of the show.

Smooth, white plains were interrupted by large crevasses kilometres deep. Huge plumes erupted from multiple cryovolcanoes all over the moon, creating a trailing cloud of ice crystals that were responsible for a thin ring around the gas giant. But the huge plumes of ice, combined with the thoroughly unpleasant radioactive environment around all large gas giants created a sensor blind spot for anyone unfamiliar with the exact conditions. Familiarity that comes with decades or centuries of study. Not a few weeks at most and certainly not a couple of hours that the Vaadwaur likely had.

“Bridge to Engineering,” Sofia’s finger had grazed the comm controls only just before she started to speak. “Ready for Blindside?”

“Physically, yes. Mentally, no.” Lieutenant Commander Jack Colman was, as far as both Sofia and Naazim concerned, an original feature of Tizona. A man who’d been promoted to commander once before being busted back down, Jack Colman was a man happiest with his sleeves rolled up, hard at work and busy complaining about something. If he didn’t have something to complain about, he’d be truly unhappy.

“Are we good to go, Jack?” Sofia asked, seeking clarification.

“Yes.” Jack’s exasperation came through loud and clear, but he’d held his tongue at least. “I’m just not happy with the absolute mess I’ve had to make down here. But you want five power transmission runs; you’ve got five runs. Just don’t blow up the deflector dish or we’re walking home.”

“Thank you, Jack. Standby, we’ll start up soon.” Sofia tapped the button once more, closing the channel to Engineering. “Jenna, can you see the Blindside devices Atlantis put out there?”

“Got them in sight now, ma’am,” the helmsman said, adjusting Tizona’s course ever so slightly and moving them closer and closer to the icy plume.

Soon the gas giant was just a backdrop, the moon trying to fill the whole viewscreen before it slid off to one side and the whole viewscreen filling up with natural static composed of small icy flakes and chunks.

And then the first of the Blindside platforms emerged from the gloom, one side of the devices now thinly coated with icy. The platforms were a rush job, built out of small shipping containers, each slightly bigger than a small shuttle. Small internal power supplies allowed them to maintain position and keep their systems warm, but not much more. For their true purpose they would need much, much more power. Beamed power from a nearby starship levels of power.

Each container was jammed full of various probe heads, spare emitters of various sorts and an assortment of other components one would need to pretend to be a starship. Combined with the ice plume and the radiation belts, it was hoped that they’d be convincing enough to draw some Vaadwaur ships away from Betazed, if just for a few minutes. Or at least give them some pause and maybe buy time for more of Betazed’s orbital platforms to come online.

“Atlantis CIC reports contact changes.” Lieutenant T’rin announced from Tactical, over Sofia’s right shoulder. “Three of the cruisers have split off and are vectoring our way. They have five fighters with them.” The Vulcan’s delivery made it sound like she was just giving them a shipping report. Nothing to be concerned about, just a small armada of ships bearing down on a single Saber-class starship.

“Speed?” Naazim asked.

“Still at impulse,” T’rin added.

“Well, let’s not waste any more time. Let’s give these guys a show.” Sofia looked over her left shoulder, past Naazim, to the small ops station. Ensign Swims-with-cold-currents, Tizona’s operations chief, floated amongst the various consoles and readouts. “Swims, let’s light up those platforms.”

Swims-with-cold-currents wasn’t a singular entity, but a colony of entities, all working with a singular goal. They were one of the more unique and specialised beings within the Federation. Their resemblance to a Portuguese man o’ war was uncanny, but the conditions that gave rise to their kind were much the same as those of Earth’s oceans. Evolution on a multitude of worlds would often come up with the same ideas and solutions to problems. Internal gas bladders allowed them to float in a standard atmosphere, supported by a ring of small, lightweight anti-grav generators should something happen.

Tentacles, for there were many, were draped over multiple control surfaces in a pattern that made sense to no one but the collective that was Swims-with-cold-currents. They could take in vast sums of information and respond just as quickly. And for a small ship like Tizona, their presence was a blessing.

“For we have spoken, and upon them we lay curses, that they believe we are multiplicative.” Swims-with-cold-currents voice was synthesized by a computer on the same belt as the emergency anti-grav devices. It took in the chemical, audible and light emissions throughout Swims’ being and converted it into something that the rest of the crew could understand. At least most of the time.

As Tizona settled into the icy plume, forward of the Blindside platforms to maintain a better communication channel with Atlantis and a clearer view for its own sensors, those same five platforms started to receive power from the little ship’s warp core. Batteries designed to keep the platforms in place and standing by for weeks would have been consumed in seconds by the new demands as systems drank in the power and woke up. These platforms were not efficient decoys, but they sure were loud and noisy.

Sensors started to reach out from the icy plume, like starships waking up from slumber or casting off disguises. Other electromagnetic emissions started to leak from them, mimicking full scale starships, as long as one only looked at them from one direction. These were focused decoys, beaming their song and dance directly down the Vaadwaur sensors.

“A Galaxy, two Reliant and two Echelon-class starships,” Naazim commented as he watched on the shared display between the command seats as their own sensors took in what the platforms were emitting. He chuckled as he tapped at the largest signature. “Someone on Atlantis has a sense of humour.”

“USS Lollipop?” Sofia asked, shook her head and smiled. “Good ship, or so I hear.”

The sing-song nature of Swims’ artificial voice rang out across the bridge. “For our curses beget panic in our foes, that they launched themselves upon us in haste. But look, for their sails remained furled, they barely manage warp three.”

A tactical overlay appeared on the viewscreen, showing the breakaway Vaadwaur ships now at warp speed, their estimated arrival just over a minute and a half. Estimated firing range a handful of seconds after that.

“Great.” Naazim’s didn’t sound happy. He had reason not to be. Those cruisers were each larger and more heavily armed than Tizona was. The fighters weren’t a joke either. “Eight versus one. A few shots into the enemy for honour and the flag, then off to the races?”

Sofia smiled, winked, and then stood. Back straight, hands on her hips, ready to lead her ship into battle. “Red alert,” she barked, lights dimming and sirens blaring in response. “Let’s show these bullies what Tizona is made of.”