The convoy cut through warped starlight like spears through flame. Space distorted around the Brawley and the escorting Orion ships as they moved at Warp 1.9. The green and blue orb of Vaabanth III loomed steadily larger ahead.

The ship’s formation was precise. Four Orion Space Navy ships flew in a wide diamond-pattern. In the lead was the sleek and deadly Jahlei. The light cruiser bristled with a web of beam arrays and emerald disruptors. She bore the unmistakable elegance of Orion engineering, with intricately detailed armor.

At port and starboard were the Ttaren and Nyxien. These smaller, dart-shaped destroyers had hulls crafted of dark green alloys. Each had undergone unique visual upgrades over the decades. The Nyxien sported spiked fins running along her sides. The Ttaren bore matte obsidian paneling and decorative blades welded along her nacelles.

The D’Vogh flew in the rear of the formation. This formidable ship was classified as a frigate by Federation standards. She bristled with a forward-mounted torpedo rapid launcher of Orion design. It was an almost rudimentary system compared to Starfleet’s newest vessels.

Floating high above all in the center of the formation was Reesshard’s heavily armored yacht. Though its aesthetics screamed decadence, it was a functional and resilient ship. A multiband ablative armor matrix gleamed faintly beneath overlapping deflector fields. The ship was rumored to be lined with sensor-dampening thalmerite weave.

The USS Brawley also flew dead center but beneath the formation. She sat lower than the Orions, spreading the formation into a three-dimensional diamond.

Klingons would be approaching from a second vector. The IKS Votaragh silently paralleled them on approach under cloak. They left earlier and were taking a longer route that would have them enter the fray from a 90 degree angle to the planet’s orientation. It should also hopefully allow them to approach the Vaadwaur from above.

The bridge of the Brawley was tense. Captain Raku Mobra stood beside the Helm. His earring glinted as he gave a curt nod to Lt. Sar at Ops.

“Open a channel to the fleet,” Mobra ordered.

Sar’s fingers moved quickly across the panel, face impassive. “Channel open, Captain.”

Commander Marlon Smythe stood next to Tactical. His honey-brown eyes focused on the targeting sensor’s display. The dark man’s stance was militant. Lt. Cmdr. M’kath’s sandy brown hair was tied back tightly.

“This is Captain Raku to escorting Orion ships,” Raku said evenly. “We are approaching the final assault vector. All captains, make final checks before calling out your readiness status.”

The viewscreen cycled each ship’s image as voices responded.

“Jahlei, ready,” came the silky voice of Captain T’Varessa. Calm orange eyes were framed by violet hair worn swept up.

“Ttaren, standing by,” crackled the reply from Captain T’Iruven. Long green locks flowed over her shoulders. Dark eyes appeared to be between some shade of blue or green in the dim light of her ship.

“Nyxien, weapons primed. Ready,” barked Captain T’Soralei. Her reddish-pink hair was braided to the nape of her neck. Golden eyes blazed from her tactical aggression within.

“D’Vogh, ready and loaded,” came the clear voice of young, bald Captain Kael. His emerald eyes gleamed sharply.

Reesshard’s voice was last. “Oh, dearest allies! The Vi’Reco is not only ready. She is positively aching for combat,” the terraformer said theatrically. “Let us dazzle the savages.”

Captain Raku gave a slight smirk but said nothing.

As the fleet cruised onward, Lt. T’Naagi spoke from the Science station. “Captain. We’ll be able to scan within orbital range of Vaabanth III shortly. Interference is still thick, but we’ll get enough for initial targeting.”

“Understood,” Raku nodded. “Maintain scans.”

M’kath suddenly shouted from Tactical. “Contact! Bearing one-nine-eight. Single ship, coming into sensor range.”

“It’s one of the Manasa escorts,” Smythe said as he crossed his arms. “Their sensors must have picked us up on approach. Looks like they’re trying to intercept us.”

“One ship can’t stop us,” Smythe added flatly.

“The plan stands,” said Raku. “We run past that ship and focus fire on the Astika-class cruiser. We push hard and draw their formation out. We’ll pepper their flanks in the first wave before the Votaragh punches through.”

Mobra turned back to Sar. “Open channel again.”

“Open,” Sar confirmed.

“This is Raku. One escort inbound. Maintain formation. On arrival, all ships will target the heavy cruiser. Focus fire as briefed. Stick to twisting orbit-patterns. Don’t get greedy. We swarm, we retreat. Sticking in one spot got us crushed last time.”

As he cut the channel, Smythe stepped towards his seat. “If we time the figure-eight right, we’ll hit their forward and aft shields on alternating strikes. That’ll stretch their capacitors.”

Raku nodded. “And if they reassign power?”

“We bleed their recharge rate dry, sir”, M’kath said gruffly.

T’Naagi’s voice carried from the Science station. “Captain. Confirmed… Second Manasa escort is in orbit over Vaabanth III. Astika cruiser is with them. Multiple transporter signals are scattered across the ship. It appears they’re collecting raiding teams.”

“Understood,” Captain Raku said. “Time to intercept?”

Sar raised an eyebrow. “Ten minutes and twenty-two seconds, Captain.”

Ensign Crismarlyn Ruiz leaned back to glance over her seat at the helm. “Sir, I’ve been calibrating our micro-impulse vectoring. If we keep dancing, those ships will have a hell of a time getting a clean hit.”

Captain Raku smiled faintly. “Then let’s make it a dance to remember.”

=/\=Ten minutes later…=/\=

The Brawley jumped out of Warp first. Reesshard’s yacht dropped out next, simultaneously with the Jahlei. The three remaining ships appeared next in repeating flashes. They sprinted the final stretch towards the two Vaadwaur ships that turned towards the approaching group.

A rupture in space shimmered like a tear in glass behind them. The second Manasa-class escort dropped out of warp. Its hull gleamed it lunged after the convoy. Two pulsing lances of violet polaron energy leapt out from the Manasa’s nose.

The D’Vogh took the brunt of that opening salvo. Her ventral shields lit up like a green aurora, vibrating as they bent against the assault. Superheated gases burst from an overloaded shield generator. The D’Vogh’s dorsal disruptor turret fired back. Emerald bolts snarled through the darkness. One connected, slicing into the Manasa’s starboard flank, rocking their shields in response.

A wave of fighters flew between the vessels. Their tactic was to hit and move, flying ingroups of four to six. Shots occasionally darted towards them as they struck and evaded.

The Nyxien dove to support the D’Vogh, cutting a hard port angle and banking. Twin disruptor cannons lit up, hurling paired volleys of green-tinted fire that stitched burning trails between the stars. The Manasa dipped and twisted. A single Orion torpedo detonated near its aft. It had a timed delay set to burst several secondss after hitting the shield by utilizing reverberating waves before detonation. The concussive blast rippled across the escort’s shields.

Reesshard’s yacht swept upward through the melee with deliberate flair. Its mirrored hull glinted as it intercepted fire with a flourish. The ship’s layered shielding surged with blue and amber tones as another polaron bolt struck its forward deflector. The shielding buckled, but held. From beneath its broad prow, two disruptors snapped open like jagged fangs. They unleashed tight beams of jade energy that dug into the Manasa’s dorsal shielding. Reesshard’s voice sang out on the comms with theatrical delight, “You can’t touch this, you toothless relic! You’ll have to do better than bruising my paint!”

Below them all was the USS Brawley. She rolled onto her dorsal plane and flared forward. Her matte-gray hull flickered with stress as Ensign Ruiz leaned the ship into the gravitational drift caused by Vaabanth III’s lower orbital pull. “We’re dancing,” she murmured as her fingers flew across the controls. “But we’re flirting with that gravity well. We drift two degrees lower and we start sliding.”

“Confirmed,” Sar said from Ops. His golden skin caught the glint of the console’s emergency lighting. “Forty-two thousand kilometers to lower atmospheric bleed. Adjust course by 0.8 degrees starboard or we risk slingshot turbulence.”

“Copy that,” Ruiz replied as she made the adjustment. The Brawley surged as it pointed up towards the underside of Intarion’s Fist, The Astika Heavy cruiser. Minute adjustments from Ensign Ruiz drifted the Brawley’s attack angle into a controlled fishtail. The Brawley’s forward dorsal phaser arrays erupted from the sharp angle. Red-amber streaks arced wide at first before Lt. Cmdr. M’kath locked in. Fire sliced across the heavy battlecruiser Intarion’s Fist’s upper shield envelope as the large ship fired towards more threatening Orion vessels. Beams seared toward the heavily reinforced starboard deflection zone from below. Shields there were already showing rippling distortion under continuous Orion pressure.

The slingshot effect of the lower atmosphere, combined with the angle of attack gave the Brawley extra manueverabilty. The plucky little California-class power slid to wrap up and around Intarion’s fist. As they completed the racetrack pattern to loop around, they proceeded to reattack from above. The Vaadwuar heavy cruiser stuggled to turn her weapons onto the Brawley, but the big ship had a wide turning arc.

The advantage of surprise had caught the convoy off guard when they were docked at Vaabanth IV twelve days ago. Now the Vaadwaur were the ones who were bound to a defensive posture.

“Firing torpedoes! Targeting pattern Beta-Zulu-Three,” M’kath shouted. A volley of single-fired quantum torpedoes blazed from the Brawley’s forward tubes. Each corkscrewed around shield interference fields before striking at the starboard ventral node of the Astika-class hull. One torpedo skipped off, detonating against the shields with a sun-bright flash. Another hit true, breaching through and scarring the plating near the forward pylon.

Intarion’s Fist returned fire as it finally completed its turn. Twin polaron cannons fired in staggered arcs. One stream collided with the Brawley’s rear shielding, slamming into the secondary impulse array. The ship jolted as hull plating flexed.

“Shields down to thirty percent!” Sar called out. “Re-routing warp engine reserves to reinforcement grid.”

Captain Raku’s voice was calm throughout the chaos. “Keep us in it. Pressure that top forward section.”

Lt. T’Naagi hunched over her console at the Science station. Vibrant orange hair glowed under the red alert lights. “Reading a transient feedback loop in their forward shield harmonics. It looks like an uncorrected subspace impedance from their primary deflector grid. If we can strike the upper forward starboard node itself, we might destabilize the grid entirely. I’d give it a sixty percent chance of cascading overload.”

The plan required hitting a small target after dropping that section of the shields.

“That’s our needle,” Commander Smythe said as he stepped beside the captain near the helm. “Let’s thread it.”

The Jahlei angled into a broad loop as it fired another spread of verdant disruptor bursts. The Orion Space Navy cruiser shuddered violently under counter-fire from the second Manasa-class escort. The bulbous looking Vaadwaur vessel now dogged its port side. Bright violet cannon fire chewed into the Jahlei’s flank. Sparks sprayed from internal conduits as its shielding flickered down just below half strength.

The Ttaren weaved up from underneath and released a disruptor salvo into the escort’s underbelly. It forced the Manasa to break pursuit. More fighters scrambled from the Vaadwaur cruiser’s aft bay. Gray-blue attack craft darted like insects. M’kath opened one of the Brawley’s three phaser arrays into a sustained stream. The scarlet-golden beam sliced three fighters in a single pass. Another long beam tracked along a fourth. The entire blast tore into its core before it spiraled out and drifted towards Vaabanth III.

Ruiz twisted the Brawley upward into another arc. “We’re swinging too close! Pulling above that Vaadwaur beast in five seconds!”

Reesshard’s yacht suddenly darted past the Brawley’s nose, nearly colliding.

“Did you mistake us for a spurned lover, Captain?” Reesshard crowed over the comms sassily.

Captain Raku laughed, having the weight of the moment lifted for two seconds. “Just keep spinning, Reesshard. You’re keeping them off us.”

Just then, another polaron bolt struck Reeshard’s yacht. Its shields surged as they absorbed the energy in a flash of blue and amber arcs. The armor beneath glowed, but remained intact.

The Brawley was starting to buckle. Another polaron strike grazed her ventral shielding, rupturing a hull plate and venting atmosphere from a secondary cargo bay beneath it.

“Shields at twenty-three percent.” Sar called calmly. “Three more similar hits will highly increase chances of a hull breach.”

“I’m transferring warp plasma containment energy into the lateral shield capacitors,” T’Naagi added anxiously. “We’ve adapted modulation based on their current polaron spread. Shield efficiency up twelve percent.”

A brilliant flare erupted as the IKS Votaragh uncloaked from high above. The angle gave a ruddy Klingon gunner the perfect angle to target, as Intarion’s Fist as caught in the approaching angle of their attack. A storm of torpedoes launched from her tubes in perfect rhythm. The unrelenting barrage slammed into the Intarion’s Fist like a meteor storm. Her forward disruptor cannon unleashed a sustained amber beam, cutting into the cruiser’s upper hull with surgical precision. Six heavy disruptors fired violent pulses of light to back up the attack as the angle lined up behind the Vaadwaur from above.

Escorts embroiled with the Orion escorts opened themselves up for attack as they turned to face the IKS Votaragh.

“Fleet—shift fire to their Cruiser,” Captain Raku commanded, noticing the opening. “Let the Klingons finish that cruiser.”

As the Votaragh closed the gap, T’Naagi’s eyes flared. “Reading a plasma divergence in the Vaadwaur cruiser’s dorsal maintenance corridor. Overload it, and it’ll fry the node. Minimal deflection fields above it.”

“That’s the seam,” Raku said. “M’kath, hit it.”

The Brawley surged forward. Phaser beams knifed through space toward the compromised conduit. M’kath staggered photon and quantum torpedo fire to hammer the area. Each warhead slammed against weakened shielding with concussive force.

A gruff Klingon voice roared, “We have located the Vaadwaur bridge. Firing now!”

Klingon torpedoes and disruptors ripped into them from above. Intarion’s Fist jolted and lurched. Its dorsal hull ruptured in a fiery blossom. Internal systems started failing across the ship. A hull breach opened along the bridge tower, venting bodies into the void.

Intarion’s Fist banked and angled towards a flickering point of distorted subspace. An Underspace aperture yawned like a mouth just off Vaabanth III’s orbit.

“They’re retreating!” T’Naagi shouted. “Underspace aperture opened… Distance is three minutes at warp!”

“Pursuit course!” Raku barked.

Ruiz responded instantly. “Course laid in. Warp 1.92 locked.”

“They’re outrunning us,” she warned, “Standing ready to punch into Underspace on your mark.”

Captain Raku watched the trailing warp flare of the wounded cruiser on the viewscreen.

“All ships.. Pursue into Underspace!” His dark eyes blazed furiously as the crews rallied together.