USS Themis (NCC-76554)

“Direct hit on our aft shields!” Lenjir shouted over the klaxons.

The deck of the Themis bucked hard, jolting everyone in their seats as another barrage slammed into them. Cambil gripped the arms of her chair with both hands, her knuckles white.

“Shields are down to seventy-four per cent!” Lenjir called from tactical, his features tensed.

“Full axis rotation to port,” ordered T’Rani from her seat beside Cambil, her tone crisp and unshaken.

“Acknowledged,” said Andar from the helm. The Phylosian’s vines pulsated as they moved smoothly across the console. “Initiating rotation now.”

The stars wheeled sharply on the viewscreen as the Themis spun, pitching along her axis to bring her ventral side to bear.

Cambil didn’t miss a beat. “Cline, fire all ventral phasers at those ships, concentrate on the one closest to us.”

“Target locked. Firing now.”

Orange phaser beams lanced out from the underside of the ship, carving across space in perfectly synchronised bursts. The nearest Vaadwaur warship, which was  heavily armoured, shuddered as the barrage tore into its shielding.

“They’re returning fire,” Lenjir warned.

“Then keep giving them something to aim at,” Cambil growled.

The ship shook again, not as violently this time, but still enough to rattle the bridge. Sparks flew from a conduit above one of the aft stations, and the lights flickered.

“Engineering to bridge,” came Perez’s voice through the intercom. “Captain, those last hits just overloaded the tertiary power conduit for the environmental regulators on decks four through six. It’s not critical, but we’ll lose non-essential life support unless I reroute through the waste heat exchangers.”

“Do it,” Cambil replied. “Don’t wait for permission if you’ve got a solution.”

“I thought you’d say that. Bypassing now. Perez out.”

“We’re being targeted again,” Jines reported from ops. “Looks like a second Vaadwaur ship is moving into formation with the first. They’re trying to flank us.”

T’Rani didn’t hesitate. “Lieutenant Commander Jines, transfer auxiliary power to shields. Lieutenant Andar, adjust our angle. Roll us twenty degrees and bring us under them.”

“Rolling now,” Andar responded. The Themis banked sharply, her underbelly passing just beneath the converging enemy vessels.

“Ready phasers,” Cambil ordered, leaning forward. “Target their engines. Fire at will!”

Lenjir’s fingers flew across the tactical console. “Firing.”

Twin phaser beams stabbed forward, cutting into the lower hull of the lead enemy vessel. Explosions rippled across its aft section, sending debris and burning plasma tumbling into space. The ship began to list.

“Direct damage to their propulsion,” Lenjir reported. “They’ve lost their engines.”

The second Vaadwaur ship hesitated, trying to adjust. But Cambil saw the opening. “Now, while they’re out of sync with each other, launch a spread of torpedoes and then sweep across with dorsal phaser arrays.”

The Themis responded with precision. Torpedoes soared ahead, slamming into the weakened flank of the damaged vessel. The dorsal phasers followed, catching the second warship as it manoeuvred into the line of fire. Both were engulfed in overlapping detonations.

“They’re pulling back,” Abbej confirmed from her console at science. Though there was not much for her to do during a battle that required the science department, Abbej always doubled up and became another pair of eyes on what was happening around them. “It looks like they’re trying to regroup.”

“Then let’s make sure we don’t give them the chance,” Cambil said between gritted teeth. “T’Rani, advise the Constitution to move in on their starboard side and support us. Let’s box them in and break their lines.”

“Message sent,” T’Rani replied calmly. “Captain McCallister is joining us.”

Abbej swiftly spoke up again. “Captain, sensors show another Vaadwaur vessel approaching. This one has a larger profile, possibly a heavy battlecruiser.”

Cambil’s jaw tightened. “Then we hold here. Andar, bring us about to face them. Cline, recharge ventral arrays and prep torpedoes. This isn’t over. Not until they know we’re not leaving.”

USS Triton (NCC-80106)

“Direct hit! Target destroyed!”

The cheers came before the shockwave faded. The Triton’s bridge erupted with a round of restrained but heartfelt whoops and claps as the last of the Vaadwaur assault escort disintegrated in a brilliant bloom of fire and debris across the main viewer. The glowing remnants scattered into space like stardust.

Banfield stood tall in the centre of her bridge, her sharp eyes fixed on the screen as the light from the explosion reflected off the walls. “Nice work,” she said, her voice calm but commanding. “That’s one more threat off the board. But we’re not done yet.”

Her position between the conn and ops gave her a clear view of her bridge crew. To her right, Lieutenant Curly Merp II, CJ to everyone, grinned at his helm console, his blue fingers dancing across the controls. To her left, Lieutenant Thamas monitored the power system displays at ops, his expression focused, brows slightly furrowed.

“Well done, team,” Banfield said, her voice slicing through the ambient buzz. “Let’s pick our next target.”

In his chair behind her, Jen spoke up. The Trill first officer was studying the holographic display before him. “Captain, I’ve got a contact making a slow but steady trajectory toward the Themis,” he said, pointing to the holographic display in front of his chair. “It’s one of their heavy battle cruisers.”

“Trying to break through to get to Bexa,” Banfield muttered after turning around to see what her first officer was sharing. She scanned the display. “They won’t.”

“We’re not alone,” said Jisaraa from tactical. The Orion officer looked up briefly. “The Constitution is putting pressure on its flank, but they could use some backup.”

Banfield gave a quick nod before turning back to her pilot. “Then we give it to them. CJ, bring us about and lay an intercept course. Jisaraa, clear a path. Target any hostiles between us and that ship. Short, sharp phaser bursts. Let’s stay nimble.”

“Plotting course now,” CJ replied, a ripple of movement flashing across his console as he punched in the new vector. “E-T-A thirty-eight seconds.”

“Firing solutions plotted,” Jisaraa added. “Engaging forward phasers.”

The Triton surged through the chaos, weaving between distant firestorms and the dancing silhouettes of allied ships exchanging weapons fire with the remaining Vaadwaur forces. The graceful Luna-class vessel dipped and rolled, her hull gleaming as streaks of phaser fire lanced ahead to slice into scattered enemy vessels still attempting to regroup. Each time Jisaraa fired, a flash of energy lit the viewer. Strikes hit sensor pods, weapons arrays, and impulse manifolds. Debris spun across the black like shrapnel from a cosmic collision.

“Shields holding at ninety-one per cent,” Thamas reported. “Minimal hull damage.”

“Closing on the target,” CJ announced. “Dropping to attack velocity.”

The enemy ship loomed ahead. It was a massive monster, its armoured hull bristling with weapon emplacements and engine nacelles glowing a sickly purple. Its trajectory placed it on a collision course with the Themis, which was still exchanging fire with other attackers.

Banfield’s eyes narrowed. “Let’s make this count. Jisaraa, fire a full spread of quantum torpedoes. Focus on the centre of that ship. Don’t give it a chance to recover.”

“Locked and firing,” Jisaraa said.

The screen flared as brilliant blue-white torpedoes streaked forward, dancing through the void with blinding speed. A second later, they struck. The explosion was immense. The enemy ship reeled, its forward hull crumpling like paper under the barrage. One of its nacelles vented plasma in a violent cascade, spiralling out of control as internal fires began to leap from one compartment to the next.

Banfield allowed herself a breath. “Status?” she asked.

“Direct hits to their weapons grid and secondary power banks,” Jisaraa confirmed. “Their shields are fluctuating. Looks like we’ve knocked out at least half their forward array.”

“They’re not out of the fight yet,” Jen warned.

“We’re not done either,” Banfield said firmly. Her arms crossed as she remained steady where she stood. “CJ, keep us in their blind spot. Jisaraa, target the exposed section near their port engine and keep phasers hot. I want to peel them open.”

“Executing now,” CJ said, his hands already guiding the Triton into a tight spiral, keeping the ship tucked just beneath the Vaadwaur vessel’s ventral line.

T’Liana’s voice cut through the action for the first time. “Captain, our control over the automated defence platforms remains stable. Several are providing cover fire and suppressing Vaadwaur attempts to regroup.”

“That’s the advantage we need,” Banfield said. “Coordinate with the platforms. Tell the Astra we need them to focus on any reinforcements moving toward the Themis or Constitution. Let’s keep their backs covered.”

“Acknowledged,” T’Liana responded, already initiating the updates to the control algorithm and transmitting them to the Astra.

The enemy battlecruiser, crippled but still moving, attempted to rotate to bring fresh weapons to bear. But the Triton stayed on it, darting through space with fluid motion, hammering it again and again with pinpoint strikes. Each time, plating melted, conduits exploded, and their opponent’s return fire grew more desperate.

“Reading internal cascade failures,” Jen announced. “Their containment fields are collapsing.”

Banfield gave one final nod. “Finish it. Hit them with everything we’ve got, Jisaraa.”

The Triton unleashed a final salvo with phasers from all forward arrays and several more torpedoes punching straight through the hull breach. The explosion that followed dwarfed the last. A sphere of fire enveloped the ship, the shockwave flashing out like a miniature supernova.

Silence fell over the bridge, save for the quiet chirps of stations resetting.

Jisaraa turned with a slight smirk. “Target neutralised.”

Banfield exhaled slowly. “Good work, everyone. Let’s find our next challenge.”

“Plenty left to pick from,” Jen muttered, already turning back to his console.

“Then let’s keep moving,” Banfield said, her voice steeled. “We’re not letting any of them out of our sight.”

USS Constitution (NCC-91700)

“Captain Banfield never changes,” Horatio McCallister said with a wry smirk, arms loosely folded as he observed the Triton’s final blow to the Vaadwaur battle cruiser. “Vicious in a fight, relentless in pursuit and always has to make a show of it.”

Sitting beside him, Commander Thaustin, his Xindi first officer, chuckled under his breath. “One could say she has a flair for the dramatic. But it works.”

“It does,” Horatio agreed, a twinkle in his eye. “And she said she never wanted to sit in the captain’s chair!” He turned in his chair slightly, glancing toward the science station. “Belire,” he called out, “any signs that our hosts are growing tired of being beaten?”

Kazlaf didn’t look up from her console. The Elaysian’s legs, supported in her usual anti-grav braces, were curled beneath her in her modified seat. “Not unless you count them hurling themselves at us harder,” she replied dryly. “No hails. No surrender signals. Just more grit and misplaced confidence. Even with their automated defence platforms firing against them. I think they’re trying to find a way to take them back.”

“Maybe they’re just stubborn,” muttered Jarata from the helm. The Risian pilot’s tan features furrowed with thought as he kept the Constitution weaving through Vaadwaur weapons fire. “Or maybe they’re guarding something too valuable to lose. Every time we get near one of those Blackout Stations, they double down. Why don’t we go for one directly?”

“They’re well defended,” Lonar interjected from tactical, her voice strong as she shared her thoughts. The young Cardassian officer’s hands flew across her controls as she scanned the nearest target. “Shield harmonics are reinforced and localised point-defence systems track anything that gets too close.”

Kazlaf tilted her head, considering. “What if we hit their shield grid with a series of tachyon bursts? Force it into a recalibration loop. In that momentary reset, their primary defence would blink and we’d have an opening.”

Thaustin nodded at the idea. “And if we fire tricobalt devices at high yield during that window, we won’t need a second chance.”

Horatio leaned forward in his chair, eyes narrowing with approval. “Fast. Precise. Messy. Just the way I like it.” He looked over to his left side. “Counsellor, thoughts on that idea? Will it piss off the Vaadwaur?”

Seated to the captain’s left, the imposing bulk of Naef-Oron shifted forward. The Brikar’s gravelly voice rumbled low. “If we pull it off, Captain, it’ll truly enrage them. Strategically and psychologically.”

“Now that’s the kind of therapy I endorse,” Horatio replied with a grin. “Ethav, prep the tachyon bursts. Program them to destabilise the shield harmonics on the nearest Blackout Station. Natima, load tricobalt payloads. I want them set to their maximum yield.”

“Aye, sir,” the Andorian officer responded from ops. His antennae twitched as he entered the commands with practised ease.

Horatio looked to his first officer. “Thaustin, see if any of our new friends want to play ball.”

“Already ahead of you, Captain.” Thaustin turned from his console. “Three Vidiian vessels have taken up flanking positions. They’re ready to assist in deploying tachyon bursts, too.”

Horatio smiled as he stood. “Perfect. Let’s give the Vaadwaur something to panic about.”

The Constitution led the charge, flanked tightly by three Vidiian cruisers. Their hulls glowed as they released coordinated bursts of tachyon energy at the looming mass of the Blackout Station ahead. Its curved architecture bristled with Vaadwaur weaponry and shield nodes, already glowing under the assault.

“The return fire is intense, sir, ” Lonar reported, bracing against the shaking deck. “One of the Vidiians has taken a hit to their port nacelle, but they’re still in formation.”

“Keep our nose to the fire,” Horatio ordered. “Rubon, hold steady at attack speed. Belire, status on the station’s shields?”

“They’re wobbling,” she replied. “Phase harmonics are starting to fracture. If we keep pressure on them—”

“Now!” Lonar cut in. “Their shield grid is in mid-cycle!”

“Fire the tricobalt devices!” Horatio barked. “Shove it right down their throats!”

The deck jolted as four massive warheads tore free from the Constitution’s launchers. On the main viewscreen, the station’s shields flickered and collapsed just in time for the quad explosions to detonate against its core. The result was instantaneous. A brilliant white flash engulfed the station’s central hub, sending shockwaves outward as its superstructure shattered like fragile glass. Subsequent explosions echoed throughout, tearing it into swirling pieces of debris.

A cheer erupted across the bridge.

Horatio sat with his arms crossed, grinning. “Well done, everyone. I do believe we just took the wind out of their sails.”

Kazlaf snorted. “They’re going to hate us for that.”

“Then let’s make sure it wasn’t a fluke,” Horatio replied, already pointing toward the next blip on the tactical display. “Pick another station. Same strategy. If we bring down enough of these, the Vaadwaur will start to feel their walls crumbling and with luck, their morale right behind it.”

Thaustin nodded gravely. “And if their hidden world truly depends on these outposts staying operational…”

“They won’t recover,” Horatio finished for him. “And the Delta Quadrant will breathe just a little easier.”

He turned back to the screen, eyes gleaming.

“Let’s go ruin someone else’s day.”

USS Bellerophon (NCC-74705)

Explosions rippled in the distance, tracer fire streaking across the void as the Bellerophon dove through a wedge of disoriented smaller Vaadwaur ships.

Reyas leaned forward in her command chair, one leg crossed neatly over the other, her expression cool and analytical despite the chaos around her. Speaking up through the open channel with the squadron starfighters, she knew those brave pilots were nearby to help her. “Keep it tight around the Astra. We can’t afford to lose her connection to those platforms.”

Commander Rosle’s voice crackled over comms, filtered through the buzz of interference. “My squadron’s flanking wide. We’ll draw the next wave off your port side.”

“Understood,” Reyas replied, watching on the viewscreen as the formation of Starfleet fighters under Rosle’s command swept around like a blade, cutting across the Vaadwaur line with controlled fury.

Kurath, her Klingon chief of security and tactical, let out a low, deep chuckle as another enemy escort burst into flames under their combined assault. “They can’t see a thing. Our interference is blinding them. It’s like striking a warrior with a mek’leth while he’s drunk!”

“Try not to get too cocky,” Jonarom said from the science station, his voice half-pleading. “I’m doing everything I can to keep that interference field stable, but we’re taking damage. If our emitters go, so does the Astra’s cover.”

Across the bridge, Chambers smirked from the helm. “Oh, stop moaning, Jono. You’ve got the easy job. I’m trying to fly this ship through a hailstorm of torpedoes. Just focus. You’ve got this!”

Jirani, seated at Reyas’s left, gave them both a stern glance. “Children, play nicely.”

A sudden flash of blue light tore through the viewscreen, drawing Reyas’s gaze to the left. She narrowed her eyes. “What was that explosion?”

Jirani quickly brought up the shared display between their chairs. “Looks like the Constitution. They’ve taken out one of the Blackout stations.”

Reyas arched an eyebrow. “Finally, my brother-in-law is warming up.”

The ship rocked harder this time as the shields absorbed another glancing hit.

Kurath growled, scanning his readouts. “A Vaadwaur battlecruiser is bearing down on us. It’s trying to target the Astra. They’re trying to disrupt our lines.”

“Return the favour,” Reyas said crisply. “Let’s show them what happens when they pick the wrong target.”

She looked over to Jiran. “Open a channel to our starfighters and the Astra.” A second later, Jirani nodded to show the call was live. “Commander Rosle, Captain Niro, we’ve got a big one heading our way. We need to coordinate if we’re going to bring it down.”

Rosle’s response came instantly. “Already on approach. Fighters are locking onto its weak points.”

Captain Niro’s voice followed, calm and composed from the Astra’s bridge. “We’re in position. Let’s give it everything.”

“Form up,” Reyas ordered. “Target its shields. Hit it hard, hit it fast.”

The Bellerophon surged forward, aligning alongside the nimble Astra and the darting fighters of Rosle’s squadron. The Vaadwaur battlecruiser loomed ahead, its dorsal cannons already charging, its shields flaring with incoming fire.

“Fire!” Reyas commanded.

A coordinated barrage of photon and quantum torpedoes lanced out from the Bellerophon, slamming into the enemy ship’s forward shields. Rosle’s fighters arced along its ventral side, peppering its hull with pulse phasers and micro-torpedoes. The Astra, small but precise, launched a surgical strike directly into the weakened shield grid.

The battlecruiser’s shields collapsed with a flickering pulse of blue energy.

“Now!” Reyas called. “Sweep across its flank!”

The allied ships banked up and over the Vaadwaur vessel, unloading a cascading spread of phaser fire along the length of its port side. Explosions bloomed across the hull as critical systems failed, trailing plasma and debris into the void.

As they passed overhead, the Bellerophon spun on her axis, her aft launchers illuminating.

“Torpedoes away,” Kurath announced, his voice filled with grim satisfaction.

A final burst of light filled the screen as the torpedoes struck home, igniting the core of the battlecruiser. The ship exploded in a violent chain reaction, debris scattering in every direction.

Reyas permitted herself a pleased smile, then turned back toward Jonarom. “Don’t let that connection drop, Lieutenant. We lose that link, the Astra is a sitting duck.”

Jonarom exhaled sharply, still hunched over his console. “No pressure, then.”

Chambers grinned over his shoulder. “You’ll be fine. Just don’t blow up the science console.”

“I’ll keep it stable,” Jonarom promised. “I’ve got this.”

Reyas nodded once. “Good. Because we’ve only just started turning the tide.”

USS Destiny (NCC-92600)

The Destiny shuddered under another direct hit as flames and sparks burst from an overhead console. The immense bulk of the Vaadwaur juggernaut dominated the view on the main screen. It was a towering, angular monstrosity of a vessel, bristling with weapons and glowing with power.

“Shields at twenty-eight per cent!” Hilson called from operations, his voice barely audible over the shriek of failing systems. “They’re holding, but not for long.”

“We’ve lost the Rakosan Dawn,” reported Johren at tactical. His features were grim, unflinching. “And the Tirosh just took a fatal hit. She’s venting plasma.”

Patterson gritted her teeth and gripped the arms of her chair tightly. Around her, her crew of the Destiny worked with focused desperation, the bridge lit by flashing red alerts and warning tones.

“Keep us in the fight,” she snapped. “We’re not backing down.”

Before anyone could respond, a console near the helm erupted in a burst of white-hot fire. D’Varnee screamed and collapsed, thrown hard to the deck by the blast. Smoke filled the air.

“Medical team to the bridge!” Pharah was already moving, leaping to D’Varnee’s side before exchanging a look with Patterson.

“Take the helm, Pharah,” Patterson ordered without hesitation as the medics finally arrived and took D’Varnee away to sickbay. “Get us moving. Don’t let that juggernaut line up another full spread.”

Pharah slid into the helm seat, antennae twitching with urgency as she yanked the Destiny into a steep roll, dodging an incoming wave of torpedoes by meters.

“Weapons fire from the Paxau Heat,” Johren reported. “Talaxian reinforcements have arrived. Four cruisers, they’re smaller, but they’re hitting the juggernaut’s port side.”

“Good,” Patterson replied. “Coordinate with them. We’ve got to bring that bastard down.”

“Juggernaut is reinforcing shields,” Johren warned a moment later. “Power readings are spiking. It’s adapting.”

“Then we adapt faster,” Patterson snapped. “Find a weak spot, however small, and tell the Rakosans and Talaxians to focus all fire there. We punch through it, or we don’t get through at all.”

From engineering, Alesyo’s voice broke through the noise over the intercom. “Captain, I’ve bypassed six EPS conduits just to keep primary power routed to weapons and shields. We can’t take much more of this. I recommend we retreat and make field repairs—”

“No,” Patterson said firmly, rising from her chair, eyes locked on the looming juggernaut. “Not yet. Keep us fighting, Lieutenant.”

“I’ll do my best,” Alesyo replied, her voice weary but loyal. “But don’t expect miracles.”

As Patterson turned back toward the screen, a softer voice reached her.

“Captain.” Kandil, her Deltan chief counsellor, leaned in beside her. “You don’t have to prove anything. You’re not Captain Marshall-Bennet. There’s no shame in falling back.”

She froze for a moment. The words stung, but not from malice. From truth. Her jaw tightened. “With respect, Counsellor, we’ll fall back when I say we’re done. Not before.” She turned her attention back to her tactical officer. “Johren?”

Johren’s fingers danced across his console, then his eyes lit up. “There. Their ventral shield matrix junction is twenty-two per cent weaker. It’s fluctuating with every power surge.”

“That’s our target,” Patterson said sharply. “Send it to the fleet. We hit that point with everything we’ve got.”

Outside, the Destiny turned sharply, flying in tandem with two Rakosan cruisers and the lead Talaxian vessel. Pharah wove the ship through the tangled debris field, while the Talaxians unleashed a hail of torpedoes.

“Concentrating fire on the ventral junction,” Johren called. “Now!”

Every allied ship in the immediate zone fired simultaneously. Torpedoes streaked across the void, followed by focused phaser and disruptor fire. The juggernaut’s shields flickered then shattered in a burst of white light.

“She’s vulnerable!” Hilson yelled. “They’ve got a breach!”

“Hit it again!” Patterson ordered.

The second wave of fire struck home. The juggernaut trembled, its hull splitting open along a jagged seam. Secondary explosions blossomed across its surface as critical systems overloaded. Its weapons fell silent. A moment later, the vessel powered down, drifting, dead in space.

A subdued silence fell over the bridge.

“We got it,” Johren confirmed. “The juggernaut’s been disabled.”

Patterson let out a long, controlled breath, then immediately turned to Hilson.

“Damage report, Evan.”

“Not good,” he replied. “We’ve lost shields. Structural integrity on deck nine is failing. Power reserves are nearly depleted.”

“Engineering confirms plasma fires in two sections,” added Pharah.

Patterson lowered herself slowly into her chair. The cost had been high, and they’d paid it willingly.

“We’re not useful to anyone else like this,” she said finally. “Helm, break formation. Fall back to the rally point. Let’s regroup and repair.”

“Aye, captain,” Pharah replied.

As the Destiny limped away from the battlefield, her hull scarred and burning, Patterson looked toward the forward screen. The sight of the disabled juggernaut gave her no comfort. She could still hear Brandek’s words in her mind, but she had made the choice. This was her command. And she intended to see it through.