Ensign Lita Morrison pored over the screens in front of her, anxiety and fears filling her heart.  All hell was breaking loose and she had the full weight of the ship’s science department behind her.  Their time was now.  She reported, “Scanning all sectors and cities.”

The klaxons rang throughout the ship as Fleet Captain Geronimo Fontana stood in the center of the bridge on the USS Zephyr, his stomach sour with worry and fear.  The word from the team at the Constructor had reached him via Captain Walton on the Perseverance, and it wasn’t good news.  He had immediately put the rest of the ships in the squadron minus the Olympic-class Cushing into play around the Vorethi homeworld.  As the seconds on the clock above the viewscreen ticked by, the worry and fear threatened to escalate to outright terror at what was going to happen if they could not locate the gravity well prototype.

Morrison’s barely controlled voice said, “Detecting readings consistent with the device – locating.”

Fontana shifted nervously.  They needed to find it.

Lita scrambled as her screens shifted as the computer and her crew worked out the details as quickly as possible.  She relayed, “Confirmed – it’s moving into position above the city Jhala.”  The viewscreen shifted to show the small device hovering for but a moment before it dove towards the city streets.  Fontana clenched his hands in frustration, unable to stop the horror from playing out on the screen.

The ground beneath the Vorethi city buckled in waves, tossing buildings, vehicles, and people every which way as explosions rocked the neighborhoods.  The gravity well spun up and dug into the depths, expanding the circle of destruction exponentially.  Hills became mountains and mountains crumbled to the ground, smashing anything and anyone on the way down.  

Fires spread as the ground continued to undulate, flames jumping from place to place as the ground swung wildly, sending blasts of artificial wind careening off the widening destruction.  As the heavy debris took flight from the intense shaking of the ground and the increasing winds, it bounced into other buildings, sending them crashing into the panicked streets where Vorethi ran.  Some evaded the falling doom, while rock and dust buried others.  It was over in thirty seconds, leaving a desolate landscape that was once a burgeoning metropolis in the Vorethi empire.

The bridge crew watched in open mouthed horror.  Silence filled the bridge as the scene before them continued to play out.  Ensign Alayna Bertrand snapped her head to her console as a trill beep sounded from her station. “Systemwide transmission, sir!”  Fontana waved it on.

“You have witnessed our power.  I am Soner, and I speak for Blood Guild.  We have been reborn.  We are The Crimson Foundry, and we will have our justice upon you.”  In the background, bloodied and injured Chuki was visible, attempting to stand strong. Dragr’al stood slightly in front of him, scowling daggers and blasters at the screen.  Soner cackled.  “And do not doubt us; we have more of these prototypes.  You have two hours to respond to our demands, which we have transmitted within this message.  Do the good work to save yourselves, fools.”  The channel cut.

Fontana turned to the bridge, focusing on his tactical officer.  “Threat screens?”

Lieutenant Kondo De La Fontaine grappled with the new data, pushing the tactical sensors to the limits. “The Bloo…The Crimson Foundry fleet is on the outer edges of the system, holding.  Working on determining their capabilities.  Two additional Birds of Prey have joined them.”

Geronimo grimaced.  “That makes three.  Someone thinks they’ve got a chance.”  He asked, “Do they?”

Kondo grimaced as he relayed what he was seeing. “Sensors are picking up modifications to the Crimson Foundry ships – it would be an even match.”

Fontana’s mind went to work.  They had two hours.  “Get me the Cushing.  Notify the squadron we are all on red alert and ready for battle stations.”

“We can assist.”  Lieutenant Ada Josephs stood in front of the Constructor as it spoke.  “We have built much in the last few days.”

“Do you believe you’re ready?”  She asked not because she didn’t trust it.  She asked because she was afraid of what the Constructor could become.  A part of it was still Baron Nine, but the other part was the original Constructor, under new directives and perspectives.

“We must be ready.  We foresee this battle to be even in ability, talent and technology.  They will need help.  They will need us.  Will you help us?”

Ada asked, “What do you mean?”

“We will need a captain to take command of our lead ship, and to help us lead the attack.  You are the only suitable option.  The Vorethi are thinkers, not fighters.”

She scoffed, “I’m a doctor, not a tactician.”

“You have the training.  We can help.”

“What kind of help?”