“1,479 dead. 23,000 injured.”  Lieutenant Henry Longfellow stood in the triage meeting room on the USS Cushing.  Between the Zephyr and the Olympic-class starship he’d been given command of the massive medical response to the evolving tragedy on the Vorethi planet.  “Our triage teams are swarming the city under escort by security teams and we’re moving as quickly as we can.”

His charge nurse, Lieutenant Hiro reported that her nursing staff from both ships were handling both transporter and shuttle ambulance traffic well enough.  Their goal was to get as many injured up and out of the city before the Crimson Foundry’s timer ran out, and the attack began.

Fleet Captain Geronimo Fontana stood at the head of the table, “Science teams are working at ground zero where the gravity well weapon was used.  We’re working on several theories with the specific technology they used.  Answers are going to be slow.”

Longfellow replied, “We’ll take what we can get, Fontana.  I’m needed back at medical command.”  He stood at attention and departed with Hiro.

Fontana turned to Captain Samson Bradley.  “You said you had a theory.”  They were alone in the room.

Bradley put a PADD down on the table.  “I think they were testing.  Two blasts occurred from the device – both on different frequencies.”  He scrolled and identified both on the screen.  “I don’t know if they really have another device, but they are testing for future use.  That’s scary enough.  That they think they’ll have enough time to put one together is scarier.”

Fontana chewed on his bottom lip for a moment.  “We’re going to have to close the distance for the fight.  Keep them away from the planet and the system at large.  I’m going to shift to the squadron command room, and return command of the Zephyr to you.  We can’t let them get past us.  Not a single one.  Your fighter pilots are up to the task?”

Samson replied with a crooked smile.  “All that and more, sir.”

“The major and minor guilds are united, Fleet Captain.  It is the first in a thousand years.”  Chief Premier Gooren’s grim face filled the screen in the expansive squadron command operations center.  Fontana sat in the center chair, surrounded circularly by consoles, each occupied by a trained officer with an earpiece and microphone used to communicate to the various ships and officers.

“And it only took your emergency powers.”  Gooren’s expression was as close to him rolling his eyes as a Vorethi could get, but a small smile faded towards the end.

“It’s the week for making new records and breaking old ones.  I can only hope the history books will be as kind to me as you are.  I’ve ordered all Vorethi ships into the sky, and weapons ready.  We won’t be going quietly; that is a certainty.  We’ve worked too hard for this place, and our part in it.”

“We’re readying our ships for departure.  Have your ships meet us at the interception point.”

The Vorethi went silent, and he seemed to consider his words.  “It has only been a few days, Fleet Captain, but I have come to appreciate you and your people.  Outsiders are rarely welcomed here, but you have managed to encourage connections between our people.  Thank you.”

Fontana’s smile was quiet, but meaningful.  “Thank me when it’s over and we’re able to celebrate our victory – alive and in one piece.”

“It will be as you say, Fleet Captain.  A good day’s work to you.”