In stories like these someone, or something saves the day. A forgotten shipment of photon torpedoes sits in a cargo bay or the Enterprise warps in at the last moment to save the day setting up a guest spot with Jonathan Frakes and other members of the cast. Unfortunately no such cinematic and narratively compelling guests spots were lined up and the ship continued to be fired upon. Still handling four smaller attack vessels the Galaxy Class São Paulo was holding its own, but occupied leaving the USS Anaheim to deal with the two ships that had broken off to attack the planet. Dividing their targets up the ships focused one on the Hahana III colony below and one of the California Class ship in orbit. 

It is here, with the assurance of no surprise salvation, that we resume our story. 

[Hahana III]

The situation had gone from bad to worse fairly quickly. Not a resource rich colony there was nothing to protect, or avoid hitting for the attackers. There were no dilithium mines or anything of the like for the civilians to run to and so any large grouping of people became a potential target from orbit. The lines for relief supplies had already come under fire, and by now had scattered. Doctor Mueller, who had been administering to people in the line, had been injured and was now being seen to by another doctor. With her unconscious he supposed he was farthest up in the chain of command on the ground, which given the situation was a scary thought. 

“Get those defensive batteries up,” he yelled at fellow Ensign in security clothing, “No groups larger than three if we can help it. Keep apart, get cover if you can.”

The defensive guns had been installed and set up but never actually shot. Bringing them online was one thing, but shooting them up beyond the atmosphere and hitting an attacking ship was going to be something else entirely. It was, however, his only option to protect the colony. The  São Paulo and the Anaheim must already have their hands full if someone was being allowed to fire on the colony.

It was impossible to see their attacker with the human eye, and so the crew, and civilians were taking cover with no knowledge of when the next attack would come. Working on starting up the system the Ensign brought the guns on line, finding three scans in close orbit. One would likely be the USS Anaheim, the other two, well he couldn’t know yet. Staring at the monitor, which honestly was as old or older than the targeting systems aboard the Anaheim, he saw one looping around, coming for another pass. This must be their attacker, and so he tentatively tried locking on and as the dot approached fired from all ground based phaser banks at his disposal.

When not contained in the vacuum of space it turned out that phasers made a tremendous noise. Hume had to cover his ears as they fired, then adjust the targeting to fire again. The attack went wide, and was too little but it at least gave the attacker something to think about as it launched its next barrage of torpedoes at the ground. Fighting the instinct to run, Hume remained in the open at the targeting computer as he prepared another launch.

[USS Anaheim - Bridge]

Being in combat, as any veteran will attest, was nothing like training. It was possible to train every day for your entire life, but as soon as someone was actually shooting at you with the intention to kill it was different. Imagining It wistfully, bored on a mission was a great deal easier than feeling the bridge sway and having the tactical officer read aloud shield percentages. Having spent so long wanting something to happen on his multiple ‘milk runs’ Captain Nathan Hawthorne was now quite sure that this was going to be the end of them. Still the point of training was that it kicks in, and guides you even when you body and brain finds itself paralyzed with fear.

”Half impulse, fire phasers, target their weapons with photon torpedoes,” he said finding his footing, both metaphorically and physically. At this point he did not have the time, nor the resources, to worry about the teams on the planet. He could only deal with one threat at a time, and though in a straight up fight he had faith that the Anaheim could prevail he was outnumbered two to one, and while the ships had come in with a plan of attack he was having to adapt on the fly.

Phasers blasted from the ships canons located on its hull. Torpedoes were launch and impacted against their enemy’s shield. It held, and the Anaheim’s own protective layer took yet another pounding as the enemy returned fire. His hands wrapped around the arm rests and he glared at the screen as if he could do damage to the enemy just be staring at the image. It did not happen, but then that was to be expected.

”Fire everything we have, as soon as it’s ready,” he said, there was no point in holding back or conserving their torpedoes for later. 

They were not on a five year mission, and if they did not survive this there was nothing to keep well armed for. Lieutenant Commander Kan Th’kaotoss nodded, “Yes sir.”

They were going to need a break through, something fast. 

[USS Anaheim - Counselor’s Quarters]

Moaning Lieutenant Junior Grade Yuhiro Kolem rolled over on the floor. Her leg seemed sprain from the fall, not broken. Her head hurt, but otherwise she was okay. Whatever was going on she should probably be on the bridge, even if she could not do anything more there than in her quarters. The trouble was that standing was an issue, let along walking. It was just then that her door chimed, and she called out “Come.”

There was Commander McCleod, the ship’s First Officer. The Doctor at the door saw her on the floor and looked concerned.

”You hurt?“ he said pulling out a medical tricorder that he had on him. 

“Left leg,” Kolem said, directing his attention. 

Doctor McCleod ran the scan and nodded, “Look we’re going to get you to sickbay.”

”Bridge, and I need my empathy back,” Kolem said, realizing it was the only way that she could help the Anaheim. 

McCloed seemed unconvinced, but Kolem said it seriously and with enough conviction that he nodded, “Okay, let’s get you there, here lean against me.”

They would have to stop by sickbay for a few hypnosprays worth of various drugs to keep the Couselor going, but it was not that they had much choice. If her limited empathic powers could help at all then they needed everything that they could use, any advantage. Kolem was willing to give it a shot at least, since the alternative was… well there was not an alternative.