Acting Ensign Órlaith Murphey glanced down at her displays, her fingers drumming absently against the control panel. The readouts showed what they always did—green across the board. She had lost count of how many times she had run her fighter through diagnostics, searching for even the slightest irregularity. But the systems were still in perfect order.

With a quiet sigh, she leaned back against her seat, biting her lip as she peered through the canopy. Above her, the USS Thalian loomed. The steady blue glow of its warp nacelles washed over her, casting a peaceful glow into the cramped cockpit. She could almost forget the deadly business they were about to embark on.

Órlaith exhaled slowly, rolling her shoulders to shake off the tension coiling in her muscles. Don’t get too comfortable, she reminded herself. This is just the calm before the storm.

Marcus allowed himself to bleed off the tension he was feeling.  As he did so his senses became more in tune with the space around many of the fighters and ships around him.  The best way he could describe it as being in tune with the ebb and flow of the space around him.  It wasn’t infallable but it sure gave him an edge when he was studying Astronautics and Astronautical Tactics as well as when in the field.

He keyed in the channels of Bravo and Charlie flights and said, “Bravo group, Charlie group…Safeties off, weapons hot.  Stick to your assigned sectors, but do your best to stay loose in those confines.  When it comes to the fight, our wingmate’s skills will count as much as your own.  Remember that we need to cover each other’s asses as much as our assigned ships.  Don’t overcomplicate it, folks…I can assure you it’s about as straightforward as it can get…Pep talk over.  Stay frosty out there, and eyes up!”

He immediately got bursts of responses from acknowledgments to some rather abruptly salty comebacks.  The latter made him chuckle.  He muttered to himself through a grin, “Gods, I love this job!”

Sh’iv deftly adjusted her course, sliding her fighter alongside Marcus. Through her canopy, she grinned, and with her left hand, she closed the face shield of the helmet to her environmental suit. She gave him a thumbs-up with her gloved hand, a brief but confident gesture, her eyes hidden behind the black-tinted visor. “I got your six Pink Skin.”

“Glad to have my favorite fighter demon there, XO,” Marcus radioed back.

After a moment, he grinned and got on the Bravo and Charlie frequencies, “Bravo and Charlie groups…As of now, the callsign for Lt. JG Esessa Sh’ivhohlol, XO of the Knights, shall be ‘The Andorian Demon.’  Congrats Lieutenant.  You’ve been a hellion for a while, and I am damned glad you’re on our side.”

There were scattered messages of congratulations and good-natured jeers.  The XO of the fighter group got back on a private channel with Sh’iv and said with an audible grin in his voice, “It fits you… Just don’t shoot my wing off for it.”

“Sir,” the Andorian said. “If every pilot shot off the wing of the person giving them a callsign, we’d have no pilots.”

“Terran humor, XO.  That fell close to the gallow’s flavor of humor, which is also tied into dark humor.  Andorian Demon fits you any which way.  You’re hell in a fighter…..sometimes hell on ’em.  The two people I’d trust on my wing are you and Abara.  That’s a fact,” Ming said lightly and seriously.

The intercom crackled. “Battleship, dead ahead.”

There it was: a hulking behemoth, the pinnacle of Dominion engineering. It loomed over the battlefield like a monolith, massive and unyielding. But like the Bismarck or the Yamato, it was a relic of another era—no less deadly, yet vulnerable. It is too slow to match the speed and precision of smaller, more agile ships.

The Federation had adapted. The mad scramble to counter the Borg and the brief but brutal war with the Klingons—each conflict had forged the fleet and crews in fire. Now, after more than a year of being locked in a deadly struggle with the Cardassian-Dominion Alliance, they continued refining their ships and tactics, and they were coming out stronger because of it.

Another voice crackled over the intercom—this time, a female pilot from the other flight under Marcus’ command. “Bogies, 12 o’clock high!”

One by one, yellow dots flickered to life on the flight leader’s screen—fifteen in total, all closing fast on the Federation formation. The larger ships could handle the beetle-shaped Dominion fighters, but their priority was the battleship. That left the 335th with one job: keep the Jem’Hadar fighters engaged.

Marcus confirmed the incoming on his scanners.  He radioed, “Bravo and Charlie groups:  Weapons hot safeties off!  Sparrows:  stay on the fringes and maintain harassing fire.  Your speed and agility are still your best assets.  All other fighters give em hell!  Bob and weave as best you can but do NOT be afraid to chew these Dominion fuckers up!  Now, let’s intercept and execute!”

The fighter groups coaleced into a series of wedge formations within something closely resembling an assault wall.  This offred a little depth and a large field of coverage.  It seemed the Dominion had a similar game plan.  Something occured to him as the enemies bolted toward eachother.  Extrapolating from his astronautical training he sent a tight beam order to the other fighters in his operational control.

With inertial dampening maxed out the upper group of fighters would pop up at the last minute and attack downward  while the lower groups would drop down then attack upward.  Not wide enough to be a true hammer and anvil…more like a preditor taking a bite out of prey.  Acknowledgements flooded back at him.

Making himself hyperaware of the surroundings Lieutenant Marcus Ming sent a single word to his command. … “NOW!”

He and the Knights were on one of the upper echelons so he pulled up at a fairly steep upward angle before slamming down unleashing a full phaser barrage with a pair of micro quantum torpedoes.  The Gem’hadar fighter’s shields quickly buckled under the focused onslaught and the ship exploded.  The sudden move obviously caught the enemy by surprised as it ate up between 1/4 and 2/5ths  of the Dominion fighters.  1/5th of the Federation fighter forces were also lost in the process.  He felt Jenna’s death before his sensor’s reported her fighter’s disintigrate.  There was a flash of shock followed by a fury which could only be described as colder than absolute zero.  With a purely subconcious effort the emotion broadcasted from him directed toward his allies as the battle started to devolve into a furball of barely controlled chaos.

Ming once again radioed, “Bravo and Charlie groups:  Break and attack by flight.  Recommed three attackers with two rear guards.  If any flight is deminished to three join up with another flight for the duration of this fight.  We’ll clarify flight status after the battle.  Let’s do it people!  Break and attack NOW!”

The CO of Bravo and Charlie groups got a flood of acknowledgements regarding his orders. After about 25 seconds he switched to the Knights frequancy, “Knight’s Two and Six..Move up even to both my wings.  Knights four and five:  make sure nobody sneaks up on us and handle any stragglers.  Confirm orders Knights!”

“I have a lot of experience covering your ass boss.  On it,” Knight 5 said in his basso voice.

“Confirmed Knight 1,” Knight 4 said in flat tones Vulcans seemed to excel at Ming thought.

Órlaith was pale and her heart pounded in her ears.  Her gloves were sticky with sweat and her flight suit clung to her body.

Takinga deep breath she guided her fighter along Marcus’ right side just in time to see a brilliant flash from the explosion of a Cardassian cruiser, it’s yellow-tan hull breaking apart and consumed in an antimatter reaction. Órlaith looked away shielding her eyes and tried swallowing,  but her mouth and throat was too dry.

“You’ve got this Ensign,” Sh’iv’s voice cut over the comm. “Just remember your training. You are as good as anyone out here.”

Órlaith didn’t know what to say to that. Sh’iv had always been critical of her, pushing her harder and harder, never satisfied to the point Órlaith thought her flight XO hated her.

Marcus radioed on the Knight’s frequancy. “Stay frosty, Knights.  If we get separated keep together as much as possible and regroup first opportunity.”

The commanding Lieutenant switched to the the joint frequancy for Bravo and Charlie groups.  He said, “Keep up the pressure Bravo and Charlie groups!  So far they’re finally taking more losses but it only keeps up that way if we keep hitting em hard and keep working in wolf packs!  Ming out!”

His lips peeled back into a wolfish grin as a trio of Gem’Hadar fighters crossed the plane of their flightpath at a roughly 30 degree angle.  He toggled to his flight frequancy and said, “Tally ho!  New targets.  I got the center, Knights Two and Six on your respective bogies.  Fire on my mark.”

The three attack fighters adgusted to tail the trio of Jem’hadar while two and five kept in a defensive set in case some bogie(s) got cute.  Ming’s targeting system locked.  He waited about one and a half heartbeats before grinding out a savage, “MARK” as he fired his phasers and a micro torpedo for good measure.

20 minutes later…

Sh’iv rolled right and released the last of her torpedoes at an enemy fighter,  two brilliant flashes of erupted along the hull of the enemy ship, before it veered hard to the left and exploded.

“Knight Two to Knight One.  Weapon stores depleted,” she said keying the mic as a trio of Jem’hadar fighters intercepted the Federation fighters.  Sh’iv swore in her native tongue.

“Knight one to Knights:  Do you have anything left?”

Knight 4 reported her torpedoes were expended.  Knight 5 reported he had two remaining torpedoes and phasers however they were at the risk of overheating.

“I still have phasers,” Órlatih replied.

Sh’iv glanced down at her sensor screen noting the ensign moving in to intercept,  but the enemy was still working to get an angle on Knight One.

“Damn,” the Andorian pilot swore again. She entered commands into her helm and the Valkyre shot forward.   As she did her fingers frantically worked the tactical screen trying to bring her damaged phasers back online.

“Keep going.  If you’re weapons are down head back to base to rearm or trade out for a fresh ship.  I will NOT loose any pilot I can save.  The Fleet needs seasoned pilots and I damned well won’t lose anyone else in this flight,” Ming said seriously on the Knights channel.

He repeated the sentiment on the Bravo and Charlie frequancies. He added, “Eyes up and stay frosty folks.  We’re looking at less than a dozen Gem’Hadar fighters left. Lets take em out so we can go home, re-arm and see what we can do to help out our heavies.  We may be gnats to some of them but even gnats can get to biggies.”

She caught a flash of an exploding ship.  Good job kid, she thought as Órlaith took out one of the fighters.

Whoever was the pilot of the lead Jem’hadar ship knew his stuff. No women right? She had never seen anyone who could keep up with Ming and yet there they where.  It was as if the enemy was reading her CO’s mind anticipating ever juke and dive.

“Goddammit!” Sh’iv swore and she slammed the visor shut to her flight suit automatically pressurized it.

“Gods and monsters!  I can’t lose this guy.  A little help here,” Ming radioed still maneuvering like a man insane and avoiding a repeat of maneuvers.  He added, “Bastard!”

Pushing her fighter into full impulse she rolled inverted and shot under Órlaith.  The enemy fighter grew closer and closer.  Gritting her teeth she braced and made minor adjustments.  Everything slowed down and seconds felt like minutes.  She would have to time this just right.

The purple engines of the enemy swayed to the right as the glow filled her cockpit, and she adjusted her course.

A split second later Sh’iv’s fighter slammed into the Dominion ship and both were ripped apart as a pair of antimatter explosions filled the battlefield.

Ming broke protocal and screamed, “Sh’iv!!!!”

“Knights, do you see Knight two?  I don’t see her but maybe she went EV,” Ming radioed after composing himself which was virtually impossible.

Knight Five’s bass of a voice replied, “Five to Knight Actual…I see her.  Initiating emergancy transport to my gunners chair…..energizing….Bumbaclaat! She looks mighty bad Knight Actual.”

Ming growled.  There were six Gem’Hadar fighters left and maybe 12 to 15 Federation fighters left in his groups.  The carnage had been horrific.  The remaining Gem’Hadar fought like hellhounds.  The remaing Federation fighters made relatively easy work of the remaining six Gem’Hadar with the loss of two.  Sensors showed that the heavies were having worse results than the fighters….which wasn’t great.

“Bravo and Charlie groups:  Return to base…I repeat return to base.  We need to rearm before we’re any more use.  We’ll also get anyone needing medical taken care of.  Let’s get it done and stay frosty,” Ming radioed.