“Sir, this one is a bit dicey. But I think we were able to repair most of it. Putting it on now.”

Log date 2402.04.07.2003.21

Fallon nodded, arms folded as the cargo bay swirled away and revealed the bridge of the Rubidoux. She looked a little rough on the edges. The standard beige and tan of the 2360s was darkened in placed. Blown fuses and breakers. An LCARS panel on the aft wall was dark and shattered. But no shards on the ground and no bodies nearby.

He found it odd that he was conducting a sweep for casualties only a few logs in, but Rain didn’t strike him as the type to tiptoe around the Vaadwaur for very long, and the scenic evidence seemed to indicate as much as well.

“Mr. Vossk. What are they up to?”

“Difficult to say, Sir. They’ve held their same course and have given no indication they’ve spotted us.”

Tiberius nodded, but he was playing at his beard. Fallon knew that look. It was one he’d adopted his own version of himself. How to be worried, but not look worried to anyone else. The give away as the slight furrow in the eyebrows. It wasn’t obvious for Tiberius; he had those big bushy eyebrows that just seemed at home with the dark beard and head full of hair. Easy to miss, but Fallon recognized them as a dead ringer.

“What’s our distance?”

“Well out of standard weapons fire range.” Jel’kan replied confidently from tactical.

Tiberius frowned. He shook his head finally. The first overt sign the situation was eating at him. He stood up and approached the main screen. Fallon already knew. Sometimes when something didn’t seem right? Standing closer to the big screen made it feel closer. Like you could study it better. He stood next to Tib, studying the image too.

A sensor alert pinged from tactical. “Detecting a large build up of energy!”

The ship they’d been tail pivoted, it’s port sides flashing.

“Evasive manuevers, Now!” Tib shouted.

The bridge didn’t so much tilt, as everyone seemed violently thrown to the left. Anyone not seated or secured hit the deck, Tiberius included. Fallon fought the impulse to bend down and help the man up, knowing this had already played itself out and there was nothing he could do to interrupt its outcome.

Tib groaned, but pushed himself up in time to watch as several poleron cannon rounds detonated in the nearby airspace.

“The range on that damn thing!” Thorne cursed as she put the Rubidoux through moves that would make a fighter jock blush.

“Can we hit them back?”

“Negative. We need to close in.”

“And they’ll be shooting us in the teeth the whole way in.” Tib frowned, looking at the deck for a moment, his lips were moving but the audio gain was too low to pick it up clearly. It seemed like he was mentally forecasting events. He narrowed his eyes and then stood up, dusting himself off.

“Jel’kan, arm a full volley of torpedos. Thorne, prep us a warp skip, aim us almost dead onto them. I want to pass them by so close the petty officers and ensigns can wave at their captain on our way past their bridge.”

“Sir?”

“I can explain, or I can do. We don’t have time for both.”

That was the clue to shut up and follow orders. Fallon had issued similar comments from the Raleigh himself.

“Torpedo’s loaded and ready.”

Tib turned to Thorne who nodded.

“Jel’kan. When Thorne initiates the skip? Launch. Thorne, as soon as we drop out, I want a full port side RCS burn, and cut inertial cancellers until we’ve come fully about.”

Thorne grinned. “Newton’s first law.”

Tib nodded. “This big bird may have a big mass, but used unorthodoxically, I think we can coax some handling out of her these guys aren’t use to.”

“Way ahead of you sir.”

“This is the captain. On my my mark we will be executing a high gee maneuver without the inertial damepners internally, or externally. All hands. BRACE BRACE BRACE.”

Tib glanced over  at Thorne from his seat, buckled in this time Fallon noted, and nodded.

“Punch it.”

Space blurred as the Rubidoux jumped to warp, missing the next poleron volley by a half second. At exactly the same time, a volley of four photon torpedos just got a warp 5 acceleration assist, turning them in FTL explosive rounds. Immediately after that, the Rubidoux fell out of warp several thousand kilometers away, this time inside weapons range, and the drifting about face brought the ship to bear on her enemy.

The hologram flickered and blurred as both ships began fighting. It was exactly like Tiberius had predicted with his tactical officer in a previous log. It was a junkyard brawl. Through and through. But Tib had managed to retake the initiative of the fight and gave as good as he got. In a one-on-one fight, the Rubi held her ground and gave her licks back.

Eventually the recording stabilized and a Vaadwaur captain appeared on screen.

“I am Captain Zhorik Talven. You must be the federation captain my subordinates have told me is skulking about this sector, harassing my people.”

Tib shrugged. “Maybe. There’s a few of us around. Might be confusing me for someone else.”

The Vaadwaur seemed amused and shook his head. “No Captain. You’re the one. I have a proposal for you.”

“I’m listening.”

“I’d like to propose a truce. A temporary cease fire.”

“To what end?”

“I’d like for us to meet. To share cultures with each other.”

Tib smirked. “Oh. We’ve been exchanging cultures with your people for a few days now.”

Zhorik matched Tib’s smirk, but the amusement wasn’t in his eyes. It was a calculated expression. “I’m sure. Regardless of your acceptance. My offer of a truce stance. My ship will not open fire, and you may occupy this airspace unopposed for the next 24 standard hours. I would like a reply back as to my offer of a meeting in one standard hour. Until then, I’ll let your coordinate your damage control teams. It would appear some of my culture has injured your vessel.”

And then the screen went blank, and the log abruptly ended, leaving Fallon stuck on the edge of his seat metaphorically.

“Is that it?” He asked, trying not to make it sound like a demand or plea. There were too many ways for that scenario end poorly for Tiberius. He needed to know what happened.

“Spool it up again.” This time, he was going to be watching for clues on where they were. A fight of that significance would have left debris. He just needed to know where to scan.

“Hang on Tib.” he muttered. They were looking.