The animals and birds of the twin colonies of the Setlik system could not have comprehended the significance of a new pinprick of light in the night sky that flashed into being. For the people of the two colonies though it was hope, especially those with access to technology like sensors and security readouts. For the privileged few, a sense of anticipation was dawning with the arrival of a Starfleet transponder moving quickly through the system. No more welcome was this than on the less famous but more bountiful Setlik two.

Escaping much of the of sorry fate of its neighbour during the Cardassian War, Setlik two had enjoyed a comparative boost in the intervening decades between the war ending and the present time. This had proven a proverbial sword with two edges, for now they were the main focus of interest for new invaders. Seeing a colony system with limited defences, high output of supplies and a potential for a tactical strongpoint with which to strike at several key systems in The Federation’s Beta Quadrant space, unknown new aggressors had arrived in a small but well-armed ship. It was that ship that was blocking the colony’s transmissions that within a minute were trying to break through to their Guardian Angel aloft, but with no success.

On the bridge of the Guardian Angel itself, the Walter Scott‘s Captain was coming to the same conclusion that the leaders of Setlik two and Setlik three were at that same moment, that somehow they were being jammed.

“Jammed?” Emmalin intoned with what she hoped was more curiosity than confusion. Behind her, her Executive Officer was trying every trick in the book to find a source. Sadly, the book needed an updated revision.

“Yes ma’am. Dunno from where, not yet anyhow. I’m workin’ on it.”

Emmalin nodded.

“Ms. Van Der Meer, as whoever it is clearly knows we’re here already, I don’t see the harm in increasing our sensor output. Get me every bit of data you can.”

At the science station, Lieutenant Junior Grade Olivia Van Der Meer nodded enthusiastically. Olivia did everything enthusiastically, a little too enthusiastically for some. But as it wasn’t to the detriment of her efficacy, Emmalin was loathed to mind very much.

“Aye aye, Captain!” The blonde cooed and started poring over her screens.

“Ms. Williams, fly casual. I want whoever is out there to think we’re blundering into this unawares. Approach Setlik two but be ready for evasive manoeuvres. Commander Williams, be ready with those shields. Let’s make for them a tempting target. Hopefully they’ll show themselves.”

Choruses of “yes ma’am” sounded about the otherwise quiet bridge. One could hear the tension. Perhaps it was just fancy, perhaps just blood pumping in the ears with extra pulse rate and adrenaline.

“Where are you…?” Emmalin mused to herself. There was hostility out there, she could feel it. There was one question that had been bugging her in the approach to the Setlik system. The Walter Scott was fast, faster than its size and age might suggest and despite the lack of a traditional ovaloid deflector array the sensors were second to few ships of that size. But she was no warship. Whether they could render effective aid to the twin colonies was dependent on the answer to that question; what kind of force had the aggressor sent and moreover in what size and power of ship? A Galaxy or an Odyssey perhaps wouldn’t have the same concerns. A Galaxy or Odyssey would probably have been sent in another time. But they were engaged in other tasks, defending more important areas of the Fourth Fleet’s jurisdiction, or so Emmalin supposed.

“Detectin’ a ship Captain, unknown configuration.” The X.O.’s voice broke the silence of three or so minutes, sending new waves of adrenaline through Emmalin’s body. She screamed at herself internally to remain centred. In the few moments between this new sighting and the unknown vessel opening fire, it was Cassandra Williams at the helm who arguably saved the ship. Her skill with tactics, taught to her by her father had flagged in her mind the potential for Setlik two’s second moon as an astute hiding spot and she had ever so casually angled the ship’s primary shield face in that direction. Coupled with her father’s reactions, streams of incoming Polaron fire hit the Walter Scott’s most indomitable defences. But everything, even indomitability was relative.

The ship bucked hard under the assault of six Polaron canons. The bright lighting of the bridge switched instantly. As Red Alert sounded across the vessel everything lit was bathed in a new layer of pale pink.

“Shields at ninety percent!” Commander Williams called from behind Emmalin’s right shoulder.

“Evasive manoeuvres!” Emmalin called in reply. “Hail them!”

“No response Captain.” This was inevitable, but they were Starfleet and Diplomats too. They had to try. The ship rocked hard again, nearly throwing Emmalin from her seat.

“Eighty one percent, that thing hits real hard.”

“Let’s hit back, fire phasers!”

Beams of orange struck out from the Walter Scott‘s saucer as the ship banked hard, finding their mark, but doing less damage than Eugene Williams had hoped. As information was coming in from sensors across the Challenger Class vessel, the experienced Lieutenant Commander began to realise that they were somewhat outgunned. Their aggressor had used six forward cannons, matching the total number of phasers the entire Walter Scott had fielded, to say nothing of their energy weapons covering other arcs. Twelve feet or so in front of him his daughter at the helm was beginning to put one of the ship’s advantages into play. Being around forty percent engines, and enjoying the moniker of ‘light’ before ‘cruiser’ Walter Scott was quick and manoeuvrable. The next incoming volley was dodged and a rapid change of direction that had the bridge crew holding on tight as the ship banked again and shrugged off another incoming attack with the aplomb of a Defiant. But it wouldn’t last. The enemy was gaining information on the Challenger as much as the X.O. was on them. The next volley was a hit.

“Sixty nine percent!” A loud bang quickly followed. “Fifty nine! That was a torpedo!”

Evasion wouldn’t help them. That was becoming clear. And their weapons, while chipping away slowly at the enemy would come up short in the end. They needed a plan. Emmalin knew the Walter Scott‘s advantage was not in weaponry, but in engines and sensors. She remained frustratingly quiet as Williams called out “Forty six percent” after another crushing blow. At ops, Ensign Lorrus’ badge piped up through the chaos.

“Damage reports coming in, port shield emitters at maximum tolerances, structural integrity at ninety six percent and falling…” another crash sent the lights of the bridge into a flicker. Thirty five percent. They had to do something. Emmalin’s scientific brain finally came into play. She vaulted from her seat and darted quickly to the science console.

“Livvy, I’m taking over.” Her hands began to fly over the familiar controls as Lieutenant Van Der Meer watched, intrigued. “Cassandra! When I say, come about as hard as you can and head straight for them. Eugene, when I say I want you to give me everything you have. I’m going to blind them for a few moments. You’ll have to target manually.”

At the helm, Cassie Williams responded with a flustered “Aye, ma’am,”, but her father, more faithful in his Captain was altogether more enthused.

“Yes ma’am. I got somethin’ for you. I got somethin’ for you. Permission to call the timin’? I got this, I got this!”

“X.O. makes the call!” Emmalin shouted as the bridge crew was deafened by another sickening boom. Across the bridge a console sparked and went dead. It was in the intervening moments as she and her X.O. made the necessary preparations that Emmalin first noticed the smoke filling the bridge air. She coughed as she took a deep breath, her intakes automatically becoming shallow, trying to avoid lungs full of acridity and poison.

“Topside Nacelle taken a direct hit, Warp engines offline.” Lorrus’ flat intonation was the ultimate antithesis of the drama unfolding around. “Shields at eighteen percent.”

“Ready!” the X.O. finally called as Emmalin made her last adjustments, sapping auxiliary power and rediverting it to the Walter Scott‘s forward sensor array.

“Me too, call it Eugene!”

“Cassie, come about!”

The top Nacelle trailing smoke and debris, her hull pockmarked with burns, shields flashing from hit after hit the elegant form of Walter Scott arced around in space, her stern now toward the planet she was fighting so hard to protect. Her impulse engines glowed as she picked up speed in a joust so aggressive her enemy was thrown slightly off-kilter.

“Ma’am whatever you’re gonna do, do it now!”

With a flurry of console activity, Emmalin performed her Hail Mary. The overcharged sensor array put out a blinding pulse of broad-spectrum energy, nixing every readout, both the enemy’s and her own. But Eugene Williams didn’t need targeting sensors for his own endeavours, he knew exactly where the enemy was. The forward phasers of Walter Scott pulsed with one, long and enduring burst, instantly approaching overheat, now their master had removed the overheat safeties. But this was only the first part, the second soon followed. Overdriven too were the ship’s forward Torpedo launchers, vastly increasing the chance of mechanical failure, but dropping the fire rate for hot-queued Torpedoes from two seconds to one and a half. Both tubes fired, and again, again, and again. Momentarily blinded, the enemy cruiser struck out wildly like a panicked animal, missing the incoming Starfleet vessel as Emmalin had counted on. The first four Torpedoes piled onto its shields, but with Walter Scott‘s phasers in Tandem the enemy shield emitters were overloaded and their defences flickered and died. The second set of four Torpedoes smashed a giant hole in the forward section of the ship like grouped sledge hammers taken to old drywall. Plunged into darkness, all agency removed the enemy ship floated onward on its last course as Walter Scott passed by, a cursory, derisive nudge from its rear phasers igniting the touchpaper. Eugene Williams directed all available remaining power to the Challenger’s rear-shields as their attacker slowly came apart into two pieces, one smaller floating forlornly in the black, illuminated by the glow of Setlik two, moments after propelled on a new course as the larger section exploded in a silent cloud of metal and fire.