=/\=Green Sky, Red Heart – Act IV=/\=
*Vaabanth IV, one kilometer from the cliffside caves*

The ground shimmered with heat under the cloudy green sky. It was pierced by a flock of circling birds. Fresh growth sprouted in wild swathes. Tall stalks of bioluminescent grass grew alongside blooming wildflowers in hues that hadn’t existed yesterday. The air was thick with ozone and the sterile tang of soil renewal packs. Terraforming markers blinked among the foliage, half-submerged in fresh loam.

Krorg’s voice was calm but resolute. “Reesshard needs time to finish stabilizing the atmospheric generators. The Vaadwaur are already in system. The Votaragh has dispatched cloaked fighters in orbit. Our shuttles have also been launched and are on standby reserve to retrieve us.”

From beside him, his wife’s voice followed. “If there’s any movement from beyond the ridge, we’ll see it. Let’s get our people into those caves.”

Lt. Cmdr. M’Kath grunted, sipping from a targ-leather flagon of bloodwine he’d filled before leaving the wedding grounds. He grunted contently.  Sar quietly stared at him before rolling his eyes and looking away in judgement. M’Kath hummed and took another sip.

Commander Smythe figured the Brawley must have been badly damaged. There must have been a reason Captain Raku kept them from beaming back up.
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The party advanced at a brisk pace through the verdant sprawl. Ahead, sun-bleached cliffs rose like rusted towers. The caves themselves sat like agape mouths in the stone, with uneven lips shadowed in deep copper. Loose brush and flowering stalks swept at their legs as they moved forward, each step closer to shelter and secrecy.

“Stop here”, Reesshard instructed forcefully. “This spot calls for my hand.”

“Honestly,” T’Naagi muttered as she swatted an orange flower the size of her head. “You’d think we could have gotten a shuttle to give us a lift.”

Commander Smythe approached from his position in the lead. “Foot travel is safer. No signatures.”

“Well, sir,” T’Naagi retorted, “I didn’t join Starfleet to walk marathons through mutant tulips. I should’ve stayed on the Brawley. The worst thing I had to deal with there was the replicator that wouldn’t stop printing spoons.”

Reesshard trundled alongside the group, working with the soil. His layered robes flared and his hat bobbed with each over-dramatic movement. “Three kilometers is hardly a journey! We must respect the rhythm of planetary rebirth. This world is still warming up, still deciding what kind of lungs it wants! You can’t just rush a biosphere, you loaf!”

Commander Smythe looked back towards T’Naagi with a wide smirk.

A broad-shouldered, verdant-haired Orion tactical officer named Kolok groaned loudly and checked his tricorder for the fifth time. “You said we’d be moving soon. If we don’t get under cover, we’ll all be re-birthed with photon holes in our chests.”

“Oh please,” Reesshard sniffed, skirting around a flowering mound. “You wouldn’t know biosympathetic fidelity if it rolled over and kissed you on the snout. Everything you touch ends up scorched and square.”

“You’re slowing us down”, T’Naagi replied.

“I’m perfecting the process”, said a defiant Reesshard.

Smythe raised a hand. “Enough. We move in two minutes. Terraformer, do what you need. Kolok.. Eyes on the ridgeline.”

The Klingon fighters and shuttles remained invisible overhead. The cloaked formation glided silently in low orbit. Watching. Waiting. The air might have been still, but the sky was anything but empty.

T’Naagi paused beside Sar as the group soon began to move again. She looked up at the dark line of caves, now closer. A 8wind tugged loose strands from her bun. “Kind of romantic, in a post-apocalyptic elopement kind of way.”

Sar glanced at her… Only briefly.

“What?” she said with a grin. “I’m just saying. A cave honeymoon sounds very Brawley.”

They pushed on. The cave mouths loomed larger, shadows yawning wider as they marched closer. Behind them, Reesshard placed another stabilization marker. After thrusting it downward forcefully, he patted the soil around it with theatrical flair. “Done”, the portly Orion terraformer announced.  Curly gray-green hair receded from his forehead. “The heartbeat of Vaabanth begins anew!”

Kolok muttered something under his breath before gesturing toward the cliffs. “Let’s move.”

=/\=Green Sky, Red Heart – Act V=/\=
*USS Brawley – Bridge*

The Brawley’s hull trembled from the aftermath of the latest barrage. For the first time in twenty minutes, no new alarms rang out. The bridge lights flickered once more before stabilizing. It seemed as if the worst had passed… At least for now.

Captain Raku Mobra stood by his chair, shoulders tight with strain. His were eyes fixed on the smoldering image of the battered IKS Votaragh drifting ahead. The Klingon warship’s impulse vents sputtered unevenly. Her port side was scorched and venting plasma into space. The might Vor’cha’s engines barely pushed her forward with an unsightly limp.

He tapped his combadge. “Raku to Engineering. Lieutenant Moon, report.”

A pause came before the steady voice of Lt. Moon Ji-hee came through, low and focused beneath a hiss of static and distant clatter.

“Engineering here. EPS relays are stable, Captain. We’ve isolated a feedback loop that hit the dorsal conduits. Core output’s at 71 percent. Impulse is steady. We’re holding, but just barely.”

“Understood. Stand by. We’ve got wounded allies out there, and they’re not going to make it on grit alone.” He turned toward Ensign Vanderssen at the Science station. “How’s their structural integrity?”

“Votaragh’s primary frame is intact, sir,” Vanderssen said. He was hunched over the readouts, sweat glinting on his forehead. “But they’ve got critical damage to their port nacelle and lower impulse housing. If we don’t get someone over there, she’s dead in the water.”

Ensign Kim Jung-soo glanced over from Tactical. “Their secondary shield emitters are gone too. No point defense. If anything circles back… they won’t last five seconds”, she said, still nursing the gash on her forehead.

Mobra tapped his badge again. “Lieutenant Moon, prep a repair team for transport. We need to reinforce Votaragh’s propulsion systems and restore maneuvering control.”

There was only a breath between the order and the reply.

“Acknowledged. I’ll take Crewman Tala and Petty Officer Rish with me. They’ve both worked warp manifolds under combat strain. We’ll bring a mobile field replicator and three power relays. With your permission, I’d also like to bring down a portable transporter buffer… Just in case.”

“Approved. You’ll have support from the Brawley’s fabrication deck. We’ve already got two drones spooling microalloy lattices. I want you ready, they’ll be ready in ten.”

“Affirmative, sir.”

The comms cut and Raku turned to Counselor Zaa. She had moved closer to the central console. The Betazoid’s expression remained composed, though her eyes betrayed a shadow of unease.

“They won’t like taking help,” she murmured. “Not the Klingons.”

“They’ll like drifting into a star even less”, the Captain replied.

CONN officer Crismarlyn Ruiz adjusted her course slightly. “Our position’s holding relative to their drift, Captain. I’ll keep us close enough for emergency retrieval.”

Mobra nodded and moved toward the mission ops panel, where Ensign Mackley was already redirecting internal power to the fabrication decks.

“The repair bay’s hot,” Mackley confirmed, his voice tight but steady. “We’ve got six replicators active, all configured for field-hardened components. Damage control drones are running diagnostics on our own hull as well.”

The USS Brawley was no warship, but it was something just as vital. She was a rapid-response starship with full-scale industrial and replicative capabilities. The Brawley had been built from keel to nacelle with modular fabrication arrays, double-deck engineering bays, and cavernous holds designed to refit starships in deep space. Starfleet had jokingly called her a “spacefaring toolbox”. In times like this, her value became very real.

Down in Engineering, Lieutenant Moon pulled on her hazard suit. She fastened the neck seal with a practiced tug. She moved with quiet efficiency, waving Crewman Tala over with a nod. A Bolian named Tala had a sharp sense of humor and sharper hands. She already had two cases of spare injectors on a grav sled. Petty Officer Rish was a no-nonsense Bajoran with a scar under her eye and a knack for jury-rigging failing systems. She brought up the rear with the buffer module slung over her shoulder.

“This isn’t just a patch job,” Moon said over the internal comm as she checked her tricorder. “Their impulse manifold took a direct hit. We’ll have to strip the heat shielding and reroute their plasma feeds through a bypass coil. We’ll fabricate replacements, but their warp geometry’s offset too. If the frame’s even slightly warped…”

“Do what you can,” Captain Raku replied. “They’ve fought hard. Let’s keep them in the fight.”

Within minutes, the engineering team was in the transporter room. The pad lit up, shimmered, and cast them into a haze of dematerializing light.

=/\=*IKS Votaragh – Engineering Deck*=/\=

The Klingon ship was dark. Emergency lighting bathed the corridors in red. The air was acrid with smoke, the tang of burned coolant and charred filaments. Moon’s boots hit the deck plating with a hollow clang. The Votaragh’s chief engineer was a grizzled, one-eyed Klingon named Korth. He met them with a scowl deep enough to crack stone.

“We don’t need Federation help,” Korth growled, but he didn’t block her path.

“You need engines,” Moon said simply. “We brought some.”

Korth grunted and waved them forward. The drive chamber was a mess. Bulkheads were torn open and plasma conduits were scorched. A secondary injector assembly lay in ruin, half-welded to the floor by its own melted frame.

Moon wasted no time. “Tala, deploy the replicator. Rish, I want an integrity scan on that frame. If we need to reinforce, start printing duranium trusses with flex plating.”

As they worked, she moved with silent purpose. Her hands were deft and deliberate. Pale sea-green eyes tracked every flicker of light eminating from her tricorder.

“Field coil’s warped by 3.2 degrees,” she said, examining a main impulse conduit. “That’ll crack under pressure. We’ll replicate a split junction and create a dampening bypass. It’ll buy you six hours of thrust.”

Korth grunted in grudging approval. “You work fast.”

“You bleed fast,” Moon replied softly. “Let’s both be quick about this.”

=/\= *USS Brawley – Bridge* =/\=

“Engineering team’s stable,” Vanderssen said. “I’m seeing energy signatures and power spools coming online aboard the Votaragh. Looks like they’re printing parts already.”

“Good,” Mobra muttered with his arms crossed. “Keep our shields up. If any of those fighters swing back around—”

“We’ve got ‘em,” Jung-soo cut in, slender fingers hovering over the Tactical station. “They won’t get near us without burning.”

“Captain,” Counselor Zaa said gently, “Moon’s taking a risk over there. But I’m sensing… confidence. She’s calm.”

Mobra exhaled through his nose. “She always is.”

Minutes passed. The Brawley circled slowly circled the Vor’cha class starship like a vigilant guardian. Damaged Orion ships drifted nearby, many clinging to what little power they had.

=/\= *IKS Votaragh – Engineering* =/\=

The lights flickered before stabilizing.

“Main feed engaged,” Rish called out. “Plasma flow is steady. Cooling loop’s holding.”

Moon nodded. “Korth, try your engines.”

With a rumble and a crackle of power, the Votaragh’s drive system surged. The deck thrummed with returning life. Consoles sparked on. Vents pulsed green-blue. For the first time since the attack, the Votaragh momentarily drifted under her own power.

Korth gave a barking laugh. “It lives!”

Moon allowed herself a small smile.

=/\= *USS Brawley – Bridge* =/\=

“Confirmed,” Vanderssen said. “They passed the first test. Minimal thrust achieved, but it’s not enough to maneuver.”

Ruiz nodded as she studied the Klingon silhouette on the viewscreen. “I’m sure they’ll figure it all out.”

Mobra’s gaze also lingered on the viewscreen. He tapped his badge. “Moon, outstanding work. Prepare for return. We’ll have the new impulse manifold transported into position.” The large pieces had been assembled in a replication bay two decks high. After another tap, Capt. Raku said, “Captain to Replication Bay, begin transporting pieces one through three into position.”

“Aye sir”, replied an Andorian carrying a thick Thalassan accent over the commbadge.

As the stars outside shimmered with lingering threat, the crew of the Brawley held fast. They had not won the battle. But they had kept their allies standing.

And that was enough.. for now.

Each piece of the replacement manifold was transported into place after the Klingon Captain ordered the ship to jettison the damaged part. Three pieces were transported into one replacement part, snapping together with each transported placement. A repair drone fitted micro-thrusters to the new manifold, dramatically circling the green replacement engine fitting as it placed four thrust modules on its edges.

On Captain Raku’s order, the thrusters drifted towards the Klingon ship. With a latching thunk, the piece snapped into place against the Vontargh’s hull. More tests were run internally. Lt. Moon’s work in bypassing the damaged routes once again carried power back to the impulse engines of the Votaragh.

The Brawley is far from the Fourth Fleet’s most illustrious vessel. She can certainly get a Klingon vessel back on its feet though, however…