MD 9 – 1930 Hours – In orbit of Vaabanth III

A warp tear shimmered like bent glass just above the dark side of Vaabanth III. The flash was a sudden ripple. Three shapes emerged, hulls glinting momentarily as cloaks hid their signatures from the patrolling Astrika cruiser and two Manasa escorts.

Three Klingon To’Duj-class fighters coasted in formation, each no wider than a Peregrine and far quieter. Atmospheric currents from nearby Underspace made stable decloaking difficult.

“Vector 34.6, drop three kellicams or you’ll foul my wing,” barked the lead pilot Mor’la’NaQ. Her voice was all smoke, no pleasantries. Her fighter cut through the edge of the magnetosphere like a talon carving meat. She adjusted an optical sensor with one hand and stabbed in new telemetry with the other. Copper-red hair spilled across her neck as she hunched forward in her harness.

“I’m holding to the flight path”, said K’NaN. He was older, slower and fatter. His fighter flew steady, rigidly attached to Command’s operation briefings. “You’re drifting. Again.”

“I am adjusting,” Mor’la’NaQ growled. “Unlike you, I do not fly with a ration manual taped to the console.”

A third voice crackled to life. “I thought I saw you yaw. Or is your old ship finally bowing under the strain of honor?” Kahral, cocky and reckless, was flying just slightly out of formation. Dirty blonde hair and a pale complexion stood him apart from many Klingons. Kahral thought starfighting was best when witnessed at knife range.

K’NaN bristled. “Stay in formation, you naive tIq’qa’. You’ll draw fire before we confirm targets.”

“And ruin our test?” Mor’la’NaQ snapped. “Get back in place, Kahral. This is recon, not opera.”

But the sensors were already whispering. Kahral’s voice dropped. “I have something. Disturbance near the southern equator. Power draw. Broadcast signals.. Encrypted, Vaadwaur language… It sounds degraded.”

Mo8r’la’NaQ toggled scan overlays. Her screen bloomed with data. “Confirming. Two Vaadwaur landing sites. Southern valley and the far northern ice shelf. Civilian population within one hundred meters of each. I see prefab command nodes… and a central spire at both.”

“There is more activity at the equator,” K’NaN muttered. “They have begun extraction operations. Scans show civilians being corralled. Vaadwaur are looting markets. Deciphered transmission says they are searching for workers, minerals… and captives.”

“They’re offering protection from future invasions. Locals are trading away family members like livestock,” Kahral added. His voice twisted around the words like a knife.

Mor’la’NaQ scowled. Her fists clenched at her side panels. “They are parasites.”

There was silence for a moment inside the helmets.

Mor’la’NaQ’s voice came low and cold. “I will not silently watch this world fall.”

K’NaN groaned. “The orders—”

“Change.” She cut him off. “North site. Less population density. Active mining. Our scans show an apartment block converted to barracks and an adjacent command node. We hit them. Send a message.”

Kahral was already looping out wide. “Acknowledged. Finally.”

“You will get us caught, child,” K’NaN hissed.

“Then keep up, elder”, Kahral barked.

“Enough!” Mor’la’NaQ snapped, slamming a hand to her console. “Kahral, take the southern flank. K’NaN, sweep left and light their telemetry array. We go in fast, then run. Fifteen seconds on station. No more.”

They punched atmosphere like arrows. Cloak peeled away mid-descent, revealing emerald-winged shapes streaking toward frozen rock and ice below.

Below, Vaadwaur engineers looked up just in time to scream.

The first strike hit the command building. Kahral fired clean bursts. Twin disruptors gut the roof and a booming flash. Steel twisted and orange flame bloomed as the barracks ignited. Secondary blasts rattled underground mining equipment b8uilt to bring resources to the structure. Vaadwaur foot soldiers scattered like ants beneath fire as they tried to escape the ruins.

K’NaN targeted their surveillance towers. Two went dark in flashes of green. “Structure down. No signals out.”

“Stay sharp,” Mor’la’NaQ barked. “Shut down the drill heads. Damage their motive capacity.”

She sliced low, strafing a series of dull metal crawlers. Bright bolts ripped into their exoskeletons until coolant fountained in silver jets. Her fighter skimmed meters from the surface, spinning a wave-like trail of plasma in her wake.

Kahral whooped. “Watch this!”

“Fifteen seconds!” K’NaN barked. “I’ve got fighters scrambling.. Fifteen, maybe more. Enemy launching from a hangar east of the site.”

“I have lock signatures,” Mor’la’NaQ called. “Emergency ascent protocols. Go!”

The Klingon fighters shot up like missiles.

The layers of the planet’s atmosphere peeled away as the fighters wheeled into suborbital vectors. Cloaks hummed to life just as disruptor beams knifed through their former position. The sky behind them erupted in chaos.

Fifteen Vaadwaur interceptors fanned out like flower petals, sweeping grid patterns in pursuit. But they chased ghosts. The To’Duj fighters vanished again into ripple and shadow, warp signatures masked and distorted by the chaos left behind.

Sensors registered something new as they neared the edge of their degraded range.

“Increased surface activity,” K’NaN reported. “More transports inbound. Movement to population zones. We have only stirred them.”

“Then our message was heard,” Mor’la’NaQ replied. Her tone held no pride.

A pause held as each pilot contemplated their actions.

Unexpectedly, K’NaN chuckled. “Not bad. Not bad at all.”

Mor’la’NaQ blinked, shocked at the old K’baT’s sudden excitement.

8K’NaN continued with a grin, his voice younger somehow. “We lit their barracks aflame and spat lightning across their drill heads. Those petaQ’ shall know what hit them. Reminds me of Thonai IX. We maimed three Orion freighters on a bet. Now that was a raid.”

“You protested every meter of this approach,” Mor’la’NaQ reminded him.

“And yet.. Look at this. Glory! Real battle. No waiting for orders while the fleet twitches. Just immediate action.”

“Glory earned is still glory,” Kahral chimed in smugly. “Even if the old ones take time to warm up.”

“Old ones?” K’NaN growled, half laughing. “You were still wet faced when I flew escort at Rekoth Prime.”

“Wet-faced but fast”, Kahral aid coolly.

“Too fast. I saw your wing drift left again,” Mor’la’NaQ said, voice dry.

“Only to admire my own handiwork.” Kahral took a deep breath.

“You’ll admire the inside of a wrecked fuselage if you drift into my lane again,” she growled and eased her fighter starboard. “Adjust your vector, Kahral. You’re too close.”

Cloaked once more, the three fighters rode the silence. No one spoke for minutes, except for Mor’laNaQ’s persistent corrections. The crackle of static faded alongside the quiet hum of thrusters. Vaabanth III flickered behind them with the chaos of a world waking up to war.

The Klingons had struck and vanished. The Vaadwaur would not let this go unanswered.

MD10 – 0915 hours – USS Brawley – Briefing Room

The room smelled faintly of recycled coffee and stale air. A tactical display floated above the center of the conference table, cycling through terrain readouts of Vaabanth III. Power signatures glowed alongside the overlay of Klingon strike vectors.

Captain Raku stood at the head of the room. His ceremonial Bajoran earring caught the projection’s flicker as he reviewed a holographic battle replay of the Klingons’ approach. A focused expression carried the kind of stillness that accompanied deep spiritual contemplation.

Commander Marlon Smythe stood to his left with hands clasped behind his back. His posture was straight, the expression behind his honey-brown eyes seemed unreadable. On the opposite side of the table sat Lieutenant (JG) Itata sh’Zeles. Her sharp Andorian features contrasted with the scarlet fire of her irises. Stark white hair formed waves that hugged her angular face.

Three Klingon pilots stood across from hem.

Mor’la’NaQ gave the room a slow sweep before speaking. Her copper-red hair clung to the edges of her jaw. Kahral leaned from behind her with a satisfied smirk across his pale face. K’NaN stood silent but proud, scars carved deep into his face like old campaign banners.

“We struck the Vaadwaur at the northern ice shelf,” Mor’la’NaQ began. “A command node. Civilian mining was already underway. They had converted apartments to barracks A set of drill heads were active and mining. We eliminated their forward telemetry array and disabled two resource crawlers. We scorched the barracks and cratered their command structure. Secondary explosions confirmed the presence of volatile munitions. They were not prepared.”

Kahral chuckled. “They screamed. The engineers ran like gutless voles when the roof split above them.”

K’NaN grunted. “Fifteen seconds on station. Just as planned. We cloaked and withdrew before their interceptors organized.”

Raku’s brow twitched slightly. “Your scans showed no defensive shields?”

“They seemed to have no portable shield generators,” K’NaN replied.

Smythe nodded slowly. “The spire on the southern equator.. Your scan said it had higher activity. Why hit the northern one?”

Mor’la’NaQ narrowed her eyes. “More civilians at the equator. Collateral risk was unacceptable. The ice shelf held less population density. It was the clean strike.”

Lt. (JG) sh’Zeles tilted her head to study the woman. “You had orders not to engage.”

Kahral grinned wider.

Mor’la’NaQ didn’t blink. “Orders shifted the moment the Vaadwaur began hauling civilians into holding pens. They are not soldiers. They are slavers hiding behind command towers.”

“They claim to be offering ‘protection’ to the locals,” Kahral added bitterly. “In exchange for bodies.”

A silence heavy silence washed over the room, words lingering painfully.

“We know,” Raku said softly. “But your decision to strike—”

“—was the only one,” Mor’la’NaQ cut in. “We sent a message. The Votaragh will deliver the next. At the moment of battle, she will appear behind the Vaadwaur formation.”

Mor’la’NaQ stepped forward, gesturing toward the map. “Position your the convoy here, along this asteroid belt. You push the Vaadwaur flank. Make them turn. Give us their backside.”

Itata leaned in. “You want us to corral a force that outguns us?”

“We want you to make them arrogant,” Mor’la’NaQ countered with a hiss. “Arrogance exposes weakness.”

Kahral nodded. “Vaadwaur do not believe in retreat. When they turn, they will not expect the Votaragh on their tail.”

“Forward disruptor cannons will slice their reactors in two,” K’NaN added menacingly. “They will not recover.”

Captain Raku stepped closer to the projection, folding his arms. “Then it’s settled. We’ll deploy the convoy along a crescent vector. We can try to force the Vaadwaur to overextend and spin toward the projected weak side. Once they expose their rear, your ship strikes.”

Mor’la’NaQ gave a nod of deep respect. “I shall inform our captain. He would like to meet with your command crew.”

Capt. Raku Mobra met her eyes, then gave a nod. “We’ll arrange it.”

A brief followed before she smiled.

“Would you care for a drink, Captain? Firewine. Something that tastes of victory, perhaps?”

There was the faintest hitch in Mobra’s stance. “I… believe my XO would be better suited—”

“Captain,” Marlon Smythe smoothly interjected. “You should go. It’s a matter of… diplomacy. And glory.” The XO’s pearly grin stood sharply in contrast to his dark caramel complexion.

Raku shot him a look.

Smythe didn’t flinch, though the corner of his mouth twitched. “Besides, you’re the one who loves ceremonies. What better symbol of unity is there? …Than for you to welcome Lady Mor’la’NaQ…”

Raku chuckled softly under his breath before giving in. “Very well. Just one drink.”

Mor’la’NaQ turned toward the exit with a look of vicious satisfaction. “That’s all it takes, Captain.” Her eyes narrowed as she looked deeply into his gaze.

As the others began to leave the room, Smythe lingered. His warm gaze tried to focus on the fading tactical holo-display. sh’Zeles watched him, her head tilting slightly again. “Thinking, sir?”

Marlon blinked slowly. “Always.”

The Andorian’s scarlet eyes narrowed. “Not about them, though.. Hmm?”

Oaken eyes drifted away briefly as memories danced through his thoughts. His mind thought of the Counselor Ikastrul Zaa’s sandy hair and those calm black eyes that somehow saw everything he didn’t say. He also couldn’t handle the anxiety of Ikastrul catching him sharing a drink with another woman. It didn’t feel right, even though the pair weren’t exactly dating yet. The chain of command complicated this. All these thoughts weighed in his mind as he fought a smile and looked to the Brawley’s intelligence officer.

“No,” Smythe said before amending, “not really.”

Itata smiled faintly and stood. She gave a final nod and turned, looking over her shoulder. “Of course not, sir.”