“West Wing, lock and load.” Lieutenant Falcon Llewellyn spoke quickly to his team.  The squadron moved to intercept the Crimson Foundry fleet, and they ordered its starfighter wing onto the field.  His fighters each responded in the affirmative, and he pushed forward. The Crimson Foundry Fleet was slow to respond at first.  Falcon and his wing punched through at least one ship’s shields.  Then the enemy woke up.

Space became a bright field of weapons fire of phaser arcs, blaster pulses, and fast-moving torpedoes.  Falcon’s cockpit jarred at return fire, and alarms tied to his shields beeped in fast succession. He glanced at the master screen of West Wing.  A few bumps and bruises.  But they were all still flying. “West Wing, shift into the second phase.  Engage Wild Bronco!”

The mostly orderly arrangement broke loose into wild scattered chaos as each starfighter pulled off into a manic course, leading to a repeat moment of confusion from the enemy.  At that moment, the starships in the squadron seized the moment.

On the bridge of the Zephyr, Captain Samson Bradley gripped the arms of the center chair, appreciating the safety restraints that held him tightly in place.  “Target the lead ship and fire at will.”  There were five Crimson Foundry ships with three Birds of Prey, and one K’t’inga-class.  “What are we looking at with the Crimson ships?”

At the tactical station, Lieutenant Kondo De La Fontaine was working through the data while his junior officers managed the weapons targeting and firing.  They had both proven themselves in training, and he trusted ‌them to handle it.  “They’ve installed additional armor, and enhanced their shields.  Sensors are picking up resonant signals that have Klingon elements and some others that are coming back as unknown.  Science is working to clarify.”  He turned his attention back to the tactical map.  “Klothos is going after Whisperblade.”

Samson resisted the urge to wish J’Klast luck.  The old Klingon warrior knew his business and how it needed conducting.

On the Klothos, J’Klast was conducting his business as he ordered, “Fire – target their engines.”  The aging K’t’inga-class was aged in name only.  Her weapons, engines, shields, and power systems had kept up with the times. He rumbled, “Let them hear our voices with every blast.”

At the tactical and helm station, his niece Kali growled with each blast and a broad smile as the photon torpedo flashed across the screen and scored a direct hit, draining the shields.  The ship rocked as the three Birds of Prey made their presence known.  She slapped the console.  “Federation!  What was that about watching our backside! “

“We’re coming in hot, Klothos!”  Captain Wren Walton slapped at the arm of her chair, closing the channel.  “Park, let’s answer the question!”

Commander Park sat at tactical, her eyebrows bent in concentration while her hands flung phasers and torpedoes at two of the Birds of Prey.  One began to drift,her engines flaming and disabled.  The other tried to turn tail.  Park glanced at the helm station where Lieutenant Prentice sat.  “Don’t let her get away, Will.”

Prentice smiled. “As ordered, commander.  As ordered.”  The Perseverance spun hard, angling towards the fleeing Bird of Prey and Park’s weapons slammed into the ship, shearing off a wing while the power systems fluctuated.

Park shook her head as he celebrated at his station.  “Don’t get too excited.  FDR and Zephyr need our help.”  Prentice slammed the ship into another hard turn and pushed her towards the center of the fight.

“Shields at 80%.”  Ensign Penna was at the operations station on the USS Franklin D. Roosevelt as the floor shook slightly underneath her.  The Ambassador-class starship was taking a pounding from the five Crimson Foundry ships.  The Vulcan worked the console and saw the report from the tactical team.  “We’ve got four more Crimson ships incoming. The estimated arrival is three minutes.”

Captain Peter Crawford kept his inner monologue to himself as he sat in the center chair.  They were feeling the punch from the reformed and reborn Vorethi guild.  “Drop the gloves, Albright.  Punch hard.”

Lieutenant Grace Albright, the ship’s XO, chuckled darkly at the tactical station.  “Aye, aye.  Knuckle to knuckle.”

“They are struggling.”

Ada Josephs stood in the center of the main Constructor ship, watching the tactical view of the battle as it raged.  He was right; she knew.  The additional Crimson Foundry ships had tipped the scales.  She could see beyond them on the screen. There were more to come.  “They need help.”  She said it quietly, but it sounded as loud as if she was shouting it back at herself.

“They do.  We cannot do this alone.  Our advances are not yet enough to step into this battle alone.”

She stared at the device in the middle of the room.  It looked similar to the device that had taken Baron up into the Constructor.  They assured her it was improved and wouldn’t do the same thing to her.  She had taken the time to inspect and scan it.  There was nothing left to do but try it.  Her heart thumped loudly in her chest.  She would lead the Constructor’s fleet.  She would have to save the day.  “This isn’t going to be easy.”

“I will be with you.  I will keep you safe.”

She rolled her eyes.  “But it will hurt.”

“I have heard it said that life is pain, Ada Josephs.  What are we without pain?”

Ada stepped up to the device.  “You’ve made your point.”  She sat down in the chair and pulled the device into position.  “Let’s get to living, then.”  She had no choice.  Ada had plenty of questions.  Answers would come later, if she lived through this.  For now, it was time for action.

The world around her vanished into white before resolving into a massive tactical view of the system.  She pointed towards the battle.  Outside, the ten Vorethi-bot ships shuddered forward until the engines warmed up, and pushed the fleet forward faster and faster until they were streaking across space, barreling to intercept.