The air on the bridge was tight as the ready room doors opened and the soft-spoken blue commanding officer stepped towards the center chair. Jason had his face buried into his scanner, trying to pinpoint the surges of energy without jumping to conclusions.

Oh, but he wanted to jump to conclusions. So many conclusions, most of them ending with Vaadwaur. But for the moment all he had was conflicting energy surges and no real answers.

Still an energy surge from the blackout zone was enough for him to call the yellow alert and bring the commanding officer to the bridge. He wanted all eyes on this, ready to react to whatever came out from the dead zone.

“What are the energy readings now?” Commander Dal asked as he took his chair. His tone was so calm that it almost worked in reverse, putting Jason on edge. But it was better than someone screaming at him.

“Steadily rising.” The science officer frowned. He had read a lot about the Vaadwaur, but if this was the Vaadwaur – and he was convinced it was – this was his first time actually encountering them. Reports said there was surge, and they appeared. But reports didn’t say how long the surge was, or what energy levels indicated Vaadwaur approach. Jason had expected it to be instantaneous, but instead it was a tense rising of energy, waiting for something to happen.

Commander Dal gauged their position, and his antennae tilted downwards. “Raise shields and move us to 342 mark seven.”

A defensive position that placed the Calistoga between the surge in the dead zone and Mireya VII. It was also a diplomatic move. Since they were raising shields, if this somehow ended up being nothing, they could explain to the leadership of Mireya VII that they were taking defensive action on their behalf.

The Calistoga moved smoothly into position and then it hung there, poised against the backdrop of shimmering asteroids, watching the blackout zone.

Waiting.

Waiting as the energy slowly crept upwards.

Jason fidgeted in his place, shifting from foot to foot where he stood. Time slowed down for him and he felt like they were wasting minutes… hours even… just sitting there and doing nothing.

In reality, it was seconds. But those seconds stretched on to eternity in his mind.

“We should call Dwasina—” he started, not even thinking about the diplomatic repercussions.

And he wouldn’t have a chance to think about them. The steadily rising surge spiked into levels that made his sensors scream, and his words were cut off by Dal’s overriding command.

“Red Alert! All hands to battle stations!”

Jason couldn’t rip his eyes from the viewscreen as the dead zone tore open, disgorging a small squadron of Vaadwaur fighters, all at once. Space warped and shattered around the underspace rift, and then in an instant it righted itself again, leaving the Calistoga the only thing between seven Vaadwaur ships and Mireya VII.

“Fighters splitting off into attack formation!” Jols, the Bolian helm officer called.

Jason grit his teeth, watching as the Calistoga repositioned to defend Mireya VII. Sure, the Calistoga could win if they were taking on one of these fighters one on one. They could best two, maybe even three. But seven?

And the Vaadwaur had to know that. Why else would they build up an underspace rift to the point where they could launch an entire attack in one punch rather than sending reinforcements? A sinking feeling that they had already been measured and walked into a losing situation settled into the pit of Jason’s gut.

“Hard to port, phasers target the engines of the lead fighter, defensive maneuvers!” Dal’s commands were steady and calm. And despite every inner fiber of Jason’s being wanting to find fault in the orders, to have someone to blame, the maneuver would roll the Calistoga into a better position to defend Mireya VII while safely drawing fire.  It was a smart move.

He pushed that away from his brain, not wanted to give Dal credit nor wanting to take the time to dwell on what Captain Jemison would have done. The Vaadwaur were here, and he had to live first, dwell on how much he hated this situation second.

The fighters were skilled, splitting around the Calistoga, taking a few shots to keep the Calistoga moving, but focusing fire on Mireya VII. The Calistoga spit back, weakening the shields of the lead fighter, but not enough to cripple it.

As the Calistoga veered to port, the lead fighter – the only ship that was notably larger than the others, spit out a torpedo blast that caught Mireya VII directly in the middle of the support section between wings. This was enough to catch the attention of the smaller Vaadwaur fighters and they started to swarm at the wound, using any available opening to send more disruptor blasts into the weakened area.

Dal saw an opportunity in the chaos, and he was all too ready to capitalize on it. “Hit the back two fighters while they’re distracted, full phasers.”

“Yes, Sir!” K’lim the half-Klingon weapons officer replied with an undertone of glee in her steady tone. She rarely got to fire weapons with this much abandon. Jason hoped they would be able to survive long enough for her to have a story to tell after this.

The Calistoga turned, spitting golden fire at the back two fighters. One particularly well-placed shot hit the fighter farthest from Mireya VII directly under the engines, slicing through the shields. A blue plasma flare erupted from the starboard engine and the fighter veered off course.

Dal leaned forward, pointing to the injured fighter. “Target fighter seven with a photon torpedo, on my mark!”

“That won’t destroy it, Sir.” K’lim offered her expert opinion evenly.

Dal’s antennae dipped. “Doesn’t have to, it should push it into the asteroid field. Helm, move us to 341 mark eight. Make it look like a defensive maneuver.”

K’lim’s eyebrows raised, and she suddenly understood the tactic. Jols rolled the ship to port and then straightened, using the opportunity of a shot aimed towards them to dodge and then overcorrect, getting the disabled Vaadwaur ship in between the Calistoga and the asteroid field.

“Fire!” Dal called just as the Calistoga rolled into position. “Helm, keep us moving!”

Jason looked up just in time to see a photon torpedo impact against the Vaadwaur fighter. With the disabled engines the ship spun giddily and was pushed backwards into the asteroids. The first impact was minor, a flare on the shields.  The second was similar.

The remaining engine on the Vaadwaur fighter burst into life, as the ship desperately tried to course correct. But it was too late. Spinning out of control, the Vaadwaur fighter’s burst of speed only guaranteed impact with one of the big asteroids. The fighter’s shields crackled and screamed, and the ship collapsed, crushed like a bug on the surface of an asteroid.

One down, six to go.

Less than a breath after the Vaadwaur fighter cracked into pieces, two others landed solid hits against the core of Mireya VII. Normally Jason wouldn’t pay that much mind, the station’s shields should far exceed the Calistoga’s, but his eyes were drawn to a flash on his scanners. The energy surge returned – the second one that had intersected the underspace tunnels opening. The one he hadn’t been able to identify because of the overwhelming threat of the Vaadwaur.

Jason looked up just in time to watch the impact of the assault against the civilian station. Plasma bloomed where the impact landed and Mireya VII’s shields guttered, clawing for purchase against the onslaught.

“Did they hit a shield generator on the station?” Dal queried, watching as the other fighters started to punish the outer sections of Mireya VII as the station struggled to reassert its shields.

Jason wanted to say yes. But nothing on his scanners confirmed that or anything even close. He shook his head, feeling his lower jaw clench and his neck tighten. “No. There was a severe power drop on Mireya VII unrelated to the attack.”

“From what?” the Commander asked.

Somehow Jason knew Dal would ask that, and his least favorite answer to any given question was ‘I don’t know.’

The problem was he didn’t know, and he couldn’t figure out a clear connection in the heat of battle.  “Unsure, Sir.  I’ll keep scanning.”

He would love the time to correlate data and compare all the things that were happening at the same time as the power surge and the subsequent power failure. Something nagged at him, something with the missing asteroid that stellar cartography found, something about the power failure happening after they smashed a Vaadwaur ship into an asteroid. But as the Calistoga shook and he found his hand clenching his console and bracing, he knew he didn’t have the time.

“—mark 242 and fire all phasers!” Dal’s voice cut through Jason’s reverie. His mind snapped back into focus, and he realized they were dancing with two more of the smaller Vaadwaur fighters, moving in and out of a barrage of phaser fire.

And for a moment Jason appreciated Dal’s focus.  He realized that if he were in the big chair – Captain Ibanez – everyone would be dead, and the ship would be atomized. And he was begrudgingly thankful that the military trained commanding officer was not only keeping them alive, but acting as a distraction and a bulwark, keeping the majority of the fire away from Mireya VII. Not that he cared for Mireya VII, but he cared for someone who was currently on Mireya VII.

“We’re getting dangerously close to the primary ship, Sir.” Jols called out. Helms didn’t require a hand grip to use, but if they did Jols would absolutely be white-knuckling this combat.

Dal’s gaze was unrelenting, focused on the battle. “Get as close as you can, close enough to kiss the shields. They don’t have disruptor range on their underbelly, if you can evade underneath the primary fighter, the ones following us either have to stop firing or hit their leader.”

Jols gave a silent confirmation, understanding what he was tasked to do. Meanwhile K’lim seemed all too eager to add as much well-placed weapons fire as she could. The inertial dampeners screamed as the Calistoga came in hot, nearly ramming the lead fighter as it poured its aggression out on Mireya VII, and the two fighters following it lit the sky – and their leader – up with a hail of disruptor fire.

The bigger ship pivoted, trying to catch the Calistoga as she evaded downwards, underneath the fighter.  K’lim held in a gleeful whoop as she landed one perfectly placed torpedo hit on one of the pursuing smaller fighters, knocking it off course and nearly into its companion. There was an orange flare from within as its engines started to overload.

But it wasn’t time to celebrate yet. Two of the other smaller fighters disengaged from Mireya VII and moved to intercept the Calistoga, buffeting the already bruised ship from two sides.

Dal made the call to disengage, pulling the Calistoga out of the hot zone, with three smaller fighters now on her tail – one original and two new.

The one that had taken a direct torpedo hit still spun, like a boxer with a concussion, and attempted to power the engines up to give chase. A fatal mistake. Sparks blossomed from within its shielding, and it wavered, as the engines started to build into a full breach.

The lead Vaadwaur ship shifted position, almost as if it was assessing the situation with the injured fighter. And then without a second of hesitation they opened up and fired on their own, destroying the ship in a vicious assault before the engines could breach. It was a self-preservation measure; with the positioning an explosion would have certainly damaged the lead ship more than any other ship in the area. But it was still chilling to watch the Vaadwaur’s utter disregard for their own people.

Two down, five to go.

Jason might have felt a bit of hope, but the viewscreen confirmed with unerring certainty that they had caught the intention of the lead fighter.

The next two volleys of disruptor fire shook the Calistoga to its core, despite some of the best evasive maneuvers Jason had seen in his decade in Starfleet. Shields maintained at 47%, power drops in all non-critical systems and engines were operating in an overtaxed state. If they could simply run away from the fight the Calistoga would have an advantage.

If it wasn’t for Mireya VII – and the people onboard.

“We have to get the team off Mireya VII.” He finally blurted out in a moment of relative calm as the Calistoga swung around, keeping some distance between it and the Vaadwaur chasing them. “If they lose shields, the whole station will go up in flames.”

“We can’t evacuate the entire station. We have to buy them time to evacuate.  It’s a space port.” Dal returned evenly.

Jason had a moment where his brain told him to stop and think before speaking. And then his mouth opened anyways. “I don’t care about the pirates!  I care about Dwasina!”

Not Haynes, or Velix or Smith. Not any of the two thousand souls onboard Mireya VII.  Just Dwasina.

There was a split second of silence. On the bridge. In the middle of a battle.

The Calistoga shook from another disruptor shot to the saucer section, and for a moment the lights guttered, but the shields stayed. Jason found himself bathed in the red light of the red alert, and his mind fancifully wondered if fate was trying to tell him that his statement placed the blood of two thousand innocents on his hands.

His ex-wife always told him his big stupid mouth would get him killed. Maybe she was right after all.

Dal focused on the viewscreen. “Evasive maneuvers, down to mark 340, fire phasers at the shield generators.”

Jols and K’lim were focused. Jason shut up and went back to the scans. This was a losing battle. If they couldn’t disengage and get some distance and some time to recover energy and repair, they were cooked. They might destroy one or two more Vaadwaur, but even best-case scenario, each ship they took out drained them, and they were at less than 50%. That would leave a minimum of three Vaadwaur fighters to pick them apart and scatter the pieces of the Calistoga through the stars before dismantling Mireya VII.

He knew it. The question was did Dal know it?

“If we don’t put some distance between us and those Vaadwaur, we’re not gonna live through this.  And if we do get distance, we can’t leave our crew behind.” Jason’s voice was full of passion and truth. At least as much truth as he could gain from his scans.

Dal didn’t answer for an uncomfortably long time. He focused on positioning and taking well placed shots where he could. Only when the Calistoga found some respite ducking into the asteroid field, behind a vaporized silica cloud did he respond. “We have a duty to protect innocent life, and a responsibility to recover our away team.”

The Andorian turned towards the science officer, violet shadows playing off his features in the dimmed red lights. He looked severe, almost demonic. “We owe nothing to a bunch of pirates.” Jason hissed back. “And we’re useless if we’re dead.”

Jols and K’lim didn’t stare at them – they were too well trained. Dal didn’t disagree with Jason’s assessment, nor did he take the bait. “What level are Mireya VII’s shields at now?”

The science office stopped for a moment and then had to turn to his console to double check his data, red creeping into his cheeks. He hadn’t expected a question, one that he should have been able to rattle off an answer for. “Twenty-four percent and holding.” He paused and swallowed.  “I’m reading a severe power drain.”

“From what?” the soft Andorian lisp was grating.

“I don’t know!” Jason yelled, more hotly than he liked. “I don’t know, but I can tell you that whatever is draining their power is also going to get them killed.”

Anger poured into Jason’s expression like filling up a cold cup with boiling water and watching the steam condense on the outside. Idiot pirates hiding something, and they had to send their best diplomat over. And now those same idiot pirates were going to get everyone killed.

Dal’s gaze flickered over to the communications station. “Can we get any communication with Mireya VII?”

“Nothing, Sir.” Ensign Loni Silstar replied, sounding like every fiber of her body including her vocal chords were strung as taut as a bowstring,

The Vaadwaur fighters regrouped and were getting painfully close.  The Calistoga’s temporary hiding spot would soon be discovered, and the chase would start anew. Dal was still fixated on the viewscreen, and Jason chose to take the last free moments to speak. “It’s your call, Sir, but I don’t wanna die today because some stupid pirates would rather take their secrets to the grave than bolster their shields.”

The sentiment hung in the air for a moment before the asteroid field flared with orange light as the Vaadwaur disruptors vaporized a silicate asteroid and the Calistoga leapt into motion before it was the next target.

The chase was on.