"Evasive maneuvers! Route auxiliary power to the forward shields!"
Through the enormous view screen overlooking the bridge of the USS Aventine, a Breen battle cruiser swooped through the debris field again, trying to make another shot against the Federation Vesta-class starship. Among two other Breen battle cruisers glided a Romulan warbird, also attacking the Federation ships. They practically appeared out of nowhere and attacked without warning on the Federation patrol in the Neutral Zone.
"Helm, come about. New heading – 475… Mark… 21… attack pattern Delta. Tactical, target their weapons. Get them off our backs."
Captain Ezri Dax calmly but firmly asserted herself from her stance on her bridge. The solid deck below her tired feet shuddered violently again as she pitched her tiny body to maintain her posture at her command station. Red lights aggressively illuminated and dimmed rhythmically overhead, alerting the staff of a red alert situation. The other dim lights around her loaned a serious, attack-ready atmosphere. Amid the situation, however, the crew seemed to maintain the same demeanor. She secretly hoped, like she always did in battle situations, that her crew didn't pick up on her apprehension and blinding self-doubt.
Before Aventine relocated behind the Breen ship, however, another shot made contact with the outer hull, hurling Aventine strong to the port side. Many officers were knocked of their feet, some pitching violently into the bulkheads and to the floor. A few didn't get up.
"Status on the engines!" Dax called out as she regained her composure. She didn't turn to look at the chief engineer at her station.
"Warp drive offline, impulse engines at seventy five percent, thrusters undamaged sir," Commander Kymberli Rzepka replied quickly. The Betazoid interim Chief Engineer stood at her post on the bridge, communicating constantly back to engineering. The commander's voice relayed more nervousness to the already shaken captain. Dax knew running wasn't an option now.
"Tactical, get a lock on the Breen's weapons systems. Fire torpedoes on my mark. Helm, set a course for heading 329 mark 234, one quarter impulse. Get us about a 500 meters from the field," Dax commanded, letting a small smile come over her face, lowering herself into her soft leather command chair. "Time to play dirty."
Aventine turned with the grace of a crane and moved into position. The minute the starship stopped, Dax blurted out: "Fire torpedoes! Full spread!"
The glimmering torpedoes cut through space like angry rockets. Once they impacted the Breen ship, Dax knew it was disabled. The image of the ship appeared on a small console nestled in the armrest in her chair. She eyed the battlefield before looking back at the damaged Breen ship. The scene before her eyes harshly reminded her of the few moments before Deep Space Nine's destruction nearly three months ago. Aventine had assisted the station evacuate during the precious moments before the destruction and although most of the senior staff had made it off the station in time, nearly a thousand Starfleet officers and civilians died in the Typhon Pact ambush on DS9.
A well of anger balled up in Dax's gut. Her wits told her, begged her, to remain diplomatic, just to disable the enemy ships and report the situation to the proper authorities. Her heart, however, told her something completely different. Her heart wanted revenge.
"Come about and target the aft Romulan warbird, attack pattern Alpha. Full spread torpedoes on their engines at will," Dax commanded. She stood from her chair and moved closer to the view screen. "You won't get us again, Pact," she muttered.
The three remaining Breen ships swirled around the four Federation ships, contemplating their prey. The Rutledge sustained heavy damage and slowly retreated back toward Federation space. The neutral zone transformed to a war zone before Dax's doubting eyes, and the Breen had basically declared war on the Federation. The Typhon Pact slid into a situation Ezri Dax felt sure they didn't want to be in.
Another shot impacted Aventine's hull, rocking the ship violently again moments before another spread of torpedoes launched from the starship. The attack immediately breeched the offending Romulan ship and destroyed it.
"Damage report!" Dax yelled.
"Shields down to sixty percent. Minor damage reported from decks 23 and 24." Commander Samaritan Bowers, Dax's first officer and long-time friend, replied quickly, monitoring several stations at one time.
The firefight continued for another twenty minutes, with Aventine working the perimeter of the battle and two other Federation ships working the inner ring of the battlefield. By the time the fighting stopped, Aventine, Rutledge, Vespa, Enterprise and Tacumsa all rested quietly in the debris field, contemplating their next moves.
Dax sat back in her chair listening to the damage reports coming in. She breathed deep and tried to calm her shaking hands and pounding heart. Her own personal console showed several readings depicting the locations of the enemy ships moving off. Once the reports silenced, she sat back and breathed a sigh. Her head pounded and hunger twisted her nervous stomach. Her hand gently rubbed one temple, as if she could will the headache away.
"Send a subspace message out to Starbase 23. Let them know we need at least one relief vessel to our location," Dax said quietly. "And let them know we're going to need backup for a few hours while we make repairs."
"Sir," the shrill voice from communications shot back quickly. "All subspace frequencies are being blocked. I can't get a message out."
"What?!" Dax shot back a little too loudly, standing in her place. "Hail the Rutledge."
Captain Benjamin Sisko's face soon appeared on the screen, looking grim. The bridge of the Rutledge was darker than normal and they remained at red alert. "You okay over there, Old Man?"
"We're still in once piece. Do you know why subspace is down, Ben?" Dax replied. She felt comforted knowing her old friend fought on this front line with her. She trusted his judgement and still called on his advice from time to time.
"No, I don't. I haven't heard anything about an outage," Sisko replied. "But it's certainly not very good timing."
Once Sisko's solemn face disappeared from the screen, Dax stood quietly on her bridge for a few moments with her hands on her hips. Two wounded officers had already been moved to sick bay and she needed a few minutes to get her head together.
"I'll be in my ready room," she suddenly announced. "Maintain yellow alert. Get those damage reports to me as soon as you can, Kym. Sam, you have the bridge."