The Klingon vessels came swooping in with reckless abandon, intent on their target, undaunted by the sudden increase in the size of the enemy fleet. Space, normally dark and cold, lit up as brightly as a dozen stars – and just as hot – as the two sides traded deadly streams of phaser and disrupter fire. The bigger ships – warships and cruisers – moved closer to one another, pumping lethal firepower at each other, trying to find a breaking point, straining to repel the fury of the enemy's attack. Meanwhile, the smaller fighters swarmed around, swooping in and out, picking away at their targets, evading the deadly retaliation.
Space, normally placid, became a cauldron of fire and death, as the two sides locked in a desperate struggle for survival.
On the bridge of Constitution, Ivan Zhukov surveyed Starfleet's situation with the same reserve and calm with which he approached every situation. His strategy was very simple: to engage the Klingon forces as far away from the planet as possible, and buy the rest of the fleet the time it needed to evacuate the planet and retreat from the system. Once the other ships could get to warp speed, all they would need was a few moments to ensure that the Klingon ships could not catch them.
To this end, he had ordered Constitution, Louis Riel and Halifax to move in and engage the big Klingon ships at point-blank range. The fighters were assigned to gang up on the smaller Klingon ships – roughly three fighters per enemy vessel – and keep them off the cruisers' backs. As the lead Federation vessel, Constitution was a special target, and both Zhukov and the Klingons knew it.
Constitution was dealing out punishment at an astounding rate. Phaser fire streamed non-stop from her saucer and pulse cannons, blasting into the enemy with reckless abandon, while quantum torpedoes streaked mercilessly towards their intended targets like red-hot demons. One Bird-of-Prey took a torpedo attack directly and without the benefit of shields, and seconds later was vaporized into nothing more substantial than atoms and energy. The Klingons were suffering major losses as they battled ferociously to destroy the Starfleet task force.
But they were making their enemy pay a terrible price. Space lit up bright as day as one, then two, then four Starfleet fighters took the brunt of a disrupter attack head-on, evaporating in a burst of light and heat seconds later, their crews instantly killed in the blast. And the three Starfleet cruisers, badly outnumbered in ship-to-ship combat, were taking a merciless beating at the hands of a determined and savage opponent.
Disrupter hit after disrupter hit blasted away at Constitution, surging against her shields, testing her breaking point. The assault continued, relentless, gaining in power, as Klingon ship after Klingon ship targeted the Starfleet flagship and mercilessly attempting to utterly destroy her. No quarter was given and none was received.
From somewhere in the darkness, a torpedo screamed in, ripped through the overburdened shields and smashed against the skin of Constitution. The big ship rocked violently from the hit, and a gaping wound, glowing white hot and smoldering, ripped open along her secondary hull.
"Direct hit on deck nineteen!" Visch reported. "Damage to secondary computer core and lateral sensors! Ablative armor is buckling!" The bridge was running on secondary lighting and was choked thick with smoke.
"Maintain contact with the enemy," Zhukov ordered. "Where is our fighter support? Tell them to move in tighter."
"We're having difficulty maintaining communication with the fleet, sir," Navat reported, her voice cracking under the pressure. A cadet fresh out of the Academy, this was clearly her first starship battle and the strain was beginning to show. Sweat poured down her face, and the fear was evident in Navat's eyes. Nonetheless she remained poised and collected, continuing to do her job despite the chaos and destruction raging all around the ship.
"Keep trying," Zhukov ordered. "What is the status of the evacuation?" he asked.
"They're almost finished. Five more minutes," Navat replied.
Ivan did the math in his head. Five minutes. But to be safe, they had to add another five minutes for the evacuation ships to gain altitude, get away from the planet and then go to warp, with a few moments to spare to ensure they had enough of a head start so the Klingons couldn't catch them. That meant they had to hold out for ten more hellish minutes.
"Commander," Visch reported, "there's a Vor'cha-class attack cruiser breaking away from the main body of Klingon ships. I think it's General Kalor's flagship, sir."
"Where is it headed?" Zhukov asked.
Visch consulted his instruments, bracing as the ship took the impact of another massive disrupter hit. "The planet, sir."
"Damn!" Zhukov snarled, momentarily losing his composure. "Helm, set a course to intercept! Now!" Kalor's ship was going straight for the remainder of the Starfleet task force. Orbiting in the planet's gravity well, they would be unable to maneuver, and with the evacuation still in progress their shields would be down. "Do whatever it takes stop that ship!"
"We're being cut off by a pair of Klingon attack ships," Visch reported.
"Then order any and all fighters to intercept Kalor's ship, before it attacks the evacuation fleet. Can you determine their target?" he asked.
Visch checked, then glanced up in undisguised fear. "They're heading straight for the Khitomer, sir," he reported.
The Khitomer; one of the biggest evacuation ships. Over nine thousand colonists were crammed, right now, into every nook and cranny of her interior. An Ambassador-class starship, she was normally more than able to defend herself. But at the moment, her resources were entirely dedicated to transporting up colonists as quickly as possible, with little left over for shields and none for weapons.
"Constitution to Khitomer! Raise your shields now! Take evasive action…" Zhukov began.
Too late. Kalor's flagship ruthlessly targeted the Khitomer and raced towards her virtually unimpeded. Opening fire, her initial volley was absorbed by a courageous Federation fighter that milliseconds later no longer existed. A second fighter took advantage of the Klingon ship's delay and pressed the attack, and Kalor turned his attention to swat the insect before returning to his prey.
That was all the time Ivan needed. "Helm, prepare for a micro-second warp jump. I want to position Constitution between us and the Khitomer," he ordered. He loathed improvising, but there was no viable alternative in the circumstance.
Chief Engineer Renar Saben's voice came over the conn. "Commander, a warp jump within a solar system, and so close to a planet, is extremely risky! And, even if we succeed, we won't have enough power left over to keep the shields going at full capacity. If we take a hit from that ship…"
"…the shields will not be able to absorb it and it will damage our hull directly," Zhukov finished. "Yes, Mr. Saben, I know. Stand by for warp jump on my mark. And…mark!"
On Zhukov's command, Constitution suddenly engaged her warp engines for the tiniest fraction of a second, jumping hundreds of thousands of kilometers towards the planet, interposing herself between Kalor's ship and Khitomer just as the former was unleashing a devastating attack.
Torpedoes and disrupter fire slammed into Constitution head-on. Without the benefit of her shields, the attack meant to eviscerate the Khitomer instead hammered into the hull of the Constitution. Hit after hit tore into her superstructure, gouging out gaping wounds and scorching holes where the hull should have been and used to be seconds earlier. Successive blasts rocked the big ship, explosions tearing open wounds in her skin, exposing her interior and crew to the cruel vacuum of space. The unfortunate victims were simultaneously subjected to explosive decompression, frozen, scorched by radiation and fried by the intense heat of weapons fire.
On the bridge, all was smoke and chaos. Girders and cabling hung everywhere, and lights blinked on and off with a crazed randomness. Stunned by the ferocity of the attack, Zhukov sputtered, "Report!"
Visch staggered to his feet and checked the damage reports coming in. "Severe damage to all decks," he reported. "Engines off line, weapons off line, shields off line. Life support functioning on secondary backups only. We've got hull breaches on decks four, six, eleven, seventeen and twenty-two. There are casualty reports coming in from all over the ship!" He looked up at Zhukov. "We're dead in space, sir."
Zhukov didn't hesitate. "What about the Khitomer?" he asked.
Visch shook his head in frustration. "Under attack from Kalor's ship. They didn't get their shields raised in time. They're taking severe damage.." his voice trailed off; he could only watch in horror as his erratic sensor readings clinically reported the destruction of the Khitomer.
Zhukov hung his head. He had lost the Constitution in a desperate bid to save the Khitomer, and he had failed at that too. Between the crews and refugees on the two ships, almost ten thousand lives had been lost. It was over.
"All hands, abandon ship," he ordered listlessly.
Only once before, had Zhukov ever suffered a defeat of this magnitude. He was in shock, numb. Looking about, he could see Navat's lifeless body laying on the deck. Blood flowed freely from the young J'Naii officer's head, and her arms were smashed and broken like a rag doll's.
"I have nothing left," he mumbled.
Visch's voice sounded distant, hollow. Zhukov felt dizzy; he couldn't concentrate. From somewhere, far away, he could hear the Bolian's voice saying something about Klingons transporting to the surface, but it didn't make any sense to him. Nothing did.
Then there was nothing.