"Launch fighters," ordered Commander Ivan Zhukov.
From his console, Visch gave the order, and within seconds thirty-six small, quick, maneuverable fighters streaked out of the shuttle bays of the twelve Starfleet ships and took up position in line with Constitution and the other two big cruisers opposing the Klingon assault force.
Now, the odds were thirty-nine to eighteen in favor of Starfleet. Maybe, Zhukov hoped, that would be enough to dissuade the Klingons from a major engagement. Maybe that obstinate Klingon general would recognize he was in too deep and back off. It was probably a vain hope, Ivan reflected, but he had to try.
"This is Commander Zhukov on board the Constitution to the Klingon flagship. It is you who is outnumbered. Stand down, withdraw, and allow our evacuation to proceed. Our only concern is evacuating our civilian population. This situation can still be resolved without resorting to violence. Please respond."
For a long moment, the Klingon ships seemed to pause, as if considering the situation. For the tiniest fraction of an instant, Ivan held his breath, daring to hope against hope that the Klingons might actually use their brains and avoid a pointless battle. Maybe they would see that a fight was completely unnecessary; that all they had to do to take possession of this system was allow the Starfleet task force to leave.
Then, the moment passed, and hopes shattered. The Klingon vessels pressed forward, shields up, weapons charged.
In mere moments, the battle was joined. Starfleet and Klingon vessels hurtled directly towards one another, sending streams of lethal firepower smashing against the shields and hulls of one another's ships.
Constitution rocked as she took a hit from one, then another, then another Klingon vessel. Thoom, thoom, thoom.
"Damage report!" ordered Zhukov.
"Shields down to fifty-six percent," replied Visch. "We've got minor damage to the main deflector and secondary command processors. Sir, the Klingon flagship is attempting to break off from the main group! I think they're making a run for our ships in orbit of the planet."
Ivan could not allow that to happen. "Cut them off," he ordered. "Helm, bring us about, bearing oh-three seven mark nine. Increase to two-thirds impulse and engage the Klingon flagship with all available weapons."
"We've got two Birds-of-Prey attempting to cut us off, Commander," Visch replied. Glancing up from his console, his eyes wide with fear, he added, "Sir, I think the flagship is going straight for the Khitomer."
Zhukov thought quickly. If Constitution tried to fight its way through the pair of Birds-of-Prey, she would be able to do so. But the delay would be more than enough time to give the Klingon battleship the opportunity to score an easy hit against the defenseless Khitomer, with her shields down and her attention focused on transporting the colony's civilians off the planet. On the other hand, if Constitution ignored the two other ships, they would score too many easy hits on Constitution, leaving her dangerously exposed to further attack. Worse, there was every chance that the Klingon flagship would still reach the Khitomer before Constitution could stop her.
There was only one way to guarantee that Constitution would be able to cut off the Klingon ship. "Helm, prepare for a micro-second warp jump. I want to position Constitution between us and the Khitomer," Zhukov ordered.
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
"…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…"
Zhukov was cut off, mid-sentence, and gaped dumbfounded as Captain Travis suddenly and unexpectedly appeared on the bridge, apparently from his Ready Room. He presented a bizarre sight that Zhukov could only stare at, dumbfounded, for a long moment.
Oddly, Travis was wearing an archaic, old-style "flip top" uniform. He was badly bruised and bleeding profusely, as if he had recently been in a serious fight. Cuts and scars crossed his face, and one eye was almost entirely swollen shut.
"Captain…what…" Zhukov began.
"I'll explain later, Commander," Travis croaked. He sounded even worse than he looked. "Navat, is everyone off the planet?"
"Aye, sir," Navat replied. "The last evacuation is now complete.
"Good. Mr. Visch, target a full spread of quantum torpedoes on these coordinates and fire!" he ordered.
Visch examined the coordinates. "Sir, you want me to destroy the ruins on the planet?" he asked, puzzled.
Josh became even more insistent. "That's correct, Commander. I promise I'll explain later. Now target your weapons and FIRE!"
Visch didn't understand, but his captain had given him an order. Tapping the commands on his console, he pressed one last key.
"Torpedoes away!" he announced.
A full spread of the powerful quantum torpedoes, twenty in all, burst out of Constitution's forward torpedo launcher and screamed down towards the ancient ruins and slammed into the surface with unimaginable explosive force. The surface of the planet shook and rumbled as the powerful torpedoes incinerated the ruins and everything else in a five hundred kilometer radius. A massive plume cloud of dust and gas, visible from space, rose up from the surface like the funeral pyre of some ancient, powerful god.
"Target destroyed," Visch reported somberly.
Everything was deadly quiet on the bridge. "Hail the lead Klingon vessel, Lieutenant Navat."
Navat complied and reported, "Channel open, sir."
Josh licked his parched lips. It hurt to talk; every word was agony. But he had to get this out. "This is Captain Joshua Travis of the Federation starship Constitution to the lead Klingon vessel. I know why you're here and we have destroyed every artifact on the planet's surface. There's no more reason to fight over this planet. Stand down, let us complete our evacuation, and we will leave this system peacefully within the hour. We have no wish to engage in further hostilities. Don't force us to do so."
Josh could only hope that the Klingon general in this timeline had the same information and mission that Kalor did. If so, the apparent destruction of the Guardian would eliminate the only reason the Klingon assault force was pressing the issue to capture this system.
Seconds dragged by the on the bridge. No one said anything; everyone held their breath, waiting for the Klingons' response.
Finally, a reply came back over audio only. Even without seeing his face, Josh could hear the impotent rage in the voice of the Klingon commander. "This is General Kovak of the Raktar. You have one hour to complete your evacuation,
Raktar out."
Josh blinked, then looked at the screen for long seconds, not quite willing to believe his good luck. The Klingons had backed down. There would be no battle here today. The evacuation would be successful.
It was over.