"The warp trail comes to an end up ahead," said Cartwright.
"Sensors indicate a large space station, possibly a starbase or shipyard," Brok added. "I'll be able to perform a more detailed scan when we come out of warp."
"All ships," Drake said to Sturnn, and when the comm officer had opened the channel, he continued, "Yellow alert. Shields up, weapons on standby. Let's expect trouble here, people."
"How wise."
"You're a ray of sunshine today."
"As you of all people should know, Alex, the unknown is usually dangerous. How many new civilisations shoot first and leave the questions to the historians?"
"I know that's your philosophy…"
"What can I say?" Kana grinned. "I'm a pragmatist."
Alex shook her head and dropped the starship out of subspace. The other Federation vessels appeared on her wing a moment later, and the five craft cruised towards the station in a line. At this range they could already see that the installation was a massive shipyard, housing dozens of vessels. And unless Alex's eyes were playing tricks, one of those ships looked very familiar indeed.
"Will…"
He had seen it too. "Walker, magnify the top-left pens."
The view shifted, four ships and their docking berths came into clear focus on the view screen. Pini gasped, but she was the only one who was really surprised by what she saw; everyone else had suspected it.
Tholiar observed it aloud, just in case someone wasn't paying attention. "That's the Daedalus."
"So it is," said Drake darkly.
Kana was standing behind the captain's chair. Her loud laugh caused Alex to snap around and stare at her. Fortunately, everyone else was too engrossed with the view screen to notice. "Billy-boy sounds angry. I think we're going to have some fun here."
"Captain," warned Brok, "we have multiple vessels on approach. Sensors indicate corvette-class tonnage. Confirmed. Hostile posturing, sir; delta formation. They have charged their hull plating and…disruptors?"
"Disruptors?" Repeated Tholiar.
"Disruptors, sir. Readings indicate standard Klingon disruptor cannons."
"That explains something," said the first officer. "The Klingons captured our ship."
Drake agreed with her reasoning, but Brok shook his head. "I don't think so, sir. These ships aren't of Klingon design."
The captain could see that for himself now. Walker had shifted the screen's focus so that they could see the ships clearly: slim, triangular vessels with bulbous engines at the rear, and visible weapon ports. They were dark grey, and tagged with a red symbol that Drake could not identify – presumably the military crest of their species.
"Their hull materials and propulsion systems are definitely not Klingon, sir," pointed out Walker, as though anyone needed to be told so at this point. "Their structural design is wrong, and the station isn't Klingon architecture."
"An ally?"
"Have you ever heard of a Klingon ally?" Smirked Alex. "They're about the most unsociable creatures in the galaxy. Even mosquitoes have more mates."
"Those ships, whoever they are, are entering weapons range, sir," Brok said.
The screen flashed bright blue just a second later and the ship bucked hard, throwing to the deck everyone who couldn't grab hold of something solid in time. A moment later red alert sounded, automatically activating the ship's weaponry and putting the shields to full strength. Main lighting dimmed around the Endeavour as red panels began to flash, highlighting the heightened alert status, and calling all personnel to their action stations.
"Direct hit to the forward shield; down by fifteen percent."
"Main power is offline on deck two, sections four, five, six and seven!"
"Decks two, nine and eleven are calling for medical teams."
"Return fire," Drake shouted over the din of klaxon and damage reports. "Full phase cannons. Target the nearest ship and fire!"
"Patton and Helios report heavy fire."
Two streams of pink phased energy speared the attacking vessel amidships. Its polarised hull absorbed the bombardment comfortably. Brok's next salvo raked up and down the craft, hunting for a weak point in its defences. Traditionally, hull plating around the engines was weaker than in other areas, but this fighter proved an exception to the rule. He couldn't find any way past their armour, short of hammering it away piece by piece, which he set about doing.
"Phase cannons ineffective," Brok advised. "They're too close for torpedoes."
"Engineering, reroute auxiliary power to the phase cannons. We need a stronger punch."
"I'll give you all I've got, Captain, but we're taking damage down here."
"Hold her together, Chief."
The fighter was joined by a second, and then a third. The trio set about the Endeavour with their disruptor cannons, focusing their efforts on the ship's warp nacelles. They attacked in a pyramid formation, each corvette flying in from a different corner of the structure, manoeuvring hard and firing harder. They didn't fly in straight lines, making it more difficult for Brok to acquire a target lock, and they evaded the ship's main firing arcs diligently; only the weaker secondary phase cannons and point-defence plasma turrets could track them, and those weapons were no use against the corvettes' reinforced hull plating.
"They're giving us a pounding," Chief Fran called over the crackling comm. "Shields are weakening, and the starboard nacelle is starting to buckle!"
"Alex, keep them away from our engines!"
"I'm trying," she sweated. The ship was getting heavier, less responsive as the damage mounted. Helming her was becoming a strain. "But they're manoeuvrable little buggers! Fast, too. They're determined to go after our nacelles."
"They know our weak points."
"Daddy told them."
The captain was surprised to hear that voice, a young girl's voice. It drifted to his ears from the back of the bridge, where she stood by the turbolifts. She was a child of about eight; the only non-Starfleet person left aboard the ship. She wore a simple yellow dress that matched her free-hanging blond hair. When not covered by shadow, her eyes were bright blue and disturbingly intelligent. She was called Susan, a genetically engineered Augment, created by a secretive organisation within Starfleet. When they no longer saw fit to continue the project, they had sought to destroy all of the prototypes, including her. She had only survived because of the kindness of Dr Miranda Pauli, who had got her out of Federation space to Mansfield trading station, where Alex and Drake had been meeting one of the helmsmen's shadier friends.
Drake had been too focused on the enemy ships to notice her arrival, or even remember that the girl was still aboard – it had been too dangerous to leave her on VX-41; there was no telling how far that secret Starfleet section's influence spread. Now he asked her, "Susan, what are you doing up here?"
She looked at him blankly for a moment, as though she didn't understand what she was hearing. Then she braced herself, just before another blast rocked the ship. She stood steady as the deck heaved around her, like an ancient sailing vessel on a stormy sea. How had she learned to do that? Or, possibly more accurately, whose mind had she pulled that knowledge from?
"Daddy told them," Susan repeated. "He made his wings from wax. His son flies with us. Not too close to the sun."
"Daedalus!" Exclaimed Alex. "They studied the Daedalus. Learnt our vulnerabilities from her."
"Oh, like it took a genius to work that one out!"
A disruptor bolt slammed into the defensive force field around the bridge dome. The environmental science station exploded in a shower of sparks. Ensign Jumaii, the operator, was thrown to the deck with a sharp piece of glass sticking out of his arm. He was lucky. If he had been facing the console face-on when it had exploded, he would have been killed. A medic came to his assistance immediately, and Susan grabbed a hand extinguisher and put out the fire eating away at the console's remains. She had learnt the ship's emergency response protocols.
"If they know all of Daedalus' weaknesses, we're in trouble," said Brok. "Those ships are fast and hard to get a lock on. They'll pick us apart, and I can't hit them back."
"They're flying too close; I can't evade them."
The next salvo shook the Endeavour to her bones. This time, even Susan was caught unaware, and the child was sent skating across the deck. She crashed heavily against the rim of the science console and lay there, dazed, until Tholiar helped her up. Medic Clark quickly examined her, and was relieved to find her unharmed.
A whole new set of alarms were ringing, demanding urgent attention. Tholiar pushed Susan into her seat, to keep her from being thrown around again, and stumbled across the bridge to the damage report monitors. There was an alarming amount of red on the display.
"What happened?" Drake called. He knew every sound that a Daedalus-class vessel could make, and from the way the hull had protested during that last shaking, he knew that the shields had failed somewhere.
Tholiar gave the bad news. "Shields around the nacelles have collapsed. That last shot hit the hull. Plating is at sixty-percent."
"Helios reports complete shield failure, sir," advised Sturnn, his comm channels flooded with damage and casualty reports from across the squadron. "Icarus has lost her phase cannons, and both Grant and Patton are under sustained attack."
"We can't win this," translated Alex.
Much as he hated it, she was right. The aggressors had inflicted heavy damage, and so far none of the Starfleet ships had even been able to scratch them back. The enemy had stronger weapons and knew where to hit with them; they had the advantage. He had to order retreat, or his ships would be lost. It galled him, but it was the only choice.
"All ships. Go to warp. Pull back."
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"We have driven them off."
He could see that for himself: the scanner screen showed the three Daedalus-class ships and their escorts vanishing into subspace.
"Losses?"
"None on either side. We failed to capture any of the ships, Commissar. I am sorry."
The commanding officer merely shrugged. "Not a concern. Our objective was to drive those people away, and that has been done. I consider that to be a success, Lieutenant."
"So do I, sir."
The man was a gutless suck up, which was why the Commissar kept him around. It was always nice to have someone who agreed with your way of thinking. It bolstered the ego a bit.
"Of course, they will be back. We must be prepared for that. Send word to Central Command. Request reinforcements."
"Sir?" The Lieutenant was puzzled by this decision. "Our defence force was more than adequate to hold them off."
"Yes. But now they know the strength of our forces, they will return with more ships. We must be ready."
The Lieutenant nodded. "As you wish, sir."