Space is not supposed to burn. It's a vacuum, a black and frosty void of exquisite formlessness, magnificent desolation. And yet, a cubic kilometre in the Boreth system sizzled and flamed with a dark-red inferno boiling out from the portal to the Fek'Ihri realm. Whether that was Gre'thor itself or somewhere else was not entirely clear from Klingon mythology - nor, for that matter, was the question of how the actual demons of their legends could be real. There were rumours told in shadowy corners of Qo'noS, of deep-space fleets driving slaves from distant worlds, of the depths of complicity of other galactic powers and perhaps even their involvement in the rise of these Fek'Ihri into the universe.

But nothing was firmly established in fact - at least, not yet. What was undisputed was the conflagration, the void from which it emanated, and the seventeen Fek'Ihri ships of varying size which had entered Boreth's space from it. Each of these ships in turn glowed and burned, its metal exterior riven with ports belching flame aftwards from their engine manifolds, down to the smallest (those colloquially termed Lost Souls) that left a plume of exhaust flames behind them as they criss-crossed around the vessels they escorted.

Somehow, Tw'eak realized, it would be her job to destroy them all. After all, she was leaving them no quarter by striking at the portal itself. The scans showed it had the same unstable resonance as all the others which Warspite had collapsed before. In fact, it might be easier to collapse, if the resonance matched with merely a wider aperture. It would just take a broader spread of torpedoes. Getting the ship to where such a spread could launch would pose a considerable challenge.

"Full power to shields and engines," Tw'eak ordered. "Take the phasers offline if you need the power - we'll only need the torpedoes ready."

"Not the cloaking device?" Invicta asked.

Tw'eak shook her head. "No, we'll need to stay close to Trondheim. They're leading us in." She paused for a moment. "Better idea - set our phasers to point-defense, try to pick off any tricobalt bombs they leave in our way."

Invicta nodded. "We may need to cloak again once we have struck the target."

"That would leave Trondheim exposed," Bianca retorted.

Tw'eak looked to Octavia. "Let's sort that out later."

"Trondheim signals they are beginning their run," Bianca noted.

"Helm, remain in formation with Trondheim to target," Octavia ordered.

"On our way," Robins replied.

The two ships pushed forward, the Fek'Ihri massing ships directly in their paths. Antiproton beams struck both Trondheim and Warspite, but neither faltered. Both ships ducked and wove through the colossal display of firepower that came their way, with Warspite at one point narrowly dodging a collision with one of the frigates arrayed against it. This maneuver looked, to Tw'eak, to have been deliberate. The ship rocked and heaved all around her, and she held on tight.

"Time to target?" Tw'eak asked.

"Ninety-four seconds," Sassil replied.

"Our shields are at seventy-three percent," Bianca added. The ship bounced with an impact. "Sixty-seven!"

Tw'eak grimaced. "How's Trondheim doing?"

"Their shields are at forty-seven percent," Invicta observed. "Minor damage to their warp drive."

"Just hold on."

The two ships maintained their heading, charging hard towards the portal. Running an oblique course might have been preferential in terms of the projectiles, keeping the Fek'Ihri from leaving every last mine and torpedo available in their paths, but Warspite's point-defense fire was working well against the obstacles. Tw'eak noted the irony in the undoubted fact that Warspite's vinculum, the upgrade to which she had taken such objection, was probably doing most of the targeting and point-defense work.

On the viewscreen, the lower saucer section of Trondheim was visible, but only just, dipping in occasionally to show the tips of its warp nacelles. Tw'eak couldn't help but be impressed by the initiative and fearlessness of the acting captain of that ship, her willingness to take risks, carving out a completely different role than Tw'eak may have herself assigned. It was certainly making the right kind of impact, by diffusing the effect of this many adversaries' weapons. Surely Warspite would be shieldless and at their mercy by now if they'd gone alone.

"Forward shields are buckling," Bianca noted. "I'm cycling shield power to compensate."

Tw'eak nodded. "Good work staying evasive, Robins."

"I'm trying," Robins meeped.

"Time?"

"Thirteen seconds," Sassil replied.

"Trondheim's hit!" Cordero shouted, pointing. Indeed, the upper half of Warspite's viewscreen was taken up by a plume of warp plasma trailing from their Norway-class escort. Soon, it faded as the smaller ship fell back in the formation. Tw'eak bit her lip, hoping the casualties were few in number. But there was no turning back now.

"Get a weapons lock on the portal," Tw'eak ordered. "Full spread. Hold fire until we're right up against it. I don't want to take any risks."

The ship careened sharply downwards, then back up again. "Forward shields are failing," Bianca confessed.

"Emergency power to the shields," Octavia ordered.

"It has already been committed," came the reply from Commander Ultra at the engineering station. "I will draw on what auxiliary power we have remaining."

There was a familiar noise from the console in front of Sassil. "Torpedoes away!"

The torpedo spread rippled from Warspite's forward launchers. The impact was decisive, causing the portal to begin to fluctuate, then collapse.

"Trondheim has lost shields," Bianca noted. "They're not going to make it to target."

"Put all power to the shields and engines," Tw'eak said. "And the tractor beam."

"We're towing them out?"

Tw'eak nodded. "If that's what it takes."

But it didn't. To her surprise, the Fek'Ihri were directing their weapons fire in other directions. With the portal gone, there was little reason for them to be engaging further, but that was because the enemy lay in greater numbers in the other direction. The crowd of warships and frigates dropping tricobalt bombs in their paths was dissipating, heading outwards, away from the two damaged Federation starships they were leaving behind.

"What's going on?" Tw'eak asked.

Octavia consulted the sensors. "Multiple Klingon vessels are arriving in-system." She looked up at Tw'eak. "It is L'Rell."

"How?"

Octavia responded by putting L'Rell's message on audio playback. -This is the I.K.S. K'T'inga, calling all Klingon forces. I am L'Rell of House T'Kuvma. Join me! Fight now, for the Empire!-

"I am reading seven Klingon vessels in-system now," Invicta said, "one of which is the K'T'inga."

"They are from multiple different houses," Octavia added. She looked to Tw'eak. "She is uniting them."

"Glorious," Sassil said with awe.

"We are being hailed by Chancellor Martok," Bianca noted, then corrected herself. "General Martok. Sorry."

Tw'eak looked up at Bianca. "Wishful thinking, Bianca?"

"Something like that," she replied sheepishly.

"On screen."

Martok stood on the bridge of a Klingon vessel. "Well met in battle, Admiral."

"Well met indeed. How goes it on your end?"

"Too close for my liking. Perhaps today will be a good day to die, after all."

"I'll direct our ships to provide support. I'll leave you the glory of the kill."

"You honour me," Martok replied. "We shall teach these Fek'Ihri a lesson about showing their ugly faces in this holy place ever again! Qapla'!"

The communication ended. "Hail the Trondheim," Tw'eak directed.

The bridge of the Trondheim was damaged, but not heavily. "Admiral!" Hamsa brought herself into the centre of the screen, fire extinguisher in hand.

"How are you holding up?"

"We've had better days. Warp drive is out, shields and transporters are down, the main deflector is damaged, and part of our EPS junction system burst into confetti... but we made it."

"Can you get back on your own power?"

"Back where? To a starbase? Not today, but... yes."

"We'll cover you while you effect repairs."

Hamsa shook her head. "Not worth it. You're better to leave us and engage those Fek'Ihri on your own. We can launch our own fighters, even some shuttles to tow us if needs be. But you should support the Klingons."

Tw'eak paused for a moment. "That's the second time today you've given me an order, rather than the other way around."

Hamsa made a scoffing noise. "Consider it my suggestion, then, Admiral."

Tw'eak smiled. "It's a good suggestion. Not one to be argued with."

"No, I'm not." Hamsa's response betrayed something of a misunderstanding, but it was strictly unintentional.

Tw'eak's smile broadened. "I can respect that. We can beam over repair crews to assist, before we go."

"Don't drop your shields on our behalf. We surely won't be dropping ours - I may not be able to raise them again. We'll be fine. I'm a Starfleet engineer - maybe it's time to live up to that 'miracle worker' title we keep being given."

Tw'eak gave a glance to Octavia. "I know engineers can be a stubborn bunch."

"Hm," Hamsa grunted. "So I've heard."

"Alright, Commander. Have it your way. We'll see you after. Warspite out." Tw'eak turned her attention back to the Fek'Ihri ships on screen as Hamsa winked out. "Alright, folks. To the dreadnought, then."

From the captain's chair, Octavia interrupted. "Admiral, I'm receiving a withdrawal order from Starfleet Command."

Tw'eak slowly brought herself to face Octavia. "Now?" she said flatly.

"Yes. Orders from Admiral Quinn. Warspite is to disengage immediately and return to Federation space."

"Now!? Bianca repeated, more exasperatedly than Tw'eak had sounded.

Tw'eak had another question. "Just us? Not the other ships?"

Octavia rose from her chair. "I'll respond from my ready room. I am certain that they will understand our situation." She turned to face Ultra at the engineering console. "You have the bridge."

There was a moment of uncertain silence. Tw'eak turned back to face the viewscreen, and stepped towards it on wobbly legs. She didn't want her face to betray any sense of the deep grief she was feeling. This ship, its crew, and she had just gone through hell - literally, if you're Klingon - only to be undercut by this development.

"That's not right," Bianca finally said, breaking the silence.

Tw'eak shook her head, then forced a shrug. "Wish we could finish the fight."

"Our efforts may be redundant," Invicta noted. "I now count seventeen Klingon vessels of varying types in-system."

"A warrior's efforts are never redundant," Sassil replied with a sneer.

Octavia returned to the bridge. "I have spoken directly with Admiral Quinn. We are being recalled to Earth Spacedock, immediately."

Tw'eak's eyes narrowed. "And the task force?"

"The Alliance will take over system defense under Admiral Konsab for the time being. Other Alliance ships will arrive shortly, at which time all Starfleet vessels are to depart. But we are specifically being advised to take no further action. The Federation does not wish to be seen to be taking sides in an ...internal Klingon matter."

"Is that what they call it?" Sassil seethed, her fist finding the console. "They are turning their backs! Leaving the tyrant in charge!" She let out a growl, then added, "this is just what they did to the Romulans, is it not?"

"Thank you, that's enough," Tw'eak retorted sharply.

"Explain to me how is this a just course of-"

"General," Tw'eak cut in, referring to her sister by her rank deliberately. "As this is a Starfleet vessel under Federation command, further comment from an Alliance liaison at this time would be inappropriate."

Sassil's eyes burned, her antennae stretching for the ceiling with fury. Yet she relented and remained silent. "I... will take my leave." She turned towards the turbolift, hands knotted in fists, and left the bridge.

"Status of Fek'Ihri vessels?"

"They're..." Invicta moved to the spot that Sassil had vacated. "Far fewer in number than before. The Klingons appear to have scattered them. The dreadnought is severely damaged, the remaining vessels are attempting to withdraw." Her eye flashed to Octavia. "The Klingons are giving no quarter."

"Just as they should expect," Bianca noted.

"Admiral," Cordero asked. "What do we do now?"

Tw'eak sighed. "We follow our orders. Set a course, and withdraw."

Despite their heroic efforts, the air on the bridge of Warspite hung stale with the impression of defeat.