Dogfight, Part I The Hit
Posted on Thu Sep 17th, 2026 @ 5:22pm by Lieutenant Junior Grade T'lenn & Lieutenant JG Jason Williams III
Edited on on Thu Sep 17th, 2026 @ 5:22pm
2,067 words; about a 10 minute read
Mission:
Peril at the Unification Accords
Location: The space around and between the two battling starships
Timeline: MD011, 1340 Hours
On Ptarmigan's tactical display, two of Reaper's fighters simply vanished from contact. The transponder feeds blinked once, stuttered, and then fell away into nothing. Taqqiq knew them both--Deborah Falx and Krag jub'Chu'Coon. There was no debris field from her position and no recovery signature.
Third Squadron went quiet on comms.
Foxglove broke it first. Her voice came in tight, completely stripped of its usual sharp edge. "They're gone."
Spectre answered after a moment, a tremor in his voice as he forced himself to push past something in his throat. "I saw it. Direct hit... no ejection."
Space had stopped being abstract the moment the warbird fired again.
The order to retreat came in, and Ensign Porix cursed to himself, itching to stay in the fight. Still, orders were orders, and he fell in line with the squadron and they made their way back to the launch bay. He felt like a dog with its tail between its legs. He knew they could do damage to that bird if they'd just been given time.
Taqqiq hated the order, and she hated it because Hydra and Fire Dancer were dead. She hated it also because the Romulans had fired first and the starfighters were clearly not a threat to a D'deridex-class warbird. Most of all, she hated it because some tiny part of her wanted to turn her fighter around and go hunting.
But the order had come from Astrea. That mean the bridge had information she didn't and if Commander Spello was pulling them back, there was a very good reason for it.
"Third Squadron, stay tight and stay sharp," she barked over the comms. "We're heading home."
Nobody argued but the silence that followed told Taqqiq the other three were biting their tongues.
The formation bent away and accelerated toward Astrea. Ahead, the Galaxy-class starship remained strong and unfaltering at the edge of the Petrus Cluster. From this distance, she looked almost peaceful--even indifferent.
The landing sequence passed and one by one, the fighters dropped through the forcefield and settled onto the deck. Perfect landings, each of them.
Taqqiq's engines wound down with a low whine while the deck crew moved in immediately, guiding antigrav tractors toward each of the returning craft.
She had just released her flight harness when a voice burst across the squadron's main channel.
"They're launching drones!"
It was Reaper and his voice was brimming with anger.
"All birds, this is Leader, launch and form up on me! We are not letting any of those damn things get anywhere near our home!"
Taqqiq froze. For half a second, nobody on the flight deck reacted. Then, every pilot in Third Squadron started speaking all at once.
"What?"
"Drones?"
"You gotta be kidding me!"
Taqqiq keyed the channel to Hangar Control.
"Control, this is Ptarmigan. Reposition my bird immediately.
A confused voice answered back. [Lieutenant, your fighter is already being moved to maintenance--"
"Then move it the hell somewhere else."
Her words were hot and impatient--far harder than she had intended.
Around her, deck crews were already turning toward monitors to see the reports of a Romulan drone launch.
"Tow us back to the tubes. Right now."
Across the hangar, Foxglove was halfway down her access ladder.
"Come on!" she shouted at a tractor operator. "You heard him! Turn this damned thing around, pendejo.
The operator--a middle-aged Bolian non-com--looked questioningly toward his supervisor who stood across the deck from him, hangar traffic from a standing station.
Foxglove threw both hands in the air.
"What are you waiting for? An engraved invitation from the Romulan Praetor?"
Nearby, Spectre was already climbing back into his cockpit. The grief that had come over him during the flight hadn't disappeared but it now seemed to be channeled into something like vengeful intent.
Tuilax's fighter lurched as an antigrav tractor locked onto the nose gear.
"Looks like we're going back out."
"We never really came back," Foxglove replied, now seated back in her cockpit and reinitating pre-flight checks while her canopy was slowly lowered and locked in place.
The deck had completely changed in less than sixty seconds. Maintenance crews became launch crews. Antigrav tow tractors were now pulling Ptarmigan's squadron away from the inspection alcoves and back toward the launch lanes. Flight controllers situated in the overhead Hangar Control booth seemed to be shouting at one another with arms flailing about.
Taqqiq watched her fighter swing slowly around until the nose shuddered, the launch tube's locking mechanism taking over.
She sealed her helmet and switched back to squadron main frequency.
"Third Squadron, strap in. We're rejoining the fray."
After he had watched two of his pilots turn to vapor and debris, after the warbird had fired upon them, Jason had screamed in rage in his cockpit. He had started to follow the orders to retreat, that had been sent by Astrea, until his aft sensors started picking up dozens of small targets launching from the warbird. He quickly tuned his sensors, then cursed.
On the bridge the scream rang out through T'lenn's mind, almost as if is were in the cockpit with him. She fought against his rage, his fury. Osirin was next to her, she had a job to do. But she was still young, their connection strong, her barriers weak.
"They're launching drones!" He shouted into his comms, after opening the channel to his entire squadron. "All birds, this is leader, launch and form up on me! We are not letting any of those damn things get anywhere near our home!"
He jerked his flightstick to the right, and shifted his thrust vectors, causing his nimble craft to pinwheel hard to starboard.
Once his angle of attack was fixed on the approaching drones, he shoved his impulse engines to full, rocketing towards them, his wingman, a young Bolian woman, Ensign Tora Taxx, callsign Calypso, stayed tight on his seven o'clock position, mirroring his moves as best as she could.
Far behind them, a dozen other starfighters had launched from the two starfighter bays and were screaming toward the battle at full impulse, they would not reach the first two pilots until after they had engaged the drones.
They were disobeying orders. T'lenn stole a subtle glance to the conn. The Captain had just arrived. What would happen to Jason. He felt no fear, only rage.
Third Squadron had just relaunched and were still quite a ways behind the remnants of Reaper's squadron.
[This is Flight Control. Second Squadron and Fifth Squadron have launched. Good hunting.]
"Anyone else have an appetite for unmanned vehicles?" came the voice of Ensign Porix, callsign Tuilax.
"Goddamned drones. It's just so typical of the Romulans." The level of disgust in Foxglove's voice was evident.
Taqqiq adjusted her sensors and confirmed it almost immediately. Multiple small launch signatures spreading out in wide formations from the warbird, far too coordinated to be manned, and far too precise in movement to be improvised. These were automated intercept craft.
She tightened her fingers over the flightstick.
"Third Squadron, you heard Reaper--we are not letting those things through."
Foxglove seethed.
"They killed Hydra and Fire Dancer and now they're sending toys at us?"
"Focus," Ptarmigan snapped immediately. "You want revenge, you earn it by not dying stupid."
Spectre came through once again: "Roger that, Squadron Leader."
Taqqiq punched in a series of commands into her flight console. "Moving off our frequency and onto Reaper's." A small sound in her cockpit announced that they were now part of the Starfighter Main channel.
"Reaper, this is Ptarmigan. We are forming on you."
Tuilax broke through this time, his voice urgent.
"Contact in twenty-eight seconds."
Inside Jason's helmet, he heard the responses from the rest of his pilots. "Make it fast! Otherwise, Calypso and I won’t leave you anything!" As he spoke he and his wingman started opening up with their weapons, destroying the drones that didn't get out of the way fast enough.
The first drones dried in bright flashes of white and green, tumbling apart as Reaper and Calypso tore through the leading edge of the swarm.
The second wave seemed to adapt almost immediately.
"They're changing vectors," Tuilax reported. "They're learning."
"Great," Foxglove muttered, her natural sarcasm sharp. "Just what we wanted."
Taqqiq watched the swarm spread across her tactical display. The Romulans had launched them in a dense cluster, but now they were unfolding into a wider formation with each drone maneuvering to create overlapping fields of fire. The intelligence behind them was surprising and their ability to be creative even more so.
"Reaper, Ptarmigan," she called. "We're right on your six. Call it."
"All fighters, this is Reaper," Jason spoke clearly and in a strong, commanding tone. "Break off into pairs and engage at will! Remember, stay with your wingman! Any of you die out here, I'll put your ass on report!" He and his wingman then broke to port together and dove into the mass of deadly drones, blasting each one as their weapons locked on.
The Bridge shook from incoming fire from the Romulan vessel. They had just destroyed their own vessel. She felt the surge of adrenaline soring through Jason's blood, flashes of the view of from the cockpit charging at the drones flooding her thoughts as she was unable to break the connection.
'Jason, No!'
As Jason and his starfighters tore their way through the waves of Romulan drones, he was about to fire on his next target, when he heard T'lenn's voice cry out in his mind. The instant odd distraction was all that was needed for his target to not only get clear, but three other enemy drones descended upon him and his wingman. Before he regained control of his thought, his starfighter was hit several times, the shield generator exploding and his starboard wing and engine were completely shorn off by disruptor fire. His starfighter started to spin rapidly out of control.
The sudden, violent rotation slammed him against the side of his cockpit, when the inertia dampeners failed. He blacked out for a few beats as his wingman fought valiantly to protect him from the attacking drones. When he regained consciousness, he saw that his fighter was dying. His controls were all dead, there was smoke filling the cockpit and the canopy was starting to crack. He knew he had seconds to act.
Using all his strength, he managed to reach up and activate his ejection controls. A nanoweave of durasteel quickly enveloped him in a cocoon, and then the canopy seals exploded and he was shot free of the stricken fighter. Three seconds later, its warp core exploded, leaving nothing but a cloud of debris, as his ejection cocoon kept moving in the direction it was launched, which was towards the asteroid field. The emergency transponder was sending out its distress signal, as he was hurtling towards a large rocky asteroid at nearly 10 kps. At that speed, he would smash into the surface in less that thirty seconds.
~tbc~
Commander Maxun Spello
First Officer
USS Astrea
Lieutenant JG T'lenn
Science Officer
USS Astrea
(NPC of Remy Johansen)
Lieutenant JG Jason Williams III
Squadron Leader
USS Astrea
(NPC of Maxun Spello)
Lieutenant JG Taqqiq Allooloo
Leader, Fighter Squadron 3
USS Astrea
(NPC of JB Dorsainvil)
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