U.S.S. VICTORY

“The Romulans didn’t think we would let them pull the oldest trick in the book did they?”

Oren Nivak, the ship's Betazoid tactical officer, smirked at the comment from the helm. But the jovial atmosphere was short lived as his console updated with the latest tactical updates from the ensuing battle around them.

“Captain. We have a problem”

He realised his mistake as the words left his mouth. The Captain had already had conversations with him about his reactionary reporting under pressure. He had promised to try and shake the habit. Or was it a coping mechanism? But clearly had not yet succeeded.

“We’re surrounded by problems, Lieutenant. Give me specifics” came the sharp retort.

It didn’t help that what was showing on his console didn’t make sense. There was no tactic in the manual that looked like this. It looked more like a safety system failure than an intentional move on the chess board of the battle around them.

“It’s… The Prometheus sir. It’s fired a torpedo”

“And?” came the impatient response.

Another embarrassing slip.

“It’s hit the Warspite- But sir. This doesn’t look right. It’s almost like the torpedo guidance system wasn’t programmed properly. The Warspite just happened to be in its path”

This sort of input on the bridge in a battle situation was a gamble. The captain would either take it as a sign of growing comfortability in the role or. More likely. The Captain would take it as yet another sign that he wasn’t able to react calmly under pressure, and interpret it as him giving too much information in a fast moving situation.

“We can’t take any chances.” Captain Kingston stated decisively. “We were ordered to take out that ship. We can’t risk a Starfleet prototype joining in now on the wrong side. Change target back to the Prometheus”

The ship rocked under a green lashing from the nearest Warbirds disruptor banks. “Firing phasers” Good. A short, factual report. If the Captain chewed him out later he could blame what had just happened on a short lapse. Maybe he’d keep his post.

“The ship is completely disabled Captain, navigation, weapons and shields are offline…”

“I’m sensing a but Lieutenant”

“The ship should have been able to shoulder that hit, based on its current power output. It’s as though it has nobody onboard managing the power flow. Small hits are causing massive knock on effects because the shield impacts aren’t being redirected away from essential systems. Nobody is switching over to secondary systems, or re-routing back up power.”

He had over-explained. Again. It didn’t matter if the ship was on autopilot. Which looked more like the case with every passing second of the battle. As long as they were there, they were a threat to all three Starfleet ships present. Based on their actions so far at least.

Fortunately, or unfortunately as the case might be, Nivak's console started blaring alarms before the Captain could pass judgement on his latest lapse in judgement.

“The ship's systems are now coming back online and… It’s splitting up”

In his confusion, he turned to the Captain in time to see an alarmed expression flash onto her face. She stood from her chair and walked purposefully towards the helm as the ship shook again under fire from a warbird.

“We heard about this in the report from the Bonchune!”, turning to her helm officer as she braced on the console next to her, Kingston began her next order. “The prototype can engage a sort of… Saucer separation attack mode. Shunt all power to engines and aft shields and put us between whichever part of that ship makes a run for Avalon.”

Perhaps he wouldn’t get chewed out after all, Nivak reflected bitterly. This had been far from the end he had envisioned for his tumultuous-of-late Starfleet career. The last time he had sat down solo with the Captain he had envisioned he might take a step back at the next starbase. He’d never had any interest in fighting a war. That’s why he had accepted a post patrolling the Romulan border. It should have been a quiet assignment. The Romulans wouldn’t involve themselves with the Dominion he’d argued with himself. They preferred to pull strings from a distance. That’s what they taught at the academy. There hadn’t been a ‘hot’ conflict with them in centuries.

His dark mental reflections were interrupted by the latest sensor telemetry. His face broke into a smile as he opened his mouth to deliver the latest information. Knowing that the rest of the crew on the bridge could see what he would describe playing out on the viewscreen.

“Speaking of the oldest trick in the book… That’s attack pattern alpha. The Prometheus is going for one of the warbirds”

There was no such joy in the Captains tone as she put the pieces of the battle into place.

“Helm, hard to port. Keep us out of the way!

A close call, but not a final call. For the first time in hours, Oren relaxed back into his chair. Relaying the latest update. That the Romulans were now retreating, to his Captain.

He closed his eyes, and took a few deep breaths as the air filtration systems kicked in to remove the smoke released into the bridge atmosphere by those last impacts. He had survived another day, and was definitely going to request reassignment at the earliest opportunity.

But today, his job wasn’t done. He overheard the other Captains tell Kingston that both of their transporter systems had been knocked offline during the battle. Then Kingston's hand fell on his shoulder.

“Today is your lucky day Lieutenant, take your security team and beam over to the Prometheus to secure critical areas and systems”

The plan was simple. There were 6 of them. 2 per… Part of the ship? He and Kazan would take what they assumed was the main bridge.

With phaser rifles at the ready, the transporter beam took hold. He had no idea what awaited them. Would it be Romulans? Starfleet officers? A different species altogether? What if it was Jem’hadar!

The transporter cycle didn’t give him enough time to consider even worse options. The cramped cupboard that the Victory called a transporter room gave way to a spacious, light and airy Starfleet bridge. On instinct, his phaser rifle swung to the two figures standing in the middle, only to be greeted with:

“Welcome to the Prometheus gentlemen, it’s about time”