Deep within the confines of Underspace, a large armada hung poised to breach the barrier into real-space and visit swift and righteous destruction upon the ignorant inhabitants of the Vulcan home system. Commander Dravessa stood hunched over the battle map that had been drawn up to illustrate their impending conquest. She, along with a small handful of her most trusted officers, had been part of the slumbering masses that had been awakened by the Voyager crew some two and a half decades ago. The rest of her strike force were the Morvai-born Vaadwaur, whom she considered to be children playing at being conquerors rather than having lived it as she had.

What set Dravessa apart from her more… rigidly minded brethren, was that she saw utility in her lesser brethren even if they were still ignorant of the glory the Supremacy had once enjoyed. And if they performed their given task well, she was amenable to allowing them to enjoy the fruits of their labors. That, by no means, meant that they would do so equally with her battle-hardened brothers and sisters but that she wouldn’t begrudge them the taste of victory.

The woman looked over to her second in command and her strategist, “Velkrin, are our forces in position?”

“Yes, Commander,” the man replied curtly from his position to her right.

“And each of the ship commanders have acknowledged their targets and their orders?”

“They stand ready to bring about the resurrection of the Supremacy at your command,” the tactician responded.

“Then consider the command given,” Dravessa said with a smile filled with malice gracing her lips.

Hundreds of Vaadwaur vessels pierced the veil between Underspace and real-space, dotting the once pristine background of space with the yellowish-brown vortices of energy that linked the Underspace corridors to their real-space destination. As the myriad numbers intruded upon the Vulcan star system, they waste no opportunity to bring destruction in their wake.

Defense platforms situated at intervals throughout the Eridani cluster lit up with angry purpose, the red glare of phaser fire lighting up the pitch-black void, earnest in their duty to repel unwanted invaders. Even as small fighter craft buckled and exploded in fiery orbs of super-heated debris, those small victories were all the automated platforms could hope to accomplish before the overwhelming volleys of polaron weapons fire reduced them to smoldering husks floating through space.

Chaos erupted in the command center of the 40 Eridani A shipyard control station. Frantic call-outs about engagements by the automated defenses at what seemed to be literally everywhere at once filled the space and created a discordant cacophony that highlighted just how overwhelming the sudden assault had been. Standing amid the sea of chaos was the shipyard’s commander, Rear Admiral T’Reln, who was calmly and methodically absorbing the dissonant information as it was shouted out by the numerous stations around the compartment.

“Alert the local defense force and have them deploy a defensive perimeter around Vulcan,” the woman’s measured voice cut through the commotion, “Deploy all of the support craft and fighter units we have available to intercept the incoming fleet.”

Several officers nodded at her words and began relaying messages with all the expediency that their situation demanded. The Vulcan Admiral’s composed figure and calm manner of speaking pulled the occupants of the room back off the metaphorical ledge they had been pushed onto in the opening moments of the assault. The frantic energy hadn’t miraculously vanished, but it was much more contained and more effectively managed than it had been moments before.

“How many ships do we have in the yard that can be brought online quickly, even with a skeleton crew?” the Admiral asked of her Zakdorn Executive Officer standing a bit further within the command center at one of the consoles.

Captain Ivar Dasrek tapped at the console’s input board before him and turned to address the Admiral, “Seven vessels are capable of immediate deployment. One of them, the Century, already has their crew mostly aboard. The rest would require staffing from the station, as they have not yet completed their shakedown and crew assignment phase.”

T’Reln called up the Century in her memory as the man finished speaking. Her recollection was that it was the only Constitution-III class vessel currently in the yard as well as the most well-armed of all the vessels they had at their immediate beck and call. One detail that eluded her was the identity of the vessel’s Captain.

“Who is in command of the Century?” the Vulcan asked.

A brief pause ensued as the XO brought up the manifest, “A Captain Gar’rath… A Gorn.”

“Intriguing…” the Admiral muttered with a half-raised eyebrow, “Open a channel to that ship.”

A momentary pause ensued before the image of the Gorn Captain flashed up on the viewscreen at the fore of the room. Without even allowing Gar’rath the opportunity to greet her, Admiral T’Reln launched into explaining the situation at hand.

“Captain Gar’rath, you are hereby ordered to join the defense of the Vulcan system along with other vessels from the shipyard. Given the immediacy required in coordinating this defense, you shall have temporary authority to command the Starfleet vessels dispatched with you. Local defense forces will not fall under your purview and will act independently to maintain the integrity of Vulcan sovereignty in the system. Once we have a better understanding of the scope and magnitude of this attack, command authority will revert to me,” Adm. T’Reln explained in a measured tone.

“Understood, Admiral. I will have the Century clear the dock immediately,” came the quick response from the Captain.

“Exercise all due speed. T’Reln out,” the Vulcan responded dryly before ending the communication.

“Giving that… man… command of the defense forces,” the Zakdorn swallowed the more colorful descriptor that had nearly escaped him, “Are you certain that was a wise decision?”

“Under the circumstances, it was the most logical choice. Unless I were to send you out with one of our other ships to assume command, most of them will be crewed with officers who lack the tactical experience required to effectively lead a strike group. As allowing you to leave the station would negatively impact our own defensive readiness, it was the only viable alternative,” the Admiral explained dispassionately.

“Let us hope it was a wise alternative, regardless of the logic,” Dasrek frowned.