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And as Columbia quickly decelerated into a tight, three-hundred-klick orbit above the planet’s surface, a rapidly expanding conflagration suddenly hove into view from just beyond the terminator.

Something had detonated, leaving a gigantic, silent orange fireball in orbit. As if in answer to Hernandez’s subvocalized prayers, the bulbous shapes of the Heinlein and the Kon-Tiki, both of them Starfleet Daedalus-class vessels, emerged from the fiery debris field, heading in different directions.

“The fireball is what’s left of one of the Romulan attackers,” elRashad confirmed, his hands moving in a blur across his scanner controls. “I’m not reading enough mass to account for them both.”

Hernandez’s brow furrowed. “So where’s the other one?”

The Kon-Tiki’s ungainly rolling turn toward the planet’s atmosphere, coupled with Columbia’s continued forward motion, drew Hernandez’s gaze deeper into Altair VI’s expanding dayside and answered her question before any of her crew could.

In the distance, just above the ninety-degree-canted horizon, a telltale streak of fire gave away the presence of the last Romulan fighter craft, which was now on an almost meteor-fast entry trajectory. Racing toward the intruder from above was another pair of spacecraft, a local welcoming committee, judging from the familiar configurations.

“Kon-Tiki confirms that one Romulan vessel is still coming in,” said Valerian. “Despite having taken at least one direct hit.”

“Let’s hope that one hit crippled the Romulan at least. Is she making a controlled descent?” Fletcher asked.

“I can’t tell from these readings,” el-Rashad said. “But it probably doesn’t matter either way. The hostile craft is on a direct heading for the Altair VI outpost, and the only things possibly standing in her way are a couple of local DY-500-class ships making steep descent maneuvers from orbit. Based on the numbers I’m seeing, a ground collision looks just about certain.”

“We can’t let that happen,” Hernandez said, quickly doing the tactical math in her head. Since those DY-500s were most likely armed with nothing stronger than navigational lasers, there was no point in expecting them to intervene successfully. “Go after the bogey, Reiko.”

“Aye, Captain.”

As Lieutenant Akagi busied herself at the conn, Fletcher leaned in close and spoke almost directly into the captain’s ear. “Erika, Columbia wasn’t designed to enter planetary atmosphere any more than those DY-500s or Daedalus ships were.”

“I know, Veronica,” Hernandez answered just as quietly. She gestured toward the forward viewer, upon which a green-brown landscape, highlighted by the red-orange of a hull superheaded by reentry friction, hurtled ever nearer. “But the outpost down there wasn’t designed to withstand a hot ballistic encounter with a spaceship. And since Columbia is the most fleet-footed vessel here, it’s up to us to step into the breach no matter what the owner’s manual says.”

“Understood,” Fletcher said with a sober nod that she leavened with a wry grin. “But you may have just voided the warranty on this beast. I intend to hide someplace safe when Karl Graylock reads you the riot act about this afterward.”

Hernandez returned her XO’s grin. If there is an afterward, I’ll gladly accept whatever punishment our chief engineer deems appropriate.

Aloud, she said, “Lieutenant Akagi, estimated time to intercept?”

“About thirty-two seconds, Captain,” the pilot said. “That only leaves another five seconds or so to take out the bogey before it slams into the outpost.”

Which means that the outpost is probably finished no matter what, unless we blow that Romulan out of the sky right now, Hernandez thought. She was well aware that a metallic debris cloud moving at terminal velocity could devastate an even larger area of the planet’s surface than could an unchecked collision—unless the detonation that created it took place sufficiently high in Altair VI’s fortunately substantial mesosphere.

“Kalil, what