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The Weytahn lurched slightly as the inertial damping system momentarily lagged in compensating for the ship’s sudden burst of acceleration. Ignoring this slight discomfort, Shran studied the central viewscreen, which Nras had split into a simultaneous real-time subspace-band-enhanced display of the imagery coming from the ship’s electronic “eyes.” The aft camera was focused on the rapidly dwindling Romulan mother ship, which was receding quickly ahead of the Andorian Yravas-class fighter craft that were closing from behind even more rapidly; the forward camera showed the disk-shaped and globular forward sections, respectively, of Challenger and Yorktown, the Earth ships that were bringing up the rear. Of the two Starfleet vessels, only the warp-five-capable Challenger seemed to have a realistic chance of catching up to the Romulan carrier vessel before its speed took her all the way to Andoria.

“Can we intercept them in time?” Shran quietly asked Subcommander Nras, who was standing beside him, rapt by the dramatic tableau on the viewer.

“They won’t get any closer than two orbital units before the Weytahn can engage them directly,” Nras said.

Shran was delighted to hear that, though he would have preferred a somewhat thicker safety margin than twice the mean distance between Andoria and her primary star.

“The fighters should be on top of them before that,” ch’Narv said.

“They’ll be space dust before they get anywhere near Andoria,” Nras said. “Unless...”

Shran scowled as he watched the small Andorian fighter craft begin breaking formation.

“Unless what?” Shran wanted to know, though he feared the answer to his question was already unfolding, quite literally, right before his eyes: two of the six remaining little Andorian fighter ships suddenly broke off from their roughly hexagonal attack formation and reversed course, followed a few heartbeats later by another, and another, and another.

“Unless that happens,” said Nras as he nodded toward the screen, his antennae going limp.

All six Andorian Yravas-class fighters in Shran’s squadron had come about completely, each taking on a direct heading for the Weytahn. Though their new formation was less organized than the one they had just broken, the air of menace they presented was palpable nevertheless. Shran’s antennae raised themselves like a pair of sharpened Ushaan-Tor blades being prepared for ritual combat.

All six of the fighter ships’ forward weapons tubes began to glow a perilous blue-white.

“Evasive maneuvers!” Shran cried as the two nearest craft released their first salvos...

U.S.S. Yorktown

“The Andorian fighter ships have broken off from the Romulan carrier vessel,” Lieutenant Albertson said from the tactical console, his pale features presenting a study in both puzzlement and horror. “And they’ve just opened fire on the Weytahn!”

“Damn!” said Captain Shosetsu, who looked as stunned as Commander Mendez, who stood mutely beside him.

Travis Mayweather felt every bit as much horror as everyone else on the bridge, if not nearly as much surprise. What had just happened seemed to him not only perfectly obvious, but also entirely predictable.

“The Romulans have hijacked them,” he said. So much for quickie off-the-shelf countermeasures. Looks like it’s back to the drawing board for the Cochrane team.

Mendez seemed to be thinking along similar lines. “We build a three-meter wall, and the Romulans make a three-and-a-half-meter ladder to climb over it.”

“How soon will we engage them?” Shosetsu asked.

“Maybe not soon enough, even at maximum warp,” Mayweather said, his eyes riveted to the main viewer. “But Challenger will reach the Weytahn almost five full minutes before we do. Maybe they can keep the Romulans occupied until we arrive.”

“Get us there as fast as you can, Mister Mayweather,” Shosetsu said before relaying essentially the same order to engineering.

Mayweather put the spurs to his throttle controls; he tried to ignore the almost painful whine of the overtaxed