“Captain on the bridge.”

“What have you got?” Jason Hunter barked as he descended the steps towards the conn.

“Exeter picked them up first, sir. Two unidentified inbounds designated Whiskey India Three and Whiskey India Four. Destroyer-class hulls. No recognizable weaponry. No emissions other than their navigational beacon.”

“Life signs?”

The sensors officer suddenly straightened in his chair. He wasn’t accustomed to being included in discussions about inbound contacts. “Uhh– sir! Yes, yes sir. SRS indicates life forms aboard.”

“Human?” Hunter held the young ensign’s gaze.

“N-negative, sir. Their atmosphere is poisonous to carbon-based life.”

The bridge crew fidgeted but kept their bearing. Hunter stared at the screen. The tactical display had both vessels center screen with their course, position and velocity updating second by second.

“Signals, get me the Kingsblade.”

“Affirmative, sir. Coding your message.”

Hunter rubbed his chin. Something just wasn’t right.

“Kingsblade, Doverly here.”

“Captain, what the hell are they trying to distract us from?”

“I’ve been wondering the same thing, sir. There’s no chance those ships are actually on an intercept track. They’re a flamingo, alright. But aside from the minefield, I don’t see any ducks.”

“You know something, doctor, I’ve just about had it up to here with this minefield. What do you say–”

An alarm sounded at the tactical console. Then the SRS board lit up like a Las Vegas fire truck.

“Report!”

“I have an energy surge at three four four, range three megaclicks! Asteroid designator Scorpion One Three!”

“Visual!”

The Argent bridge was quite suddenly a bevy of activity. Voices shouted. Officers waited for orders. Consoles flashed and keened with various audible alarms. Hunter grabbed his famous black phone.

“Paint it, Jayce!”

Fury suddenly went active with her entire forward sensor suite. The source of the energy surge was practically drowned in electronic tracking noise.

The Argent tactical officer watched in silent awe. It seemed like the Perseus captains had this all planned in advance and were all springing a trap on an unsuspecting burglar.

“I have a Sentinel planetary defense battery bearing three four one. They are arming for proximity fire!”

“Not this time, you bastards! Annora! Fire at will!”

The heavy battleship reacted in record time. All four of her forward main battery weapons locked bearings and opened fire. Space around the rest of the battle group was shocked and pounded by the massive blasts from their new heavy’s guns. Violent impact reports flashed and shuddered in the distance while the crews of the Strike Fleet watched intently on their viewscreens.

On the bridge of the Fury, Jayce was overcome by anxiety. “It’s not going to be enough. It’s not going to be enough! Tactical! Report!”

“They’re fully armed, ma’am. Their weapons are behind a full power assault shield. We’re going to need time to knock it down, and only Argent and Kingsblade have the guns to do it.”

Aboard Exeter, the third watch was about thirty seconds ahead of the rest of the fleet in terms of their predictions and evaluation of events. They were the first to notice the two-ship patrol squadron suddenly veer off and run for the minefield.

“Why aren’t they requesting permission to fire?!” Hawkins complained. Only Ensign Jameson heard her and unfortunately, she didn’t have any answers.

“They’re targeting the Kingsblade, sir. At this range, if they target her weak spots, it could be big trouble.”

Hunter steadily pounded his fist on the arm of his command chair. “Helm, bring the Argent about. Give me a port roll of thirty five degrees heading seven zero mark. Tactical, sound battle stations energy. Arm railcasters one through six. Full power. Battle screens to maximum. Officer of the Deck, sound collision.”

“Collision, sir?”

“That’s affirmative lieutenant. Smartly, if you please.”

Another thundering barrage let loose from Doverly’s big plasma guns. Bolt after bolt of explosive energy rocked the unexpectedly close asteroid-based battle station as they slammed into its screens. A wall of lightning-bright impact discharges crackled and strobed a half-mile above the station surface. Gradually and inexorably, the second Sentinel pivoted on its reflex base. It already had its bearings match. Another few seconds, and it would have its primary target locked for range.