This Means War - Part 2

USS Surefoot, Deck 1 Fore – Bridge:

Hrelle swallowed, his stomach plummeting into some hidden vortex as he stared at the viewscreen. The basic attack pattern of the enemy was the same as what the probe data had suggested: a main Dominion ship with a swarm of smaller Scarabs trailing behind like schoolcubs, and Cardassian Galor vessels surrounding the main vessel in a support sphere.

But the Dominion Battleship here was more than twice the size expected – Seven Hells, it must have been almost two thousand metres in length! – as was the number of Scarabs.

The Bridge had gone silent, apart from the Red Alert klaxon. “Shut off that noise.” He stood by his chair as the sound ended, his voice affecting a confidence he didn’t feel in the slightest. “Okay, we follow our original orders: Hold back with the Triton and Samaritan, scan the field ahead, watch for signs when we need to step in and help, unless and until we hear otherwise. Short range communications should be clear now, in case new orders come in.”

*

USS Triton Deck 1 Fore – Bridge:

Tattok was through studying the Tactical display. “Contact the Oregon and Philadelphia, have them join the Pollux, Argonaut, Vancouver and Tereshkova task force in the assault on that battleship, with the Pollux remaining in charge. The Ajax, Featherwind, Revere and Thunderbolt will support the Peregrine fighters from the carriers Puget Sound and Bannockburn to hold back the Scarabs. The Cooper will continue on its Intelligence mission, and the Surefoot will remain with the Samaritan and Triton in the rear. Everyone else: pick a Cardassian ship and teach them the folly of choosing the wrong side in this War.” He breathed out as his orders were followed. Okay, it was going to be tougher than anticipated, but it was nothing they couldn’t handle.

And they had to handle it. Khavak couldn’t fall to the Dominion, it left too many neighbouring systems – Zalkon, Gault, Sigma Draconis, Zalda IV – vulnerable.

And there had been far too many losses in this War already.

*

Like the petals of a flower, the ships of the Thirteenth Fleet spread outward, even as the shovel-shaped Cardassian Galor-class vessels surrounding the Battleship performed a similar manoeuvre, waiting until the distances were closed before the storm of phasers, torpedoes and disruptor fire lit up the dark corners at the edge of the system.

The image of the raptor-shaped Battleship dominated the sky, hovering at the edge of the system’s Oort cloud, seemingly ignoring the light and heavy cruisers moving directly towards it… as scores of tiny Scarab ships swarmed out to contribute to the chaos, met by the Peregrines and the escort vessels.

*

USS Ajax, Deck 3 Mid – Science Lab:

Sasha was plunging into darkness, tumbling, out of control, aware of without seeing the presence of Shanek, reaching deeper and deeper into her consciousness. My mind to your mind… my thoughts to your thoughts… you cannot resist… you will tell me everything I need to know…

She was reaching out blindly, grasping at the darkness, touching things that seemed to trigger flashes of memory: fighting the Ferasans, visiting her mother’s grave, laughing with her little brother, holding onto Dad for dear life when she was dying GET OUT OF MY HEAD YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO BE IN HERE

I am genuinely sorry, Lieutenant, but I have orders to obtain everything about your Grandmother… think of her… recall every conversation, every mention of the Mother’s Claws… base locations, projects, contacts…

More flashes of memory- the Clan, Grandpa Mi’Tree, Sreen, the Kaetini, C’Rash, Vulcan, Giles, Alpha Squad, her Mom, the Vlathi, Madison, Madison, Madison, reaching into his mind, giving him orders- no, that wasn’t her she never did that that was-

You are correct, Lieutenant. I used the hapless Mr Madison, implanting suggestions and false memories, making him my unknowing assistant, acquiring intelligence from you, delivering it to my superior… unfortunately for him, he ran into your stepfather, triggering the investigation…

I SAID GET OUT OF MY HEAD

She felt herself slam into something behind/beneath/above her, as Shanek’s mental image was upon her, filling up her mind, like heat burning into her flesh, her bones. You have a formidable psychic presence, Lieutenant, but in the end, you are merely human, alone with me-

A hand that didn’t belong to Sasha shot out from the darkness, grasping Shanek by the arm and drawing him back.

He looked up, startled. Another presence here- this is impossible-

The image of an older Vulcan female in a Starfleet uniform stepped into view of Sasha’s mind’s eye, tightening her grip on Shanek, declaring to him, Your logic is flawed.

Who are you?

Sasha gathered her mental reserves, rising up on what approximated her legs. This is an avatar of my former First Officer, Commander T’Varik. Years ago, I was the victim of a telepathic assault, and she helped heal me… and helped set traps for the next prick that tried to invade my mind.

She watched Shanek struggle to free himself from the avatar of T’Varik. A psychogenic sentry… unexpected, but she will not defeat me…

She’s not meant to defeat you, Bubulah…

Just distract you...

Until my Clan arrives.

From the shadows, mental images of her Dad, of Kami and Grandma and her Grandpas, of her aunts and uncles and cousins, emerged, surrounding, closing in, growling.

They’re my Strength, Shanek, she informed him. My Spirit, my Rock and my Fire.

The image of her Dad roared and struck the first blow, sending Shanek sprawling, as the others pounced, clawing and biting.

You’re not strong enough to defeat them all.

NOW… FOR THE LAST TIME... GET THE HELL OUT OF MY HEAD!!!

*

USS Dragonheart, Deck 5 Mid – Engineering:

Jonas strode quickly along the walkway, slipping easily around his crewmates, content that all of them were too focused on their specific tasks to acknowledge him. It had been one of the initial issues he had on his promotion to one of the ship’s Assistant Chief Engineers, where older, more experienced crewmen were suddenly offering him a respect, a deference, he wasn’t certain he deserved. He hadn’t been onboard long, before Commander Dubois and Captain Nguyen decided that his work in getting the new warp core online in record time meant he needed more responsibility. Thanks for that, guys.

The Red Alert signals continued to flash overhead, though the sounds were switched off long ago, leaving only the occasional intercom message – or the sharp, unexpected banking of their vessel – to clue in the Engineering crew as to what was happening outside. “Damage control parties to starboard nacelle strut- we’re losing shield strength, reinforce-”

Jonas paused near the Structural Integrity Field Generator Status Station, where Crewman Ashton Knight, a freckled Australian kid only a couple of years older than Jonas, was gripping the sides of the station, his whole body frozen in place. Petrified.

He drew up to him, keeping his voice low but audible as he patted him on the forearm. “Unclench, Buddy. You’re not going to be more alert if you get a leg cramp or snap a spine.”

Knight looked up at him, eyes wide in disbelief. “Lieutenant! Why aren’t you- We’re in the middle of a fight!”

“No, we’re not,” Jonas replied, trying to sound as calm and confident as possible. “We’re in the middle of Engineering, doing our jobs. What happens beyond our little corner of the Universe is out of our control.”

“B-But-”

“Everyone else is counting on us to keep things running, so they can do their job… and keep us alive.” He smiled. “Okay?”

Knight managed a smile back. “Aye, Sir.”

Jonas slapped him on the back and moved on. Captain Hrelle’s words had given him comfort all the way back to when he was still a cadet, performing as a Strategic Engineering Officer on the Surefoot… and not even yet seeing Neraxis as anything other than a friend. A loud, brash, raucous, gluttonous-

The Red Alert klaxon returned. “Intruder Alert! Intruder Alert!”

He stopped near the warp core column, glancing up at the ceiling – before immediately moving to the Security Station. Around him, other crewmen looked to each other in confusion, questions and statements flung at each other. “The shields are still up!” “Transporters can’t get through shields! How can there be intruders?” “It’s not possible!”

Jonas knew better than to waste time asking such questions; he made sure the force fields were up at the critical junctures, and key systems had restricted access. He looked across at the others, some of them having moved away from their posts. “Stay focused! Rurahn! Winslow! Get back to your stations!”

Then his combadge chirped, and Neraxis’ voice reached him, laced with urgency. “Jonas, it’s Neraxis! Tell me you got force fields in place!”

He stopped and tapped it in acknowledgement. “They’re up! What’s happening?”

“Jem’Hadar troops are beaming in! Their transporters aren’t blocked by our shields! We have intruders on Decks 4, 5, 6- get yourself armed! We’re fighting our way down to-”

The communications screeched.

He tried re-establishing communications, failing. His heart raced, and memories of the invasion of the Surefoot by the serpentine Vlathi years ago returned- but only as a cold recollection, rather than some sort of traumatic flashback. His authority opened the locker, and he lifted up a phaser. “Winslow! Knight! Get over here! We’ll have to hold the fort until Security gets down!”

The crewmen started in his direction- until both of them were struck with energy bolts, making them spin, and fall, and lie still.

Jonas grabbed a phaser in each hand and stepped back into an alcove, raising one arm towards the doorway but resisting the urge to fire until- until-

Two tall reptoids with mottled, horned faces and clad in grey-black body armour raced in, wielding large, black, bulky-looking rifles, beady eyes glancing around-

He struck one with a beam on heavy stun, even as he raised the other arm and fired at the second, keeping both beams on, giving him an idea of the duration and intensity required. Both went down, even as he remembered his wife’s advice – don’t stay in one place too long if you can help it, they’ll pinpoint your location quickly – and slipped out, keeping low and fast. He could hear phaser and disruptor fire out of view, shouts, curses-

A horrible roar competed with the sirens.

Jonas recognised the roar immediately: a breach in a plasma conduit! Sabotage on the part of the enemy, or an accident- either way, he had to get everyone out of the area-

He made it to another alcove, now able to see down the main corridor past the warp core, watching as the force field over the far doorway stopped the Jem’Hadar in their tracks.

Until it no longer did. They touched something on their uniforms… and then passed through the field, like wading through water.

He fired in their direction, glancing over at more of his people hiding just around the nearest corner. “Rayleigh! Farrell! Get that Jefferies Tube panel open behind you! We’ve got to-”

More alarms sounded, as the lights flickered, and then went out, except for the weapons fire between himself and the Jem’Hadar he was trying to keep at bay.

Then the computer announced, “Warning: Polaron contamination in antimatter pod containment fields... 72% strength and decreasing… critical degradation will be reached in 8.9 minutes...”

*

USS Surefoot, Deck 1 Fore – Bridge:

“Fleet vessels engaging the enemy,” T’Varik reported, her voice offering a composure that her news did not share. “The carriers have deployed their fighters against the Scarab swarm, assisted by the escort ships. The task force of cruisers are continuing their assault on the Battleship; minimal effect against their shielding at present, vessels taking damage from polaron-based disruptor fire.”

Hrelle nodded, but otherwise said nothing, not now. The moment would come. It was inevitable-

“Dragonheart reports boarders,” his First Officer continued. “Damage to port nacelle- Captain!”

He was already up and out of his chair at the mention of the Dragonheart – Jonas and Neraxis’ ship – while she continued. “Dragonheart’s reporting polaron contamination in their antimatter containment field, unable to compensate-”

He knew what that meant. “Mr Neheru, inform the Triton we’re rendezvousing with the Dragonheart, they’ll be abandoning ship! Helm, set a course, one-quarter impulse, keep us out of the line of fire! Attention all hands: prepare for incoming wounded!” Inside, he asked the Great Mother to keep his former cadets... his cubs... safe.

*

USS Ajax, Deck 1 Fore – Bridge:

Weynik clutched the arms of his chair as they banked sharply yet again, not wanting to fly out of his seat. No, that definitely wouldn’t be dignified, looking like a rag doll in the back of a runaway autotaxi.

The viewscreen was a snowstorm of Jem’Hadar Scarab ships, swarming chaotically, firing at the Ajax and the other Starfleet vessels trying to keep them at bay while the rest of the fleet engaged with the Dominion Battleship and the Galors. Frequently, the Ajax fired its phaser pulse cannons, the volleys striking out, occasionally even hitting targets and sending them to meet their makers- well, technically their makers were the Founders.

Sending them to Oblivion, then. The important part of all of that is ‘away’.

He watched the attack patterns generated by his Tactical Officer, made a decision, and took over. “Stand down, Mr Bump; focus on keeping the torpedo bays loaded and working, I want to have some fun.”

“Uh… aye, Sir.”

At Sasha’s station, Kohanim looked over. “Captain?”

Weynik ignored him. The man will have realised that Weynik wasn’t being bloodthirsty, but recognised that the younger officer, as good as he was, wasn’t up to the task of keeping up with so many hostiles, even with computer assistance.

They began making more and more hits.

And the other Scarabs began swarming around them.

*

Elsewhere on the field of fire, the Battleship began opening up volleys of heavy disruptor fire, more powerful than anyone in the Fleet expected, battering shields as if they were made of paper. One blast burst through the starboard saucer hull of the Philadelphia, sending cascade explosions through to the struts connecting it to the secondary hull.

Another blast finished her completely.

*

“We’ve lost the Philadelphia!” Tattok’s First Officer shouted. “No escape pods detected!”

Tattok knew, having witnessed the loss himself. Four hundred lives… “Alert the others! Tell them not to give the Battleship time to focus their weapons on any one target!”

*

“The Philadelphia has been destroyed,” T’Varik reported soberly.

Hrelle focused on the path their own ship was taking through the battle to get to the Dragonheart. Velkovsky was doing her usual fine job, acting like she was back in the Delos Races. “Survivors?”

“None. The other vessels attacking the Battleship are taking evasive action. Reports of minor damage to vessels facing the Cardassians: the Iberia, the Cochise, the Trial-”

He nodded. “Keep track of them, they may need help after we’re done with ferrying the Dragonheart crew to safety.”

*

Deck 4 Fore – Shuttlebay:

Stalac remained at his specially-designed station, checking and rechecking his interfaces, as his Carb crewmates rushed around, preparing medical kits, floor mats, antigrav gurneys and other equipment; with the shuttles all stacked against the far walls, and the cargo transporter pads clear, they now had the maximum amount of space available.

And everyone would be depending on him to coordinate matters, the young Horta reminded himself. And it wouldn’t be another exercise this time. It would be the real thing.

“Stal?”

He rumbled as he rotated in place. “Zir? What are you doing here?”

The Orion girl approached, clad in energy weapon-resistant body armour, dropping to one knee. “Can’t stay, they’re expecting me in Engineering with Urad and Tori.” She rested a hand on his bumpy fibrous surface. “I just wanted to remind you.”

“Zir, I have a brain five times the size of yours. What would I need to be reminded of?”

She smiled. “That you’re brilliant. That you can do this, despite your fears and doubts. And that you’re my best friend, and I love you.” Then she bent down and kissed him… wrinkling her nose as she drew back. “Eeeuww.”

“Sorry, I guess this means we can’t be Friends With Benefits,” he quipped, but more tenderly added, “You take care of yourself, Zir. And take care of the others, too.”

“I will.” She rose again, adjusting the phaser at her side. “You know, when this is over, I’ll get you some Carerra marble cake and we’ll watch some old Terran musicals and try to figure out what the hell is going on in them-”

“Dassene!”

Zir turned in place, straightening up at the approach of the young Andorian Ensign Atiaro Thykrill. “Ma’am, Cadet Dassene reporting as ordered-”

“Cut that out; there are no cadets today. We’re all Starfleet. Report to Engineering, your team’s waiting for you.”

Zir blinked, before nodding quickly. “Yes. Yes, of course.” She spared a final look at Stalac, before departing the Shuttlebay.

Stalac watched her go, as Dr Belaxi, heading the Triage Team, approached him. “Cadet Stalac, I trust you’re ready to do some work for a change?”

“Mmm? Yes, Doctor, of course.”

The Bolian nodded. “I’ve never met a silicon-based sentient lifeform before. Perhaps when this over, we could collaborate on a medical paper?”

Inwardly he gave himself a mental grimace; others had approached him with such offers over the years, wanting to use him more as a subject than a collaborator. “Uh… perhaps, Doctor.”

“A treatise on the psychology of a being made of stone shouldn’t be taken for granite.” Belaxi smirked. “A little mineral joke there.”

“Yes, Doctor,” Stalac replied politely. Very little, and one heard for about the hundredth time since leaving Janus IV to live among you Carbs. “If you’ll excuse me, Sir, I need to interface with the Triage Computer.” He moved without preamble back to his station and hooked up, focusing on the incoming data: USS Dragonheart, Cheyenne-class heavy cruiser, crew complement 235. He studied the racial demographics of the crew, anticipating proportional medical and pharmaceutical requirements, statistical probabilities of types of injuries expected… he let himself sink into the data like a soothing lava bath.

There are no cadets today, Thykrill had said. We’re all Starfleet.

He guessed that was going to be proved.

*

USS James Fenimore Cooper, Deck 1 Fore – Bridge:

“Launch torpedo probes,” Sakuth ordered, never looking up from the updates she was receiving on her PADD. Her organisation’s agent on the Ajax had not sent an update yet, corroborating the report she had received from Trenagen about the agent being compromised. She transmitted the contingency commands, and focused on the other ongoing activities within the Fleet: accessing the restricted data on Tattok from the Triton without the Roylan’s knowledge; collecting the new Caitian recruit from the Samaritan; obtaining tissue samples of a Jem’Hadar soldier; implanting the Judas Press in Hrelle-

“Captain,” Arrington finally spoke, stepping away from his station. “As you’ve chosen to continue this tactic, might I at least suggest bringing the weapons online? If the enemy traces the source of the torpedo probes back to us-”

She never looked up. “Return to your station, Lieutenant.” She reassessed her opinion of the young human for his persistence, undoubtedly a result of the animal influence-

The ship rocked under a burst of polaron fire.

Red Alert sounded, and the Bridge crew scrambled into action. Sakuth set down her PADD. “Report!”

Arrington glanced at his display. “Two Jem’Hadar Scarabs! They’re coming up port-aft, bearing 99-Mark-141! Shields at 70%! HOLD ON!”

A second later, another blast rocked the vessel.

She stared ahead. No. No, this wasn’t logical. She had precisely calculated every variable, took everything into account. They were not a high-priority target. They should have been ignored.

“Captain,” Arrington was urging near her. “We have to take evasive action!”

She continued to stare ahead. No. No, her plan was flawless. Something else, some new, unknown variable was at play.

The ship lurched sharply to starboard. Arrington checked his board. “Shields at 30%! Damage to Decks 4 and 5 Starboard! Captain! What are your orders? Captain Sakuth!”

She continued to stare ahead. A spy. Yes, that had to be it. A Dominion spy, onboard the Cooper, committing sabotage. None of this could have been because of any of her actions.

Arrington stared at her a heartbeat longer, before turning away. “Chen! Evasive Pattern Alpha One! Get us back to the Triton and Samaritan!”

That snapped Sakuth out of her thoughts. “What are you doing?”

He ignored her. “Axor! Forget the weapons, focus on propping up the shields! Mooney! Take over Damage Control station, open the aft plasma vents, flood the space behind us to disrupt their targeting systems!”

Sakuth rose to her feet. “Mr Arrington, I am in command here!”

“Evasive Pattern Alpha One,” Chen at the Helm reported.

“Jem’Hadar firing,” Axor added. “No hits!”

“Good! Chen, get us back towards the Triton, hopefully the Jem’Hadar’ll go pick on other targets-”

Sakuth drew the phaser from her side and pointed it at Arrington. “Belay that, Mr Chen! Lieutenant Giles Arrington, you are under arrest for mutiny! You and everyone else who has collaborated with you!”

The young human froze at the sight of the phaser pointed at him. “Captain, we’re damaged, we’re a viable target in the enemy’s eyes, we have to get out of here, or call for help-”

She raised her phaser at him. “Enough! We are staying and continuing our mission-”

“The Jem’Hadar have regrouped!” Axor shouted from Tactical. “Coming up on hard port-”

The ship seemed to topple to one side, artificial gravity failing and stations screaming as energy feedback ripped through the ship’s systems and triggered explosions around them. Smoke and shouts filled the air, and crew fell around her, forcing her to climb over them to reach the Ops station- alongside Arrington, who reported, “They severed the secondary hull! Containment fields are collapsing! We have to abandon ship and get away from the blast radius!”

For once, she chose not to argue with him, securing her phaser again and moving to the Security station to begin transferring the collected Intelligence data into a secure medium. “All hands, Abandon Ship! Lieutenant Arrington, assist me! We have to initiate SI backup protocols!”

“Warp core breach in two minutes,” the computer announced calmly. “All hands, abandon ship.”

Arrington nodded and moved to her side. They worked together quickly, uploading the data at her station into portable modules designed by Starfleet Intelligence.

And she caught the reaction on his face to some of the data he saw. Data he shouldn’t have seen.

Data about Hrelle.

“Warp core breach in one minute,” the computer updated. “All hands, abandon ship.”

As they finished, both collected the modules and proceeded out into the main corridor, with one escape pod remaining nearby, Arrington noting, “Surprised this is still here-” Then he noted the Malfunction Alert over it. “Shit.”

She entered the pod. “It’s a false sign, so that I would be guaranteed one close at hand. Follow, and hurry.”

He complied, his face displaying his disgust at her admission, both of them strapping themselves into the seats and securing the modules beneath them, before activating the launch sequence. The door slid shut quickly, and they were propelled backwards into their seats as the pod shot out into nearby space. Arrington took over the manual controls, guiding them more swiftly around the debris and the Oort detritus, before a flash behind them, just out of view, indicated the destruction of the Cooper. “Sorry, Captain.”

“What are you sorry for, Lieutenant?”

He looked slightly confused at her ignorance. “For the loss of our ship. You know, your command?”

“Sentimentality is an emotion. It was a literal vehicle to perform my mission, it meant nothing more.”

“Then I’m sorry for taking action as I did, to respond to the attack on us. It’s just you seemed to have- froze-”

“Vulcans do not ‘freeze’. You just happened to have reacted sooner than I did. I will make an appropriate note on your record regarding it.”

“Thank you, Ma’am.” He keyed in some commands on his panel. “The Surefoot is collecting survivors from the Dragonheart and other ships nearby. Course plotted into Autopilot and laid in.”

“ETA?”

“Eight minutes.”

She nodded to herself; that was more than enough time.

Her hand reached out to his neck and grabbed hold, pinching several selected nerves and sending him into unconsciousness.

As he slumped into his seat, she shifted slightly, facing him more directly as her fingertips moved up to touch certain other pressure points, giving her access into his mind. It wasn’t the first time she had done this with Arrington – she had covertly examined his memories several times before, for anything connected to Hrelle, or more importantly the Caitian’s kin-mother Ma’Sala and her operations, not to mention Arrington’s own family and their activities in Starfleet – and she had left several mental pathways open in the boy’s mind to facilitate future access for her.

Now she had returned, to see what he had seen on the Bridge, and erase it.

And to erase any memories of his that she did not react to the attack in an appropriate manner. Such memories might be misinterpreted, and would not serve anyone.

*

USS Surefoot, Deck 1 Fore – Bridge:

“In safe transporter range,” Neheru announced. “Collecting transponder and combadge signals from escape pods, forwarding to the Triage Supervisor in Shuttlebay… transport of wounded commencing.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant,” Hrelle replied, focusing more on the viewscreen. The Dragonheart remained on fire, but hadn’t erupted yet, but the Iberia was more heavily damaged, though the Cardassian it had been fighting looked in worse condition, and was now limping away- “NO!”

He rose to his feet as energy beams from the Galor struck out at Starfleet escape pods around them, destroying them one by one.

“Mother’s Cubs,” C’Rash muttered, her fingers moving swiftly over her display to obtain further data. “It’s no accident, it’s deliberate! Those murdering kussiks!”

“W-Why are they doing that?” Cadet Astrid Michel asked in disbelief from her station. “It’s a violation of Interstellar Treaty!”

Because they can, Hrelle told himself. Because they’re so confident of victory alongside their new allies that they’re disregarding rules they would have supported before, even if they didn’t privately agree with them, because they knew Starfleet would not have done the same thing to their own escape pods. “Neheru, warn them off! Remind them they’re violating Rules of Engagement, and to stand down or they’ll be destroyed! Hurry!” To T’Varik he barked, “Start getting everyone beamed over, regardless of medical condition!”

As his officers obeyed, C’Rash asked, “You really think they’re gonna listen to your warning?”

“No,” he admitted. “I sent that warning for our own records, to show why we’re about to do what we’re about to do. Arm a volley of quantum torpedoes, tight spread, target that Galor’s damaged ventral-port impulse engine.”

“The damaged engine? Not their weapons array? That doesn’t make sense-”

“Do it!” He knew the risk he was taking: they had not been attacked directly, so if they opened fire now, they would legally become a combat vessel on the field of battle, and any protection they might have had as an ambulance vessel was relinquished.

On the other hand, he had no guarantee that such protection would have been honoured anyway, given what he just witnessed. “Any response from the Cardassians?”

“No, Sir!”

He watched another escape pod flare into oblivion under the Galor’s ruthless phaser assault. “Lieutenant Shall… fire!” He glanced at T’Varik, who nodded with approval at his decision.

That didn’t mean he wasn’t sick to his stomach at the carnage already witnessed. And the rest that was to inevitably come.

*

A tight swarm of torpedoes launched outwards from the Surefoot, their coruscating apple-red light merging as they banked and swooped around escape pods and debris. As they approached, the Galor seemed to detect the approaching danger, and tried to fire at them and trigger an early detonation. But the angle of approach made that a futile gesture on their part.

The torpedoes struck, detonating in quick succession, and as Hrelle had anticipated, initiating a cascade reaction running up through the Galor’s damaged fusion reactors, overwhelming their weakened structural integrity fields and holistic damage control systems, and enveloping the rest of the ship from within, sending energy and blackened debris out into space.

*

USS Dragonheart, Deck 5 Mid – Engineering:

Jonas remained pinned in the alcove, able to occasionally fire in the direction of the Jem’Hadar, but otherwise unable to escape where he was without getting hit.

“Three minutes to critical field failure,” the computer helpfully exposited. “Evacuation of the ship is advised.”

No kidding, he told himself, his heart racing. He had hoped that Neraxis had been smart and headed for the nearest escape pods, instead of doing something heroic/stupid.

He wished the communication systems were up, and he could hear her voice once more before he died-

“FIRE IN THE HOLE!”

The familiar female voice carried from the direction of the Jem’Hadar.

He immediately dropped into a crouch, covering his head as he called out to the others nearby, “Duck and cov-”

An explosion ripped out from the far corridor where the Jem’Hadar had situated themselves, the heat and overpressure racing through the rest of Engineering and making Jonas’ ears pop.

His ears rang as he heard Neraxis add, “HOLD YOUR FIRE!”

He gasped and smiled to himself as he looked up, seeing a charred section of Engineering… and the pieces of several Jem’Hadar on the floor, ignored by a Security team led by an armoured Bolian woman, her eyes wide. “Jonas!”

He helped himself back to his feet and raced to her. “Ner-Ner!” He was ready to embrace her.

Instead she spun him around, grabbing him by the arm and leading him and the other crewmen out the other way. “Holy Hraxor, save it until we get to the pods, you horny bastard! COME ON, ALL OF YOU!”

*

USS Triton:

Tattok remained in the rear of the Bridge, ignoring the interplay of specific ship activities to his First Officer, Captain Aguayo, while the Admiral focused on the constantly-shifting tides of the battle, passing on relevant orders to his junior officers to forward to the appropriate ships, each time hoping that his decisions would be the right ones, even if they might cost lives. The board reminded him of some swirl of different-coloured paints, or one of those ancient psychological tests where subjects revealed their emotional states using inkblots.

No one, and he meant no one, wanted to know his emotional state right now-

“Wait.” The warning came from Joe Jacobs, former Starfleet Admiral and now civilian military advisor, an elderly pale-skinned human male with snowy, swept-back hair, leaned forward over his board. “The Battleship! Multiple launches from some ventral bay!”

Tattok peered at the remote display. Ten objects, each three metres long, independently powered but too small for shuttles, launching, moving at separate vectors towards the cruisers, the carriers, the Samaritan and Triton- “Target them! All ships in range, target and destroy those missiles!”

*

The missiles cut through space in separate directions, each one driven by a sophisticated AI system, equipped with shields, propelled by microwarp engines and packed with the tri-cobalt explosive equivalent of a hundred quantum torpedoes. They ducked and dodged and swept under and over closer, seemingly more obvious targets, avoiding attempts by ships along their path to stop them.

Three were destroyed, though one of them also took its killer, the USS Thunderbolt, with it.

The rest found their targets, or as close as they could get.

Not that they needed to be Bullseyes.

*

The Triton launched hard to starboard, inertial dampening failing momentarily. Tattok’s Heavyworlder mass and size gave him some advantage of centre of balance over the many taller humanoids around him, and his strength let him catch Jacobs before the old man fell and hurt himself. “Aguayo! Report!”

The Captain was helping his Bridge officers in similar fashion, but now quickly checked their status. “Hull breaches, Decks 10 to 14 Port! Warp drive offline, weapons offline! Damage control drones activated-”

Tattok turned back to the Tactical boards. “Fleet Status!”

Jacobs and the others returned to their posts, Jacobs answering first. “Missiles struck Tereshkova, Trial, Revere… all destroyed, Admiral. No survivors reported.”

Three ships, gone, just like that. Nine hundred lives… “The others?”

“The missiles aimed for our carriers detonated before reaching them. The ships suffered minor damage… but most of their fighters were lost in the blast. The Cochise and Vancouver have suffered critical damage and are abandoning ship, but the Surefoot is still busy collecting survivors from the Dragonheart, Iberia and Lynx- Admiral! Captain Hrelle reports one of the Galors was firing on our escape pods! The Surefoot’s had to fire back and destroy them!”

“Destroy it?” one of his younger officers exclaimed. “How? One little Sabre against a Galor?”

“Size doesn’t matter,” Tattok muttered. “What matters is they’ve made themselves a target now, and the other survivors won’t have a chance! Peterson, contact the Ajax, get my son over to run interference for the Surefoot! Aguayo, get our weapons online and head us towards the Cochise and Vancouver! Joe, alert the Samaritan to launch their fleet of ambulance shuttles to go ahead and collect survivors, while we cover them! All other ships: hold the line, join us when – if – they can!”

He let his officers do their work, never voicing the rest of his thoughts.

That they had lost the battle. Unless something miraculous occurred.

He didn’t believe in miracles.

*

USS Ajax:

“We’re still having trouble getting the warp drive back online- Sir!” Kohanim barked with sudden, uncharacteristic sharpness. “New orders! Captain Hrelle’s destroyed one of the Galors to protect the Dragonheart’s escape pods, and they’ve made themselves a target! We’re to assist the Surefoot and ensure they escape!”

Weynik faced forward. “Helm, plot an intercept, Full Impulse! Mr Bump, lock and load! Wide Load and his people need us!”

From the Engineering station, Ensign Porbik, a young Benzite male, tilted his head as if to let the lights reflect off his shiny blue-grey scalp as he muttered aloud to the crewman sitting beside him, “We’re lucky to have survived so far out here, I don’t see why we should risk ourselves even further just because it’s the Captain’s friend-”

“You’re dismissed, Mr Porbik,” Weynik ordered suddenly.

The Benzite swivelled in his chair to face the centre of the Bridge. “Sir? I was just-”

“I said you’re dismissed. Return to Engineering. Mr Kohanim, have him replaced. Now.” He looked away, not interested in further discussion. Not interested in anything but protecting his best friend’s back. “And get Security to find out what’s happened to Sasha and Shanek!”

*

In the Science Lab, Sasha bolted upright, instinctively crawling backwards away from an insensate Shanek, gathering her thoughts- he had been in her head! Accessing her memories about Grandma, Dad- She slapped her combadge. “Hrelle to Weynik.”

“Weynik here! Sasha, where the Hell have you been? We’re in the middle of a battle here!”

“I was attacked- Shanek is the spy, he used Jim- set him up-”

“What? Where’s Shanek now?”

“Lying here in the Lab, unconscious. We’ve got to get Jim out of the Brig-”

“Later, Sash! For now, get down to Engineering, they’re having trouble restoring warp drive!”

“Acknowledged! Hrelle out!”

She rose to her feet, paused to check on Shanek, found him still insensate, and tapped her combadge again as she grabbed her bag, the one she had prepared with her weapons and Kaetini sword, and fled from the room. “Hrelle to Security! Ensign Shanek is unconscious in the Science Lab! Have him brought to the Brig and confined, release Lt Madison immediately and have him report to Engineering!”

She was out the door and down the corridor, her mind already racing ahead to the next task. Seven Hells, they’d been fighting all the time while she was trapped in her head…

*

Back in the Science Lab, Shanek sensed Sasha’s departure and drew himself out of his deceptive trance, quickly retrieving one of his secret communicators, having felt a subcutaneous signal indicating an incoming message. He scanned the contents of the message, understood fully, and began planning on implementing it.

*

USS Samaritan, Deck 12 Aft – Shuttlebay:

Rrori raced up along with every other shuttle pilot, one part of his mind always asking: Is this it? Is this the time?

It certainly felt like it.

He entered the huge hangar, starting to see every shuttle – every single shuttle – being readied at once, an unprecedented sight. Then their attention was drawn to Lt Cmdr Monroe, standing on a platform, looking frantic. “Listen up! The Cochise and Vancouver are crippled and abandoning ship, the Surefoot has its hands full elsewhere, and the Enemy’s taking shots at the escape pods like they were target drones! Your mission is to fly ahead of us, collect everyone you can and return! Your shuttles are faster than the Samaritan, far more manoeuvrable, able to handle large short-range transporter operations…” He pointed a finger at them, pride full in his expression. “And you’re all the best pilots in the Fleet.”

Around Rrori, everyone cheered. But all he could think about were the words of the Female Agent. He would be safe, that was guaranteed. No one else had such assurances.

He was abandoning his duties as a Starfleet officer.

To serve something greater.

He would probably never see his mother, his Matriarch or the rest of his clan, or any of his friends, old and new, ever again.

To serve something greater.

Once, before the battle started, he had considered approaching the Samaritan’s captain to warn him… but he had no proof of the warning from the Female. It would have been dismissed, or worse, he might have been relieved of duty pending a Counseling evaluation-

Then he was pulled out of his thoughts as the other pilots raced for their shuttles, and he followed, entering his own, his mind already jumping ahead to his pre-flight checks. “Astrogation station operational… Structural Integrity Field generator operational… Inertial Dampening Field operational-”

“Shuttlecraft Operations to Shuttlecraft 23,” Monroe’s voice suddenly came through the comm panel.

Rrori started, as if the man was in the craft with him, before acknowledging, “Shuttlecraft 23 here. Are there further orders for me, Sir?”

“Yes, Ensign Rrori.” Monroe’s voice had a mix of cordiality, of camaraderie, to it that Rrori had never heard before. “I want you to be careful out there. You’re one of the most talented pilots I’ve ever seen. You’re also one of the most arrogant, but experience has taught me that tends to come hand in hand with the talent among you Sky Jockeys. I know I’ve been riding you hard since you boarded, but that’s only because I want you to be the best. Good luck out there.”

Rrori was at a momentary loss for words, before he finally responded, “Thank you, Sir. I’ll be careful. Shuttlecraft 23 out.”

He stared blankly at his panels, stunned by the words from his superior.

The monkey probably only said it because he knew Rrori was going into a dangerous situation.

He was probably giving every other pilot a similar speech.

Still, it only served to conflict him more, as he took his cue from Shuttlecraft Control and launched alongside the other shuttles towards the battlefield.

*

USS Iberia, Deck 5 Aft – Science Labs Section:

Weapons fire competed with the shouts and screams of Kit’s fellow crewmembers, as he struggled to stay on his feet and not get trampled with everyone else trying to reach the escape pods on this deck, without getting shot. The attack on the ship had ended, prompting wild speculation as to why.

Kit suspected; before his escape from his oppressive homeworld and conversion into the slimmer, faster body of a Seeker of Knowledge, he had been raised and trained as a Warrior, among a clutch of Warriors. And he suspected that the external attack had ceased, to allow the Jem’Hadar shock troops to board, possibly to take over their vessel without destroying it, though it was just as likely that the genetically-engineered soldiers sought personal combat to test their enemy’s strength and skills, or perhaps they even had a code of honour demanding such face-to-face interaction.

He was content, however, not to stop and ask one of them.

He was almost past the doorway to the Specimen Labs before he stepped out of the river of evacuating bodies and inside the room- just as an orange beam shot past him, barely grazing the padded shoulder of his jacket. He dropped and rolled behind a control panel, just as another beam struck the wall behind him, leaving a smouldering burn.

“Starfleet!” came a gruff male voice.

Kit unholstered his own phaser and raised it up. He had displayed a reluctance to accept the weapon when he had joined his duty station earlier, though he recognised that his prior experience and qualifications made him eminently suited for the additional Security duty. Now he was glad.

“Starfleet!” the unfamiliar voice repeated.

He rechecked his phaser setting. “I must assume that you are a representative of the Dominion forces who have invaded my ship, and not a colleague.”

“I am Cardassian!” the voice declared.

Kit nodded to himself, knowing that they were facing Cardassian forces as well as Dominion ones out here, but not expecting to see them, let alone be threatened by one. “I see. How may I assist you?”

There was a harsh laugh. “Step out and let me shoot you!”

Kit frowned. “Thank you, no. May I respectfully request you relinquish your weapon and surrender instead?”

“Death before dishonour! I must die fighting, with a weapon in my hand!”

“How florid. Then we are at an unfortunate impasse.”

Overhead, the computer voice announced, “Warning: Warp core breach in ten minutes. All hands, Abandon Ship.”

“Not for long, Starfleet,” the voice informed him.

Kit’s heart quickened. He had been quite content to join the rest of the crew in escape pods. “May I respectfully enquire what you are doing alone in here? Are you perhaps a zoologist?”

There was another harsh sound. “I am a fool, Starfleet. I was in a boarding party with my younger brother; our father instructed me to watch out for him. But with the help of some perfidious comrades in our party, he stabbed me in the back – literally – and left me to die here, so that he may return and claim the family inheritance.”

Kit nodded at that. “Working with family can be difficult.”

The Cardassian laughed at that. “Indeed, Starfleet!”

“Then the logical course of action now is for you to surrender. I will then be legally obliged to see to your medical needs.”

“Warning,” the computer updated, as if being helpful. “Warp core breach in nine minutes. All hands, Abandon Ship.”

Kit glanced up. “You hear that, Respected Foe? We need to depart. All you have to do is relinquish your firearm and-”

He was leaning around the side of the workstation, when he drew back at another energy blast. “Sir! Please desist! If we continue like this, we will both die!”

“Yes, Starfleet. We will both die.”

Kit’s throat wattles fluttered, and his mouth went fully dry. He sounded most earnest. “It is not logical to continue this course of action!”

“You sound like a Vulcan, Starfleet. Are you?”

He glanced around, not answering. He was stuck where he was, unable to leave where he was. The ship’s communication system was down, and the chaos outside meant that no one was likely to search for him. He swallowed. “Cardassian… you might be willing to die. I am not. I wish to live. You should, too. You might even return to your homeworld someday, after the War.” He breathed in. “Imagine the look on your brother’s face if you did that. As you took your long-awaited revenge.”

There was a silence, and then a laugh. “You are persuasive, Starfleet. But I have no desire to spend my time in a POW camp. Put your head out. I will offer you a merciful death, and then I can follow, knowing that I will not die as ignobly as I might have, by having taken out at least one of the Enemy.”

“Warning: Warp core breach in eight minutes. All hands, Abandon Ship.”

He looked around him, his desperation growing as their remaining time shrank. The specimen containers had warning flashes on them, and Kit remembered his superior officer’s earlier actions in here, to arrange for another merciful death for the animals they kept, to prevent them from burning or, more horribly, starving if the ship didn’t blow up-

A plan came to mind.

He pictured the layout of the room, estimated the most likely place for the wounded Cardassian, and adjusted the setting on his phaser. He swallowed again. “Cardassian… I am honour-bound to offer you one final chance to surrender and live.”

The Cardassian made a smirking sound. “Come over here, Starfleet, and we’ll discuss it, eh?”

Kit breathed in deeply, not taking his offer seriously, as he adjusted his position against the workstation until he was practically lying on the floor, before twisting outward, sticking out his phaser arm and firing… at the specimen containers nearest where he thought his opponent was hiding. The clearsteel panels shattered and melted into fragments, and the orange mist that had been filling up the interiors, the theragen nerve gas that had been programmed into the environmental systems, drifted out.

Kit held his breath, though he knew enough about the gas that such an action was futile, that theragen could be absorbed cutaneously. He held his breath and listened… listened to the spasms of the Cardassian, and then the drop of a metal object to the bulkhead. He was sorrowful that he had been driven to such an action.

But not too sorrowful-

“SCREECH!”

Kit started, sitting up as a Deltan sand peacock stood beside him, tailfeathers spread out and curved beak open, shrieking at him. “Chester!”

It leapt into his arms.

“Warning: Warp core breach in seven minutes. All hands, Abandon Ship.”

Kit took his new bundle and rose up, a part of him theorising as to how the specimen had survived as long as he had in the container before his liberation – a natural neurological resistance, perhaps, related to a superior acetylcholinesterase enzyme coagulation in his biochemistry – but still recognising that Kit himself would succumb, and fled.

*

USS Surefoot, Deck 1 Forward – Bridge:

“Continuing to collect survivors,” Neheru reported. “Current number 200 and climbing. Moving uninjured to Evacuation Points in Deck 1, Cargo Bay 1; Deck 3, Holodecks 1 and 2, Arboretum, Enlisted and Cadets’ Mess Halls and Lounges; Deck 4, Cargo Bays 2 and 3.”

Hrelle nodded without saying anything, focused on the tactical displays and the main viewscreen. “Helm, keep us steady, there’s too many escape pods around us. Mr Gentry, keep an eye on the power systems, we’ll need every available erg for transporters and medical replicators.” He looked to T’Varik, standing near the Auxiliary Ops station, wearing an earpiece. “Commander, keep an ear peeled on those transmissions.” As she nodded in his direction, he resisted the urge to make his way down to the Shuttlebay and supervise the operations; the situation was ongoing, ever changing, and his place was here-

“Sir!” It was C’Rash. “Incoming Scarabs! Raising shields!”

He almost countermanded her order – they were still beaming survivors onboard – but held back, joining her at Tactical, watching her slim furred fingers moving swiftly over her station, readying weapons for the inevitable attack- “What the-?”

He glanced up, seeing the enemy ships seem to sweep in on an attack formation… before banking sharply away.

“What happened?” his niece muttered. “Did they get new orders, or-”

Hrelle’s stomach plummeted, and his tail twitched. “They’ve deposited boarders!”

“What? They can’t do that! Not with the shields up!”

From her position, T’Varik straightened up and looked over at them gravely. “Transmissions from the other vessels reporting Dominion transporter activity through standard shields-”

Hrelle was leaning forward, activating a shipwide hail. “All Hands! Intruder Alert! Condition Four! Clear the corridors of all non-essential personnel, effective immediately! We’re raising force fields at critical junctures!”

*

Deck 3 Mid- Science Lab:

“All Hands! Intruder Alert! Condition Four! Clear the corridors of all non-essential personnel, effective immediately! We’re raising force fields at critical junctures!”

Kami listened to the tightness in Esek’s voice, as Sreen mewled in her arms. At the open doorway, Jhess and Misha stood and watched with Security Crewman Pam Travers as the side corridor leading up to the Lab door began filling up with rescued survivors. Travers, a petite young human female with ponytailed sable hair and a pert nose, stepped forward, hands raised. “Hold it, folks! You’re gonna have to move on! You can’t stay here! There are survivor stations further aft, in the Enlisted Lounge and Rec Rooms! Move it!”

Kami caught the look from Jhess; she saw everything in his eyes, and stepped forward to join him, looking out as well at the faces of hurt, confused, scared people, people torn from their ships, their lives, and dropped here, and now hearing from her husband that they were still not out of danger. Smelling their fear; even Sreen was reacting to it. She drew closer to Travers, her voice compassionate. “Pamela, please… the civilians, the ones with the children. They can come in with us.”

The crewman looked to her with concern. “Counselor, I have orders-”

“Orders to keep the Captain’s family safe here. You’re doing that… you can do more.” She stepped out into the corridor, smiling, affecting friendliness. “I’m Counselor Hrelle. You can come in here with us, you’ll be safe in here.”

Travers looked dubious, but kept her tongue as civilians began pouring inside. Jhess offered the new arrivals a warm smile. “Come along, folks, everything’s going to be okay!”

“Yeah!” Misha agreed, ushering them inside, displaying his minikin Starfleet Captain’s uniform. “You cubs come in! My Papa’s Captain! He keep us safe! Me too! I protect you!”

*

Deck 4 Fore – Shuttlebay:

Stalac remained completely still as he worked, the interface resting beneath him allowing him direct access to the Triage Computer, his silicon-based brain operating at dizzying speeds.

And allowing him to appreciate the work of Dr Belaxi and his team: they may have approached their work with an arrogance that annoyed Stalac’s friends but amused him, but they were amazingly efficient, moving and diagnosing the incoming wounded, and checking the seemingly-uninjured, shuttling the latter away from the rows of padded mats where the immobile lay, ready to be transported with antigrav gurneys towards the various Sickbays.

He sensed the return of Peter from the latest transport. Stalac didn’t have eyes, of course, but his shell acted as a spectrographic sensor array, and even without sensing the salt in his perspiration, his voice carried fatigue, as he worked with their fellow cadets to offer support.

“Get yourself some water,” Stal recommended as the human raced past.

“I’m fine, Buddy, I’m fine.” Peter waved him off as he continued down the row.

“All Hands! Intruder Alert! Condition Four! Clear the corridors of all non-essential personnel, effective immediately! We’re raising force fields at critical junctures!”

The Horta stopped, almost feeling the tension rise among the Carbs around him. Condition Four meant they were locked in the Shuttlebay for the time being; the medical team would have to perform any critical operations here. Immediately he began replicating appropriate equipment: tables, sterile fields-

Stalac immediately detected the presence of six Jem’Hadar materialising in the centre of the Shuttlebay, their unique biochemistries and mineral contents strange to his senses, their plasma rifles firing away at the Security standing near the doorways, dropping them in their tracks.

Cries of panic and confusion rose, as Stalac sent an alert signal to the Bridge. Egg Mother, survivors were still beaming in, and the Jem’Hadar were shooting them as they were materialising! He blocked further incoming transmissions, as the Jem’Hadar formed a defensive circle, firing at Dr Belaxi and the other medics. Bolts struck them, sending them sprawling over the wounded on the bulkhead. Anyone who rose, was shot.

Then they began shooting those on the floor, too.

“No!” Stalac detached himself from his computer interface and slithered along towards them, raising the volume on his voder unit to Maximum. “STOP! THEY’RE WOUNDED! NON COMBATANTS! IT’S AGAINST THE RULES OF ENGAGEMENT!”

A woman with a baby was rising in a panic, making the pair of them a target.

Stalac saw Peter near her, rising up as well to shield her.

A Jem’Hadar bolt struck him in the back.

“PETER!”

Stalac launched himself at the nearest Jem’Hadar, wrapping himself around the invader’s legs, pumping out acid capable of burning through almost anything.

The Jem’Hadar fell screeching beneath the Horta, spasming as Stalac swept over him, dissolving him almost completely.

Rage suffused Stalac, as the other Jem’Hadar focused their attention on him, raising their weapons and firing.

Stalac felt them strike his hide, but only as a distant thing, insufficient to stop him as he moved onto the next Jem’Hadar, bringing him down as well.

The next shots that hit Stalac were stronger, sending bolts of intense pain through him. But he kept going, all the cautionary lessons he had learned as a young chip about the fragility of carbon-based lifeforms were tunnelled away. He had to stop them.

And he had to make them pay, for his fallen friend.

He brought down another. The Jem’Hadar were backing away in a panic, still firing at him, but this time with beams at higher settings.

Stalac was pursuing them… even as he felt himself bleed acid in several places, some of it splattering on the wounded nearby.

Then the remaining Jem’Hadar began falling, from Starfleet phaser beams, as several of the survivors, armed, brought them down.

Stalac finally stopped, aware of how much acid he had released, and was now haemorrhaging uncontrollably. It was eating into the bulkhead where he had slithered, where he sat-

Suddenly he was falling, down onto the next deck below, landing with a horrible sound.

He felt something of himself break off his left side. And shatter.

Instinctively he cut off any further acid secretions, and as he slipped into a protective healing trance, he hoped that any bleeding he couldn’t control wouldn’t carry him any further downward, until there were no more decks, and he ended up floating out in space…

*

From his position near the Life Support Bays on Deck 5, Security Crewman Xinn Chaf rushed out, phaser in hand, staring in astonishment, his bald blue Bolian head darkening as he murmured, “Holy Hraxor...” He knelt down beside the cracked, smouldering Horta, reaching out-

From the hole above, a silver-haired young human, a reptoid whose race Chaf couldn’t identify, and a Bolian female stood at the edge, the first barking, “Don’t touch him! You’ll burn yourself!”

“What?”

The reptoid nodded. “Indeed, Respected Colleague! There will be residual acid secretions!”

Beside the reptoid, a weird little bird spread out its colourful feathers and screeched down at him.

Chaf glanced up, demanding, “What the hell’s going on up there?”

“Jem’Hadar beamed in!” the Bolian responded. “They’re dead or stunned, but we have dead and injured up here! We need backup Medical and Security teams here, on the double!”

Chaf stood up again, his heart racing; he was fresh out of the Academy, his first assignment onboard a ship, and all Hell was breaking loose... Using his best professional voice, he told them, “You people stay out of the way, you’re safe, we’ll handle matters now-”

“Listen, Dickhead,” the Bolian snapped angrily, leaning forward over the edge, “Call Captain Hrelle on the Bridge and tell him Lieutenant and Ensign Ostrow, and Ensign Kitirik are home, and ready to lend a hand up here! Then get back to your post and keep an eye and ear peeled, there’ll be more Jem’Hadar beaming in!”

*

“Captain!” Neheru snapped. “Jem’Hadar in Shuttlebay! They’ve been neutralised, the Shuttlebay has been secured, but we have dead and injured, including Dr Belaxi’s team… and Cadets Peter Boone and Stalac are reported critically wounded!”

Hrelle looked at T’Varik, both of them sharing the same expression. They both knew it was inevitable that cadets would be injured, but… “I want the Shuttlebay re-secured, as well as the routes from it to Sickbays 2 and 3; leave Masterson and his team in Sickbay 1 for now, but we’ll need someone in charge in the Bay-”

“Sir!” the Kelpien interrupted, his eyes brightening. “Crewman Chaf reports Mr and Mrs Ostrow, and Mr Kitirik are there, awaiting your orders!”

Hrelle allowed himself a slight smile; his cubs were back… “Lock onto their combadges and tune them into our network, then put Jonas in charge of the Shuttlebay operations and Neraxis with Security!” He returned to C’Rash. “Run Security scans for other intruders.”

Her muzzle creased as she ran her hands over her controls. “Detecting nothing…” She looked up at him. “But I didn’t detect them in the Shuttlebay either-”

“Contact all Security units! I want reports!”

*

USS Surefoot, Deck 3 Mid – Sickbay 1:

“All Hands! Intruder Alert! Condition Four! Clear the corridors of all non-essential personnel, effective immediately! We’re raising force fields at critical junctures!”

Those not immediately focused on the wounded on the biobeds looked upwards at the announcement, as if Captain Hrelle had appeared like a furry god overhead to make his proclamation.

Standing over an open gut wound on a Zaldan male, feeling the heat from within as she tried to fight the anticoagulant effects of the polaron beam that had struck him, Eydiir listened without making any comment or reaction. She focused on passing the autosuture over the ilium and the ascending colon, even as she saw her earlier work on the braccas colubrum unravel from anticoagulant contamination. She could only move so quickly, and sealing him up now to put him in stasis for later treatment would take almost as much time as repairing the damage, not to mention that there might be worthier patients for the limited number of stasis units onboard.

A sound made her glance up, seeing Doctor Masterson summoned into his office, receiving a private message. His face creased, before he stepped back out, caught her eye and gestured to her to come over.

She cursed under her breath. “Computer: Activate the EMH.”

She felt heads turn in her direction, and ignored them. Despite assurances from Masterson that there was no shame in asking for help from the annoying program, there had been an unofficial bet among the three Sickbay Teams that the first team to call upon the Emergency Medical Hologram would be buying the drinks for the other two when all this was done and they were next on shore leave. Eydiir considered such puerile aspirations beneath her… but that didn’t mean she wanted to be the one who gave in first.

Then the image of a gaunt, bald human male hologram appeared beside her. “Please state the nature of the medical-”

“Take a guess, fool,” she snapped, handing him her instruments and stepping back from the table.

The EMH made a sound and took her place. “That’s Doctor Fool to you.”

She ignored him and approached the CMO. “Doctor?”

He kept his voice low. “You heard the announcement before from the Captain. It ain’t a bucket of hot air; the Shuttlebay’s been attacked. Dr Belaxi, most of his crew and Security are either dead or wounded. I want you down there helping out some of your old Alpha Squad folk.”

“Alpha Squad?” She nodded, going for her medical tricorder… and her bandoleer of Capellan kleegat throwing blades. You never know...

*

Deck 4 Aft – Main Engineering:

Grev knelt by the opened Manifold Relay Station, his hooves trying to replace the damaged isolinear chips within, before harrumphing, his Tellarite snout wrinkling as he glanced behind him. “Emoto! Get those soft pudgy digits you call fingers over here and make yourself useful for once!”

Tori Emoto was standing beside Nancy Yeager at the warp core, assisting in increasing the power flow from the warp engines to the supplementary systems, when she rushed over, the young human cadet kneeling beside him. “I’m on it, Chief! You can go now. Away. Seriously, your pelt stench could choke a Gorn.”

Grev chuckled and rose. She was a talented, hard-working pup, with a good sense of Banter. He moved around quickly, watching his crew hard at work. He should send Arad Maf down to Deck 5 to check on those gel packs, they were too new and untested for his liking to rely upon them unconditionally-

He bumped into a tall wall of grey flesh, cursing at it.

The huge pachydermoid figure in the modified Starfleet uniform with gold departmental colours denoting his Security role took a step back. “Sorry, Comrade Chief.”

Grev’s beady black eyes peered up at him, recognising the Security cadet, whose name escaped him. “What are you doing in here? You should be at the doorway, with the other Bruisers!”

The young behemoth stepped back further, looking somewhat abashed, belying his formidable size. “Forgive me, Sir! I- I did not mean to be in the way-”

How can you not manage to be in the way anywhere you are? Grev thought to himself, keeping quiet, in case the Behemoth took offence.

Then the young Orion female cadet, whose name had also fled somewhere in the back of Grev’s mind, drew up quickly to them, her olive face darkening with embarrassment. “Sorry about that, Chief.” She smacked her crewmate on his arm, which looked thicker than both of her thighs put together. “What did I tell you before, you big galoot? Tori doesn’t need to be in your eyeline all the time! She’s perfectly fine here!”

“Sorry, Zir,” he replied meekly, following his Squad leader back to the entrance.

The Chief Engineer watched the display with amusement. Was the big… whatever he was… sweet on the young pup Tori? It seemed bizarre, but then, in his decades out here, he had seen stranger couplings. Not that romance ever interested him. Work was good. Teaching talented pups like Tori, Yeager, Jonas Ostrow and others over the years – the decades – had been satisfying.

Maybe when he eventually retired, he’d find some smooth-pelted female to settle down and argue with-

A sound, and the rise of his fur as it always did when he was near a transporter carrier wave, made him turn, dodging behind an auxiliary support column as he caught a glimpse of six huge Jem’Hadar soldiers, and an equal number of Cardassians, appearing, immediately beginning to fire around them!

He took a breath, then launched himself towards a shallow work alcove- not to hide, but to take action. Perhaps his final action.

Ever since he’d been a Squab on the Intrepid, three or four thousand years ago it seemed, he remembered all the lessons from his first mentor, a human named Sergey Rozhenko, the most important lesson being: ‘When the rats come, lock your larder’. His hooves tapped onto the display, quickly entering his authorisation codes-

“You! Get away from that!”

Grev ignored the warning, even as he knew the probable consequences of ignoring it. No one tells me what to do in my own Engine Room, you malodorous, cold-blooded bast-

He never finished his thought, never even felt the bolt of energy strike the back of his skull, instantly boiling the contents within as the Tellarite’s body dropped where it stood.

*

Moments before, Zir had been ushering Urad back to the doorway. “I can’t believe you were back there! I’m trying to make a good impression doing this!”

“Sorry, Zir! I thought Tori might need some help- you know, carrying something-”

“Like what, the warp core? They’ve somehow managed without you so far.”

At the doorway, the other members of their team, the Miradorn twins, stood and sneered, their bulbous, bisected heads reflected the overhead lights. The male, Rei-Taan nodded with petty satisfaction. “Told you he had been mooning over the little human again.”

His sister, Ree-Taan, glared at her twin. “Simpering tattletale.”

The siblings faced each other, silently exchanging intense glowers; Zir had come to recognise this as their being engaged what was yet another of their arguments, exchanged via the telepathic link that Miradorn twins apparently possessed with each other… which she assumed allowed them to vent without risking censure or disciplinary action.

Zir grunted to herself. Miradorns were quarrelsome by nature, apparently, and there was some bad talk about how their people had signed a non-aggression pact with the Dominion at the start of War. But then Zir knew worse talk was said about Orions-

Suddenly, Captain Hrelle’s voice hailed the ship. “All Hands! Intruder Alert! Condition Four! Clear the corridors of all non-essential personnel, effective immediately! We’re raising force fields at critical junctures!”

Zir snapped to attention, her hand moving to the phaser in her holster and her eyes darting about. The Twins snapped out of their silent fight, their weapons already drawn, Ree-Taan demanding, “Where are they? Let me at them!”

Zir’s immediately focused on her training, nodding to the Miradorn female. “Get to the portside access corridor near the Fabricator Labs, cover and report! Stay linked with your brother in case we have problems with communications!”

“I want to go, too!” Rei-Taan demanded.

“No, you’re staying here with us.”

He leaned closer to Zir, trying to use his height advantage to intimidate her. “I said-”

But then Urad drew, pointing a thick finger in the Miradorn male’s face. “I believe our team leader has made herself clear, Comrade. This is no exercise. Behave.”

Miradorns were generally huge and strong. But not that huge and strong. Rei-Taan backed off.

Ree-Taan departed, chuckling, “Little pussy.”

Zir ignored them as she tapped her combadge. “Squad Three-Alpha reporting: one team member being stationed at Junction Port 4-7, others remain at Junction Cent-” She stopped, frowning, touching her combadge again, and once more. “There’s something wrong with communica-”

There was the sound of weapons fire within Engineering.

She stepped back behind one side of the open doorway for cover, waving at Urad and Rei-Taan to do the same at the other side. She checked the Stun setting on her phaser, picturing in her mind the layout of Main Engineering, and where she last saw Chief Grev, Tori and the others. She tried her badge again with no success, and looked across at the other two. “Set to Level 5.”

They complied, Urad’s own custom-designed phaser looking more like a small rifle, his round eyes wide with concern. “Zir- Tori-”

She shushed him, listening, hearing unfamiliar voices – and then another weapons shot. She should just hold out until Lt Shall or someone else contacts them, or comes down- no. No, that wasn’t part of her training: Secure the perimeter, assess the situation, gain intelligence. She steeled herself as she called out, “This is Security! The area is surrounded, there’s no escape! Drop your weapons and surrender!”

Almost immediately she heard, and then saw, a pair of reptilian figures emerge from around a corner, firing disruptor bolts, the bolts striking the corridor wall behind her. She dropped and fired back, driving them out of view again. Across from her, Urad and Rei-Taan followed suit – but the Miradorn cadet’s phaser beam was stronger, creating burns and sparks where it struck. “I said Level 5, Cadet!”

He glared at her. “Why are you so concerned about only stunning the enemy, Orion?”

“I’m not – I’m concerned about our people getting caught in the crossfire and receiving a lethal shot!”

“Don’t be so pitiful, woman! This is War! If they die, they die!”

Before Zir could argue further, however, Urad, standing behind Rei-Taan, clamped a massive hand around the other cadet’s weapon arm and tightened, his voice low and with an icy threat to it. “If any of our people die because of your actions, Comrade… I swear in the name of my God you’ll join them.”

The Miradorn froze, looking up in disbelief… before acquiescing, just as the Jem’Hadar returned, firing once more, and the Security team responded again. Zir’s whole body was as taut as a wire, and not just from Urad’s unprecedented threatening words. This shouldn’t be happening. They were cadets, they were only meant to be offering support.

But then she had thought something very similar, the day they had supported the Counselor during her qualifying mission as Captain… and ended up fighting an ancient, child-consuming evil. They had triumphed then.

They would triumph again today.

*

USS Ajax, Deck 2 Aft – Main Engineering:

Chief Maryk stuck her head into the conduit and cursed. “Proklyani eti grebanyye mashiny!”

Outside, Sasha was rerunning her diagnostics. “Less swearing, more thought, Chief.”

Her head still inside the machinery, the older woman informed her, “When I have answers, I have answers, Lieutenant, Ma’am. When I have nothing, I have swearing, okay?”

Sasha nodded to herself absently. “Fair enough, Chief.” This wasn’t right. The Defiant-class design had always had its share of problems with power management, but she had been led to believe the bugs had been worked out long before now. She had some technical expertise, but what they really needed-

“Lieutenant Hrelle?”

She turned, swallowing, having expected this but hoping that she might be too busy elsewhere. She turned to him, determined to stay in control. “Jim-”

Madison strode up, his expression, his body language, suffused with hostility. “That’s ‘Lieutenant’, Ma’am-”

She raised a hand, cutting him off. “We don’t have time for your petulance, so let me speak: Shanek was the spy, he used you, he’s been taken care of, I’m sorry, I’ve been a complete jerk, I’ll make it up to you after the battle, now help us get the fakakta warp drive back online before we all get blown to shit.” She waved him towards the Master Systems Display.

The big man stared at her in abject disbelief, either from the multiple revelations or from her chutzpah at her attitude. Then he shook his head and moved to the Display.

Sasha looked back down on her PADD display, thankful for his ultimate response-

“Security to Lt Hrelle,” came a young male voice over her combadge. “We’re in the Science Lab to pick up Ensign Shanek as ordered, but he’s not here-”

Immediately she cut in through the announcement. “Hrelle to All Hands: Security Alert! Detain Ensign Shanek, he’s-”

A sound behind her cut her off, and she turned to see Shanek race into Engineering, dodging or knocking over crewmen as he headed towards a control station.

She drew her phaser and fired. It struck the Vulcan’s left arm… and the energy somehow seemed to be absorbed by some sort of hidden mechanism that became briefly visible beneath his uniform. She set her phaser to a higher level and aimed-

But before she could fire again, Madison drew up, trying to tackle him. “Jim, no! Get out of the way-”

The big human was almost upon him, but Shanek was quicker, more skilled, driving a kick to Madison’s left tibia that made a sickening cracking sound and sent Madison down crying out in pain.

Shanek reached the station, keying in commands. Sasha fired at his back, and then the back of his head, keeping a sustained beam that overwhelmed whatever mechanism he secretly wore that somehow absorbed phaser energy. He collapsed, spasming, and then… he vanished, as if vaporised, but definitely not by her. A suicide device? What the Seven Hells kind of people were Section 31 anyway?

As Red Alerts sounded throughout Engineering. “Structural Failure in Main Deuterium Tankage! Plasma Leak, Deck 2 Aft! Containment Fields Failure! Evacuate Decks 2, 3, 4-”

Nearby, Maryk emerged from her alcove and checked the nearest station. “The Tankage was inspected an hour ago, it suffered no damage in the battle!”

Sasha was moving towards Madison, but calling behind her, “Shanek took care of that! Get it locked down again!” She knelt beside Madison, checking his leg. “Broken?”

His broad face was crimson and twisted in pain. “What do you think, Genius?”

“Stay still, I’ll get a medikit-”

“Lieutenant Hrelle!” Maryk cried out, looking in their direction. “Shanek’s activated hidden lockdown commands! We’re losing Life Support throughout the ship!”

Sasha glowered; Shanek probably had orders to cripple or destroy them in battle, and leave no witnesses. “Divert controls to the Bridge! We don’t have time to undo the damage here!”

“Agreed.” She looked over her shoulder at the remaining Engineering crew. “Get to Shuttlebay 1, follow protocol, suit up and be ready to assist in the purge! GO!” She glanced over at Madison. “We haven’t forgotten you, Lieutenant.”

“Oh, so glad to hear it, Chief!”

Just then, Kohanim’s voice cut through the alarms. “Bridge to Engineering, what’s happening down there?”

Sasha stopped re-routing system controls enough to smack her combadge. “Sabotage! We’re evacuating Engineering, begin an immediate systems reboot of the Warp Drive and Environmental Control from up there!”

The ship rocked under weapons fire. Overhead, deuterium gas began flooding in, as the doors to the mid section shut.

Sasha thought ahead. They wouldn’t be able to follow the rest of the crew out that way, and they wouldn’t be able to crawl through the Jefferies Tubes with Madison in his present condition. “Come on, let’s get to the cargo lift.”

The two women returned to Madison, helping him with some difficulty back onto one foot, as he cursed in pain. “Where the hell are you taking me?”

“Shuttlebay 2’s directly below. We’re taking the Telamon out.”

As the lift descended, Madison looked to each of them in disbelief. “What? We can’t go out there in a shuttle, we’ll get killed out there!”

“No, we might get killed out there,” Sasha corrected, acutely aware of the gas filling up the space they had just left. “We’ll definitely get killed in here.”

He winced again. “Terrific. False imprisonment, broken limbs, risk of death from deuterium exposure, life support failure or Dominion fire. I’m so glad I signed up to this damn ship.”

Maryk grunted. “I don’t know what you ever saw in this guy, he does nothing but complain.”

*

On the Bridge, Kohanim reported, “Captain, Lt Hrelle reports Lt Madison is injured, and with that and the deuterium leak she’s been forced to depart in the Telamon with him and Chief Maryk.”

“Sure,” Weynik muttered to himself, plotting the tactical situation just ahead. “It’s not like we need our Second Officer, Chief Engineer and Second Engineer.” Louder now, he ordered, “Tell her to get to the Surefoot and stay with Papa Cat, while we buy them time to get away with the wounded.

And if any of the enemy want to die for their cause… well then, let’s be obliging.”

*

USS Surefoot, Deck 4 Fore – Shuttlebay:

Jonas crouched by the edge of the hole looking down onto the lower deck. “You think that’ll work, Kit?”

The Qarari Science Officer was finishing pouring the oatmeal-coloured foam over the injured Horta, completely covering it, and most of the surrounding bulkhead, and hardening quickly. “Indeed, Respected Lieutenant! The emergency Securifoam sealant will protect our injured cadet until he regains consciousness.”

“He, uh, he won’t suffocate in there, will he?”

“Unlikely, Respected Sir, given the Horta’s anaerobic respiratory system.”

“Then climb back up the ladder, we’ve got bulkhead panels ready to cover this hole until permanent repairs can be made-”

“Lieutenant!”

Jonas rose to his feet and moved to join his wife. Neraxis had moved among the survivors, mobilising those uninjured who could act as backup Security, but now stopped, acting formally with him in public. “Sir, we have a problem: the deceased. They’re, uh, stacking up, and presently we can’t get them moved to the Surefoot’s Morgue, and I’d rather not leave them out in front of the others, people who knew them-”

He nodded, pointing to one of the Surefoot’s Type-10 cargo shuttlecraft stacked along the side of the Bay. “We’ll get them in there, lower the internal temperature to refrigeration levels.” With a grimace, he indicated the remains of the Jem’Hadar that the Horta had left behind. “Those, too. People don’t need to be reminded of them, either-”

“Lieutenant!”

Jonas turned, drawing up to the collection of those who arrived wounded, and were since wounded in the Jem’Hadar attack; personnel were moving around, assessing and treating, led by a female dark-skinned Capellan female, who rose and addressed him formally. “Sir, we’ve stabilised Cadet Boone and the others with anticoagulants and portable stasis clamps, most will survive and recover, but four of them need more treatment than we can give them here, as soon as possible.”

“Coordinate with Neraxis and the Bridge to give you an armed escort to Sickbay 2 or 3 until they can secure the route.”

Eydiir nodded, her expression softening as she added, “It is very pleasing to see you and Neraxis and Kit again. Alive.”

He smiled, patting her on the arm. “You too-”

“Respected Friends! Come here, please!”

They turned, approaching Kit, who had rejoined them in the Shuttlebay and was crouching near an injured human, holding a tricorder. “It’s Good Friend Giles!”

Jonas and Eydiir rushed up, confirming Giles’ identity, as Eydiir took over the diagnosis. “What the- I thought he was back at Starfleet Logistics on Earth!”

“Sasha wrote to me about him last month,” Eydiir responded. “He’d told her he was transferring to Intelligence to assist in data gathering for the War effort.” She frowned. “No obvious physical damage, he should recover, but there’s undefined neurological trauma, elevated levels of psilosynine indicative of telepathic activity… what happened to him?”

“Perhaps we should ask his commanding officer from the USS Cooper?” Kit suggested, nodding to a figure striding towards one of the smaller stored shuttles. “We have encountered her previously: Captain Sakuth.”

Jonas tensed, watching in recognition now as the woman with the pointed ears stopped at the side of the shuttle, remembering the time the woman, a Starfleet Intelligence operative, had tried to destroy this vessel and everyone on it in order to contain the secrets of a classified weapon; they may have all signed nondisclosure agreements, but he still remembered. He tapped his combadge. “Lt Ostrow to Bridge: I thought you should be made aware that Lt Giles Arrington is onboard, injured but he’ll recover. His CO from the Cooper, Captain Sakuth, is here, too.”

Captain Hrelle responded first. “Is she doing anything, Jonas?”

Jonas frowned, looking for her, and seeing- “She’s just entered one of the shuttles!”

Now Commander T’Varik spoke up. “Lieutenant, have her removed and placed under guard immediately.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” He signalled to Neraxis, and rushed up to the shuttle, seeing the gull-wing door lower; it began rising again at his command, as his wife joined him, phaser drawn, following his lead without asking why. He stepped inside cautiously. “Captain? What are you doing in here?”

Sakuth was in the pilot’s seat, her hands on the controls, but now swivelled to face the two junior officers. “Lt Jonas Ostrow, isn’t it? And Ensign Neraxis Ostrow. I recall you from an earlier visit, when you were still cadets.”

He nodded. “Yes, Ma’am. I’m required to ask what you’re doing in here? You’re not intending to try and leave, are you?”

“Of course not. I required… a moment of solitude, to gather my mental reserves, following the loss of my vessel, and so many of my crew, in battle. As you no doubt can imagine, such an experience is an emotionally arduous ordeal, even for Vulcans.”

“Oh… I see.” The admission threw him, not expecting it from the woman, remembering only her arrogance. “Captain, what happened to Giles? The tricorder readings indicated… telepathic activity.”

Sakuth rose to her feet, nodding. “Yes, Lieutenant. I was responsible for that.”

Neraxis stepped forward, her voice taut. “Why?”

The Vulcan folded her hands behind her, her own expression visibly uncomfortable. “Mr Arrington is an intelligent, resourceful young individual, and has proven invaluable to my work… but unfortunately, during battle, he panicked. He had become a danger, to himself and to the rest of us. I … I was forced to initiate a mind-meld and subdue him.”

Jonas frowned, juggling between his incredulity at that, and his need to maintain a professional demeanour. “Begging your pardon, Captain, but that doesn’t seem like Giles.”

“Forgive me, Lieutenant, but my more recent interactions with Mr Arrington has granted me an insight into his mind that you and his former associates might lack. He has been struggling with general feelings of inadequacy and lack of self-worth, as well as specific lingering romantic feelings towards Lt Hrelle. He volunteered for combat duty to prove himself, to her and to yourselves.” She breathed in. “In view of his superlative record until today, I will employ discretion and not mention his breakdown in my logs. Shall we return outside? I would like to find other survivors of my crew… with your permission, Lieutenant.”

Jonas stared at her for a moment, before nodding and ushering Neraxis and himself out of the shuttle, Sakuth following, nodded back to them and began moving through the throngs of survivors.

“Wow,” Neraxis quipped, “The War must have loosened that stick she’d had up her ass since we last met her.”

“Keep an eye on her,” Jonas told his wife. It seemed unbelievable, that Giles would behave that way, and that the Vulcan would be so accommodating and gracious. But he had other things to worry about now.

*

“The Ajax is approaching, Captain,” T’Varik informed Hrelle. “Providing firing cover.”

He nodded, grateful for the help of his friend and that powerhouse of a ship, if only to keep further invaders from boarding. “Security Status?”

His niece growled, then stepped away from her station and moved to the Weapons Locker on the wall, opening it. “I can’t trust our internal sensors, and communications are faltering. I’m doing a physical inspection.”

Hrelle approached – but T’Varik beat him to it. “That is not a logical course of action, Lieutenant. You need support.”

“And I’ll get it,” the Caitian female promised, strapping on a phaser. “I’ll stop off in the Shuttlebay and press-gang some survivors, make them earn their passage to safety.” He looked to Hrelle. “After checking in on Aunt Kami, Spots and the Cubs.”

T’Varik turned to Hrelle. “Captain… request permission to accompany-”

“Denied.” Hrelle swallowed, his expression fixed on C’Rash, but his nose twitching at the changes of scent between the two females since they had married, a scent now heightened; Vulcan anxiety was… sharp. But he couldn’t make allowances now, for that or for this cub being a member of his family. “Keep all your senses peeled, Lieutenant, and stay in touch constantly.”

“Yes, Sir.” She looked to T’Varik, the women exchanging libraries of words and feelings with a look, and then moved to the Jefferies Tube hatch near the doors.

As he watched her depart and a crewman closed the hatch for her, Hrelle moved to the Weapons Locker now, retrieving a phaser. “Arm yourselves, all of you. We’re short on crew, resources, time, we have civilians onboard, and we’re facing an unknown number of enemy soldiers who have already forsaken the Rules of Engagement, assuming they ever believed in them in the first place. I’m ordering all of you to defend yourselves and each other by any means necessary, including lethal force.”

As the crew began collecting phasers from him, his thoughts returned to his family on Deck 3. They were in the safest part of the ship, watched over by a Security crewman and a veteran Caitian Sabrecat soldier. He couldn’t afford to spend too much time worrying about them, not with a whole ship and crew.

*

Rrori banked the shuttle down, around the wreckage of the Vancouver, his stomach managing the wild manoeuvres surprisingly well, considering how tense he already had been, waiting. Waiting for the Female Agent to return and take him away. But there was no sign of her.

And the longer she delayed in finally appearing, the more anxious… the more terrified… he became. He had bypassed closer escape pods, allowed his fellow Samaritan shuttle pilots to collect them, while he dove deeper and deeper into the battlefield, risking his life, ostensibly to get to the survivors no one else dared. Come on, you bastard, where are you-

His sensors picked up an escape pod, just ahead, being menaced by a Jem’Hadar Scarab, sensors indicating six lifeforms – Mother’s Cubs, five are youngsters! – and immediately banked towards them, diverting power from the shields to the shuttle’s transporter systems, which were designed for greater capacity than most under emergency conditions… of which this certainly qualified. Come on, come on, survive, survive-

The interior of the shuttle both dimmed from the massive power diversion, and flared with transporter carrier wave energy. He glanced for a second behind him, through the opening into the main cabin. The entire floor of the shuttle served as a transporter pad; shapes coalesced and solidified, and immediately the air was filled with the scents and sounds of six humans – no, five humans, one Andorian cub – crying and screaming as they hurtled around to his piloting. He couldn’t take his eyes away from the space ahead as he called back, “Is there an adult present?”

A female voice responded. “Y-Yes! En-Ensign Shirley Vinh, USS Vancouver!”

He nodded. “Welcome aboard, Ensign Vinh, I’m Ensign Meow Rrori, USS Samaritan. I’ll be taking you and everyone else to safety. There are fold-down seats with safety harnesses on the side wall, secure yourselves! Does anyone need medical assistance?”

“Um- Um, no, no! Nothing like that! We’re just shaken- some of the kids have had accidents-”

Rrori sniffed, confirming the assessment. “That’s understandable, I’m pretty close to joining them. Well, just sit tight, all of you, you’re safe now, strap yourselves in and enjoy the flight.”

“Y-Yes, yes, of course.” There was a pause, and then the woman added, “Thank you, Mr Rrori. God bless you.”

He almost made a facetious remark to her quaint blessing… but instead felt himself blush beneath his fur, and plotted a course back to the Samaritan. “Just sit tight.” He slid the cockpit door shut.

“How sweet.”

Rrori started; the Caitian Agent had appeared in the co-pilot’s seat, smirking at him, and he almost lost control with shock. “Motherf-”

“Watch it, there are cubs present.” She blinked. “Well?”

“Well, what?”

“Well, are you ready?”

“What? Now? You come for me now? I can’t go! I have to get my passengers to safety!”

“Stud, we talked about this. You have to look at the Big Picture. It’s not about being a Hero.”

“I’m not out to be a hero! I’m out to save lives! These lives! Let me get them back to the Samaritan, and then we can go, I promise!”

The Agent shook her head. “It’s too late for that, Meow; we are operating under a very small window of opportunity here. If it’s any consolation, they’ve been living on borrowed time since this battle started.”

“Consolation? What in the Seven Hells kind of consolation is that? They’re alive now! I can save them!”

She shook her head.

“Then stick your offer up your ass! You and the rest of Section 31 can go fuck yourselves!

“You’re serious? With all that’s at stake, you’re willing to stay here, to die, just for a couple of insignificant lives?”

“They’re not insignificant! They matter!”

“You have to see the Bigger Picture.”

He pointed to the rear of the shuttle. “They are the Bigger Picture!”

She stared at him. And then smiled. “Okay, Stud. You win.”

He blinked. “I do?”

“Yeah. I’ll arrange for them to be beamed away as well, but to one of the support ships, and then we’ll plant a fake transporter record. Whatever happens to them after that… well, we’re not Gods.”

He stared back… even as his hands moved over the controls, as surreptitiously as he could manage.

Because as good as she was, he could tell she was lying. She’d tell him they’d be safe, maybe even show him some evidence. But it’d be a lie, to placate him.

This was all his fault. His vanity, his puerile hunger for adventure and acclaim and glory, had doomed the people counting on him. He was an abject disgrace.

But he still had a shot at redemption.

He banked downwards, ignoring the cries from the passengers in the main cabin as he turned and grasped her by the wrists, preventing her from activating whatever controls he knew she had on her forearms- yes, bitch, I saw you working them before, you’re not that good at your job-

“What are you doing, you idiot?” she demanded with unprecedented alarm, struggling with him. “We have to go-“

From the corner of his eye, he saw them approach the Surefoot, ready to pass by them. “We are.”

“You fool! The engines are set to detonate in five seconds! LET ME GO!”

He glanced at his board again, the proximity alarm triggering the automatic controls to beam his passengers over to the nearest safe haven. Under normal circumstances he would have joined them, but there was no time or opportunity to include himself without risking their lives.

And he didn’t deserve to survive anyway.

Good luck, Ensign Vinh, cubs, Captain Hrelle will take care of you…

“I DON’T WANT TO DIE!” the Female screamed at him.

Goodbye, Mama… “You have to see the Bigger Pic-“

*

On the Surefoot Bridge, Neheru responded to an alert. “Captain! One of the Samaritan shuttlecraft just exploded, one kilometre off our starboard side! We lost the pilot, but they sent an Emergency Transporter Beam of their passengers! We have the survivors’ patterns in our computer!”

“Quick, get it forwarded to one of the Shuttlebay pads before it degrades!” He glanced at T’Varik. “Check the shuttle registry, get the pilot’s name so we can inform the Samaritan of their loss-“

Then she looked up, her expression sober. “Captain… the pilot was Ensign Meow Rrori.”

Hrelle started, as did several others on the Bridge who recognised the name. Seven Hells… “Rrori? Our Rrori?”

She nodded, re-examining the data. “His flight path suggests he was initially returning to the Samaritan with the other shuttles, but possibly had some engine difficulties, and diverted to us to get his passengers to safety before they were caught in enemy fire.”

He nodded absently. Meow Rrori, you were vain, licentious, arrogant, privileged, a preening prettytail…

But damn you, Cub, you had a hell of an exit...

*

The invaders had herded the prisoners into the Pit near the Warp Core, just outside of view of the main entrance to Engineering; two Jem’Hadar dragged the body of Chief Grev in and dumped him on the floor near the wall, like a sack of garbage.

Tori looked away in horror and disbelief. It was only – what, ten minutes ago? – that the Chief and she had been happily bantering, despite the crisis. That he had been alive and gruff and he’d been telling her about his past assignments and the potential placements she could earn and- and- this wasn’t happening.

One of the Jem’Hadar stepped forward. “I am First Karys’lidod. Which is you is the next in the command line?”

Tori glanced at the others: Nancy Yeager, Tiddon, Arad Maf, Tommy James, her fellow cadets Yuluron and Emil Tattakovaky. There was tense, fearful expressions, but no answers.

Then one of the Cardassians, who wore an officer’s insignia on his segmented grey armour, pointed at Nancy. “Her. She wears an officer’s rank.”

The Jem’Hadar First stepped up to her. “Release the control systems.”

Nancy fixed a steely gaze back, stuck out her pointed chin and replied, “Yeager, Nancy L; Ensign; Serial Number SJ-163-445.”

The other Jem’Hadar forced Nancy to her knees, head bowed, while Karys’lidod drew out an ugly-looking pistol, pressing the tip against the back of her head. “Release the control systems.”

Tori held her breath. Tell him, tell him, it’s not worth it, it’s not worth it-

Nancy’s voice cracked. Her defiance didn’t. “Yeager, Nancy L; Ensign; Serial Number-”

Her defiance ended as he shot her.

Tori tried not to cry out, failed, and she bit her lip as she looked away. Nancy was dead. Half an hour ago she was grousing about the auxiliary plasma conduits, and talking about going on shore leave with Logan Gentry, and now she was dead. Grev was dead. They were all dead, they just hadn’t reached that point yet. But it would happen. Soon. Very soon.

The First reached for Tattakovaky now, but then the Cardassian officer raised a hand. “Wait, First. Might I make a suggestion at this point?”

The First stopped and turned to him, and for a moment, Tori thought she saw contempt in the invader’s eyes for their ostensible allies. “What is it?”

The Cardassian stepped forward, allowing the Jem’Hadar to drag away Nancy’s body, as he regarded the remaining prisoners. “As natives to this Quadrant and long-standing foes of the Federation and its master races, we are more familiar with their psychological frameworks than you might be. They are all prepared to die as that unfortunate young woman was, to serve as inspiration for the rest; martyrdom is ingrained in their DNA, as much as combat is in yours.

They are less prepared to listen while their colleagues suffer, however.

And while I am sure you are second to none in despatching your opponents quickly and efficiently, Cardassians are most adept at making the enemy suffer. Just ask the Bajorans.”

He was approaching Tori, the girl’s pulse doubling in fear.

Karys’lidod grunted. “I do not perceive any superiority in Cardassians to causing suffering.”

“Forgive me, First, but that’s because you’re all grown in cloning facilities. You are... sexless. You don’t understand the intense intimacy involved in the sexual act for most of our races...” He reached out, taking Tori’s chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Or the intense horror when that act is turned into punishment, intimidation. I am Glinn Drurocc, young woman. Tell us, are you a virgin?”

She felt like she was going to throw up, or cry. Instead she slapped his hand away. “None of your fucking business, you ugly shitstain!”

He offered a slight, mirthless laugh at her defiance, looking back at the Jem’Hadar. “Let my men and I have some fun with her… and let her colleagues listen, and let them know that all they have to do to stop her suffering, is to release the command codes to you.” He signalled to his fellow Cardassians.

They approached Tori, grabbing her, dragging her away from the others.

No. No No NO NO NO NO-

*

C’Rash crawled out of the Jefferies Tube on Deck 3’s Port Corridor, leading to Sickbay 1, the Security Suite… and the Science Lab, her first destination, to ensure Aunt Kami, Spots and the Cubs were okay-

She paused, her hackles rising.

The corridor curved slightly inward, was empty with the lights dimmed. She listened, scented the air, catching her Assistant Security Chief Brian Gorman just ahead. She strode forward, drawing her phaser.

Then she rounded the curve and saw him standing in the alcove near a junction, its force field activated.

She was about to speak to him, to warn him against firing at her, when she realised he was dead: his neck was broken, his head resting backward, his body propped up.

Bait.

Figures emerged around her, no longer blending into the surroundings.

Firing at her.

*

Further down, Jhess knelt beside the Science Lab’s own Jefferies Tube hatch. “Pamela, help me with this, would you please?”

Travers approached, as did Kami, cradling Sreen while trying to look casual for the benefit of the adults and children also sheltered here. She watched the hatch slide aside, before Jhess stuck his head inside… but only for a second, his tail twitching.

“Problem?” Travers asked, her hand moving to her phaser.

But he shook his head. “Only if you have claustrophobia. Now, according to the schematics I studied, this leads to a vertical access up to the Life Support Bay on Deck 2, and from there the escape pods beside the Officers’ and Guest Quarters.”

“Yes, and?”

“And, should the situation here… escalate… you’ll need to lead these people up there. The Counselor and the Cubs go up first, they’re most familiar with the layout, and the Counselor’s authorisation will give her access to communications, increased security and the like.”

“And where will you be?” Kami asked him.

From behind them, Misha, who had been playing with the other children, now appeared on top of one of the crates. “Where you going, Jhessie?”

Jhess looked up at Kami meaningfully, before glancing at the cub, smiling. “Just making plans, Warrior Prince. Just making plans.”

Suddenly Sreen turned her head in the direction of the open doorway to the rest of the ship and hissed.

A memory of an identical reaction years ago from Misha at that age during the Vlathi Invasion raised Kami’s hackles; Caitian infants were hyper sensitive to potential threats.

Misha sniffed the air. “What’s that?” He leapt off the crate and headed to the doorway–

Until Jhess rose, scooped him up and turned him around. “I think not, Cub. Get back with your mother behind the crate.”

“I wanna see-”

“NO!” the nanny snapped with unaccustomed, tense anger, shooing Misha away with a gentle slap on the rear. He looked to Travers again. “Get the others informed, don’t panic them, but have them ready to line up and enter the Tube.” He stopped at the doorway, listened and sniffed the air, before looking at Kami with a sober expression.

Then he moved to the crate sent down here by C’Rash and Esek, opening it and lifting out a combat vest, quickly slipping into it, the helmet and other pieces of body armour and equipment. “Get behind the crate with the others, Counselor.”

“Jhess…”

“I’ll be fine,” he assured her, offering a smile that never went anywhere near his eyes or scent. He lifted up the black plasma rifle from the bottom of the crate, checked the power magazine and settings.

Sreen hissed again, tiny teeth bared in challenge at whatever she was detecting.

In the distance, the sounds of weapons fire carried.

And then Kami saw it, scented it: the change in Jhess’ demeanour, the shift from Nanny to Soldier. He looked back at Travers. “Lock this door behind me! NOW!”

And then he charged out into the side corridor.

“JHESS!” Kami called after him, even as Travers quickly complied with his orders.

*

On the Triton, Tattok stared hard at the display. This was a catastrophe: a third of their vessels lost, another third damaged, thousands of lives lost. Now, the only thing he could do was cut their losses, before the entire Fleet was wiped out. “Attention all ships: Retreat. Leave the Khavak system, regroup at Point Alpha-Nine.”

*

On the Ajax, Weynik was reassessing their weapons status: photon and quantum torpedoes down to 10%, phaser pulse cannons still functioning but not for long, if they didn’t get time to run recycling on the capacitors, but they still had regular phasers-

“Orders from the Triton,” Kohanim reported. “We’re retreating to Point Alpha-Nine.”

Weynik steeled himself, imagining how his father must have been feeling to have been forced to give that order. “Contact the Surefoot, make sure they’ve collected Sasha and the others in that shuttle-”

“Captain, look!”

He glanced up at the screen, seeing the Scarab attack ship headed on a suicide run towards the Surefoot. Sweet Bloody Hemra… “ALL WEAPONS, FIRE!”

*

A volley of phaser bolts struck the Scarab, ripping into its underside and shredding it into flaming pieces.

With one piece still hurtling towards the Surefoot’s Shuttlebay doors, striking it, overloading the deflectors and shields.

*

Within the Shuttlebay, the scores of survivors screamed and ducked as debris struck, ripping a three-metre-wide hole into the metal, and opening the interior to space…

TO BE CONCLUDED IN...  ...This Means War - Part 3