This Means War - Part 3

Shuttlecraft Telamon:

Sasha changed course once more, avoiding getting caught in the crossfire. She could have put it in the proverbial hands of the autopilot, but the battle around them kept shifting, far more quickly than even a computer can handle.

Oh, and now you’re superior to a computer, Bubulah? She told herself. You couldn’t even tell that your boyfriend wasn’t a Section 31 spy.

In the back of the shuttle, Chief Maryk was finishing strapping an injured Jim Madison down, while trying not to bounce around the interior. “Do you want me to vomit, Lieutenant? Because this is how you get me to vomit.”

“Shut up, Chief,” Madison groused, face pinched in pain despite the sedative Maryk had given him from the shuttle’s medikit. “Sasha’s busy. She knows what she’s doing.”

Sasha grunted, happy that one of them at least had confidence in her abilities. She had hoped that they would have managed to get close enough to the Surefoot to beam over by now, but despite the orders from Tattok for the Fleet to retreat, the Surefoot had lingered to collect the last of the survivors from the wrecked and destroyed starships around them, despite the efforts of the enemy to drive them off, or destroy them. At least the Ajax was still around, keeping off the majority of the enemy, though they couldn’t do this forever-

Seven Hells… she watched one Scarab vessel make an obvious suicide run towards her Dad’s ship. The Ajax was firing on it, and even she was arming the Telamon’s weapons; the Chaffee-type shuttle was only equipped with low-level phasers and microtorpedoes, but-

The Scarab erupted under the Ajax’s pulse phasers.

But a piece of it continued regardless, striking the Surefoot’s Shuttlebay doors…

Mother’s Cubs!

*

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.

The results were both inevitable and instantaneous.

With the roar of a hundred hurricanes, the pressure within sought to equilibriate with the vacuum outside by blowing the air out of the Shuttlebay.

People screamed and cried out, grabbing at each other and at whatever was bolted down, or not, as blankets, equipment, possessions of all kinds were picked up by the air and carried out into the hole in the Shuttlebay door.

People with nothing to hold onto, or insufficient strength, followed out into the void.

*

“Collision!” Neheru shouted. “Shuttlebay Door 2! Breach into space!”

Hrelle felt his heart stop as the viewscreen image changed to the location of the impact… with bodies flying out along with inanimate objects and debris. “Where’s the damn force fields?”

The Kelpien’s long, slender fingers raced over his station controls, eyes wide with alarm. “Systems Failure! We can’t raise a field over the breach!”

“Keep at it!” Over his shoulder towards the Engineering Station, he roared, “Pump oxygen into the Shuttlebay and raise the temperature to maximum to compensate!” To T’Varik he added, “See if we can lock onto anyone blown out and beam them back in!”

The Vulcan had already moved onto an auxiliary station before he had finished his orders.

Hrelle could only stand there helplessly; the blast doors into the Shuttlebay from Deck 4 would have automatically closed and locked on detection of the breach, so those inside couldn’t even get out. He was supposed to have protected those people…

*

Eydiir had been about to administer a stimulant to Giles when the hole appeared, and now she struggled to bend over and protect him, though she had nothing to hold onto for an anchor. The roar of the air filled her ears, and she could feel the pull towards the breach, dragging her and Giles to death-

Until something landed on her, pinning her down, one hand wrapped around her. She looked over her shoulder to see it was Kit… and behind, holding onto him, Jonas, with Neraxis holding onto her husband, and others behind her: a living chain of people she knew and didn’t know… even the execrable Captain Sakuth.

Others weren’t so lucky. And she wasn’t certain how long they could all hold on.

*

“Bozhe moi,” Meryk was whispering, staring over Sasha’s shoulder at the horror.

Sasha was biting her lip until it bled. Come on, come on, where’s the damn safety fields already…

Unable to wait any longer, she sent the Telamon down, hurtling towards the breach, as if in echo of the debris which had created it.

“Lieutenant...” Maryk muttered.

“Hold on,” was all Sasha advised.

*

The temperature was racing with the atmosphere to see which could deplete quicker, and Eydiir’s mind went through the expected symptoms: ebullism, the formation of bubbles in body fluids due to reduced ambient pressure; hypoxia, the rapid deprivation of adequate oxygen supply at the tissue level causing flaccid paralysis; hypocapnia, the state of reduced, uh… carbon dioxide in the blood; decompression sickness; hypotherm- thermia, and, oh yeah, something about disorientation, and you really shouldn’t have had that Betazoid sundae for gondolas, you couldn’t ferment how oblong the granite epididymis was-

A roar, and a shudder like the ship had been attacked again, made her sick to her stomach, but she quickly regained her cognisance. She was still lying over GIles, and Kit was sprawled over her, one arm wrapped around her, cupping one of her breasts. She gasped as she forced the thin air into her lungs. “You… You may cease your groping, Kit.”

The reptoid gasped, releasing his hold on her and rising. “Forgive me, Best friend Eydiir! No intimacy was intended!”

“No doubt.” She rose, checking on Giles again – the boy could probably sleep through a supernova – as she rose weakly to her feet, her legs shaking; the air remained thin and cold, though the ambient environmental systems were noisy with their attempts to restore acceptable levels. “You are unaffected by the air?”

His breath ghosted in the air from his nostrils. “Not as much as many, Best Friend; my people require less oxygen.”

“Then begin checking everyone you can.” She looked towards the Shuttlebay doors, fully expecting to see a force field finally erected over the breach.

She did not expect to see most of a Starfleet shuttlecraft wedged into the breach at an angle, with only the tail section and its external engine pods on the outside of the Surefoot. The gull-wing door on its portside was rising, and Sasha and Maryk emerged from within, supporting Madison as Sasha called out, “We could use a hand over here!”

*

Neheru recovered quickly with everyone else from the second impact, and was the first to report, “Captain! Lt Hrelle’s shuttle struck us-”

“Sasha?” His heart sank. No, no, no not his little girl too-

The Chief Ops Officer’s expression was one of naked astonishment. “She crashed her shuttle into the breach! She’s sealed it, and is using her shuttle’s shields to reinforce the local structural integrity!”

Hrelle stared back, not sure he heard correctly.

Then he punched the air, roaring, “THAT’S MY DAUGHTER! BALLS OF PURE TRITANIUM!”

*

Sasha helped lay Madison down, before retrieving her weapons bag, strapping her Kaetini sword to her back and her firearms to her sides. “They’ll take care of you, Jim. I have to go.”

He looked up, nodding. “Thanks, Sash. For everything.”

She nodded back and joined the others, brightening as she saw Jonas, Neraxis, Kit, Eydiir - and even GIles, looking disoriented but otherwise alive. All they needed now was Rrori leering at some of the nurses, and Alpha Squad would be reunited! “I can’t seem to get away from you guys.”

Then she was quickly joining them in examining those injured following the breach, as Sasha’s combadge chirped, and Neheru’s voice cut in, albeit punctuated with static, “Lieutenant- attuned- Captain- you- in charge down there- you need?”

“The ship’s taken damage,” Jonas informed her. “And there might be further interference from the Jem’Hadar.”

“Where are the medical teams?”

“We’re on Level 3 Lockdown,” Neraxis told her. “They haven’t secured the corridors between here and the Sickbays!”

“They’d better, and soon,” Eydiir warned them. “We have too many people in critical condition here to manage without help!”

Sasha nodded at that and tapped her combadge. ”Bridge! Bridge, are you there?”

*

USS Ajax:

“Captain,” Kohanim reported. “The Jem’Hadar and Cardassians are regrouping, and we’re detecting no more viable escape pods in the area!”

Weynik nodded. “Hail the Surefoot.” When the viewscreen image changed to something less vast, he announced, “Did Sasha and the others make it safely, Wide Load?”

The Caitian turned to him and nodded, grinning, “Oh yeah, and saved lives in the process.”

“Then it’s time to go. You ready?”

“We’re having systems failures, and potential Jem’Hadar still onboard, but neither will stop us from getting the Seven Hells out of here.”

“Then follow our course, Warp 8. Ajax out.”

*

“We’ve lost all internal communications and transporters now!” Neheru reported anxiously.

Hrelle and T’Varik joined him, staring helplessly at the board. Communications, internal sensors, transporters, the repair drones, the list goes on and on, his Chief of Security hadn’t returned, he didn’t know if his family was still alive... Hrelle looked to young Logan Gentry at the Engineering station, trying to remember his youth and relative inexperience, but aware of the urgency of the situation. “Mr Gentry! What’s happening to us?”

He turned, looking almost panicky. “I can’t tell from here, Sir! Not without support from Chief Grev!”

Hrelle growled, acknowledging the limitations anyone would have from up here, taking out his phaser and checking the setting, before moving to the Jefferies Tube. “I’m going to Engineering. Lock the hatch after me.”

T’Varik followed. “Sir, if you run into Jem’Hadar-”

“Then they’ll regret it. And if you re-establish contact with my daughter, tell her to clear a path from the Shuttlebay to the Sickbays.” He slipped into the vertical hatch, glad that he hadn’t put on enough weight to end up in a Winnie the Pooh situation. That would hardly make for a dignified exit.

*

Deck Three Corridor:

The Jem’Hadar emerged from the shadows around her, dropping their camouflage, raising their weapons and firing. They were quick.

Lieutenant C’Rash Shall, Chief of Security, was quicker, dodging plasma bolts to let them strike the nearest walls in showers of sparks that blinded her opponents, but allowing her to twist in place, delivering a high, vicious kick into the throat of one of the invaders, sending him sprawling backwards and she reached out and grasped the weapons arm of another opponent, twisting and making him fire at his fellows. She felt their strength – stronger than most humans, definitely, maybe on a level with Klingons – but she was certainly faster, more flexible.

The Jem’Hadar she was wrestling with stopped firing and reached up for her neck, but she twisted once more, baring her claws and grasping at his throat, tearing open the flesh and making ugly black blood spurt out. She ducked behind his dying body as his friends fired at her, succeeding only in finishing him off more quickly. Then she held onto him as a shield as she drew her own phaser and fired short, lethal bursts, until the invaaders swarmed around either side of her.

They had stopped using their weapons, and now relied on unarmed combat. You should have stuck with your ugly guns, boys. Her claws fully bared, she struck out at them, attacking their eyes and throat; the rest of them appeared as thick-skinned as Gorn, and not worth the effort.

Her blood rose, her reason sank, as rage and desperation to survive overtook her…

*

On the Bridge, T’Varik sat frozen in the Captain’s chair, feeling her heart race, her blood boil, her tail twitch- no. No, that’s not right.

She looked down absently at her slim, pale fingers, seeing nothing amiss with them, but feeling their tips split open and claws emerging, encountering thick, cold, leathery skin, smelling blood in her nostrils.

She glanced around. Everyone was working at a heightened pace, of course, but no one else was behaving in such a fashion.

C’Rash… Beloved… stay safe…

*

The black-furred Caitian moved as swiftly as possible, no longer to fight, but to flee. But neither option was much open to her now. They were grasping her by the arms, the legs, her tail even, as she struggled to break loose, to claw and bite at them, I’ll kill you I’LL KILL YOU ALL-

The sharp sound of a blue plasma bolt cut through the air, taking the top of the head of a Jem’Hadar holding her left leg. As he fell and she was free, she drove a kick up into the throat of the invader holding her other leg, making him release her, before a second plasma bolt penetrated one side of his head, erupting out through the other side.

Those Jem’Hadar not desperately trying to hold onto her arms now reached for their weapons, fast – but not as fast as the Caitian who literally leapt over C’Rash to barrel into them with a snarl, swiping at them with clawed hands.

C’Rash recognised Jhess, and recognised the opportunity he had given her, as she wriggled her way out of the grip of her attackers and leapt onto one of them, digging her claws into his throat and ripping away, feeling hot, foul-smelling blood spurt onto her. She was fully aware of the nanny performing identical work – Mother’s Cubs, Uncle Esek was right, he moved at warp speed! - his Sabrecat experience clearly unforgotten, and his fitness not diluted by years of changing cubs’ nappies and singing dreadful songs.

But it wouldn’t be enough, there were too many on this deck… and too many innocents just behind so many of these doors that would be killed, if the Jem’Hadar chose to target them instead. She glanced down either direction of the corridor, trying to find a way out for them both, choosing- “JHESS! RETREAT!”

Without waiting for him, she leapt out, rolled over and back to her feet, using her Security authorisation to override a lock, glancing behind her to see Jhess following, hotly pursued by the other Jem’Hadar. They were now in an outer corridor, a narrow maintenance access running along the outer edge of the starboard forward section of Deck 3. She paused at one juncture to close an emergency hatch behind them, hoping it would buy them time. “What- What in the Seven Hells are you doing here, Spots?” she asked breathlessly. “You- You should be back with Kami and the cubs!”

Jhess was catching his breath now as well, clutching his rifle, looking both natural and alien in his combat armour and helmet. “Heard you fighting- couldn’t- couldn’t let you die- my darling T’Varik would never let me hear the end of it-”

They started as they heard pounding on the door behind them.

“You’re an idiot,” she declared, her mind thinking ahead. They were in a dead end here, no access back into the ship, just an airlock to the outside for maintenance on the hull’s fore section. “But thanks. Hope I survive to make it up to you.”

*

Shuttlebay:

Sasha fitted a combat vest on and glanced around, making plans, but not waiting too long to make them known to those around her. “Weapons check?”

Neraxis nodded to various individuals around her. “Phasers, phaser rifles, some confiscated Jem’Hadar pistols, and those crazy Capellan croquettes of Eydiir’s-”

Eydiir raised an indignant chin as she touched the throwing blades in a row on her bandoleer. “They are called kleegats, you brusque Infidel.”

Sasha waved off her friend’s indignation. “Whatever they’re called, I know they can be as lethal as a phaser. Now-”

“Excuse me, Lieutenant?”

Sasha turned to see a group of senior officers, survivors from the other ships, approach. Sasha noted the Captain’s pips on the collar of the one in front, an older, pale-skinned human male with a broad nose, a hangdog expression and receding grey hairline. “How can I help you, Captain…?”

“Price, Nathan Price, USS Lynx. And you?”

“Lt Sasha Hrelle, formerly Second Officer, USS Ajax, now on temporary reassignment here. My condolences for the loss of your ship, Sir; the Lynx was a fine vessel-”

“Who put you in charge here?”

“Captain Hrelle.” At his expression she confirmed, “My father, Sir.”

Price stuck out his broad chin. “Yes, well, Missy, this isn’t Take Your Daughter to Work Day! There are seriously-injured people here! Why aren’t they being seen to?”

“We lost the original medical team here in a Jem’Hadar firefight, and most of the rest when we had the breach. Communications are down, and the corridors from here to the Sickbays have yet to be re-secured-”

“Then why hasn’t it been done, Missy?”

Sasha swallowed, mentally counting to ten even as she responded patiently, “We’re about to, Sir, if you’ll allow us to continue-”

But he shook his head. “I’m taking over from here, Lieutenant. Relinquish your weapons.”

She tensed. “Excuse me, Sir?”

He straightened himself up further. “I said I’m taking over here. You’ve done well so far, your Daddy will be proud of you, I’m sure.” He held out his hand. “Now, relinquish your weapons.”

“No, Sir.”

Price blinked. “Excuse me, Missy?”

Sasha faced him fully. “It’s Lieutenant Sasha Hrelle, Sir, not Missy; you must have misheard me earlier when I introduced myself. And with respect, I’m in charge here. I need you to stay and assist the other survivors while we manage this. You’re my responsibility now, and you currently possess no authority.”

He stepped closer to her, outrage clear on his face. “I shouldn’t have to remind you of my superior rank, Lieutenant. Who the hell do you think you are?”

“Lieutenant Hrelle is the duly-appointed senior officer for this situation,” Captain Sakuth interjected, stepping into the argument. “As per the Commanding Officer of this vessel. That is who the hell she thinks she is.”

Price faced her. “And you are?”

“Sakuth, former Commanding Officer of the James Fenimore Cooper. Though of course at this time, your rank and former command status is as meaningless as mine.”

“Excuse me?”

“Starfleet Order 101, Section A, Paragraph 1A: ‘In the event of a situation requiring a Commanding Officer to abandon their ship, they are automatically relieved of both command and duty pending a psychiatric evaluation and clearance from a qualified specialist of either Chief Medical Officer or Chief Counselor rank.’ As such, you have no authority to relieve Lt Hrelle.”

He sneered at the Vulcan. “Yeah, I know you, the whole Fleet does, and I don’t need lectures from Captain Cloak and Dagger.”

“And this young officer doesn’t need your Alpha Male posturing.” Sakuth turned to Sasha. “Lieutenant, we are prepared to offer our services in any capacity, should you need us, or not.”

Sasha blinked, not expecting support from Sakuth, given her past misdeeds onboard… and her obvious connection with Section 31. But there was no time to explore further. “Thank you, Ma’am. Captain Hrelle will need the names of the most-senior representatives from every vessel whose crew the Surefoot has rescued. You and Captain Price obviously represent the Cooper and the Lynx, respectively, but could you please expedite identifying appropriate reps from the other vessels?”

Sakuth nodded. “A logical and laudable suggestion, Lieutenant.” She departed.

Price and his cronies remained, the man refusing to give in so easily. “Young lady, I must urge you to reconsider. There could be Jem’Hadar waiting for you out there. This isn’t a game- wait, that’s not Starfleet issue! And what are you doing with a sword, of all things?”

She checked the magazine of the .666 Magnum pistol from the Ajax’s Armoury, a wicked black ballistic killer she had used previously, and holstered it. “They’re both long stories, Sir, and I’m too busy to tell them now. If you excuse me?” She turned to face her friends, the only ones she knew and trusted here to be able to fight effectively. “Thykrill, Eydiir, you’re with me… Neraxis, Kit, technically you’re survivors, you don’t have to participate, you can sit this out if you’re not up to it-”

The Bolian offered Sasha her middle finger.

Beside her, Kit adjusted the phaser strapped to his hip. “I will not offer such anally-directed gestures in public, Respected Lieutenant… but I mirror the overall sentiment.”

Sasha smirked. “Thanks. Jonas, you’re in charge again until we return, see what you can do about reinforcing the shields on my shuttle, I don’t want it flying out again if Dad has to pull some tricky manoeuvrers getting us out of here...”

*

Bridge:

T’Varik had been focused on mentally assessing the probable cause of the growing number of malfunctions, her progress impeded by her general lack of Engineering expertise, when she felt the ship decrease speed, and alerts rise. “Helm?”

Velkovsky’s hands moved rapidly over her board. “It’s not me, Commander! The ship’s dropping itself out of high warp to keep from ripping apart! We have failures in Structural Integrity and Inertial Dampening!”

The Vulcan rose to her feet, seeing the Ajax jump ahead on the viewscreen. “What is our current maximum speed?”

“Warp Three, Ma’am!”

As calmly as even she could manage under the circumstances, she responded with, “Attempt to identify and correct the problem; Ms Michel, join Mr Gentry on the Auxiliary Engineering Station to assist in the task. Mr Neheru, raise the Ajax.”

*

USS Ajax:

“Captain!” Kohanim almost shouted. “The Surefoot is decreasing speed to Warp 3!”

Weynik had been reviewing an inventory of their remaining weapons: 12 quantum torpedoes, 10 photon torpedoes, the main phaser banks charged but the pulse cannons down for capacitor replacement. “What? Raise them!”

“They’re contacting us, Sir!”

The starfield shifted on the viewscreen to that of another Bridge, centred around a familiar Vulcan female. “Commander T’Varik? Where’s your Captain? Injured?”

“No, Sir. We have Jem’Hadar onboard, but we’re unable to detect or contain them. The Captain is on the Hunt.”

Weynik grunted. “Well, the Dominion forces are regrouping, and heading back towards us to pick off any stragglers! Why are you slowing down?”

“We have been experiencing a growing number of malfunctions, possibly damage-related, possibly the result of sabotage. We are attempting to identify the cause, and correct.”

Behind Weynik, Kohanim butted in to report, “Captain, another wave of Scarabs are on their way back, in our direction! Possibly running our subspace shifts!”

He looked back at T’Varik. “Any chance of a last-minute restoration of high warp?”

“That cannot be promised. Sir, in the absence of our own Captain, I will accede to your greater tactical experience.”

The Roylan nodded and glanced over his shoulder, already planning on it. “Are we within their full sensor range yet, Mr Kohanim?”

“No, but we will be, in approximately two minutes.”

“Then ready one of the high-warp target probes we used last month to help the Squabs on the Surefoot track enemy ships, rig it to emit the Surefoot’s sensor signature, and prepare to launch it on a parallel course with us. Then send a general signal on all frequencies, that we’re still alive and escorting our sister ship out of the Khavak system.”

“A general signal guaranteed to be picked up by the Dominion, Sir?”

“Exactly.” He looked back at T’Varik on the viewscreen. “Drop out of warp completely, Full Stop, and go on Silent Running. Their subspace sensors will fix on our high warp signature, but not to the point where they’ll be able to tell they’re only chasing one ship. Once we’re gone, get back on your way and get to the rendezvous point by a different route. It’ll take longer for you at Warp 3 if you don’t get the problem fixed, but you’re less likely to be detected.”

The Vulcan nodded. “Acknowledged. Good luck, Sir. Surefoot out.”

As the viewscreen returned to the starfield view, Kohanim updated him with, “Target probe ready, Sir.”

“Launch. Helm, set a course for the Fleet, Warp Eight, engage now!”

As their ship jumped up to high warp, Weynik stared ahead, his hands gripping the arms of his chair tightly. It galled him to leave his best friend and his ship behind, but he knew that if they had stayed, the Dominion would have caught up with them both, and the resulting fight would have been both brief and inevitable.

Good luck, Brother. You and your family had damn well better survive.

*

USS Surefoot, Deck 3 Mid – Science Lab:

Sreen lay swaddled and bundled up in Kami’s arms, mewling despite her mother’s efforts to comfort her. I could do with some comfort myself.

The lab was packed, with over thirty people, many youngsters around Misha’s age, their anxiety fed by the occasional rocking that Kami’s experience taught her came from collisions or impacts, and by the lack of communication from the Bridge and by Jhess’ recent departure. Crewman Travers did her best to keep things under control, but her youth and lack of experience could only allow her to do so much.

Misha stood near the door, staring as if he could peer through the reinforced plating and multiple forcefields in place. “Is Jhess coming back?”

“I don’t know, Sweetheart,” she replied honestly. “He heard someone was in trouble, and went to help.”

“I wanna help too!”

“You are. You’re protecting your little sister and me, and everyone else in here.” As she rocked an anxious Sreen in her grasp, feeling the growing tension in the confined space, she breathed out, calming herself, and began to sing an old Caitian lullaby:

“Cub of Mine, full of light

Rest your head on me tonight

Dark and stormy skies awoke you

Sleep, my cub, and peace becloak you.”

The others in the room began to respond to her song, looking at her, listening, their arguments simmering, with children drawing closer to adults. Even Misha clung to his mother’s leg now, as she wrapped her tail around him.

“Cub of Mine, full of love

Sleep beneath the stars above

I’ll be with you ’til you slumber

Let your frets and woes discumber.”

It was a placebo, she knew that, but as an old mentor once told her: Sometimes, placebos work.

“Cub of Mine, full of life

Free your brow from fear and strife

And as you go throughout your day

Know my heart will guide your way...”

*

Deck 4 Aft – Main Engineering:

Zir ducked once more behind her wall as another bolt flew past her, spattering on the corridor wall behind her, joining the growing number of scorch marks and smoking craters there already.

On the other side of the doorway, Urad and Ree-Taan fired back, holding their own, but only just, the Miradorn male declaring, “This is intolerable! We can’t stay here indefinitely!”

For once, Zir was in total agreement with him, though she suspected his sentiment was due to the Miradorn’s lust for battle rather than an appreciation of the overall tactical situation… which seemed poor. There was no contact or communication with the rest of the ship, stirring terrible thoughts within her about what was going on, and the longer the Jem’Hadar and Cardassians held Engineering, the greater the chances of something terrible happening with the hostages, to them all.

She had to do something. But what if her actions ended up making things worse, infinitely worse? A stray shot could blow up the warp core or something! How could she live with that… assuming she lived? Assuming any of them lived?

There was a noise, and a familiar voice cursing, catching her attention from deep within Engineering.

Cautiously she peered around the corner again, looking past the support columns and conduits to the far end, where she saw half a dozen Cardassian soldiers dragging a fighting Tori into the Chief Engineer’s office.

Urad saw her too. “TORI!”

Ree-Taan crouched as well to look. “What are they doing to her?”

Zir didn’t answer. But she was a woman, and she saw the leers on the Cardassian males’ faces.

She knew.

And she knew she had to take action. Now.

She turned her phaser to adjust the settings. “We’re going in. Set your weapons to Kill… but be careful. I’m taking full responsibility. I’m setting the Proximity Alarm on this and throwing it. When they scatter, Urad, you lead the way; Ree-Taan, mindlink with your sister and tell her to follow us inside from the Auxiliary entrance at the same time.” She looked up at them. “Ready?”

She turned on the phaser’s alarm, its high-pitched screech cutting into her head as she swung back and lobbed it as far inside Engineering as she could, shouting, “GRENADE!”

As she had hoped, Jem’Hadar had emerged from behind their secure places to reassemble elsewhere.

“URAD… CHARGE!”

*

Tori fought still as she watched the Cardassians enter Chief Grev’s office, several of them knocking over chairs and sweeping the contents of his desk away, while the ones holding her lifted her up bodily to set her down on her back on top of the smooth, cold surface, as she kicked out at them, struggling with the hot, leathery hands holding her wrists and ankles. “Get your fucking hands off me! Fucking let go of me, you limp-dicked little shitstains!”

Close at hand, Glinn Drurocc leaned in and laughed. “Now, is that any way to talk to your first lovers, child?”

She turned her head to him, working up enough saliva to spit into his face. “Fuck you! Fuck all of you to Hell! I’ll fucking kill all of you! You, your fucking families, I’ll burn your fucking planet to ashes-”

Drurocc drew back and slapped her across the face, shocking her into silence. Then he wiped the spittle from his face, turning to his comrades. “Just like the old days on Bajor, huh, boys?” As they made sounds of amused agreement, he continued, “Frankly, I don’t care if her colleagues give up the command codes or not… time we enjoyed the Spoils of War.”

Soldiers cheered and began working at the waistband to her trousers, trying to tug them down, as Drurocc drew down between her legs, obviously hoping to be first.

Tori lifted up her head, rage and terror driving her to curse them once more-

-Until she looked past them, through the tinted transparent aluminium walls of the Chief’s office, to see a massive silhouette racing up, thunder filling the air with the pounding of giant boots on the bulkhead, as five hundred kilos of fury stampeded in their direction.

Cardassians at Tori’s feet turned as well, in time to cry out as huge hands reached into the open doorway… and tore apart the wall entirely like it was Altairian featherwood, flinging the pieces behind him.

Urad Kaldron bellowed as he reached in, hands grabbing Cardassians and tossing them behind him as easily as he did the office walls, before finally grasping two of them nearest Tori’s legs and slamming their heads together like eggs, sending the contents spraying outwards before tossing the bodies aside.

The Cardassians still holding onto Tori’s wrists let her go to reach for their pistols… but allowing Tori to roll off the desk and tackle one of them, struggling with him. He was strong, snarling up at her with fury-

Until she saw the award flying on the floor near her: a dynospanner-shaped award the Chief said he had won years ago in a Starfleet competition. It was a source of considerable pride for the older Tellarite… and it was made of a heavy black marble.

She reached for it, swinging it down onto the Cardassian’s head, again and again, seeing the dark red mix with the black marble-

A disruptor bolt almost singed her temple, and she drew back to see the other Cardassian aim again at her-

Until Urad’s hand clamped around the Cardassian’s and his pistol, crushing both and making him scream, before being flung out of what was left of the Chief’s office,

“Tori?”

She looked up, seeing Urad leaning in, his thick skin covered in disruptor burns, his face no longer driven by rage, his other hand held out to her. “It’s over, Comrade Little Sister. You’re safe now.”

Unable to take her eyes off him, she let the award drop from her grip as she rushed into her friend’s protective arms, holding onto him for dear life.

*

Moments before, Zir and the Miradorn twins had followed Urad inside, letting him draw the attention of the Jem’Hadar and buying the other cadets time and opportunity. She slipped the other phaser she had concealed under her armoured vest as she assessed the situation instantly, spotted the hostages in the far corner of the Main Display Panel, huddled together on their knees, and she shouted to the hostages, “ON THE GROUND! NOW!” even as she continued firing, bringing down one Jem’Hadar, and then another, while the Twins worked with an uncanny unspoken precision, their telepathy making them move and operate almost as one unit, instinctively watching each other’s backs and not wasting time firing on the same target.

Zir dodged one disruptor bolt, turning a corner in time to see Urad literally rip open the front of the Chief’s office, sending pieces flying… quickly followed by Cardassians, tumbling almost comically. She glanced in, saw Tori, alive, apparently unharmed, but her face pale with terror.

If Zir had left it a few minutes more…

Rage, at the enemy, at what they had wanted to do to her friend and crewmate, and rage at her own mistakes while in command, made her bare her teeth as the four Cardassians Urad tossed aside began recovering quickly, raising their weapons – towards Urad’s back. They hadn’t even acknowledged her presence.

Idiots.

She fired, striking one Cardassian in the back of the head and sending him down. The others immediately turned and fired at her torso, striking her armour. The ablative material absorbed the disruptor bolts to a limited degree, but residual numbing energy travelled through her, making her drop her phaser.

One of them stopped, tried to tackle her, his hot breath on her face as he pinned her down, hands around her throat, as he snarled, “D-Dirty- Orion cu-”

The rest of his proclamation was lost, as if bled from him by the combat knife Zir had drawn and stabbed into his abdomen.

He let go instinctively, allowing Zir to shove him to one side, draw her blade out and reposition it in her grip as she rose. The other three Cardassians somehow forgot the advantage they had in numbers and arms, and charged her at once. Zir ducked the first one, slicing deep across his femoral artery and shoving him aside, before driving her boot into the groin of the second one. She twisted her knife to bring the tritanium hilt up into his nose, smashing it completely in a flower of blood and making him stagger back.

The third was ready for her, grabbing her arm and kicking the back of her right knee, sending her down as he raised his pistol to fire point blank at her head.

Until something – someone – pulled him off of her. Zir looked up to see Urad slam the last Cardassian down to the bulkhead… and drive his boot down with all of his weight onto the invader’s torso, crushing the sternum utterly. Then he moved to the wounded Cardassians remaining.

“Enough, Cadet!” Zir found herself ordering, rising to her feet, hoping her friend would listen to her.

Fortunately, he did, though he looked reluctant… as did Tori, clinging onto his left arm like a child at her first day at school.

Zir grabbed her fallen phaser and rose to unsteady feet, looking to the surviving Cardassians but calling out, “Report!”

From around the corner, Ree-Taan responded, “Jem’Hadar dead, prisoners freed… two casualties, Ma’am: Chief Grev and Ensign Yeager.”

Zir felt stunned… she had left it too late to help them. “Rei-Taan, stand guard at the door. Ree-Taan, see about moving those Jem’Hadar bodies out into the corridor.” Then she focused on one of the surviving Cardassians, one with officer’s insignia. “You: surrender and cooperate.”

He looked up at her with pain-laced contempt. “Under the Galactic Rules of Engagement, as Prisoners of War we have a right to proper medical treatment to deal with the barbaric treatment we have received by you and the other members of Starfleet-”

His further protest was cut off by Tori, who started towards him with a murderous look in her eyes. “Shut your fucking mouth! What do you call what you wanted to do to me, you bastard?”

He sneered up at her. “Shore Leave.”

Now Urad stepped forward… and the Cardassian crawled backwards like a frightened, wounded animal, looking to Zir again pleadingly now. “Keep that monster back! It has no right-”

Zir raised her phaser at his head, silencing him. “Shut up. Shut up, or I’ll walk away for thirty seconds, and believe whatever my friends tell me about what happened to you.”

*

Hrelle raced down the corridor once he heard the last of the firefight and smelled the blood in the air, even as he sensed that he had missed most of it. He slowed down as he saw one of the Miradorn cadets emerge, raising a phaser. “HOLD YOUR FIRE!” He nodded to the cadet as he approached and passed him.

And entered a charnel house; the bodies of half a dozen Jem’Hadar lay sprawled around Engineering, the Chief’s office looked like a bomb had detonated within, and there were six or more Cardassians… though the exact number was uncertain, given the state of some of them, obviously the work of Urad Kaldron. Mother’s Cubs, he literally pulverised some of them...

Zir Dassene and the rest of her Security team were covered in the blood of others, they had taken disruptor bolts to their armour and themselves, and their expressions were haggard and stunned and exhausted to varying degrees. Zir approached him, her phaser still in hand but hanging at her side, her voice cracking slightly as she straightened up and announced, “Sir, Cadet Zir Dassene reporting as ordered: a group of enemy soldiers... beamed into Engineering and took hostages. We held off as long as we could, expecting reinforcements or communication, before I- I-

On my authority, I ordered my team to attempt to free the hostages. We have Cardassian POWs, all requiring medical treatment before incarceration. Unfortunately, there are two casualties among our side: Chief Grev and Ensign Yeager.”

Hrelle started, following the eyes of the Orion girl as they fixed on two bodies lying together near one of the Auxiliary stations, their chests and heads covered with Starfleet jackets.

Mother’s Cubs… he had known Grev for years, had been one of the first crew he had met and recruited to join the old Surefoot. And Nancy… she had grown so much from that angry little thing he remembered giving Jonas such a hard time after the Rising Star incident. She’d had so much potential… so much more life ahead of her…

“Sir,” Zir cut into his thoughts. “I must accept full responsibility for their deaths. I didn’t act in time-”

“That’s not true!” Arad Maf stepped forward from the others, the Bajoran male looking shaken, but determined to speak. “Sir, Chief Grev was killed almost immediately from the moment those animals beamed in, when he locked out the command systems! And Nancy chose to die rather than reveal the codes! Cadet Dassene couldn’t have saved either of them! And if she hadn’t acted when she did, when those bastard Cardassians took Tori into the Chief’s office-”

Hrelle glanced over at Emoto, who looked sullen, shaken, and standing close to Urad, obviously hating everyone looking in her direction. I’m sorry, Cadet. I am so sorry I let that happen to you… Then he looked back at Zir, his voice gentle. “You’re not at fault. You not only did what was expected of you, you exceeded it. I’m proud of you.” He turned to the others. “All of you. More than I can say.

For now, though, we have an emergency: a growing number of systems failures, leaving us blind to how many other enemy soldiers are onboard, as well as other problems.” He looked to Arad. “At the moment, you’re the next in seniority, Crewman Arad.”

The Bajoran nodded, but admitted, “Sir, you- you’ll need to release the Chief’s command codes. I don’t have that authority-”

Hrelle nodded back, moving to an appropriate station – sparing a glance at Grev and Nancy, lying nearby. I’m sorry for you two as well, but your move to a more appropriate location will have to wait. “There, Mr Arad, and I’ve granted you the Chief’s authorisation. Now, we’ve had malfunctions in internal sensors, communications, transporters, damage control systems-” He frowned at the readings which now came up. “And we’ve dropped warp now! What in Seven Hells is going on?”

As the Engineering crew resumed their stations, Arad reported, “A failure in the Structural Integrity and Inertia Dampening systems now, Captain! We can’t manage more than Warp Three!”

Alarm rose in Hrelle; at that speed, they’d never make it out of the battlezone alive! “What’s happening? Is it Dominion sabotage or-”

“Gel packs,” he heard Tori mutter.

Hrelle turned to her, striding forward, not wanting to upset the young woman, but knowing the urgency of the situation. “What was that, Cadet?”

She was still holding onto Urad as Hrelle approached, but now let go, visibly composing herself, fighting the shock that was swaddling her as she swallowed and continued. “The bioneural gel packs, Sir. All those systems you mentioned are tied into the gel packs for faster processing.”

His heart raced with the concept. He remembered their installation, the briefings about how the packs processed data and commands more quickly and efficiently, by mimicking organic neural synaptic patterns. They were the latest development, installed on the Intrepids and Sovereigns, but Hrelle didn’t like the concept of them, finding them just a step closer to slaving living beings. But he was assured that they would see immense improvements in the most vital support systems, over the running from the Optical Data Network. And the initial trials seemed to support this. “So it could be it’s not all those systems that are having problems, but the one system governing them?”

The young woman nodded. “Yes, Sir. The Chief’s gonna have me run tests on- I mean, he was going to have me run tests-” She swallowed and added. “Sir, the ODN network is still intact, we just have to go down to Auxiliary Control and manually switch off the gel pack control systems! I’ll go-”

He shook his head. “No, Tori, you’ve been through enough. Help here, I know what has to be done down there.” He nodded back to the wounded Cardassians. “Someone bring them a medikit, but keep an eye on them as they’re using it; if they make any suspicious moves, anything at all… kill them.” At the expressions of some of them, he elaborated, “Enough of our people have died. Believe me. Ensign Dassene?”

Zir was speaking with Urad and Tori, but now drew closer to him. “‘Ensign’, Sir? Don’t you mean ‘Cadet’?”

“No.” Loudly enough for others to hear, he explained, “On my personal authority as Captain of the USS Surefoot, I’m evoking the powers of the Starfleet Emergency Charters, and declaring you – all cadets onboard my ship – graduates from Starfleet Academy, holding the rank of Ensign, effective immediately.”

He glanced at the startled reactions from those affected. “As far as I’m concerned, you’ve earned it. I may catch the Seven Hells from T’Varik and the Academy Superintendent for this, and you may still have to complete some essential exams, but I intend to make this stand.”

Zir looked stunned by the news, but straightened up. “Thank you, Sir. I won’t let you down again.”

He regarded her, her and the three other cadets who stepped up and took on a greater number of experienced hostiles...and triumphed. Not to mention the cadets who were held hostage, who were threatened with rape, with death, and still kept their cool, were still doing their jobs. Mother’s Cubs, they humbled him... “You haven’t let me down the first time, Ensign. You should know that Peter Boone and Stalac were wounded, along with many others, in an attack on the Shuttlebay. At the last report I received before the communications went down, they were alive and being tended to, but that was a while ago. I thought you needed to know.”

She had reacted, visibly shaken and obviously wanting more answers than he could give her, but quickly recovered, nodding. “Thank you for that, Sir.”

He patted her on the shoulder. “You’ll have to stay in command here for the time being. Can you manage?”

“Yes, Sir.”

He smiled and departed for the Jefferies Tube Hatch outside, leading to Deck 5 and Auxiliary Control. This madness had to end. Now.

*

Deck 4 Fore – Starboard Main Corridor:

Sasha led the way out of the Shuttlebay, phaser covering the path ahead to Sickbay 2, as Thykrill and Kit covered the other path to Sickbay 3, and Eydiir remained at her side, also armed with a Jem’Hadar pistol, but with one hand near her bandoleer of kleegat blades. Sasha almost smirked with amusement at her instinctive reliance on primitive weapons… until she reminded herself of the Kaetini sword strapped to her back.

She stopped in her tracks, ten metres from their destination. The area in front of the blast doors of Sickbay 2 appeared clear, empty. Safe.

She adjusted the setting on her phaser, murmuring, “Stand ready, Sister.” Louder now, she declared loudly, “SWEEP PATTERN!” Then she fired, a wide blue pattern of low-level energy reflecting off the walls, the blast doors-

And two camouflaged figures.

The Jem’Hadar decloaked and began firing, but Eydiir and Sasha were faster, each one bringing a target down. Behind them, the sounds of similar firing carried to them, before there was silence again, prompting Sasha to call out, “REPORT!”

Kit replied. “All is well with us, Respected Lieutenant! The Jem’Hadar we have dispatched cannot claim the same, however!”

“Good! Let’s get cracking!” She nodded at the Jem’Hadar she had shot. “Mine hit the ground first.”

Eydiir holstered her phaser. “Mine was taller.”

They stepped over the bodies, kicking them to one side, as Sasha activated the wall intercom beside the blast door. “Sickbay Two, this is Lt Hrelle! Open up!”

After a moment, a voice she recognised as the Klingon doctor Kline replied, “How do we know it’s really you, ‘Lieutenant’, and not some dishonourable Jem’Hadar trick?”

She sighed. “The real Lt Hrelle promised not to tell her father about when you got staggeringly drunk at the wedding party for Jonas and Neraxis Ostrow, and you cornered her and tried to convince her about the apparent health benefits of sex with Klingons-”

The door slid open, and a tall Klingon male with a face swarthier than usual from chagrin, glared at her. “I thought we agreed that you had merely misinterpreted that offer, Lieutenant-”

“Save it, Doc. We have numerous wounded in Shuttlebay, from Jem’Hadar weapons, decompression, space exposure and various other traumas-”

“Of course!” He turned to his team, as if grateful for the distraction of a medical emergency. “We race into battle with Death, my Targs!”

Sasha stepped back with Eydiir and let Kline and his people hurry out, as she considered her next tasks: ensuring Thykrill and Kit get Sickbay 3 to work, checking the rest of the accessways on Deck 4, including the Survivor Stations locked up here, and then somehow getting to her Dad on the Bridge and finding out what was going on…

*

Deck 3 Outer Starboard Maintenance Corridor:

C’Rash could hear the Jem’Hadar burning their way through the inner door, and quickened her work.

Behind her, Jhess was on one knee, plasma rifle raised in the direction of the outer door. “Lieutenant-”

“I know, Spots. I know.” She had managed to open the airlock door and keep it open, and now she was rigging the safety override on the outer airlock door into space. “Almost ready.”

“Care to finally tell me what you’re ready with, my ebon-furred beauty?”

She smirked; that sounded more like the annoying nanny Jhess she knew, rather than the intense Sabrecat… though she had been grateful for the latter appearing and saving her life. “When they get in and get close enough, the outer airlock will open, and they’ll get blown out into space.”

“And us with them?”

“Hopefully not, if we’re secured properly in here, pretending to be dead.”

“And once all the air rushes out, we won’t be pretending.”

“True,” she admitted gravely, finishing her work and returning to him. “But we stand a better chance of revival if the crew finds us in here, than if we’re tumbling out in the void.”

“But what about the rest of the ship?”

“There are shields in the inner corridors that will activate, and once they get the subsystems back online, they’ll detect and repair the damage… and find us. Give me your rifle strap.”

He left his guard pose and complied, as she unhooked it from his rifle and extended it. “You really should have stayed with Aunt Kami and the Cubs, Spots. They’re your job.”

He assisted her, while still keeping an eye on the inner door. “I am Llalare. It is not just a job, it’s a calling. I’d hoped to lead the enemy away from them… and to save a member of their family.”

She sat down on the floor, prompting him to follow, as they wrapped the extended rifle strap around their waists and a conduit pole; it was a snug fit, but that would benefit them in the long run. “Thanks again, Jhess. I hope we both survive for me to make it up to you-”

Then the inner door slid open, and they closed their eyes and lay stock still.

C’Rash held her breath, kept even her ears and tail from twitching, as she listened to the soft, cautious footfalls approach, hoping that Jhess’ Militia instincts didn’t take over, and he began firing… or that they fired upon their apparent corpses just to be certain. That’s what she would do.

Seven Hells, she didn’t want to die.

She had so much to live for, with T’Varik, with Aunt Kami and Uncle Esek and their family. And as much as this was her duty, her role to play in life, one she would never trade for all the latinum in the Quadrant… still…

She wouldn’t mind continuing to play a part in this story.

Suddenly a sharp concussion to her right made her start, but before she or anyone else could react further, she heard the outer airlock door slide open, and a huge rush of air battered her senses. She opened her eyes to see a half-dozen Jem’Hadar tumble over each other, futilely trying to find handholds, grips, anything to prevent them from being blown out into space.

One of them managed to grab her by her right ankle – until she kicked him repeatedly in the face with her left boot, and he tumbled out to join his friends. Bye, bye, Assholes; it’s been nice knowing you…

Her abdomen ached from the strap cutting into her, as the air around them continued to try and entice her out into space, before there was only vacuum. She began releasing the air in her lungs, as per her decompression training, feeling the spotted male beside her doing the same. They would quickly pass out, and then… then...

Jhess gripped her hand, squeezing. She squeezed back, selfishly grateful that he was there with her when blackness claimed them.

Uncle Esek had done this before, more than once, and survived. And if that lovable fat bastard could… could do it…

so...

could...

this...

sexy…

little…

bitch…

*

Bridge:

“Helm, Full Stop,” T’Varik ordered. “Enter Grey Mode, no exterior energy signatures or transmissions. Passive sensors only.”

The crew around her complied, as she felt something at the back of her mind. It made her rise to her feet, staring at the viewscreen as a part of her listened to the updates around her. But her main focus was on- on-

She felt the air leave her lungs, and she collapsed to her knees, unconsciousness threatening to claim her. There was something- something wrong with the environmental systems- but no one else around was reacting in the same way-

Cadet Astrid Michel was now at her side. “Commander? What’s wrong?”

She couldn’t speak, couldn’t react. T’Varik could only know.

Know that C’Rash was dead. Her Beloved was dead. Because of the Jem’Hadar.

A rapidly retreating part of her was suddenly aware of an explosion behind her, and smoke, and cries of alarm, and the whine of energy weapons, and heavy footfalls on the outer ring-

It was someone else leaping to her feet and hopping over the rail.

It was someone else roaring as she struck out at the large murderous figure with the mottled-green reptilian faces, knocking aside his weapon arm even as she assessed his strength, his musculature and physiognomy, the appropriate nerve clusters on his neck. It was someone else reaching out-

-And snapping the neck quickly and cleanly.

It was someone else shoving the dead invader forward to his comrades, diverting their firing until she could reach them. It was someone else still roaring as she launched herself at the rest of her prey, twisting arms, matching strength for strength, and using the same lethal neck pinch on them as she had the first. It was someone else’s blood boiling as she was suffused with fury. Even as the last of the three invaders fell, she clung to the last one, roaring into his dead face-

“COMMANDER T’VARIK!”

Someone else retreated, as T’Varik crouched over a Jem’Hadar body, quickly trying to compose herself and assess the situation. She rose, swaying but recovering, as she found everyone’s attention on the sight of Neheru on the bulkhead near Helm, the tall, gangly Kelpien now looking a horrible pale pink as he clutched his abdomen, trying in vain to stem the heavy flow of cerise blood pumping out of him.

“Medikit!” T’Varik ordered, her voice hoarse for some reason as she rushed down, kneeling beside the wounded officer. Velkovsky knelt behind him, ashen with shock, holding onto him, gasping rapidly as if she’d been wounded, too.

Astrid drew up with the medikit, opening it, as T’Varik searched for the appropriate tools, and gave further orders. “Ms Naku, take over at Tactical, monitor the passing of the enemy vessels! Mr Gentry, check the corridor for more of the enemy, but be careful! Ms Michel, take over at Helm, be ready to take evasive measures if we’re detected!” She removed the cauteriser; it wasn’t meant for wounds this massive, but it would have to suffice. “Stay with us, Mr Neheru. Consider that an order.”

The Kelpien was gasping shallowly, but seemed to respond to her.

T’Varik glanced up at Velkovsky, aware that the intimate nature of the relationship between the two Lieutenants will have left the human in a state of shock following this, but needing her assistance. “Irina… prepare 50ccs Anerazine; it will have to suffice until we can get him to Sickbay. Ms Naku, report!”

The Grazerite female Jexa-Naku responded, her curved ram-like horns reflecting the light from the ceiling. “The Ajax appears to have lured the Jem’Hadar away, Commander! No sign of them!”

The Vulcan nodded to herself, watching as Velkovsky finished preparing a hypospray, and pressing it against Neheru’s neck. She glanced away, noting the bodies of the Jem’Hadar on the upper ring of the Bridge before focusing on the young human standing guard at the damaged doorway. “Report, Mr Gentry!”

“No sign of more Jem’Hadar, Ma’am! Should I check further down the corridor?”

“Remain where you are.” She reassessed the situation: it was logical that the Jem’Hadar still onboard would suspect that reinforcements would not be arriving to reinforce or retrieve them, and that they would most likely try to take the ship by force and return to their comrades. “Helm, proceed once more to the rendezvous site, Warp Three. Lt Velkovsky… you need to make your way to Sickbay 1 on Deck 3 and bring back assistance.”

The human looked up at her. “W-What?”

“This medikit is as limited as my expertise; Lt Neheru will not survive. You will proceed using the same route through the Jefferies Tube hatch as Captain Hrelle used, but stopping on Deck 3 instead of 4. Naturally, if you encounter the enemy, you will protect yourself and avoid confrontation.” T’Varik looked up at her. “Irina?”

Velkovsky was almost ashen, but she nodded and rose, checking her phaser. “Do what you can for him, Commander.”

T’Varik forwent the instinctive response about her not logically doing anything different, and focused on her work. C’Rash was dead, and T’Varik would mourn, mourn and grieve and rage for a long, long time to come… but now was not the time to start.

*

Deck 5, Auxiliary Control:

Hrelle smelled the blood, the lifeless flesh, as soon as he entered.

The room was dark and cool, and seemingly unoccupied, and like many areas of the ship served more than its nominal function, including acting as a storage facility for the spare quantum torpedo racks. There was also a soft electric blue glow from the line of bioneural gel pack units installed last month to control the support systems.

Auxiliary Control normally went unmanned, but during Alert Conditions of level Four or higher, regulations insisted on at least one armed guard present. Today, Ensign Glenqom Orogg had been assigned.

Hrelle had known him from when he was a cadet, from the same class as Sasha. He was Saurian, a good, studious young male with a dry sense of humour and a love of spicy soups. Hrelle remembered when the lad’s hatch mother had been called in for an emergency operation on her subaltern heart, and Hrelle had stayed up all night with him, keeping him distracted, teaching him unarmed combat moves one didn’t learn at the Academy, until the good news came through the next morning that she was okay. Orogg felt lucky to have been assigned back to the Surefoot after graduation.

That luck ended today.

His body lay sprawled, spreadeagled across the Auxiliary Control station, a cleaver-like alien blade embedded in his chest, his round bronze eyes staring blankly up at the ceiling, and his salmon-pink skin a sickening-looking pale. Hrelle’s senses confirmed the young male had been dead for less than half an hour.

But… there were far too many wounds on him, as if he had been struck by a dozen blades or more, and the dried blood spatter patterns on his uniform and the surrounding surfaces confused the Caitian. How much of a fight had Orogg put up-

Then Hrelle understood.

His bootsteps echoed as he approached the body, seemingly focused on it, though his other senses were studying the room around him, as he accused aloud, “You used him for target practice. You held him down, and took turns with him. You killed him slowly.”

He reached up and gently closed the Saurian’s eyes, as he continued to speak to the shadows. “That’s why you boarded us, instead of just blowing us out of space. You came to learn: our different races, our strengths and weaknesses, our tactics and technology. You came to learn, and to take back what you learn to share with others.”

Hrelle felt his hackles rise and his blood boil, as he thought of Glenqom Orogg, and all the others who died today: Chief Grev, Nancy Yeager, Dr Belaxi, Meow Rrori. He thought of those seriously wounded, and may not recover, like Stalac and Peter Boone. He thought of the looks in the eyes of cadets like Tori Emoto, who suffered so egregiously at the hands of the enemy, and in the eyes of Zir Dassene and Urad Kaldron, who had been forced to kill, to cast aside their decency and unleash dark parts of themselves. Living, wounded or dead, none of them would never be the same again.

He thought of all those who relied on him for protection from such fates. All those he failed.

He thought of his family, still under threat, their fates uncertain.

“You came to learn,” he growled, claws extended as his right hand gripped the black handle of the Jem’Hadar blade in Orogg’s chest. “Well, you came to the right place. The Surefoot is as much a teaching vessel as an ambulance.

And I like to deliver lessons.

So here are your lessons for today:

He dislodged the blade from the body. “One: I take the injury, the loss of every single member of my crew very, very personally.”

He turned in place, judging the weight and balance of the blade in his grip, quickly understanding the best way to wield it in a fight against multiple targets. “Two: as a Caitian, I can hear and smell you four cowardly kussiks around me, despite your pitiful little camouflage tricks.”

He felt the air around him stir in response as he continued. “Three: with the quantum torpedoes nearby, none of us can use our energy weapons in here, so we’re gonna have to settle accounts hand to hand. Assuming you have the courage for something like that, of course.

Oh, and Four: none of you will leave here alive to share what you’ve learned today. You’ll be too busy begging for mercy before you die.”

A gruff male voice declared from the shadows, “Jem’Hadar do not beg for mercy.”

Hrelle smiled as he bared his teeth. “Well then, I guess that’s gonna have to be Lesson Five...”

He swung out his weapon hand, catching one of the rapidly-approaching Jem’Hadar as they emerged from their camouflaged states, wielding blades identical to the one they used on Orogg.

Hrelle blocked the attack to his right – and grabbed Orogg’s body and flung it towards those coming at him on the left. Sorry, Glenqom. He charged at the two on his right, remembering the old combat adage: what you might lack in numbers or weapons, you can make up for with ferocity.

Hrelle knew how to be ferocious.

The metal clanged together with an ugly sound, as he managed to deflect two blades at once, grabbing and twisting the hand of Jem’Hadar until he broke the wrist, before kicking him backwards.

It had been a while since he faced multiple targets with bladed weapons, and most of the memories he had of similar experiences as a gladiator in the Orion Deathmatches was lost to him now. But he thought he could still handle himself.

He slashed out at the other Jem’Hadar, cutting deeply across his mottled olive face and making ugly blood spurt – there were shallow arteries near the eye sockets, he noted to himself – and allowed himself to turn and face the other two, blocking blows and striking back with kicks to their obvious vulnerable points like their knees and groin – or not in the case of the latter, making him wonder if they had genitals at all – and he saw how quickly they could be temporarily overwhelmed by the intensity of an attacker, making mistakes-

With a roar he swung down his blade on the fourth Jem’Hadar’s head, cracking the skull and penetrating halfway into his brain, killing him instantly… but leaving the blade buried too deep for him to remove in time to-

The two Jem’Hadar now behind him grabbed him, one of them trying to bring their blade across Hrelle’s throat. Hrelle feinted, instantly recovering to drive their own heads together with a sickening cracking sound… only then noting the blade cut into the left sleeve of his jacket. The padding had helped keep it from penetrating too deeply, but he could feel the blood pour down his arm, as the pain fought to eclipse his adrenaline and rage.

The other two attacked, having now attached their blades to pike-like staffs to extend their reach. But they were… clumsy? Hrelle noted this, even as he blocked their attempts to stick him like a forest shuris. You kussiks really have little experience, have you? Grown in your test tubes, trained from birth to fight and nothing else… but maybe that birth was only a few weeks ago? You rely on your size and your weapons and your numbers and your fearsome reputation, but you’re not invincible.

As if in demonstration, he grasped the staff of one of his attackers, broke it completely, retrieved the half closest to him, and launched himself forward, impaling the third Jem’Hadar, who doubled over, gurgling as blood spat out from his mouth.

The last one stuck Hrelle in the side, twisting the blade and making Hrelle roar in pain. Hrelle pulled the blade from his gut and swung out, claws bared as he leapt upon his attacker, feeling the blood pumping from him as he continued his counter-assault, driving his thumbs deep into the Jem’Hadar’s deep-set, beady eyes, pulping them completely and making him cry out in agony.

Then Hrelle clamped his muzzle around the throat and ripped away, spitting out the foul flesh as he staggered back, and the Jem’Hadar twisted about on the floor, blood pumping out from between his fingers despite his attempts to stem the fatal flow.

He was reaching for his pistol.

Hrelle reached for his phaser, stopping him. Hrelle’s voice was hoarse, his lungs heaving to draw in more air than they were doing. “By... the way... I lied... lied about using energy weapons in here, so I could have a chance against you. Lesson Six: Never Trust the Enemy.” He fired a lethal shot at the Jem’Hadar, and then the others, just to be certain.

Now the adrenaline was wearing off, and the pain in his arm and gut overwhelmed him. He managed to slip out of his jacket and clutch his left side, while clumsily readjusting the setting on his phaser to Burn, roughly cauterising his wounds before he passed out. He almost bit his tongue in the process, but managed to temporarily deal with his wounds, if not the overall aches and exhaustion that came with being old and fat and having to act like someone half his age and weight.

He moved to the Auxiliary Control Station, and rerouted the subsystems away from the bioneural gel pack network and back to the ODN, hoping that Tori’s suggestion and his own instincts were correct-

The subsystems came online! He forced down his pain to raise the Bridge. “T’Varik! Check your boards, everything should be up and running again!”

There was no immediate answer, something which confused and chilled huim, until he heard the voice of Cadet Squad Leader Jexa-Naku. “Captain! Sir, we- we had, uh-”

“What’s happened, Cadet? Report!”

Then T’Varik’s voice responded. “Forgive me for not replying, Sir. Three Jem’Hadar attacked the Bridge, Lt Neheru has been critically injured, I am attempting to keep him alive, Lt Velkovsky is on her way to Sickbay 1 to obtain assistance-”

He nodded to himself. Another one fallen… “Scan for any remaining Jem’Hadar!”

“Captain, the Jem’Hadar appear to possess masking technology to deceive our sensors-”

“I know, that’s why you’re going to cross-check with Environmental Monitoring to see where oxygen is being used in areas that seem to have no lifesigns! They can’t mask the need to breathe!”

“Acknowledged… Captain, approximately six Jem’Hadar remain onboard, detected together in Deck 3 Mid – outside the Science Lab!”

His heart stopped… he smacked his combadge. “Kami! Talk to me! Are you okay?”

His wife’s voice, and the panic within it, carried to him as if in the same room. “Esek! They’re outside the door, trying to break in! Help us!”

“T’Varik, can you beam them out?”

“Negative, Sir, transporter inhibitors in proximity-”

“All available personnel, converge at the Science Lab! I’m on my way, Kami!”

*

The pounding outside the blast door grew louder.

Kami finally handed a crying Sreen to Travers. “Get her to safety, Pamela.”

The young Security guard accepted the bundle in shocked disbelief. “What? Where are you going to be?”

Kami nodded to the last of the civilians entering the hatch to climb to the upper deck. “I’ll follow once everyone is uptop.” She turned to an anxious-looking Misha, who was staring at the blast doors. “Sweetheart, go up with Pamela, mind your sister and keep everyone up there safe until I arrive, okay?”

“No! I stay! I protect you!”

“And you will, once you get up there and wait for me up there.”

“No! I stay-”

“MISHA!” she snapped at him angrily. “Do as you’re told!” She hugged him fiercely. “Please.” Then she returned to her feet, looking at Travers again. “You too. Hold her carefully as you climb, the way I showed you.” She swallowed. “Go. Keep my cubs safe. Now.”

Travers stared at her in horror. She knew. But wordlessly she complied, disappearing through the hatch after Misha.

Then Kami began moving crates closer to the blast door, hoping to impede the invaders as much as possible. Esek, please get here. Please…

*

Sasha was in the corridor junction near the Shuttlebay, arranging for the people in the Survivor Stations on this deck to be checked, when a voice came over the shipwide intercom, “Security Alert! Jem’Hadar outside Science Lab, Deck 3 Mid!”

Sasha was on the move to the nearest vertical hatch.

*

On the Bridge, Jexa-Naku’s hands moved swiftly over the Ops station controls, her voice alternating between delivering reports and Intercom announcements. “Commander, Sickbay 1 reports they’re sending an Emergency Medical Team to the Bridge for Lt Neheru... Damage Control reports explosive decompression in Deck 3 Starboard Maintenance Corridor, safety fields in place- Commander! Emergency medical signals from the combadges for Lt Shall and Dr Furore in the Maintenance Corridor! I’m sending a medical team there!”

Still focused primarily on keeping Neheru alive until medical assistance arrived, T’Varik managed a curt, “Acknowledged.” Inwardly, however, she was awash with an illogical, irrational, unsubstantiated and utterly selfish hope, for the first time in this damned day. You will live, my Beloved… you are far too stubborn to leave this life now...

*

Misha peered down the hatch. “Mama! Where are you? You come up, now!”

Travers stood nearby, trying to comfort both the crying bundle in her arms and the adults around her in the overcrowded room. “She’s coming Misha, just get away from that hatch, it’s not safe-”

Everyone cried out and ducked as a loud concussive bang travelled up to them from the Science Lab, followed by a torpedo of air that knocked Misha backwards.

Travers turned instinctively to protect Sreen, before looking back to call for- “MISHA!”

He was gone.

*

Kami had been fortunate enough to have dropped behind a crate as the concussive blast brought down the last of the forcefields and slid the blast door open, though her head rang and she had lost her phaser somewhere on the floor.

Smoke poured in from the corridor outside. As did Jem’Hadar.

She bared her teeth and claws, leaping over the crate and sending down one invader with a kick to his midsection, and then another with a kick to the head that sent him reeling. Her claws met painful resistance against their body armour and most of their thick hides, but she managed to avoid their pistol fire. She moved to a third-

But there were too many. They grabbed her limbs, her tail, her mane, their individual strength matching hers, their numbers and weight exceeding hers.

They pushed her down on all fours, head tugged roughly back to make her look up.

She saw on Jem’Hadar, his bearing and posture obviously that of a leader, quickly move about the interior of the room, at the overturned crates and scientific equipment, before returning to glare at her. “What is this place?”

She gasped, seeking her voice, hoping to keep them all occupied… and not notice the open hatch door in the far corner. “Sci- Science Lab-”

“You lie! There were multiple doors, defences, force fields! But all we find in here is a worthless animal! It makes no sense!” He drew closer. “Where is the Armoury?”

They tightened their grip on her until she cried out in pain. “Listen- please- you’re cut off from your people- but you can negotiate a truce- no more have to die-”

“Jem’Hadar do not negotiate,” he informed her. “We conquer. Tell me where the Armoury is.”

Her final thoughts returned to Esek, her darling husband, her rock and her better half… don’t let what happens to me stain the rest of your life… you have to take care of our cubs-

He drew out his pistol and pressed the tip of it against her forehead. “Tell me where the Armoury is.”

She looked up along the barrel of the pistol and the length of his arm to his face, seeing no mercy, no hope. No future. “No.”

He tightened his grip-

As a brown-furred blur leapt onto the back of the lead Jem’Hadar, one arm wrapped around the Jem’Hadar’s head to impede his vision, the other baring tiny claws to rake at the exposed reptilian skin as best he could. The lead Jem’Hadar drew back, spinning in confusion, trying to extricate his attacker, while his fellows raised, then lowered their weapons, unable to shoot without hitting their leader, unable to even identify his attacker.

Kami knew. “Misha! No! Get away!”

Finally the leader grabbed Misha by the back of the cub’s jacket and threw him into the corner of the room. The cub hit the wall hard, tumbled, but quickly righted himself, facing the six Jem’Hadar in a Caitian combat stance he had seem his father and cousin adopt many times in exercises, his arms spread wide, his claws and teeth bared and his eyes filled with righteous fury as he roared at them, “FIGHT ME! FIGHT ME!”

The Jem’Hadar glanced at each other, and then at the four-year-old in the miniature uniform, in utter confusion, before their leader asked, “You… are Starfleet?”

“No,” Kami answered for him pleadingly, “He’s my cub, don’t hurt him, please don’t-”

Misha just roared again at them in response. “FIGHT ME, YOU POOPHEADS!”

They raised their pistols to him.

Shots rang out.

And Jem’Hadar fell, as Sasha Hrelle raced up the smoke-filed corridor, firing her .666 Magnum, before the rest of them turned to face her, firing back. Sasha continued onward, cursing when a disruptor bolt made contact with her vest, but she drove them away from the doorway until she emptied her pistol.

Then she ducked to one side. “TAKE ’EM, DAD!”

And Esek Hrelle emerged from the smoke behind her, roaring at the top of his lungs as he barrelled into the group, bringing several down and giving Sasha a chance to draw her Kaetini sword and enter the room.

The fight spread out through the interior, and the sudden appearance of father and daughter startled the Jem’Hadar that were restraining Kami, giving her the chance to break free… and break jaws and wrists, as she looked up at Misha, drawing closer as if to join the fight. “Sasha! Your brother!”

As if on cue, one Jem’Hadar went after Misha now- until he was stopped in his tracks by Sasha impaling him with a sword to his back, before she drew it out and pulled her little brother close to her, keeping him safe behind her sword while his mother and father went to work, both of them suppressing their compassion, their mercy and gentility, in place of a raw fury to protect each other, and their families. Misha tried to watch, but Sasha covered his eyes and ignored his protests.

And then, just like that, it was over.

Hrelle was staggering from multiple wounds, but was helping Kami back to her feet, gasping, “S-Sreen-”

She couldn’t speak, but nodded and pointed to the open hatch, until he nodded back in understanding.

“Mama! Papa!” Misha cried out, wriggling from his sister’s embrace to rush to them. “I protect!”

Hrelle knelt and hugged both his wife and son. “You did, My Warrior Prince. You surely did.”

Sasha knelt there, touching her combadge, smiling with relief for the first time in what seemed like ages... “Lt Hrelle to… to Bridge: Science Lab secure, Jem’Hadar downed. 

Family safe...”

THE ADVENTURES OF THE SUREFOOT WILL CONTINUE IN…