“What the hell is going on?”  Helena Dread was pacing the conference room while her executive officer, Leopold Halsey, sat, his concern matching her level on the inside.  They’d been recalled to Starbase 72 along with the Mackenzie.  The call to return to their home station had been direct and immediate.  When they’d arrived, they’d been informed Daedalus and Mackenzie were being reassigned, and they had just a few hours to vacate the ship to await further orders on the station.  The command crews had been dispersed to other waiting areas.  Dread repeated her question to the air, “What in the hell is going on?  I don’t understand.  If it was just us, fine.  But us and the Mack?”

Halsey wasn’t sure what to make of it either.  It felt unusual, but things hadn’t been very usual since Frontier Day and the following Borg experience that the Fourth Fleet had found themselves chasing.  “Well, either we upset a fleet captain, admiral, or higher…but we haven’t really had enough time to do that.”

Dread scowled at him.  He had a habit of being too good sometimes, and while she played by the rules, he seemed to cherish celebrating them.  The problem was that he was a damned near perfect XO, and she’d be lost without their daily breakfast meetings every morning.  She scoffed, “I’m getting better at not pissing off the people above me.”  She rolled her eyes at his side glance, “I said getting better, not perfect.”

Leo smiled, “You do good work, Helena.”  The door to the room opened, and a nameless captain stepped in and handed Dread a PADD.

“You and your crew are being reassigned to a better-equipped starship to assist with the ongoing issues in the demilitarized zone.  Captain Walton remains the Division Commander.  She will meet with you shortly.”

Dread read through the PADD, her eyes widening at each step.  She handed it to Halsey, “You’re giving us a Constitution III?  We’d barely gotten to know the Daedalus.”  There was a quieting thought that they trusted her with a bigger and better ship.  She looked to her lips and held the rest of her thoughts inside.

“You and our crew have proven in short order you’re qualified for the assignment, Captain Dread.  With your experienced command team, we have no doubts you’ll be successful in your mission.  Good luck to you both.”  He stood at attention, and they returned the favor, and he walked out the door without another word.

Halsey read through the orders twice, “There’s a lot of praise for you and the rest of us in here, Helena.  I know you don’t always believe it, but they’re right on this.”

She scowled, “I don’t have to like it.  Let’s get together with the senior staff – we’re taking on a bunch of ensigns and a few cadets according to that – we’ve got some work to do.”

“How’s the new ship?”  Dread stood in her bare ready room, her annoyance still pronounced on her face.  Wren Walton was on the screen in front of her.  She still had a look of shock on her face.  They had been reassigned to the Obena class Dragonfly and with that came an additional layer of new crew similar to the loadout on the Douglas.

“Well, it’s bigger.  And lots to learn.  Bridge is where it should be.”  Walton sighed and leaned back in her ready room chair, “I’m still not sure what’s going on – we’re being sent back out to our previous assignments.  Your ship won’t have any problems with the Connie III, but the Obena class has a reputation.  I’m not sure we’re going to make much progress when we fly back in this thing.” Dread asked, and her CO answered, “It’s earned the nickname ‘Empty’ Promise’ in some of the border worlds, and given our operating theatre – we’ll be getting a lot of guff from folks.  The Dragonfly isn’t a ship you ignore, so that’ll help, I think.” 

Dread shifted into her chair, “It is good that we’ve still got plenty of work to do out there…but we’re going to be carrying a load of ensigns…and they even gave us some cadets.  Not sure how I feel about that.”

Wren chuckled dryly, “Well, we were all cadets once, Helena.  I don’t know about you, but I remember my cadet cruises.  Hard to forget bring put in the middle of something that reminds you how brief this life out in space can be.” Her eyes went distant for just a moment, and Dread watched her wrestle her focus back, “We’ll depart in the next hour to get back on station.  Let’s get updated department head reports in four hours and take stock of what we have below decks for people and skills.”  The channel closed.

Dread turned to Halsey, “We’ve still got to deal with the Pandora Crawford situation.”

Halsey groaned, a rare statement of annoyance from his usual optimistic persona.  “I know this goes against my doctor’s creed and oath, but we might have to kill her.  She’s shown her willingness to do it herself.  I don’t think she goes quietly.  Reminds me of a few of my patients back home – convinced they were right no matter the cost or pain they inflicted.”

Helena leaned back in her chair, “I don’t disagree with you, Leo.  We’re going to have to do something.  She won’t give up trying to get to Carolyn or Pete.  Something’s got to give.”

“We are still updating our list of colonies.”  Lieutenant Tir handed over the PADD to Captain Dread, who sat in the center chair of the bridge.  “We’ve had a few more responses after the announcement of the command and ship changes went out.”

Helena scrolled through the report, amused.  “So we increase the size of our swagger and people start paying us a little more attention?”  She returned the PADD, “I’m not going to argue with progress, but I could have done without the whirlwind.  Operationally, how are we?”

Tir tabbed to his report, “We’re still sorting through the rosters of new officers and crewmen.  We added around 400 new faces and new positions to the shift schedules.  Everyone’s being patient as each department head works to make that happen – the good news is we’ll have deputy chiefs in place by the end of the week.”

Dread grimaced as she filled the silence after his statement, “The bad news is we’ll have deputy chiefs by the end of the week.  The crew’s going to have to do lots of growing up quickly.  Couldn’t have happened to someone else, could it?  Had to be us.”  She thanked him as he returned to his station against the wall.  The bridge was larger than the Daedalus had been and had plenty of consoles for the various members of the senior staff.  Her Chief Flight Control, William Prentice, had been excited to find he had a solo station lowered into the ground in a Voyager-like design.  She was thankful that her XO and whoever would sit at her left would have consoles to access.

Atega’s voice from communications interrupted her thoughts, “Message from the Dragonfly, sir.  They are requesting our assistance – Orion Syndicate ships are moving into attack – initial reports had three total, now four.”  Atega felt her nerves tingling – they’d only just stepped onboard the Douglas.  Now, they were being called into action?

Helena didn’t hesitate, “Mr. Prentice, intercept course at maximum warp.  Red alert!”

Greer Moore looked up from her desk in main engineering, “Please tell me that’s everyone.”  PADDs were scattered across the surface.

Elizabeth McKee, her deputy chief, handed one last PADD over, “Just one more group.  These are our cadet teams – I’m taking both of them under my wings.  You’ll have enough to deal with getting to know the Douglas and handling the department overall.”  She glanced back at the room holding the pulsing warp core, “I never thought I’d see the inside of one of these.”

Moore chuckled as she finished the work on the PADD with the cadet group, “This looks good – we’ll have to see how they handle working together under pressure.  Schedule…,”  she stopped when the lights flickered to the light ruby color and the red alert klaxon rang out, “…well, never mind.  We’ll do it now.”  She jumped out of her chair and strode into the room as the officers on duty poured into the main area.  Eyes were wide from the cadets to the ensigns.  They’d only just boarded one of the fleet’s more complex and updated ships.  Greer put her hands on her hips, and the gathering fell silent.  The Chief had a slight reputation as a taskmaster who didn’t put up with much from the lower deck crews – her expectations both scared and thrilled them.  “Whatever we’re in for, we can handle.”  She motioned to the shift leads as they scrambled to the front of the scrum, “Your battle station assignments are on your PADDs if you need them.  Ensign Davis is the Damage Control lead, Ensign Massey is the Dispatch and Reporting lead, and the Deputy Chief and I are main engineering leads.  Get to your people.”  The group scattered.

Reid walked onto the bridge, her brows frowning as the callouts came from the various stations regarding their progress toward intercepting the Dragonfly. She wondered what had spooked Walton, of all people, and as she listened, it became clear that The Syndicate had decided to throw caution in the atmosphere.  She felt a small voice in the back of her head wonder if Pandora Crawford was finally showing her face after recently throwing hints and allegations into their path.  The helm confirmed they were a minute out.

Dread turned in her chair and motioned her Chief Medical Officer over, “Status?”  She looked as if she needed a brief distraction from whatever they were about to face, and Reid obliged her.

“We’ve got a rough roster of triage docs, nurses, and orderlies.  We got lucky with our assignments – some talented folks got slotted.  I have a deputy chief in place – he’s coming from a Sovereign-class that had a habit of finding their way into battle.  He’s better at inventory than me.”

“Thirty seconds!” was the call from the helm.

Dread raised her eyebrows, “Not many could lay claim to that title, Lieutenant Reid.  You’re welcome to stick around.”  She turned her attention back to the screen as the countdown continued. 

Jordan gripped the top of the railing behind the command chair.  The last time she had stayed on the bridge had been with Harris on his previous commands.  Perhaps it had been out of fear she’d kept to sickbay since his death, or perhaps it felt like a violation of the sacred relationship they had lived.  She wasn’t sure, but she decided to remain.

“Arriving…now.”  Prentice switched to impulse control while Ensign Athena stood at one of the rear stations, her hands hovering over weapons controls.  He reported, “The Dragonfly is fully involved with four medium Syndicate cruisers – her shields are holding at 90%.”

Dread ordered, “Ensign Athena- target the lead ship and fire.  Mr. Prentice – aggressive attack vectors if you please.  Let’s give them something else to shoot at.”  The Douglas was 240 meters shorter than the Obena class Dragonfly.  Prentice smiled – he had been wondering when the chance would come to see what the ship could do.  He put the impulse engines to work, following the requests from Athena as he pushed his new ship into the fight.

The Bajoran Tactical Chief made use of the phaser banks, punching hard with the Type-XIVs with follow-up blasts from the Type-XIIs.  She watched with satisfaction as the shields on the Syndicate ships began to suffer under the barrage from her fire.  The Dragonfly took the cue and went to work on the other ships.  Suddenly, torpedoes flew from the offending ships, slamming up against both Federation ships.  Athena felt her annoyance turn to concern as she warned, “Captain, they’ve taken the gloves off…I recommend we follow the lead.”

Helena leaned forward, “Atega – secure channel to Dragonfly.”  

The screen flicked to Walton, who asked, “Your tactical chief asking for torpedoes as well?”  The Dragonfly bridge shook for the first time and Dread saw a flash of irritation flash across her Division Commander’s face. Dread nodded as the Douglas took a barrage of torpedoes.  Wren intoned, “Let’s even the playing field.  Disable, not destroy. We need to talk to them and find out what we can.”  The channel closed.

Dread ordered, “You heard the captain.  Let’s take off the gloves.”

“We’re next in line, Captain.”  Lieutenant Prentice announced from the helm.  They had moved into position at the Bajoran Wormhole. The orders had come quickly – the Constitution III class was an explorer and a science vessel.  There were plenty of places to explore in the Gamma Quadrant, they had said.  The Douglas was the perfect fit for the mission, they said.

“Thank you, Mr. Prentice.”  Captain Helena Dread was less sure of the promises and assurances they had given her.  The new infusion of crew was young and inexperienced.  Many of them had never left the Alpha Quadrant.  Dread had worried they were going to find a way to send them to the Delta Quadrant.  “Let’s get everyone secured.”  A soft thrumming klaxon bleated out, warning that wormhole transport was impending.

Prentice narrated, “Wormhole activating.”  He’d seen video of the thing, but nothing prepared him for the opening maw of the gaping beast of a wormhole.  It was an impressively beautiful thing to behold, and he had to remind himself to get the Douglas moving forward.  “Engaging impulse engines.”  The ship slipped forward through space, closer to the wormhole.  “Increasing impulse, adjusting course.”  The console and the screens alerted him to the impending transition with a timer and schematic view of the wormhole as it went through its various stages.  It really was a wonder, he thought.  A moment later, he tapped the final command, “Entering the wormhole.”

“Sensors report we are where we’re supposed to be, sir.”  Prentice had enjoyed the impressive light show that had played across the screens as they’d transitioned through the wormhole.  He shifted them down and away from the wormhole as other ships were slated to arrive behind them.  “Setting course for New Bajor.”  Prentice wasn’t sure how to feel about the Gamma Quadrant.  He’d done a quick refresher on the history – it had been bloody and brutal in the early days, and the Dominion War had started here.  The presence of the Presidium-class Opaka Outpost and the expanding New Bajor colony was what made the difference for him.  They also wouldn’t be stuck here for a month like in the Delta Quadrant.  Like the rest of the Mackenzie crew that had survived the sector, he had no desire to return there.

Dread stood from the command chair and walked to her science chief, “Fowler, report.”  They’d been ordered to explore, and Helena wasn’t about to disappoint those who had made the orders.

Fowler had a reserved smile tightly held on her face.  She knew most of the crew was nervous about being in the Gamma Quadrant.  For her, it was a whole new galaxy teeming with the potential of discovery.  “All sensor systems are working as expected.  I’ve started a list of places to investigate with the team doing further work to identify the specifics.  Starfleet has also sent a list.”  Sadie handed her CO a PADD, “Some of it’s out there, but there’s one that’s closer – an easy way to start our mission.  An odd signal reading came from an abandoned colony that was left empty when the Dominion War began.”

“You say easy.  That might be what they see from a distance. We get closer…and it’s something else entirely.”  She read through the details on the PADD, “It is close enough for us to do some warm-up work.  We have to start somewhere.” She tapped at the device, “Mr. Prentice, set an intercept course for this planet – maximum warp. Engage when ready.”

Halsey sat in the ready room chair as the Douglas sped to its destination.  “There’s not much available on the colony.  It was small at the time, and records were spotty at best.”  He scrolled through the PADD, “They were hoping to find something material-wise to replace the pre-fabricated units they arrived with, but they didn’t get a chance.  Dominion War broke out a year after they landed.  Everyone escaped in time, but records on where they ended up are…again, spotty at best.”

Dread stood in front of the windows. “I hope it’s just an errant mechanical signal that shorted out and started transmitting. Do you think they left anyone behind?”  She remained in a staring contest with the stars as they flew by.

“I can’t imagine surviving out here during the war would be easy.  It is interesting – records show that the Dominion didn’t take over the planet or do anything with it.  They just avoided it.”  He frowned, “For a group that prides itself in ”Victory is Life” it does seem odd.”

Helena turned on that curious revelation, “I’m not putting anyone down there until we figure out why.  Anything that puts fear into the Jem’Hadar and the Vorta is enough to give me pause.”  She accepted the PADD, “There were no records of anything causing issues with the previous colony.  Curious that they couldn’t find materials on the planet in that year.”  She returned it back to Halsey, “Let’s take it nice and easy.  Whatever’s down there…or whoever’s down there – they scared the Dominion.”

The Constitution III class starship had the lines of the legends of long ago with the shine of the 25th century.  Dread hadn’t been given much time to tour the ship and see the wonders of her design up close.  As they hurtled towards a former colony, she had to smile at the little touches the designers and builders had worked into the ship.  After an extensive search, they’d found the Constitution II Douglas in a mothball yard.  While her Douglas was a new build, there were bones of the golden days of starship design that had made their way onboard.  On various decks were elements that had been framed as a reminder of the crews that had walked the corridors of the Constitution I and II class ships that had bore the Douglas name.  She soon stood outside the doors to main engineering.  This was the place where the designers and builders had leaned heavily into the look and feel of the Constitution II class.  She stepped through the massive doors and felt her heart drift towards her throat.

It was, as much as it could be, a modern adaptation of the original engineering room that had featured in many starships, including the Enterprise.  She marveled at the sleek design, nostalgic colors, and the look of it all.  It felt as if she was stepping back in time to stand with the engineers of old.  Modern displays and consoles had been smoothly installed in the older-looking designs, while the warp core had been reworked to fit as much as possible in the original design.  She had done her reading – some of the equipment was purely decorative, but the two levels and the center warp core were functional.  The intermix chamber was the chief engineer’s office, but it also held much of the original equipment in wall displays.

“Captain Dread, welcome to engineering.” Lieutenant Moore greeted her as she stepped away from a gathered group of officers, “It was an interesting choice…but we’ve all grown to like it in the short time we’ve been aboard.  I was worried it’d be a mess with the two different centuries of differences…but whoever they had in charge of their engineering design and construction must have loved the Constitution class more than their mother.”

Helena was still looking over every inch of the room, impressed with it all, “Well, their mother’s loss is our gain.  She’s a beautiful ship, Chief.”  She handed over a PADD, “Current mission specs.”

Greer read through the details, “She was built to do the job they’re asking for, captain.  I don’t see anything that’ll rattle the cage of the Douglas.” She glanced up, “We’ve dropped out of warp…must mean we’ve arrived.”

Dread moved to speak—she hadn’t expected to arrive at the colony for another hour. A beep on her badge stopped her: “Captain, to the bridge—your attention is needed.”  The yellow alert klaxon rang next, and Helena nodded to the Chief as she left.

“Report.”  She stepped into a chaotic command center as many voices and orders crossed the bridge.  Halsey turned from where he stood in the center of the bridge, and she walked to him, ignoring the noise, “What the hell is going on?”

“Fowler detected a Klingon Bird of Prey in distress.  As we dropped out of warp and hailed them, another Bird of Prey decloaked and charged weapons – targeting the other.  Atega attempted to hail them, but they refused to respond.  The original Bird of Prey hailed, audio only, and said they were a civilian crew who were holding a Starfleet Officer hostage and were in the process of negotiating his sale to the highest bidder.  This second Bird of Prey apparently is from a minor or even dismissed house…and isn’t going to pay anything…and just take them.”  He shook his head, “A third Bird of Prey dropped out of warm thirty seconds ago claiming they’ve paid for the officer and demand he be turned over.  Immediately.”

Dread stared at him, “If this is your version of a practical joke…”

He stared back at her, “Not my style.  You don’t respond well to this kind of joke, anyway.”

Helena wanted to ask him how he knew and what he knew about her, but they had a three-way tie for stupidity in the Klingon Game of What The Hell Was With Today.  Knowing the answer might befuddle her further, she asked, “Do we know who the officer is?”

Halsey pursed his lips, “I never said he was alive.”  He handed over a PADD, “They have the body of Ambrose Harris.  Sort of dead, but not really…alive.”

Dread replied, “The hell you say?  They’re joking.  There’s no way.”  He leaned over and scrolled to the part of the report she now began to read, “His body went missing a week ago from the burial site at Harris Transport.”  She pushed the PADD back into his hands, “OK, I’ll bite. Why do the Klingons have it?”

“Pandora Crawford.”

“You understand, we must have our payment.”  Jamison Wells had identified himself as the captain of Poly, the first Klingon Bird of Prey, and was on the main screen. “We provided a service and we expect to be paid.”

Helena drummed her fingers on the arms of the command chair.  She had been shocked at Halsey’s confirmation that Pandora Crawford hadn’t quite vanished as they’d thought.  The alt version of Carolyn Crawford was still haunting them, even in the Gamma Quadrant.  “I’ve seen your price, Captain Wells.  You have the Kolm who doesn’t want to pay and intends to steal – the only reason they’re not is we’re sitting in their firing path.  Then there’s the Ghenry, who seem to believe they’ve already paid you and are likely to make a deal with the Kolm to get their money’s worth.”

Wells shifted nervously in his chair.  “We did not anticipate the level of interest our initial offering garnered.  Mistakes were made.”

Dread scoffed out loud, “You didn’t think an obscenely minor house or even an avowed mercenary group, both fiercely Klingon, wouldn’t want to find a way to prove themselves to somebody?”  She would have been content to leave the Poly to deal with the consequences of their foolish actions.  Would have, could have…but she needed the body of Ambrose Harris back in her possession.  “You’re in a tough position, and those two ships out there outnumber you.” That gave Wells pause on the screen as he digested her words.  He muted the channel and turned to talk to his crew.  Dread did the same with Atega before she put her attention to her bridge crew, “My plan is to offer to throw some Latinum at him, get the body, and even up the score.  Alternative suggestions are welcomed.”

Ensign Athena, at tactical, replied, “We can take two Birds of Prey, Captain.”  She felt a rise of excitement.  The previous engagement with The Syndicate had given her a stark appreciation for the Douglas and her tactical prowess.  Athena mused that she may be an explorer, but she could punch hard when the need called for it.

Dread turned to Fowler, “Condition of the body?”  It remained the mystery – dead but not alive had been Halsey’s statement.  Reid had come to the bridge to sit next to the science chief and observe the readings they were able to get.

Sadie wasn’t sure what to report, “It’s…unusual readings.  The life sign readings from the ship are all standard, except for…,”  She had known Ambrose as her Captain, and Reid had known him as her boyfriend.  It was an odd moment for both of them.  Trying to work through the emotions that were just beneath the surface wasn’t easy.  She took a deep breath, “the readings coming from Captain Harris are unlike any I’ve seen – life signs are irregular – the computer isn’t quite sure what to make of it.” 

Jordan wrestled with her own emotions and pushed them down for now.  “Captain, whatever’s happened is outside of our known understanding.  I need to examine the…body to understand what whoever did whatever they did to him.” She swallowed the rising lump in her throat, “We need to bring him home, sir.”

Dread waited for others to pitch in, but there had been nods of agreement with Reid’s words.  Her crew had originally transferred together to the Olympic after the death of Harris on the Mackenzie, and she had stepped into the role of their XO.  They’d come with her to the Daedalus and now the Douglas.  They were more of a family than she sometimes realized.  The common thread running through most of them was Ambrose Harris.  She understood the silence – feelings unexpressed were still feelings.  “Then let’s bring him home.  Unmute the channel.”  

Atega tapped at the console, her own feelings clouded by the events playing out.  Ambrose Harris…alive?  Or undead?  What was happening?  She kept her thoughts to herself as the captain leaned forward in the chair and explained her intentions to the Poly captain.

He stared at Dread, “You are either crazy or far too sure of yourself, captain.  We’ll transport your officer to a location of your choosing.  You’ll transport payment to our transporter room.  And we’ll leave you to…whatever fate you’ve bought.”

“Make it so.”  She turned to Reid, who was already headed to the turbolift door, “Good luck, Lieutenant Reid.” She swung in her chair, “Now, let’s find out how pissed off our other two friends are going to be.”  At ops, Tir confirmed the transports were complete, and shields were back online.

Athena announced from her tactical station, “Poly has left the system.  The other two are powering weapons and targeting us.”

Dread chuckled, “Well, let’s get dangerous.  Evasive maneuvers – red alert.”

Halsey watched from behind the secure glass. A body that resembled the man known as Ambrose Harris lay on a bed in the quarantine room, strapped gently to the gurney.  He’d ordered Jordan Reid out and into the corridor for now.  He tapped at the console on the glass, the sensors in the room activating.  Leopold set several tasks in motion as equipment slid down from the ceiling.  The standard readings were confusing.  There was a heartbeat, and breathing was occurring.  The scans on brain activity and the other bodily systems were not as encouraging.  It was as if a switch hadn’t been turned on.  He watched as the scans began, turning to the Chief Science Officer, who stood just behind him.  “You okay?”

She was chewing on her bottom lip, her hands at her side restlessly twitching.   The man on the table was Captain Harris to her – it was his face, and his body – bedraggled as it was, was still his.  She had dismissed his suggestion of her remaining outside while he worked.  She was the head of the science department and could not ignore the situation at hand.  Halsey was the former chief medical officer and had used his station to keep Reid out.  “It’s not easy, sir.”  She stepped forward and hesitantly began to manipulate the science systems on the glass, “Initial readings are coming back with a preliminary confirmation on DNA readings – it is Captain Harris.”  As Fowler worked, her courage returned, and her hands moved more confidently.  She paused as a reading appeared on the glass, a red outline beeping in alarm.  “That’s…Captain?”

Halsey was drawn to the new information on the glass, his eyes widening in disbelief. “That’s another set of DNA intertwined with Harris’s.  Or at least trace amounts.  The computer is struggling to differentiate between Harris and this other thing.”  He tapped at the glass, summoning additional devices to aid their investigation.  They went to work, and he turned his attention to the body, “You have any theories? Now is the time to share them.”

Sadie crossed her arms, uncomfortable with what was running through her mind.  “There’s been some incidents where once dead bodies were brought back – various methods that either destroyed the maker or the device.  And he’s not a synthetic body with a human consciousness.”  She pointed to the readings that continued to update, “The old saying, ‘necessity is the mother of invention,’ fits Pandora – her needs to get to us or find a way to get to us would have led her down some paths we’d never consider. Captain Harris had plenty of knowledge of the original crew and how Starfleet works.”

Leo scoffed, “So she went the Locutus route.  Clever girl.”  Another red-outlined message and alarm chirped on his medical section of the glass, and he stepped over to look.  “This might explain part of it – at least…three shunts in his brain.  They’re all connected to the parts that govern speech, consciousness, and movement.  No, five shunts.”  He waited until the computer completed the in-depth scan of the head, and it moved on down the body.  “She wasn’t clean, clinical, or anywhere near the level I would see in a professional medical operator.  This is blunt work – obtuse at best.”

Fowler felt her heart sink at the realization, “She didn’t care how she did it.  She didn’t care what it would do to him.  All she cared about was finding a way to hurt us.”  Sadie was thankful Halsey had kept Reid outside.  This was hard for her.  She couldn’t imagine what Jordan’s reaction would have been. Her mind worked through the events of the last few hours. “How did he get into the hands of the Poly?”

Halsey tapped his glass, bringing up a star system map, “Captain Jamison Wells was not very forthcoming about the how or the why – but we were able to use some sensor buoys in the Alpha and the Gamma to put together some history.”  A line began to trace the partial history of the Poly as the XO narrated, “When Pandora bugged out, it appeared she was caught in the middle of trying to finish this process.  As far as the reports and scattered intel reports can tell, Wells was a part of her crew, and she had to move quickly.  If we had made it aboard his ship, we probably would have found a specialized medical bay keeping her prize safe and stable.”  He added several additional ship signals that traced more halfway-constructed lines, “We didn’t know where she went because she used to the wormhole.  I’m guessing she went ahead to prepare whatever base she’s managed to cobble together out here, leaving the Poly to catch up.  Wells appears not to have confidence in her plan, so he decided to try and sell the alive and dead body to the highest bidder.”  He gestured to the body behind the thick glass, “That bidding process led us here.”  There was a shuddering noise as the ongoing attack played out above them, “That’s two very angry Klingon crews out there…and their prize is lying here.”

Fowler thought long and hard as another round of weapon impacts resounded through the hull.  “Will we remove the shunts and wake him up?”  She shuddered at the idea.  This situation unsettled her at every discovery they made.  The path Pandora Crawford had taken since crashing into their reality back in the Dominion War years had been bloody and brutal, with no signs that she would slow down or stop.  She felt as if they had or would soon all come to terms with the maniac that remained just out of reach, haunting and hunting them.

He didn’t have a direct answer.  His mind was awash in the issues from both a medical and ethical perspective.  “I’d be more worried if this was her plan all along – go get him onboard, we unlock him, and he proceeds to complete her mission…or ensure the way is clear for her.”  He shook his head, “I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again – she’s a clever girl – sowing doubt and fear every step of the way.”  He turned to the door, “We’re going to have to let Reid in eventually, aren’t we.”  Fowler nodded solemnly. 

“She really did a number on him.”  Jordan Reid stood cautiously at the glass, her eyes staring at Ambrose Harris’s body.  He had become her commanding officer when she’d been assigned to the USS Erigone, a cramped Raven class.  That had been almost a year and a half ago, in March of 2400.  It felt like a lifetime.  They had soon fallen into a friendly and then romantic rhythm.  The memories and moments were washing up against her consciousness as the tide of time rose against her.  The deck shuddered slightly as the battle continued.  Reid had been tracking the fight and was thankful to see one of the Bird of Preys had been disabled.  The second ship was proving to be more stubborn than the first.  “You said there was another set of DNA intertwined?”

Halsey pulled up the report on the glass, “Computer’s running through records.  It’s not Pandora Crawford’s, that’s for sure.  It makes up 25% of his genetic structure.  It looks like she used it to rebuild his body at a molecular level.”  He didn’t mention the problem with a body, even in a modern casket, decaying over time.

Reid tapped at the glass, pulling various reports and sensor details, “She didn’t take her time.  Whatever work she did, it would require a pretty high-tech system to restore and maintain the body over time as it’s used.”  Jordan oriented the scans and shifted the data around, her heart growing heavy as she connected what she saw: “You can see here…and here.  The body isn’t able to maintain its integrity over a long period – certain parts of the cardiovascular and neurological systems are starting to fade and get closer to failing.” She continued by putting the scanning equipment back to work as her eyes searched further into the life sign readings, “If we do nothing, the body will go into multiple organ failure within forty-eight hours.”

Leopold stared at the data—the slight changes in Ambrose Harris’s body were minute—and yet Jordan had found them after digging just a little more under the surface. He felt his pride in her surge, yet it was restrained by the current situation—her boyfriend was alive again…but he wouldn’t live without specialized care, never mind deciding to open up the shunts that had been crudely jammed into the man’s brain.  “The decision rests with the captain.” The deck shuddered for a second time, “And we’ll need to wait on her to get rid of our Klingon problem.

“Target their impulse engines.”  Helena Dread had disabled one and was working on knocking the second Bird of Prey out of her way.  The ship shook as the blasters and torpedoes impacted against the hull.

Athena stood at the right side tactical station, her hands working to put an end to this fight.  Whoever was at the helm knew their way around a Bird of Prey.  She had to begrudgingly admit that they were pushing their helm officer, Prentice, to the limits.  “Targeting and firing.”

William Prentice wasn’t having fun anymore.  He’d discovered the Klingon helm was adept at guessing his course corrects and changes nearly when he made them, costing them several attack runs and giving the Bird of Prey more time to pick at their shields.  It was frustrating and embarrassing at the same time – whoever it was was showing him up.  He pitched the Douglas into a swerve and then reversed course, watching with some satisfaction that the weapons fire from the Klingon ship went wide.  I’ll show you yet. He thought and added another yet to his internal monologue.  He watched as Ensign Athena unleashed a fierce volley of phaser and torpedo fire in the space he’d created.  The Bird of Prey slowed and turned to face them.

Lieutenant Atega alerted from communications, her voice cautious. “Signal from Kolm, Captain!”  Dread stood from her chair and nodded. The bridge of the Bird of Prey filled the screen, and an older Klingon captain was in the middle. The command center looked like it had taken a good hit or two.

“Captain Dread.  I am Captain Lkang.”  He looked at each face on the opposing bridge, “I do not have much honor to gamble with…and I tire of this battle.  Your Constitution III class ship proves the Federation still has some warrior left in them.”  He settled on Prentice, “My niece wished me to extend a compliment to your pilot, Captain.  She thought she had him…and he managed to surprise her.”  he leaned in, “If he is looking for a marriage, she’s available for a small dowry.”  An angry shout of ‘UNCLE!’ followed by a string of unintelligible Klingon curse words from across the bridge drew a smile from Lkang’s face.  “I am mostly kidding…but if you know of someone…she needs a warrior to rule her home with.”

Dread wasn’t sure what to say.  A marriage proposal in the middle of a detente discussion was new.  She found her words eventually, “Captain Lkang, I agree this battle is tiring…even if I, theoretically, would have won.  As for Lieutenant Prentice, he is otherwise attached to someone else.”

The eyebrows of the captain on the screen went up, “Ah, we could always arrange a battle for his honor!  We could host a dinner of sorts before…”,

“Uncle!” a young Klingon woman hip-checked him out of the way. She lamented, “I am sorry—my uncle is entering his, what you humans call his…twilight years.  Ignore him.  We’ll take our leave.”  She turned in a huff and stalked back to the unseen helm station.  

Lkang stepped back into the frame, a wry smile plastered across his lips, “If you change your mind, you know where to find me.”  The channel closed as the already-in-motion Kolm jumped to warp speed.

Dread stared at the screen, mouth open.  She looked around the bridge at the other’s stymied looks.  Ataga asked the obvious, “Do we report all of this?”

Helena answered, “Are you kidding?  Every last detail – including the marriage proposal to Lieutenant Prentice to a Klingon helmswoman.”

Prentice turned in his chair, annoyed.  “I’m never going to live this down, am I?”

Dread cackled, “Not as long as I’m captain, Mr. Prentice.  And request for reassignment denied, in case you were considering it.”  She checked her chair console and saw the updated report regarding their guest waiting for her.  “Return us back to our course to the abandoned colony.  Mr. Tir, you have the CONN.  I’ll be in sickbay.”  She stood and entered the turbolift, a thousand thoughts at once erupting from within.  Harris was alive?  His brain was locked?  His body was going to kill him again eventually?  

There were more questions than answers, and she hated all of the possible solutions that would be asked of her.

“We’re going to be wrong no matter what we choose.”  Captain Dread stood with the others outside the quarantine quarters, having listened to the report from each of them, and her response was one of tired finality – the road to this moment had been turbulent at best and frustrating at worst.  “Ambrose Harris didn’t have a choice in this, which makes whatever we do more of a horror show.”  She shook her head, “We let him die; his body wastes away slowly.  We unlock his mind piece by piece – we don’t know what’s going to wake up inside him.  It could be your former captain back from the brink…or it could be something else.”

Reid added, “And even if we bring him back – to keep him alive would require a highly specialized medical facility that we would have to build here and eventually transfer him to Starfleet Medical – the level of care his body needs exceeds our abilities.”  It hurt to say it out loud.  She had loved him deeply.  She would have to leave the Douglas and find a space on a station to work beside him, care for him, and aid him in living this new…life?  She wasn’t sure what to call it.  What would that life even look like?  He would never be able to leave the station, and much of his time would be spent in or near a medical ward.  What kind of life was that?  It sounded like a nightmare for a man who had been a chief engineer and vaulted to commander and then captain.  Then again, she realized – shouldn’t he be given the choice of what to do with his renewed life?  She allowed, “We may have to ask him what he wants to do.”

The group remained silent as she admitted what they all had been wondering.  The agency over the body was that of whoever was inside.  They just didn’t know who they were going to get when they flipped the switches.  Helena walked up to the glass, glancing at the readings before focusing on the body.  They didn’t have much of a choice.  “Let’s bring…whoever it is back.  Keep the body restrained.  Have a security team on standby outside the doors.”  She hoped Ambrose Harris was still in there, somewhere.

“Fourth removed…fifth in progress.”  Halsey was working the device, taking out the shunts one step at a time.  it circled around the head of Ambrose Harris, a surgical transporter device working with pinpoint accuracy to remove the devices.  Leopold tapped at the glass one final time, “Fifth removed.”  The equipment deftly returned to the ceiling and walls as the scanners focused on the body and brain.  Everyone stood at the glass, waiting.  Watching.

The world had gone white, black, red, blue, and green…before a dark orange had consumed his vision…and now, a glaring white was fading away to reveal a space he had never seen before.  It looked medical and stale – clinical in the starkly clean nature of the room.  His eyes flicked around as his senses returned in a harsh blast of sound and fury.  He winced at it all, his mind taking time to adjust to whatever this reality was compared to where he had been moments ago.  His father had been with him…and he had been enjoying the time when something had interrupted the moment.  His body was restrained, and he made no move to push against it.  He had died.  He had been in a place far removed from what looked like…a starship?  Was this another space in the afterlife?  Or had they decided the sins of his life had outweighed the good, and to the nightmares, he’d been condemned?  He moved to speak, and his voice croaked, “What…is happening?”

A voice he didn’t recognize spoke over a speaker: “Ambrose Harris—this is Captain Helena Dread of the Federation starship USS Douglas. You’re here under our care.”

He turned to see the glass was a mirror, reflecting his haggard state back to him.  He looked like himself, to a point.  Focusing closer, there were pieces of him that were not how he remembered them.  Harris wondered where he had ended up in the afterlife, “I’m dead.  I know that much.  I can’t be on a Federation Starship.  This is the place of nightmares, isn’t it?  I’ve read about this part of the afterlife story.”

“Mr. Harris…you’re alive.  Do you remember the alt-Carolyn Crawford?”  He nodded.  “She stole your body.  And this is the result.”  There was a pause, “You were brought back for a purpose…of which we don’t fully know.”

He thought, taking time to remember the echoes he had been hearing in the background of his life after death, “She was speaking to me…there was a voice…I thought something in that place was trying to tell me something…but it was her – as I was thinking it and you said it…it just…clicked.  She said I would be used for a great mission.  A mission that would save the Federation from itself.”  He closed his sighs, expressing his sadness in a long, drawn-out sigh, “I can feel myself dying again.  Whatever she did, she gave me something extra – a sense of…the time I had left.”  He searched deeper, “She didn’t finish her programming…whatever it was stopped suddenly, and the voice was gone.”  He stared at the ceiling, “How a monster like her gets a chance to keep living…and I have to watch my life go out in a flash from a greedy Devore Imperium soldier…the universe has never been fair.”  He waited for a response from Captain Dread, but there was silence from the other side of the glass.  He wondered how long he had been dead.  What had happened to his family?  To Jordan?  When his body failed him, would he return to his father?  Or would he be bound somewhere else for the sins of Carolyn Crawford in rebirthing him from the dead?

“I’m to ask you what you want to do, Mr. Harris.”

He turned his head to face the glass. “What do I want to do?” he stared at the glass. “You’re saying…I could live?”

“It would be…challenging.”  She explained the scenario they had gamed out and what it would mean for him.  “I cannot guarantee anything, Mr. Harris.”

Harris turned his attention back to the ceiling, “Life isn’t a guarantee, as I’ve come to discover.  How long do I have before I return to my grave?”

“48 hours, give or take.”

He chuckled, “You have an excellent bedside manner, Captain Dread.”

“Captain and Doctor Dread, if you can believe it.”

Harris groaned, “The worst kind – medical and command.”  He smiled after he said, “I’ve known an exception.”  More silence.  He wondered who was on the other end of that glass.  Dread probably had a chief medical, a science officer or two…probably a couple of security bodies just in case he lost his mind and tried to kill them all somehow.

The next voice was certainly a surprise, “Ambrose?”

His eyes went wide, her voice an electric shot down his spine, “Jordan?!”

“You already said your goodbyes.”  They had cleared the quarantine room from restrictions and allowed Jordan Reid to sit beside Ambrose, who was lamenting the moment with tears in his eyes.  She had enveloped him in a gentle, comforting hug on the table, her eyes equally filled with water of joy and sadness.

“It was a wonderful service, ‘Brose.  Everybody came to say goodbye.”  She wiped the tears from her eyes.  “I’m sorry this happened to you.”

There was so much to say, he realized.  So much he wished he could have said before going down to that planet where his life ended.  So much he wished he could have done.  The regret pooled in his stomach, a sickly weight pulling on his conscience.  “None of us had control of this…thing.”  He flexed his fingers, the sensations of his body returning to him slowly.  “She did this…and she has to answer for it eventually.”

Reid sat back, “We’ve talked about what will happen when we finally run into her.  Some of us think she’ll make us kill her.”  She clicked her tongue, “She’s escaped custody once…she might find a way to do it again.”

Ambrose shook his head, “She has to face justice, Jord.  We don’t just…kill people.  Self-defense is one thing, but…we value life over revenge.”  He winced at a trickling of pain in his back, “I watched someone who hated me enough to find a way to kill me do just that – it was an ugly look on his face as he pulled the trigger.”  That image was burned into his memories, dead or alive.  He felt his toes tingling, a sign of more motor control returning.  “What do you think I should do?”

Reid felt the tightness in her throat swell again.  “I…I’m biased, Brose.  There’s so much of me that’s missed all of you…I’d be selfish and ask you to live for the rest of our lives.”  She wiped more tears as she confessed what she felt.  She knew what would be required to keep him alive.  Her mind was swerving in and out of the possibility that that somehow would be found to restore his ability to live as he had before.

He haltingly pushed his arm to touch hers, a sad smile crossing his lips, “I know.  I wish I could feel the same.”  He felt his heart warm as his skin brushed up against hers.  He had missed that feeling.  “It feels like I’d be cheating death.  Eventually, it catches up with us.”  He could see in her eyes she understood, even if she didn’t like where he was going.  He continued, “I lived my life, Jord.  I served with incredible people…and I don’t regret any of it.”  Memories of his crew from Erigone to Edinburgh to Mackenzie floated through his mind.  “It’d be selfish of me to believe I deserved a second chance…a second chance at what?  That first run of life was pretty damned good.”

She smiled through the tears. “Saying goodbye to you a second time isn’t going to be easy, ‘Brose.”

He replied, sadness filling his voice, “Nothing is easy, Jord.  Life, death…it’s the hardest thing we’ll ever do.”

“Hey, Tir.”

“Captain.”

“How are you feeling about…all this?”  Ambrose Harris had been shifted into a sitting chair with various treatments to help with the growing pain he was experiencing as life was slowly draining from him.  He had made the decision to be able to say goodbye to those onboard that he had served with.  He felt strongly about it.  Captains Dread and Halsey had accepted his wishes, noting their protests.  Tir had been his operations officer from the start on the Mackenzie.

“It’s…surreal, sir.”  Tir’s voice was barely a whisper, lost in the sterile white of the medical bay. In the depths of his consciousness, he had other words for the situation, but he knew Harris had always been a stickler about language.  “It’s helpful to sit here with you…and process through it.”

Ambrose agreed – it was why he had asked for it.  The way he had died had left an unusual wound in the crew, one that had bound them together on the Olympic, then the Daedalus, and now here on the Douglas.  They spoke for another hour as Tir caught his former CO up.

“Greer…good to see you still in engineering.”  He smiled as his former assistant chief stepped into the room, her eyes unusually teary.

“Sir.” She accepted the offered seat. “This is weird.”  Greer Moore sat forward, her eyes never leaving those of her former CO. “You didn’t need to do this, Captain.”  She wasn’t sure if it was the right decision—for either of them. Grief was such a powerful force, and mourning was a process best followed along its meandering path.

Harris chuckled, wincing at the residual pain creeping past the injections, “Weird is a good word, Greer.  I was dead, and then I was alive…and I’m dying all over again.  It’s been weird since I woke up here.”  He turned his attention to her, “Congratulations on making Chief.  Proud of you.”

She wiped an errant tear, “Thank you, captain.  It’s been hard without you…and now without Okada…I’m not sure about the future anymore.”  There was a lot to think about, and she had been wrestling with it since the loss of her former Chief Engineer on the Mackenzie.  “You’re probably going to tell me to stay the course and keep on keeping on.”

Ambrose let a silence rest between them.  He’d been in her position before, and the decision she was in the middle of didn’t come easy, fast, or simple.  It was a personal decision that spoke to a deeper identity of both the person and the officer.   He didn’t want to push her either way.  Whatever her destiny or fate was – he wasn’t in charge of directing her on the path.  “Do you love what you do, Greer?”

She frowned at the question.  She had been expecting some kind of sage advice.  “I…maybe?”

He tried a different direction, “You served with me on the Mack, you followed your friends to the Oly…then to the Dad, then here.  I’ll ask it again – do you love what you do, Greer?”

Greer thought over his words, her heart and mind connecting the dots towards the point he was alluding to.  It was her turn to chuckle, “You can be right sometimes, captain.  I do love what I do.  It’s…just not easy sometimes.”

Harris looked at her knowingly. “It’s never easy every day. That’s the part I loved. Sometimes, it was simple, and sometimes, it was complex. Being out here in space…you either love or hate it.”

She filled in the empty space he had left for her, “And…I love it.  Thank you, captain.”

“You and I…have had some adventures.”  Elizabeth McKee sat in the chair, staring at a face she had long thought dead and gone.  Her voice was strong even as her heartbeat rattled around in her chest.

Ambrose replied, “We have, McKee.  You came back to Starfleet….and followed in my footsteps with engineering.  You think of climbing the ladder to Chief?”  His eyes exuded pride.

A shrug was her first answer.  As she sat, she contemplated a deeper answer.  She hadn’t thought about it; she’d just followed her first instinct.  “I used to think I’d never be back here. Being back here…it’s like life restarted for me.  Like…I’m finally alive.”  She stopped herself, “That was…sorry.”

He chuckled in response, “I think the wording is, ‘present company excepted,’ Greer.  That feeling you’re talking about – it’s your purpose and your place.”  He thought back to his career and path.  How he had found those things in each of the postings he’d landed.  “Some of us find it right away, and it never leaves us.  Others…it’s elusive.  It’s frustrating.”

She nodded, “It’s like you’re searching for something, and you can never find it until you do, and then it’s just…the universe is back in order.”  She felt a smile tug at her lips. “I have you to thank and blame for that, Ambrose.” She put her hand out, and he accepted it. They held the embrace and shared their last words with each other.

“I don’t know what to say.”  Presley Atega stood just inside the room, staring at her feet.  She hadn’t moved since she’d stepped in, her voice wavering between nervous and fearful.

Harris gently intoned, “Well, you don’t have to say anything.  You can just sit.”  He pointed out the chair.  She eyed it and inched towards it, her eyes flitting between the seat and her former CO.  She sat, letting out the breath she’d been holding.

“You’re dying…again.”  She kept her eyes on the floor, her emotions crawling up her throat and into her eyes.  He had interviewed her aboard the Edinburgh.  She had followed him until his death had taken her to the Olympic and beyond.

“Yes.”  They were silent until he said, “This isn’t easy for you.”

She lashed out, “No shit.”  Her eyes widened, and she recoiled at her own words, horrified, “I’m..so…captain, I shouldn’t have…”

Ambrose gently admonished her, “Don’t apologize to the dying, Presley.”

Atega finally put her eyes on her captain.  “I wish you hadn’t died.  Death…sucks.”  Her parents had died when she was young.  Her grandmother raised her and led her to study language and eventually Starfleet.  She had died after her graduation – the illness had been long and arduous.  Hospitals were her least favorite places.

“I know.  I wish this was different.  I’m glad you decided to stay in Starfleet, Presley.”

She smiled at his kind words and, at his prompting, shared her story since his death and of the things she’d been studying and working on.  He asked questions, complimented her on her successes, and found good encouraging words when she confessed to her worries and fears.  She left the room, her heart lighter and yet still weighed with the reality of loss.

“You look…good.”  William Prentice sat beside his girlfriend, Sadie Fowler, as they faced their former CO.

Harris laughed, “Modern medicine is a great thing.”  He turned to Fowler and said, “I’m glad you both stuck around…and stuck together.”

Fowler swallowed the tightness in her throat.  Seeing him up and talking was hard – she had seen him comatose.  He was alive.  Captain Ambrose Harris was alive.  For now.  That was the hard part – the parting of the ways.  “I can’t imagine where I’d rather be, captain.  Losing you was…hard.”

Prentice agreed with a sad nod, “You hired me…those days on the Erigone…I thought you were going to send me packing.”

“Showing up out of uniform on your first day was not a great first impression.”  Harris pointed out, “And yet, you bounced back.  That hotshot pilot with a hard edge…you figured out who you were.  Will, you’ve come a long way in a year and a half.”  He turned to Fowler, “And you – Dread gave me the rundown.”

Sadie’s face reddened, “I…well, yes.”

He pushed back on her, “Be proud of your work, Fowler.  Nothing in there to be ashamed of…and even with the things you didn’t quite hit the mark with…you learned.”

She may have been embarrassed on the outside, but her heart and soul were comforted by his words.  She was her worst critic, and hearing his voice telling her what her true value was – mattered to her more than anything.  She managed a “Thank you, sir.”

“You didn’t have to do this.” Captain Wren Walton was on the screen, and she had a mystified and awed look on her face.

Harris shrugged, “I think I did.  You have my thanks for what you did with the Mack.  It couldn’t have been easy.”  He leaned back in the chair.  “You did the right thing.”

“I heard and read so much about you…it’s different getting to see you in person on a screen, captain.”  She stared at him, “The crew that remained…they’re some of the best in the fleet.  They reflect you more than I care to admit.”

“They’ve probably already got pieces of your command style reflecting – you just haven’t seen it yet, Captain Walton.”

“Maybe.  You sure about your decision?”

“They were right – subtlety is not your game.”   He chuckled and thought about his answer.  “I’ve been talking to my old crew here on the Douglas…and I second guess myself with each conversation.  I could wait for some miracle cure to get me back in the chair again.”  He searched the room with his eyes, wondering if he was going to talk himself out of his second death.  It loomed gently before him, a reality he had initially vowed not to fight.

Walton mused, “But are you the waiting type?  And…is it really what you want?  I’ve read the report on what would be needed to keep you alive…it’s not pretty.”

Ambrose let her words sink in.  He chewed on them as his mind circled her reasoning.  The common theme that kept coming back was what he wanted – how what he had wanted before his death.  What, in the here and now, was his desire?  “Captain Dread said ‘there are no guarantees’ as to if it would keep me alive.  Complications have a nasty habit of being discovered when it comes to DNA manipulation.  We still don’t know what she used to bring me back.  My death was a certainty at the hands of the Devore Imperium.  They guaranteed it, in their way.”  He felt his logic swinging wildly in an orderly direction.  Harris muttered, “Who am I to argue with that?”

Walton let his words hang in the air.  She wished there was a better answer.  She wished for a lot of things.  In the end, it was his decision what happened next.  “I respect the decision, Captain Harris.”

A sly smile appeared, “It’s Ambrose, Captain Walton.  In the end, I’m just Ambrose Harris.”

She blinked and felt her emotions responding to these last words they were sharing.  “Well, then Ambrose…it’s just Wren.  I wish you the best in these last hours.  Thank you for the time you had with us.  Your people are better for it.”

“Thank you, Wren.  Take care of our people.”

The hours were waning as the clock ticked by.  Ambrose lay in his bed as the pain medicines had moved from injections to IVs.  Jordan Reid sat at the bedside while Halsey monitored from outside – making adjustments as time took its toll on the body of Ambrose Harris.  There were no words left to speak.  Harris had spoken with the former Mackenzie crew, who now called the Dragonfly home.  There had been tears, as there always would be.  But there had been closure for him and the crew.  Ambrose hoped it would serve them well.  His head lay to the side, staring at the face of his love.  They had said their last words an hour ago as his condition continued to deteriorate.  His vision was already blurry, and his breathing became haggard.

Ambrose felt her grip on his hand tighten as he could hear various beeps and alarms around him.  The world was starting to spin, and despite the pain medicine, it started to hurt more and more.  He didn’t ask for more.  He leaned into the dull and then the sharp pains that echoed over his body.  There was nothing left to do.  The world around him faded to black until he felt the coldness sweep through his consciousness. The colors bled through his vision from red to orange, yellow to white to black, and then to…nothing.  

The world around him faded back into focus, and he turned to his right.  His father, smiling gently.

“Welcome back, son.”