Captain Órlaith Murphy walked through the parting doors of the Valhalla’s ready room, and familiar face sat behind the desk. Granted, it was an older face.  

“Long way from the Denver, aren’t we?” Aoife asked with a smile.

“You’ve gotten old,” Órlaith teased.

“You haven’t. Well, not much anyway.”

Órlaith shrugged,  “Good genetics.”

Aoife filled her cup with hot water. from a nearby pot. She tossed in a bag of English breakfast to let it steep. “Can I get you anything?”

“No, I’m good,” Órlaith said, sliding into a chair across from Aoife.  “I understand you requested me to be a part of this little squadron we got going on.”

“I did,” Aoife said impatiently, swirling the tea bag around in the cup. “I wanted someone I could trust and knew right from wrong.  It’s not everyone who would stand up to their family like you did. Lord knows I’m not sure I am that strong of conviction.”

Órlaith nodded, accepting the statement as a compliment. “So what brings us out to Starbase 86?”

“Have you heard of the lost fleet?”

Órlaith sat back. That was a loaded question.   At that point in the war, she hadn’t joined Denver yet and was still with her psychotic family.  She missed them, especially Ian, from time to time, but they needed stopping.

“We all have.  The Profits did something to them, and they vanished.”

Aoife nodded, “Yeah, well, they’re back.”

“Back!” Órlaith exclaimed.  “How?”

“Intelligence is a bit sparse so far, but five days ago, our listening post in the Denab Sector was attacked by the Dominion and Izar has fallen into their hands. It seems for whatever reason they went from the Bajorn wormhole in 2374 and ended up here in 2401. To them, it was in the blink of an eye.”

Órlaith sighed, “The Profits told Sisko there would be a recompense.   Maybe this is this final stage.”

“Maybe, but we don’t have the Klingons to back us up this time, and Romulans are certainly in no position to render aide. It’s just us, and it seems like the Breen and the Kzinti are taking an interest in this as well.”

“That should make things interesting. I imagine Command is mobilizing the whole Starfleet?”

“No, they aren’t taking it seriously.  Admiral Rumar is, but that means it’s just the Fourth Fleet.  We’ll use Drakus V as our base of operations, and we will patrol the surrounding systems, including our colony on Sheo III. Expect Breen,  expect the Dominion.   We may not officially be at war, but we better treat it as such.”

Órlaith frowned, not liking the sound of that. She suddenly wished she had left the kids with their father.  She and Cory were far from being on speaking terms, something that was mostly her fault. But they had always prioritized the kids, and taking them into a hostile area of space wasn’t keeping them safe.

“I will get Commander Hayden to schedule regular battle drills.”

“How is Erin?” Aoife asked, “I should be upset that you paoched her and my assistant chief Medical Officer, but they were your crew too, so I guess I can’t complain too much.”

“The Commander is adjusting well to her role as my XO.  The fact that she kept getting overlooked was a crime in itself. One I intended to rectify.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Aoife replied.  “I’m glad she’s with a captain I know too.”

Órlaith nodded. “And of you and Commander Halstead?”

“What about us?” Aoife demanded.

“You two lived together on Avalon for a year. It would be difficult not to develop feelings.  Especially for a man like him.”

“Órlaith Murphy!” Aoife exclaimed.

“Just saying.  If it was me pretending to be married to him, it would probably end up in us being really married.”

Aoife frowned, “And that is why you are divorced.”

Órlaith shrugged,  “Yeah, I rushed into it, but that wasn’t my biggest mistake.   My biggest mistake was trying to salvage it for all those years. Don’t get me wrong, I love Xander, but getting pregnant with him while Cory and I basically hated each other… yeah, that was a mistake. I should have let him walk after Mindy was born like he wanted to.  Keeping him tied to me just made him resent me, and I didn’t handle that well at all.”

“You got your parents in you like it or not. They didn’t know when to quit either.”

Órlaith made a single nod of agreement,  “Quitting isn’t in my nature, that’s for sure.”

Aoife stood up, “It’s good to see you again old friend.  We’ll head out for the Denab Sector tomorrow at 05:00. Make sure your crew is ready.”

Órlaith nodded, “Of course. See you later.”  She turned and walked out of the ready room her head swimming with thoughts of recent events. 

A two ship formation slipped out of high warp at the edge of a small star system consisting of only four planets. The star itself was a yellow dwarf.  The second planet, right in the middle of the Goldie Locks zone was Arkan II.  An earth sized ball of rock with about sixty percent of its surface covered in water. There was no native fauna on Arkan II, but it was lush in various forms of flora and valuable minerals. 

It was for these minerals that the Federation had set up a mining colony. These raw materials supplied the Federation with the ability to build things from ship hulls to replicator housings. There were almost 20,000 full time inhabitants on Arkan II.  Some were tied to the mines, some supported the mines, and others scratched out a living farming a land that was too cold to make farming easy.

It was for the flora that drew the Dominion to this planet. There were several species of fungi that contained high amounts of an isogenic enzyme. This enzyme was necessary for the manufacture of Ketracel-white. The chemical compound made it possible for the Jem’Hadar to survive. More than that, their Vorta and Changeling masters used it to control them.

“Status report,” Aoife said sitting straighter in her chair as they approached the blue and green ball of Arkan II.

“Nothing on sensors,” Lieutenant Commander Abbygale Willis announced from the operations station. “No energy emissions,  no life signs.”

“No ships in the area,” Lieutenant Eduardo Villaseñor added from the tactical station.

“Take us in,” Aoife ordered.  “Remain at yellow alert.”

After a few minutes the Valhalla and Andromeda were orbiting Arkan II. “No response to our hails,” Willis announced working the console.  “There’s ionizing radiation in the atmosphere.   They aren’t at toxic levels, but it is enough to distort sensors  and prevent sub-space communications.”

Aoife stood and moved next to Willis to read the scans herself,  “They don’t look natural.”

The Choctaw woman looked up and shook her head, “No.”

“Why would the Dominion attack a planet and then leave it? Especially one that would be as strategically useful to them as Arkan II? I don’t know how much white the Lost Fleet has, but it isn’t indefinite.”

“I don’t know ma’am,” Abbygale responded.

Aoife turned, “Eddie, continuous scans. Hail the Andromeda.”

“Channel open,” Eddie responded. 

Captain Murphy appeared on the screen. “Órlaith I need you to send in away teams to the planet.  I’ll remain with the Valhalla and cover the Andromeda from here.”

“Understood Aoife,” Órlaith replied  “The ionization in the atmosphere will prevent transport.”

“Do what you need to do Órlaith,” Aoife replied.  “We’ll work on establishing communications from here.”

“Understood. Andromeda out.”

Aoife walked to her chair and pressed the comm button, “Bridge to Washington.”

“Go ahead Captain,” chief engineer Marcus Washington replied. 

“I need  communications with the planet.”

“On it,” The engineer replied. 

Aoife closed the channel,  “Ms. Willis help Marcus out please.”

Abby pushed away from her station,  “Aye captain.” 

Engineering…

Abby pinched the bridge of her light brown nose several hours later.

“Headache?” Marcus asked sitting next to her.

Abby nodded, “Mathematical calculations like this always gives me a headache. ”We are no closer to breaking through the interference than we were when we started.  The Dominion clearly wanted to cut this planet off from the outside galaxy.”

“That’s why we’re here,” the chief engineer said smiling showing a row of perfect teeth.

“To bash our heads into the proverbial brick wall?” She asked giving him a sideways glance and smirk. “Because that’s how it feels.”

Marcus shrugged, “So what? What happens if we can’t establish communications? Will the planet cease to exist? We’re here, and we have shuttles. It’s all a matter of convenience for the captain to be able to use transporters and whatnot.  So take that stress off the table. Now, focus on one thing at a time.”

Abby filled her lungs with air in a centering gesture before letting the air out slowly.  “Okay, well we know the ionization is restricted to the upper atmosphere, and it is this ionization that is bouncing back our sub-space communications.”

“Yeah,” Marcus agreed.

A thought struck her and she started entering data into the computer. As the computer returned the results she smiled.  “We need a radio transmitter operating between 750 to 1700 kilohertz of the AM radio band. There will have to be some sort of interface here in geosynchronous orbit with a receiver on the surface that can interface with the planet’s communications grid. Keep in mind this will be audio only.”

“It’s better than nothing.” Marcus turned to his console and started working up some ideas. After several minutes he announced, “I think I got it.  I’m pretty sure we can modify a Class-2 probe to transmit and receive AM radio waves.  We can attach it to a Class-6 warning buoy which holds the sub-space radio equipment and the RCS thrusters to maintain geosynchronous orbit.”

“We’ll just need to write a software program to get the two distinctly different  systems to talk to each other.  We’ll need something similar planet side but It will need to be able to survive the elements.”

“We’ll need some sort of antenna too.” Marcus added.  “I think we can get away with a satellite type antenna for both and just boost the amplitude. There isn’t enough bandwidth in AM for a transporter signal though. As far as protection from the elements how about one of those prefabricated emergency shelters?”

“Pattern enhancers should be sufficient once we can get a lock,” Abby said still working out the code to get the two very different systems to work together. “An emergency shelter? Yeah that could work. Probably not long term, but in a few months the radiation may have dissipated.”

Marcus nodded, “My thoughts as well.”

“How do you suggest we deploy?”

Marcus thought for a moment, “I don’t see any other way. We’ll need to take a shuttle.”

“What’s this ‘we’ Lieutenant?” Abby teased remembering one of her dad’s famous lines. “You got a mouse in your pocket?”

Bridge, Later…

“It’s good to hear your voice Aoife,” Órlaith’s voice came over the bridge’s speakers. The signal was poor with static and other annoying pops and cracks created by interference. 

“How’s it looking down there?” Aoife asked.

“They were hit hard. The Jem’hadar leveled most of the buildings. There’s a lot of homeless people tonight and temps are projected to dip below ten degrees. It was good to see Lieutenant Washington come walking in to set up that radio thing you guys built.”

Aoife sighed, “I’ll see if we can’t get some prefab colony structures built. With re-establishment of communications, transport enhancers should work to get the transporters working.”

“Glad to hear it. It’s getting dark down here.  Let’s not worry about the colony structures tonight.  If we can get about 200 tents, five or six-hundred sleeping bags, portable heaters, and some food that should get us through the night. We can worry about something a little more long term later.”

“Understood. Expect the first set of supplies within the half hour. If you don’t mind I’ll get commander Hayden to help from the Andromeda as well.”

“I appreciate that,” Órlaith replied.  “The sooner we get those supplies the better.  These are strong people who are used to a harsh climate, but even they have limits.”

“Understood. Valhalla out.”

Twin shuttles broke through the clouds of Arkan II. Dropping to the treeline, the shuttles skimmed the tree tops of pine like trees, twisting them with turbulence. A valley opened up, and the planet’s largest village lay sprawled along the banks of a rocky fjord surrounded by tall cliffs lined with  pines gnarled and twisted from the winds off the sea.

The shuttles circled ruins of the village. Most of the fires were out, and thin tendrils of smoke rose into the ash grey sky. Rain seemed inevitable,  and that would help put out the last of the fires.

Only a few buildings stood, mostly unscathed from the attack.  The town hall at the center of the village had been constructed of native stones and stood in defiance of the attack impervious to the flames that had swept through the town.

The shuttles set down on a grassy knoll outside of the village. The ramps lowered, and a dozen, well armed Starfleet officers exited the shuttles and assembled in a cluster facing the village.

“Keep your heads on a swivel,” Lt. Oskar Eichmann ordered in his thick German accent. “The Jem’Hadar can cloak themselves.”

Órlaith winced inwardly at her chief of security’s statement. He, of course, was correct in that statement.  It was because of this that she was thankful that her contribution to the Dominion War had been in a fighter and not on the ground.

“I am reading several hundred lifesigns,” Doctor Mulder announced reading from her tricorder.  Diana Mulder cut an imposing figure with her height and short blonde hair that framed her face to perfection.  Standing over six feet tall, she towered over all the others, even Eichmann, at six feet. “Mostly human, some Vulcan and Tellarites. I’m also reading Jem’Hadar and a single Vorta.”

Órlaith watched the village intently. Nothing moved. Nothing stirred. It was like the place had been abandoned wholesale.  “I don’t see anything,  and if there are Jem’Hadar isn’t it a little too peaceful?”

The doctor shrugged,  “Only telling you what the tricorder says.”

“Perhaps the Jem’Hadar are holding the town’s people as prisoners of war.”

That made sense to some degree, but you would have thought the Dominion would have had a watch and their presence already alerted.  Perhaps it was, she realized uncomfortably.  

“No sense in just standing here,” Órlaith finnally announced.   “We aren’t going to get answers hanging around here speculating.”

The grass was knee high, and in some places, it grew to their waists.  The soil beneath their boots was soft and spongy, making the trek all the more arduous. Burrs clung to their clothes poking and scratching the skin beneath.

Emerging on a dirt path that led to the village Órlaith was tired, itchy, and throughly done with the whole situation. Falling into twin columns, the Starfleet cadre entered the village, making their way to the town hall.

The destruction of homes and shops was disheartening.  She had met several people who had made their livelihoods on planets on the edge of Federation space.  These colonists did without the creature comforts most were used to elsewhere in the Federation.  They were fiercely proud of what they built, and to have it destroyed in such a senseless manner had to be almost soul-crushing.

They climbed the granite steps to the doors of the town hall.  They were double doors made of heavy wooden planks with black iron hinges and handles.  Órlaith grasped the handle to the right door in her right hand. As she did Órlaith raised the phaser in her left hand prepared for a quick shot.

Muted sunlight flooded the hall that was lit by candles, lamps, and torches. The electric lights were dark, suggesting the power was out for the village.  The interior was inspired by the great halls of the Viking jarls.

The vaulted ceiling held carved beams of Norse mythology.  The walls were draped in tapestries, shields, and swords.  In the center of the hall, a fire crackled, inviting its warmth.

At the head of the hall was a large group of villagers surrounding five Jem’Hadar soldiers and a single Vorta.  “That explains the lifesigns,” Órlaith commented.

“What are they doing?” Doctor Mulder asked.

“I expect they are prisoners,  but they don’t know what to do with them,” Eichmann suggested.

“Would you?  Execution isn’t the Federation way, but I doubt they have a stockade to hold them,” Órlaith replied.

“Crime on these planets are rare, but not unheard of,” Eichmann added. “But I do get what you are driving at.”

A man peeled off from the group to approach them.  Órlaith was somewhat disappointed that he wasn’t wearing fur, sporting an impressive braided beard and carrying an axe.  Instead, he was a slight man wearing a thoroughly fashionable business suit. His black hair was slicked back, and he had a meticulously groomed mustache.  

A pair of Starfleet officers peeled off as well, and with the well-groomed man they approached Órlaith.  “Welcome to our village,” the man greeted.  “I am Josh Franklin,  the mayor of…” He paused, frowned, “The mayor of what’s left.  Sadly, it is not much.”

Órlaith holstered her phaser phaser, “Captain Órlaith Murphy. This is my Chief of Security Lieutenant Oskar Eichmann and my Cheif Medical Officer Diana Mulder.” Órlaith paused, taking in the Starfleet officers for the first time. “Commander,  you look familiar.”

The Commander grinned, “I should.  My mom was your Commander on the Denver.”

Órlaith smiled in recognition, “Ethan Talon.  It’s been a long time.”

Ethan chuckled,  “Yes, it has. This is my Chief of Security Lieutenant Kat Donovan.”

Órlaith gave the woman a polite nod, “What are you doing here?  I didn’t think there was a Starfleet presence on Arkan II.”

“There isn’t.  The outpost I command is in need of mining supplies, and since I don’t have the first clue about how to mine a planet, I figured it would also be a good time to learn.”

“So wrong place at the right time?” Órlaith asked.

Ethan grunted, “Something like that.”

“So, what happened? Don’t say the Dominion attacked. I know that much.”

Ethan smirked at her.  “At dawn, two Jem’Hadar fighters came in from the sea.  The mayor was able to get off a distress signal just before they jammed coms.”

“Yeah, we got it. Sorry we were late, but it looks like you held your own well enough.”

“Better late than never, captain.  We have injured, and most of the village is homeless now. I would put them up in the hall, but sadly, the room is finite and will not hold everyone,” the mayor added.

“They did.  They tried sending in troops first.   The villagers grabbed whatever they had.  Phasers, disruptors, old-fashioned firearms, and even heavy hammers and axes.”

Órlaith gave the villagers a new look of appreciation.

“The attack was short, but ugly,” the mayor added.  “We lost some very good people,  but the Dominion lost more.  When they realized they didn’t have the ability to seize the area, they fled setting the town ablaze.”

“They also ionized the atmosphere,” Órlaith added.  “It why you probably haven’t been able to get any comm traffic out since the attack.”

“I suspected as much,” Ethan replied. “Unfortunately, our shuttle was destroyed in their attack.  It was one of the first things they struck, and the colony didn’t have proper sensors to analyze the situation.”

“We shot down one of their fighters,” the mayor added triumphantly.  “That’s where our ‘guests’ came from.”

“Some of the Miners drug an old mining drill out of the mines and boosted the output.   They had one shot, and by God, they hit it.  The fighter crashed along the cliffs heading east of here.”

“Mr. Eichmann, would you take their guests off their hands and return to the Andromeda?   Send Commander Choi down with a full engineering team,” Órlaith ordered. “As for you, Commander, I’m glad you were here to help. We’ll get you a ride home.”

“I appreciate that,” Ethan said.

The group approached the prisoners. Órlaith eyed the Vorta with suspicion.   They always acted meek and harmless, but she knew better.  They were wolves.

“Vorta, you are going for a ride,” Órlaith announced.  “You or your soldiers give my officers grief or any indication that you are trying to escape I’m authorizing my people to shoot you.”

The Vorta nodded. There was something in his expression that she felt off centering.  He was going to be a prisoner of war, and he acted like he was being transferred to a day spa. Órlaith couldn’t help but wonder if something bigger was at play here and she was missing some key information.

“Before you move us Captain,” the Vorta announced.  “I wish to speak with Commander Talon. Alone.”

Later…

Lieutenant Commander Lenny Choi grumbled as he fiddled with the fusion reactor. Several key components had become fused and damaged beyond repair.  Thankfully, so far, the components were well within the ability of the shuttle’s replicator system to duplicate.

In frustration, he gripped the circuit board and ripped it free of the main housing with a pops and cracks of rending polymers and snapping circuits.

“I hope you don’t fix the Andromeda that way, sir.”

Lenny turned to see Lieutenant Washington standing there. “Aren’t you supposed to be on the Val? And yes. Sometimes, ripping a component out is not only satisfying but an effective use of my time.  In this case, it was melted to the houseing. Brute force was the only option.”  

Lenny tossed the damaged circuit board to the ground near his tools, and it clattered along the gravel walkway.

“Aww, the old brute force trick,” Washington said, grinning. “They don’t teach us that at the Academy.”

“They teach the book Lieutenant,” Choi responded as he inserted a new circuit board into the slot where the old one had been. “You need that foundation to know what parts to toss out and what parts to keep.”

Marcus chuckled,  “I have found the book to be more useful than not.”

“You’re still a kid,” Choi said, running a tool over the replacement part, reconnecting severed wires and circuit pathways. “You still haven’t told me what you’re doing here.”

Marcus grinned widely,  “We’ve figured out how to reestablish comms. No more shuttles.”

Choi glanced over his shoulder for a brief moment before returning his attention to the fusion reactor.  “Good job, kid.” He threw a massive lever and pressed commands into the key panel on the side. “And this village now has power.”

The village lay behind them as Ethan and the Vorta picked their way along the rocky shoreline. Ethan stopped and crossed his arms staring at the Vorta. “Okay, we’re alone, and away from prying ears.  What do you want?” 

“I know, and you know that we cannot be held indefinitely in your… What did you call it? A town hall?”

Ethan grunted,  “You are correct. On both accounts.   Once we make arrangements we will be transferring you to the Andromeda.”

“There is a problem,” the Vorta started.  “Our supply of white was damaged in the crash. As you know, without it I cannot control the Jem’Hadar.”

Ethan sighed and turned away from the Vorta to stare across the water. “You know the war’s over right?  It ended twenty-six years ago.”

The Vorta shrugged,  “I serve the Founders until the Founders say otherwise this war is still going.”

“Which Founders?” Ethan demanded.  “The Changelings in your little fleet out of time and place or the Changelings that are part of the Great Link?”

“It is not my place to question a God,” the Vorta replied with an insincere smile.

Ethan bent down picked up a flat rock and tossed it which skipped along the water bouncing three times before sinking to the bottom.  “So, what do we do?”

The Vorta shrugged,  “I am going to order my First to escape.” 

Ethan spat the sour taste forming in his mouth,  “They will die.”

“Commander,” The Vorta said logically,  “Victory is life. Are you going to let us go free?”

Ethan rubbed the back of his neck with his right hand. Uncomfortable with the question.   “No, I can’t because anyone that dies at their hands has their blood on mine.  I don’t suppose paroling with a promise that you will stay out of the conflict is an option?”

“No, it isn’t,” the Vorta replied with sincere honesty. 

“I wouldn’t believe you if you said you would.”

The Vorta nodded, “I do not underestimate the conflict this gives you.  But you cannot hold them indefinitely.   The only way for them to live is to try to escape.”

“Which I can’t allow.” Ethan let out a long sigh, “Why are you telling me this?”

“Success is unlikely.  You outnumber and outgun us.”

“So you are hedging your bets.  If they succeed you escape and no one is the wiser.  If they fail you are hoping that will earn you some good graces with us.” Ethan looked at the Vorta with disgust.

For the Vorta’s part, he smiled and clapped his hands, “I am glad we are in agreement.”

“I haven’t agreed to a damned thing.  But why me? Why not tell Captain Murphy?”

The smile faded from the Vorta, “Because you are a warrior.  The Captain is a pragmatist.   She is just as likely to kill us as put them in stasis.”

Ethan looked at the Vorta with shock, “How do you know any of that?”

“I was bred to read people.  I can read you like you might read a book.  You have a code Commander,  and while cold-blooded murder isn’t in your nature you can respect those that walk the warrior’s path.”

The Vorta was right. At least for him, and he suspected he was right on Órlaith as well. To be read like an open book was disconcerting at best. He had made a career out of keeping things close to his vest. 

“Commander,  they or your people will die honorable deaths.”

“What do you know of honor Vorta?” Ethan snarled, “You haven’t an honorable bone in your body.”

“I may not, but you do.”

Ethan grabbed the Vorta by the shoulder and shoved him moving back towards the town hall. “I’m done with you,” his words filled with venom.

Later…

“I am in charge of this away mission,” Órlaith announced.  “It should be me that escorts the prisoners back to the ship.”

Ethan sighed,  “Captain I was part of the team that captured them. Hell, it was Lieutenant Donovan who entered the wrecked fighter and found the Vorta hiding.  They are my responsibility. Besides, I don’t know the first thing about repairing and upgrading planetary defense systems.”

“Neither do I,” Órlaith said relenting. “But okay, you can escort them to the ship. I do have other things to attend to.”

“Thank you, captain,” Ethan replied.

“Commander, why does it feel like you are up to something?”

Ethan shrugged, “Because I am.” 

With that, he turned away from Órlaith and met up with the gaggle of security officers. “Lieutenant Eichmann you are the Chief of Security this is your show.  Kat and I will just be here to help. But, you should expect an escape attempt.  They have nothing to lose.”

“Thank you, Commander,” Eichmann replied. “Okay, there are eight of us and six of them.   I’ll take the lead.  Commander Talon and  Lieutenant Donovan I want you to take up the rear.”

Ethan nodded.

“The rest of you flank them, and keep your head on a swivel,” Eichmann said.  “Let’s go.” 

It only took a few minutes to get the prisoners up and moving. After some minor resistance from both the prisoners and their Arkan II captors, they pushed their way out of the hall and onto the street heading for the shuttles. 

The Jem’Hadar First chose the ideal moment to take action. The prisoners were close enough to the shuttles to make a rapid getaway and had remained submissive enough for the Starfleet officers to start lowering their guard. Despite the warning from the Vorta, Ethan was still surprised by the quick, brutal efficiency of the attack. The Jem’Hadar’s hands were bound with fetters, yet he was still able to wrap his massive hands around the Vorta’s head. With a powerful twist and a painful crack the Vorta crumpled to the ground silent.

Drawing a small knife hidden inside his belt the Jem’Hadar First advanced on Eichmann. Oskar raised his phaser to fire but the alien batted it away sending it clattering along the ground. The First swung at Eichmann with the blade but with his hands bound, he lacked dexterity. Oskar ducked and landed a fist to the solar plexus with an audible thump. The Jem’Hadar grinned and with a laugh plunged the blade into Eichmann’s neck.

Eichmann stumbled backward with his hand clamped over the wound to stop the bleeding of a severed artery.   The Security Chief took two more steps away from the grinning First, stumbled and fell upon his back.

Kat raised her phaser rifle, aimed, and fired at a Jem’Hadar whose hands were wrapped around Ensign Rodriguez’s neck.  The Jem’Hadar spun and fell to the ground in a pile with a coughing Rodriguez rolling free. The ensign was rubbing his neck as he made it to his feet shaking.

Ethan sighted down the length of his phaser rifle with the First in his sights. Ethan had just fired as the Jem’Hadar plunged the knife into Eichmann. Shooting a man in the back was less than honorable,  but this was kill or be killed. His personal feelings about honor and whatnot were irrelevant.

As quickly as the fight started it was over.  Five Jem’Hadar and one Vorta lay in the grass only a few meters from the shuttles that had promised their escape. Crewman Daniels sadly had been dispatched in much the same manner as the Vorta. Only Kat and Ethan had escaped injury completely.  Ensign Gargamel was holding a dislocated arm. Crewman Jatel had a broken nose and eye socket from a Jem’Hadar head-butt. 

Only Eichmann was seriously wounded.  He lay where he had fallen clutching a mortal wound that drained his life with every beat of his heart.  Ethan rushed to Eichmann. “Get the Doc!” Ethan snarled at a security officer who was standing dumbfounded.

The man shaken out of his stupor turned and ran full tilt towards the town hall. Ethan kneeled next to the man. “Doc’s coming. Hang in there.”

His eyes were wide and he nodded jerkily.  The shock was setting in.  “It doesn’t hurt,” the German replied in a shaking voice.

Ethan swore.  That was a bad sign. There was so much blood. “Let go!”  Without waiting for a response Ethan pried Eichmann’s hands off the wound. “This is going to hurt.”  Ignoring the mess, Ethan jammed a massive finger inside. Eichmann screamed in pain as Ethan dug around in it until he found the artery and pinched it off.  “Where’s the Doc?” Ethan shouted in desperation.

Doctor Mulder arrived a few minutes later out of breath. At this point, Eichmann was pale and unconscious. “Oh, God!” She exclaimed her medical tricorder was already out.  “You,” she said to Kat, “go to the shuttle and replicate five liters of O negative blood.”

Kat hesitated.

“Now girl! Do it now! I got this Commander.” Doctor Mulder was already pulling her med kit over her head and flinging it open.  Loading a hypospray she pressed it to Eichmann’s shoulder.  

Then with quick efficiency, she pushed Ethan’s hand aside and repaired the artery.  “I don’t know how he’s still alive,” Mulder muttered as she fought to stabilize her patient.

“Here lass,” Kat announced returning from the shuttle.

Taking one of the pouches Mulder connected a clear tube to the bottom.  With a quick antiseptic swab, she plunged the IV needle into a vein on the forearm. “Hold this,” she said handing the pouch of blood to one of the security officers standing there watching.   ”Keep it elevated.” 

She dug into her med kit again,  loaded a hypospray, and injected that drug into Eichmann’s arm. “Okay he’s stable enough to move. I wish I had a stretcher, but strong backs will have to do. Let’s get him back to the hall.”

Later…

Ethan sat on the steps leading up to the town hall looking out across the moonlit fjord.  It was cold but peaceful.   In his hand was a cup of mead. It was good mead. Very good. He glanced down at his hands and realized there was still blood on them.

“You knew they were going to try to escape didn’t you,” a voice spoke suddenly.

Ethan looked over his shoulder and Órlaith was standing there with her own mead. “Yeah,” he said simply. 

“That’s what you and the Vorta were talking about wasn’t it?”

Ethan didn’t respond at first.  After a long pause, he nodded, “That’s right.”

“Conspiracy is a serious offense commander.”

Ethan looked at her and then back into his mead. “I wouldn’t call it conspiracy per se. I didn’t agree to anything, and I certainly didn’t put the Vorta up to it.”

“Yet you knew and didn’t report it to me.  You have blood on your hands commander,  not just literally but figuratively.”

“Yeah… I know.”

“They didn’t have white did they?”

“No ma’am they didn’t.”

Órlaith sighed,  “I guess this was for the best. They died like soldiers instead of suffering In a holding cell. I don’t have to like this, but I do understand it.”

“Captain,  I feel the same way.”

“You should have told me.”

“Would you have allowed it to continue?”

Órlaith was silent for a moment,  “Yeah,  I think so.  We both know a stun setting doesn’t always work on the Jem’Hadar. I could have tried sedating them, but there is no way to do that in a discreet way.  Who knows who could have gotten hurt in that scenario?   Commander,  this was a real-life Kobayashi Maru.  A no-win situation. Would command say you did the right thing?  Somehow I doubt it. Hell, I’m not sure you did the right thing either. To that end for the life of me I can’t think of a reason why it was bad, other than you not coming to me.”

Ethan nodded, “Sorry ma’am. You’re right. How’s the Lieutenant?”

“Doctor Mulder says he’s stable.  If he makes it through the night he’ll likely survive.”

“Lieutenant Donovan is one hell of a security officer.  You are going to need one. She’s yours until Eichmann is back on his feet.”

Órlaith nodded,  “I might take you up on that offer.”

The two fell silent for several minutes taking in the night, and Ethan loved it. Arkan II was nothing like his ranch in the mountains of Terra Alpha, yet the two were rual. Devoid of civilization there was a stillness in the air. The stars twinkled bright in the clear air with few lights to obscure them.

“Why did the First kill their Vorta,” Órlaith asked breaking the silence. 

Ethan sighed,  “The Vorta treat the Jem’Hadar like mindless automatons. The reality is that they are smart,  adaptive people. The First most likely figured out the Vorta had betrayed them just like you had.”

Órlaith finished off her glass of mead and nodded, “Yeah, that makes sense. It’s beautiful out here, but cold.  I’m going to go find my place next to the fire.  You coming, commander?

Ethan shook his head, “Nah, I’m going to stay out here a little longer. Besides, if most of the villagers have to rough it out in this weather. What makes us so special?”

Órlaith shrugged,  “We’re honored guests.”

Ethan snorted at that, “Yeah… sure.” He finished off his mead and set the cup on the stoop next to him.

“Suit yourself commander,” Órlaith said. She turned and pulled the door open and the smells of food, alcohol, and smoke wafted out before the heavy door slammed shut behind her.

“Sir, I’m reading and unauthorized access to a panel on deck twelve, Jefferies Tube 8-Baker,” an engineer announced from one of the stations.

Lieutenant Commander Choi left the master situation table to stand next the the ensign making the report.  “Do you have a combadge reading?”

She shook her head, the ponytail bouncing, “No sir.  There’s low level radiation in that area from the deflector dish.”

Choi made a face that exaggerated his wrinkles around his eyes.  The Korean man  had been in Starfleet long enough that ninety-nine times out of a hundred these were false alarms.  Usually an over zealous junior officer trying to take initiative and forgetting to file a maintenance report. Then again there was always that one time…

“My knees hate those tubes, but I better go check it out. Remind Lieutenant Tgrel that I want that planetary defense report ASAP. I know the Val‘s Chief Engineer is working on that, but… well Washington is just a kid.”

The ensign smirked, “Everyone’s a kid to you sir. Except maybe the captain.”

“Nope, I’m still older than her,” Choi said with a mischievous grin. “Ensign, Engineering is yours.”

As it turned out it wasn’t just Choi’s knees that disagreed with him crawling around in the Jefferies Tubes. It didn’t take long for his back, neck, and even the palms of his hands to start hurting.  The grated floor felt like gavel.  He paused at a junction and stood on the ladder between decks eleven and twelve.  Stretching, the vertebrae in his back cracked and popped. Choi let out a long sigh of relief.

He made his way down the rungs of the ladder and stepped onto deck twelve before opening the port side tube and crawling inside.  Fifteen meters down the tube he nearly collided with Lieutenant Kat Donovan at the junction of 7-Baker.

“Commander. What are you doing down here?” She asked with her thick Highland accent.

“I was just about to ask you the same thing Lieutenant.”

Kat looked over her shoulder and back at Choi before displaying a tool kit that she was dragging along with her. “Realigning the wee torpedo launchers. They were off by a whole bloody michron.”

“Lieutenant,” Choi started to chastise her, “I don’t know what things are like on that little Outpost of yours, but here on the Andromeda you don’t just start doing maintenance without first submitting a report.”  It was a false alarm like he knew it would be, and now he was just mad that he had to crawl all the way down here to find that out. The aching knees, and shooting pain in his back was doing nothing for his disposition and forgiveness of the situation.

Kat frowned, “Aye sir.”

To her credit she took her licks without any excuses, Choi thought to himself.  Letting out a long sigh, “Well, no harm done I guess… unless they are now messed up and I have to spend two hours fixing your mess.”

Kat shook her head, “I dinnea think that will be the case. My scans show that the variance is point-oh-one.”

Choi nodded, “Very good.”

Kat nodded, “I know.  Now, if you’ll excuse me laddie.”

“Of course. You are dismissed Lieutenant.” He watched her crawl down the tube with ease with and gave her a look of bitter jealousy. “Kids,” he grumbled.

With the Scotswoman out of sight he made his way to 8-Baker and pulled off the inspection panel. With his tricorder he checked her work. With an appreciative nod, “Not bad Lieutenant.  Not bad at all.”

“How is he?” Kat asked Doctor Mulder.

Diana Mulder looked up from her PADD containing a patient chart to see the new interim security chief standing next to the old one.  Mulder moved next to Eichmann and took a quick glance over his vitals.  “He is stable. I placed him in a  medically induced coma to let his body heal. I’m planning on reviving him tomorrow morning if his progress continues like it is.”

Kat looked up at the towering Amazon.  Mulder was a good head and shoulder taller than her own 168 centimeters.  “Well, ye are a braw lass. I dinnae think medicine was yer true calling.  Ye would have made a bonnie wee security officer.”

Mulder gave Kat an odd expression.  Standing at over two meters she was used to people making comments  on her height. For a woman it was highly irregular. Those comments were usually amounted to something like, “Do you play basketball?”  They always thought they were so clever like they came up with that one on their own. Now braw, that was a new one.

“I’m sorry, braw?” The doctor asked confusion etched on her face. 

“Och aye,” Kat said with a chuckle,  “it means ‘fine’ or ‘excellent’.”

Mulder decided to take it as a compliment, “Well thank you… I think.  As for security goes. That was never something that interested me. I wasn’t much of an athlete either. I preferred my books, and when I got older I fell in love with science. No, despite my physical appearance,  medicine is exactly the right place for me.”

“Aye well, at least ye know yersel’,” Kat said with a shrug. “Better than most ye ken.”

Mulder only half understood what the Lieutenant was saying,  but she politely nodded.  “Is there anything I can do for you?”

Kat shook her head, “Naw. I was just checking on Eichmann.”

Mulder gave Kat a smile, “I’ll leave you two alone then.”

The Scotswoman smirked, “It seems a wee bit rocket ta be speakin’ ta a man in a coma.”

“Well, studies have shown that it does help to talk to them,” Mulder suggested. 

“Thanks Doc, but I’ve got work ta do. See ye around lass.”

Mulder watched the woman leave. It was a curious encounter.   She didn’t act like a grieving friend or concerned colleague. This interaction had been more… Diana searched for the word and fell on, transactional.

Mulder retreated to her office and was just about to sit down behind her desk with an iced tea and work on a backlog of reports when the crash alarms sounded.   She rushed out of the office a nurse was already attending to Eichmann. 

With the heart monitor blaring a warning the nurse pressed a hypospray to her patient’s neck.  “I administered 40ccs of Ambetravine,  and I have initiated automatic chest compressions.”

Mulder nodded and entered commands and the biobed scanner extended from the sides and arched over the patient.  Mulder frowned at the scans.  “His body is full of blood clots.  I need an I.V. push of 40,000 units per 24 hours of heparin.” 

“Right away Doctor.”

“Computer activate the EMH,” Mulder ordered. 

“Please state the nature of the medical emergency,” the EMH announced in her pleasant voice as the hologram appeared. 

“Patient is experiencing multiple concurrent embolisms.  We need to operate to remove the blockages in the brain and heart and there’s only one of me,” Mulder said already pulling out tools and sterilizing the area.

“Shall I focus on the brain or heart?”

“Remove the clots in the brain,” Mulder said as she started operating.  

Doctor Mulder stood back and wiped her brow with the back of her hand thirty minutes later. Eichmann was once again stable.  She hoped there wasn’t too much brain damage.  At this point she wouldn’t know for sure until pulling him out of the coma.  Either way there was likely going to be some form of physical therapy after this.  

“Mr. Eichmann,” she said to the unconscious man, “if it weren’t for bad luck you’d have none at all.”

Abby sat up in her chair at operations.  All her senses were alert as her console blared in alarm, “Captain, sensors are detecting five Jem’Hadar fighters on an intercept course.”

Aoife stood, and moved to the center of the bridge.  “On screen, go to red alert.” 

“Shields up, weapons charging,” Ethan announced from the tactical station.   

The bridge dimmed and was bathed in a red glow as the klaxon summoning the crew to battle stations blared.The image of Arkan II switched to a squadron of beetle like ships flying in close formation. 

Aoife swore under her breath.  Her Chief Engineer and Tactical officer were down on the planet with Captain Murphy upgrading the planetary defenses.  That meant both ships were operating with skeleton crews in those two departments.  That’s why Commander Talon had taken up the tactical station and Commander Halstead was covering engineering.

“They’re loaded for bear,” Ethan announced.  “Their shields are up and their weapons are charged.”

“I guess that means they aren’t in the mood to talk,” Aoife quipped.

“Should we beam our crews back?” Nicholas Halstead asked, looking away from the engineering station. 

Aoife considered it for a moment, and decided against it. “No time.”

“Captain, are you going to let the Andromeda go into battle without her captain?” Halstead asked.

Aoife glanced back at her XO.  He was right after all.  Lieutenant Commander Hayden was a solid officer but she was not the captain, and new to her role as executive officer as well. But with all the atmospheric interference communications with the planet was clunky at best, and transporters were still a little bit of an ordeal.  “Your objections are noted Commander. Helm move us into an attack posture. Ms. Willis hail the Andromeda.”

“Channel open captain.” Willis announced.

The image of Lieutenant Commander Erin Hayden appeared on screen.  “Commander, have your sensors detected the Dominion squadron?”

Erin nodded, “We’re tracking them now Captain.”

“Good. Move the Andromeda to the far side of the planet’s poles.  Let the magnetic field conceal you. You’re our ace in the hole.”

“Understood,  Andromeda out.”

The viewscreen snapped back to the incoming Jem’Hadar fighters. “The Andromeda is moving into position,” Willis announced, her voice pitched up to be heard above the noise of a bridge on full alert.

 “Ms. Willis initiate multi-vector assault mode.” Aoife ordered. 

“Aye captain.”

The separation klaxon started blaring. “Initiating decoupling sequence,” the computer announced shipwide. “Auto-separation in ten seconds.  9… 8… 7… 6… 5… 4… 3… 2… 1… Seperation sequence in progress.” The USS Valhalla’s saucer separated from the drive section and the drive section broke into two parts flanking the saucer section.  “Auto-separation complete.”

“All sections are in formation and responding to our commands,” Commander Halstead announced from the engineering station.

“Armed and ready,” Ethan added from tactical with a grin.  The Jem’Hadar thought they had the tiny Starfleet armada outnumbered two to five. Each of Valhalla’s sections was more than capable of dealing with a single fighter which leveled the playing field considerably. 

“Attack sequence Baker-three.” Aoife said, settling into her seat to brace against any sudden movements that may dislodge her from her position.

“Baker-three,” Lieutenant Anthony Talon, the helm officer, responded by entering commands into the navigation panel. The two drive sections banked sharply one to the left and one to the right while the saucer closed in straight on the Jem’Hadar fleet.

“Commander Talon,” Aoife said with a rueful smirk, “Inform the Dominion this is their last warning before we attack.”

“Message transmitted. No response,” Ethan replied.

“They can’t say we didn’t warn them,” Halstead added. “All systems are green.  Transferring non-essential power to shields and phasers.”

“We’re in weapons range,” Ethan read from the tactical display.

Aoife frowned.  The realization she would have to give the order to attack meant she was also giving the order to kill.  This wasn’t a simulation, and she certainly wasn’t following someone else’s orders.   She was giving them this time. She stared into the viewscreen watching the enemy ships approach, willing them to break away, but of course they did not. They wouldn’t.  That just wasn’t the way of the Jem’hadar.  Retreat went against everything in their nature.

“Captain do we fire?” Ethan asked. 

As if to answer Commander Talon’s question a barrage of weapons fire slammed into the saucer shaking it violently. The five fighters flew past the viewscreen as each fired at them. There was a menace to the violet glow of the engines and the carapace shaped hulls that Aoife couldn’t quite put a finger on.

“Direct hit. Minimal damage to shields,” Willis responded. 

“Fire at the lead ship!” Aoife shouted the decision made for her.

The two drive sections closed in from a flanking position with phasers and quantum torpedoes; the sections lanced out striking the lead vessel.  One of the nacelles sheared off completely and explosions rippled along its hull before splitting open in a brilliant antimatter explosion. 

The remaining fighters scattered in four directions.  The Valhalla may outgun the tiny ships,  but what they lacked in firepower they more than made up for in maneuverability.  The Prometheus-class was built to fight these ships. The Valhalla was a good ship with an even better crew, and she had no doubts in the final outcome. 

“Indepent attack sequence,” Aoife ordered. Reading the battle map she took in the situation. “Helm, for Section Bravo, have it attack the ship at 41 mark 0. For Section Charlie, attack the fighter at 181 mark 20.”

“Aye Captain,” Anthony responded piloting the independent sections, his fingers frantically moving over the panel.  It was a little like spinning plates piloting three ships at the same time, and exhausting.

Two fighters closed in on the saucer, their energy phased poloran beams ripping across space and slammed into the Valhalla. They broke off and dodged the return fire.

“Shields down to seventy-five percent,” Abby reported. “Minor damage to the EPS conduits on deck two.”

Ethan adjusted his targeting and fired at one of the retreating ships, “Direct hit. Minor damage.” Turning his focus  to Section Bravo a fighter flashed within his firing arc.  He let loose a full volley of phaser and torpedo fire.  The phasers hit, but the fighter twisted away from the torpedoes and they exploded harmlessly. He swore softly in frustration, “You can’t run forever.”

Another pounding shook the Valhalla and a console exploded in the back of the bridge that showered the crew in sparks. “Shields at 63 percent,” Abby reported.  “Casualties reported on deck three and six. Structural integrity at 79 percent.”

The noise of battle filled Aoife’s ears. Taking a centering breath she absently brushed a loose strand of hair from her face. “Attack pattern Delta!” 

Bravo and Charlie sections broke free of their individual quarries and fell into a close formation with the saucer section.   The three ship formation closed in on the pair of fighters harassing the saucer. Phasers lashed out in angry red and orange.

One of the fighters shook under the onslaught.  The back carapace ripped open and bits of the interior exploded out of the breech from the explosive decompression in a cloud of debris and gases.  It slowly rolled to port as a dead stick and drifted along the gravitational forces of the system. 

“Splash two!” Anthony explained in jubilation.

“Mr. Talon,” Aoife chastised, “the battle isn’t over. bring us about 010 mark 5.  Commander Talon, return to independent attack mode.”

“Aye captain,” Anthony said more soberly, “010 mark 5.” The captain was right. He didn’t like being reprimanded,  but he also needed to focus on his job.

“Independant attack mode aye.” Ethan added.

Aoife nodded in appreciation.  She wondered if it was the whole Talon family that was so cool under pressure. There was something about them.  They were natural born warriors. She could see the strain etched on the other members of the crew, but Ethan and Anthony were both just treating this like another day in the office. She could dismiss it as age and experience with Ethan, but the same couldn’t be said of Anthony. He was just a kid.

“Ms Willis,” Aoife announced.  “Send word to the Andromeda and have them engage the enemy. Let’s mop this up and get it over with.”

“Aye Captain,” Abby said from operations. “Commander Hayden acknowledges and the Andromeda is moving into position.”

Andromeda….

“Torpedoes loaded,” Kat announced from the tactical station  

“Moving into position,” Ensign Vass announced from the helm. Her dark fingers danced over the console as the Intrepid-class gracefully moved towards the battle. 

“Attack pattern Alpha-four,” Commander Hayden ordered from the center seat. “Lieutenant Donovan fire when ready.”

“Torpedoes away,” Kat announced.

The first three exited the launchers as intended,  but instead of hitting the lead Dominion ship all three slammed into the Valhalla’s wedge shaped saucer.

The fourth and final torpedo never fully exited the launcher. The resulting explosion ripped a hole in the port side of the ship.  Consoles all over the bridge exploded as EPS conduits overloaded.  The violence of the explosion sent Erin flying from her chair as a heavy support beam crashed to the deck inches from where she had been. The lights of the Andromeda flickered and went out.

“Damage report!” Hayden demanded picking herself up. A quick self-examination told her she was mostly uninjured. Just some carpet burns on her hands and elbows from the fall.  Her left side ached, probably from the chair’s armrest.

“Main power off-line,” Amanda Wheeler replied, working the flickering controls of her console. “Structural integrity at eight-percent. There are hull breeches on decks two through fourteen. Sections eleven through fifteen are exposed to space. Emergency bulkheads are in place.”

Erin turned to face Kat, “What the hell happened?”

Kat smirked,  “As the Jem’Hadar are fond of saying,  ‘Victory is life’.” The security chief then morphed into a gelatinous liquid and shot into a nearby ventilation duct. Erin drew her phaser and missed the departing Changeling leaving a harmless black scorch mark on the bulkhead where it had been a moment before.

Erin swore loudly, “Lock everything down!”

“Aye ma’am,” Wheeler responded as she fought with the damaged systems of the ship. “Unauthorized access of Transporter Room One!”

“Disable it,” Erin demanded.

“I’m trying.  I’m locked out! The Changeling must have planned this.  She’s installed some sort of fractal security code.” And alarm beeped and Amanda sighed, “Transport complete.”  Turning to Erin with a defeated look on her face, “Sorry ma’am, there was nothing I could do.”

Erin swore again, “Bridge to Choi. Commander, I need main power back now.”

“Give me ten minutes. I think I can bypass the damage.  No promises on how stable it will be.”

“You have five Mr. Choi. Bridge out.”

Valhalla…

“The Andromeda fired on us!” Abby exclaimed from the operations station at the front of the bridge.  “Direct hit, our dorsal shields are down.”

“Evasive maneuvers,” Aoife ordered as she entered commands into her armrest display. “Keep our belly to the enemy. Lieutenant Talon maneuver Section Bravo for an attack on the lead Jem’Hadar ship.”

“I’ll get down to engineering and see what I can do to restore those shields,” Commander Halstead announced, pushing himself away from the engineering station.

Aoife simply nodded, “Do it. Somebody get the Andromeda on the line. I want to know what the hell is going on.”

“Captain,” Ethan said disbelievingly, “the Jem’Hadar are disengaging.”

Aoife’s attention snapped back to the viewscreen.  The three remaining ships banked away from the Valhalla Squadron and sped in the opposite direction at impulse for a few heart beats before jumping to warp and disappearing.

“Should I pursue?” Anthony asked.

Aoife sighed, “No, stand down. We’re in no shape for that.”

“Channel open Captain, ” Abby added.

“On screen,” Aoife announced once again, shifting gears.  She was starting to feel a little dizzy with all the different events going on simultaneously. 

The bridge of the Andromeda appeared on the main viewer. It was dark and there were occasional sparks flashing in the background. Erin stood in the center of the screen a black smudge across her face and her blonde hair a rats nest.

“Commander what the hell happened?”

“Lieutenant Donovan… She was a Changeling.  She targeted you and detonated a torpedo in the tube.  We took major structural damage, and the worst part she beamed over to one of those Jem’Hadar ships.”

“Kat,” Ethan said softly so no one could hear him. Kat Donovan had originally been a friend of his sisters while Aimee had been studying pre-med at Oxford University in the United Kingdom.  In the months since taking over as the Commander of Outpost Houtman, Kat had gone from his little sister’s friend to a trusted colleague and a friend of his own. 

Ethan swore bitterly, drawing the attention of a nearby ensign, “Are you okay Commander?” 

Ethan looked at the officer and simply nodded, “I will be.”

“I take it she escaped?” Aoife said, continuing her own conversation with the Andromeda’s XO.

“Yeah… she did. Captain, she knows everything.  She’s been into our systems for two days now.”

Aoife groaned at the implications.   This not only threatened Valhalla Squadron and their operations at Arkan II, but the 4th Fleet as a whole. “I’m recalling the engineering teams.  Get on those repairs.  We’ll need Andromeda as whole as we can get it.”

“Understood, and thank you captain,” Erin said.  That appeared to lift the weight of the world off her shoulders.   

“Don’t thank me yet Commander,” Aoife said. “We may have won the battle, but this war is far from over.”

Commander Talon stepped away from the tactical station.  The Valhalla had been  reintegrated, and those Jem’Hadar fighters were getting farther away. “Captain,  let me take a shuttle and track the Jem’Hadar ships. They’re going somewhere.”

Aoife turned and faced Ethan with her hands on her hips.  “This isn’t some sort of vendetta thing, is it?”

Ethan shook his head, “No ma’am. They have intel on us. It’s time we got some intel on them.  They know our location and what our capabilities are.”

“Do it, but take a runabout and take Lt. Villaseñor when he gets back to the ship.”

“Understood,” Ethan announced over his shoulder as he headed for the turbolift.

The runabout USS Willamette streaked through space at low warp with its energy signature tuned as low as possible.

“The ion trail is leading across the Breen border,” Lieutenant Eduardo Villaseñor announced.

Ethan entered commands into his terminal as he thought about what to do next.

“Sir, do we cross the border?”

“Lieutenant Vee,” Ethan replied expressionless,  “We need this intel.  Proceed.”

“Vee sir?”

Ethan chuckled  “My high school art teacher was Mr. Villigranna.  A mouthful, so the students called him Mr. Vee.”

Eduardo chuckled in response,  “The captain calls me Eddie, but yes, I can understand.  Villaseñor is not an easy thing to pronounce for you Gringos.”

It was Ethan’s turn to chuckle,  “Mr. Vee, if you ever want a job, you have one with me.”

“No, sir. Valhalla is my home.”

Ethan smirked, glancing at the man for a moment before returning his attention to piloting the runabout.  “I wouldn’t poach you from Captain McKenzie,  I’m just saying if you ever find yourself out of a job, you have one.  If not in Starfleet, I have a cattle ranch that could use good men, too.”

“A ranch, sir?”

“Not important,” Ethan said, waving a dismissive hand. “We’re crossing the border.   Looks like the ion trail leads to the Drakus System.”

“Sí,” Eduardo confirmed.

Ethan adjusted their course slightly,  “I think I can use the star’s gravity well to mask our signature.

“Aye,” Eduardo confirmed,  “I’ll see if I can maybe make what little power we are emitting make us look like a Breen freighter.”

“Good call,”Ethan replied, impressed.  “It probably won’t pass scrutiny,  but that might be all the edge we need.”

Thirty minutes later, the runabout Willamette flew over the northern pole of a gas giant.  Before them sat a fleet of more than thirty Dominion and Breen ships.  The fighters that had attacked them led directly to the center of the formation where two Dominion battleships were hovering.

“Damn, this isn’t good,” Ethan swore.  “Get a full sensor reading of this.  Fourth Fleet and Starfleet is going to need to see this.”

Eduardo was already doing that, “Done. Let’s get out of here.”

Ethan didn’t need to be told twice as he frantically entered commands into the helm.  The runabout banked and shot out of the system.  As soon as they were free of the Drakus System, they jumped to maximum warp, leaving the Dominion behind… for now. 

“The time is now 05:00,” the computer announced loudly as the lights illuminated the bedroom.

Ensign Sara Taylor groaned and rolled over in bed pulling the covers over her head. It felt like her head had just hit the pillow, not to mention every joint and muscle ached in her body.

The computer incessantly beeped again, “The time is now 05:01.”

A single blue eye appeared between covers and a wild mess of straight light-brown hair.

“The time is now 05:02.”

“Fine!” She exclaimed tossing off the covers in defeat.  “You win. Disable alarm.” Clawing hair out of her face she pawed around on the cluttered floor until she found an old Guns N’ Roses band tee shirt and pulled it on over her naked torso.

Yawning she padded to the replicator. With her head propped against the frame and eyes closed she spoke,  “Tea, Earl Grey, black, no sugar.”

The computer beeped in response and the cup of tea appeared on the pad. Cradling the cup absorbing its comforting warmth she made her way to the small dining table and dropped into a chair that was already haphazardly pulled away from the table.  

After finishing the tea she made her way into the bathroom and started the shower.  Catching a glance of herself in the mirror she frowned.  The some of the old flaws she hated were still there.  A chin that was too square. Hips that were too narrow. A little too tall with all the downsides that came with that.  Sighing she put that all to the back of her mind and stepped into the shower to let the water flow over her and wash the previous day’s makeup and stink down the drain. With a plasma razor she shaved quickly.

Later…

“Computer time.”

“The time is 06:45,” The computer dutifully responded.

Sara sighed and took one last look at her makeup in the mirror, adjusted her uniform that never seemed to fit quite right and walked out the door of her quarters. With a travel sized tumbler of tea she sipped on it as she walked. As she passed crewmembers she nodded politely and smiled inwardly with every “ma’am” greeting she received.

Lieutenant Marcus Washington and the rest of the engineering crew of the USS Valhalla were already in engineering standing around the “pool table” when she arrived. “Nice of you to join us Ensign,” Washington announced when she walked in.

“Sorry sir,” she said sheepishly.  Had it taken longer to walk here than I thought? She asked herself. No, it was no more than ten minutes from her quarters to engineering.

Marcus smiled, “We’ll skip the court martial this time.  Especially since it’s not 07:00 yet.  Okay, listen up people. Now that the repairs to the Valhalla are complete we’re going to help the Andromeda.  They are in much worse shape. Commander Choi just got main power restored last night at 23:00. I know you all put in eighteen hours yesterday, but we got another long one today. Chief Gibson your team will be in charge of industrial fabrication of external hull parts.  Set up an assembly line in the shuttle bay.  Weld those hull parts as big as the workbees can get them out the door.  Ensign Collins, your team is to cut out the damaged sections of the hull and fit in the replacement parts. And before you say it, yes that means a space walk.  Sorry Lance, but you are the low man on the totem pole.”

Ensign Gibson frowned and looked around for sympathy, but got none from the assembled engineers. Resigned to his fate he simply shrugged. Fresh out of the Academy he knew there would be plenty of scut work. He had just hoped it wouldn’t have been so soon.  But, someone had to do the undesirable work, he just needed to put in his time, and eventually he would be the one handing those assignments out.

“Sara is your workbee certificates up to date?” Marcus asked.

“They are sir,” Sara said with a nod.  

“Good, you and Crewman Olsen will be in charge of moving the finished hull pieces from the shuttle bay to the Andromeda for Ensign Collins to install. We need to work quickly, but also in a safe manner. I trust you can handle that?”

“I can sir.” She gave Lance a sympathetic shrug.

“Good.  The rest of us will beam over to the Andromeda and will integrate with Commander Choi’s crew.  Remember he is the senior officer over there, not me.  So you will report to him with any issues.  Consider yourselves on temporary assignment. Any questions?”

There were shrugs and the shaking of heads from the assembled officers and NCOs as they glanced around at the others.

“Good,” Marcus said simply. “We best get at it. We’re burning daylight.”

Ensign Sara Taylor piloted the workbee through the open bay doors to a scene of organized chaos. Engineers scurried about the deck like ants. Here and there were flashes of white-blue light from the welders.

She chose an open space to land. With a flick of her wrist the workbee spun and side slipped to her chosen landing spot. Once settled on the deck she pressed a button and the hatch sprung open. Climbing out of the cockpit a cacophony of banging, shouts and equipment assaulted her ears.

Sara approached a bearded man. He had streaks of white at the temples, and through his beard and sorrel hair. Senior Chief Petty Officer Charles Gibson was a brute of a man in his mid forties. With over twenty years of service he was a grizzled veteran. He fought the Dominion, the Klingons, and every known threat to the Federation in the last quarter century.

“How’s it going Chief?”

He looked up at her and then across the bay, “It’s coming along. That section over there is almost done.” He checked his notes, “Uhhh… that’s piece nineteen.”

Sara checked her notes scrawled in blue ink on her right hand, “Lance is looking for piece fifteen or twelve.”

Chief Gibson ran his fingers through his thick bush of hair. “Yeah, okay let’s see.” He led her through the narrow aisles of hull sections under fabrication. A crewman pushed an anti-grav sled back towards them from the opposite direction. Returning from another trip from the industrial replicator Gibson stopped him. “What lot is that?”

The crewman hesitated, “56 or 57 I think.”

Gibson frowned, “Well, which is it? 56 or 57. These parts aren’t interchangeable.”

The crewman fumbled with his PADD, and scanned the barcode affixed to the tritanium panels. “56, yeah 56,” he replied.

Gibson checked his PADD, “That goes to station six. Can you handle that?”

The young crewman nodded with a sheepish nod, “I can Chief.”

“Good, you best get to it. They’re waiting on those panels.”

The crewman nodded and pushed the cart forward with a little more authority in his step. As he passed Sara caught his glance and she gave him a sympathetic smile. When he was out of ear shot, “You should have been a drill instructor Chief.”

“I was,” he said a serious expression etched on his face. “It wasn’t for me. These kids, well… Half of them get out of school with their heads on backwards. The other half have their heads so far up their hind ends they can’t see daylight.” He noticed her smirk, “Don’t look so cocky ma’am. You ensigns are worse.”

“How are we worse?” Sara demanded feeling a little defensive for her entire rank.

“Most of you would get lost heading for the chow hall if there wasn’t an NCO to point you in the right direction. Ya’ll are book smart, but you lack common sense. Some of you, like yourself, recognize your inexperience. You respect and learn from your NCOs. Others, like young Mr. Collins, think that because they went to Starfleet Academy there is nothing else to learn.”

At a junction they turned right and approached a section of hull. An engineer was feeding wires and optic cable through a conduit when Gibson spoke. “Hey Stu, this is section fifteen isn’t it?”

The man grunted as he pulled a bundle of wires through the conduit and shoved them into a junction box. Without looking up he started to wire up the box. “Yeah, it is. This is the last of it and it’s ready to ship. Hand me that hyperspaner would you?”

Gibson bent and picked up the tool and placed it in Stu’s outstretched hand. The engineer ran the wires with expert ease and with a whir of the tool he finished the install.

“Heads!” Someone shouted. A gantry crane was swinging the skeletal structure of a Jefferies tube over to a section next to them. Three pairs of hands guided the tube to its proper placement. With electric pops and the flying of sparks the tube section was welded into place.

“That’s section twelve,” Gibson said to Sara. “I’ll make sure its done by the time you get back.”

“Thanks Chief,” She shouted over the noise as someone had taken a grinder to clean up some welds.

“Stu you done with this section?”

“All done Chief,” the man replied wiping dirty hands on his trousers.

“Then get that gantry crane to move it over to that workbee,” Gibson ordered.

“Sure thing Chief.” Stu turned and started shouting to his crew. Within a matter of minutes the hull section lifted off the deck and moved across the bay.

Sara patted the shorter man on the shoulder, “Glad you are on our side. We’d be in trouble if you were a Vorta.”

“Well, I reckon if I were a Vorta I wouldn’t be me, and no more use to them than any other Vorta ma’am.”

Sara laughed at that, “I’ll give you that Chief.”

She climbed into the cockpit of the workbee and started through her preflight checklist.  After pressing numerous buttons on the touchscreen in front of her and even flipping a handful of physical switches she fired up the engines and sealed the exterior hatch.

“Workbee Eight to Operations,” Sara spoke into the com.

“Go ahead Eight,” The voice of Lieutenant Commander Abbygale Willis replied.

“Preflight checks are complete, and ready to depart for Andromeda.”

“Cleared for departure,” Abby replied.  “Once clear of Valhalla make a hard turn to the left.  We have an incoming shuttle from Arkan II.”

“Understood. Workbee Eight out.”

Sara increased the throttle and the tiny craft lifted off the deck.  She rotated the workbee and activated its tractor beam lifting the hull section off the deck. Tapping out controls the workbee gradually surged forward pushing through the forcefield and into the vacuum of space. 

Pushing the nose down she dipped below the lower warp nacelles of the Valhalla and make a sharp left turn just as a shuttle from the planet approached. She waved at the incoming pilot, but didn’t get a response in return.

The starboard side of the Andromeda’s engineering section from just forward of midpoint all the way to the deflector had been ripped open to space.  The main deflector was unsalvageable as was the starboard torpedo tube.  Replacement at a starbase was the only option there. But, like all ships of its class the Andromeda had an auxiliary deflector. That would have to work for now. The squadron could ill afford to lose the ship at this point. Even in its diminished capacity.

Ensign Lance Collins was using a plasma torch to cut sections of the damaged hull away from the undamaged areas. The rib spars had already been replaced, now it was just a matter of fitting the hull plating to them.  Without thinking he tried to wipe the sweat from his brow and smacked the face of his helmet with the back of his gloved hand.  He swore bitterly.

“What’s that Lance?” Sara’s voice crackled over the intercom.

“Nothing,” he replied bitterly. “I just hate working in these damn things.”

“Now, now Ensign. You’re an officer. You are supposed to set the example to the crew on how to be dignified,” she teased.

“I don’t care,” he replied as he kicked free a twisted section of hull and let if float away from the ship.

“You ready for the next section?”

“Yeah. I’ve been ready.”

The workbee approached and released the new hull section from the tractor beam and allowed its inertia to carry it past the workbee.  Then four individual, and smaller tractor beams caught the section.  Under the direction of Ensing Collins, Sara was able to slide the section neatly into place.  She imagined that had they not been in the vacuum of space there would have likely been a satisfying clunk.  Instead the flashes of welding indicating perfect placement would have to suffice as her reward.

USS Valhalla…

“Aoife McKenzie,” Rebecca greeted as she slid behind her computer terminal.  She pealed off a pair of leather work gloves and removed a grey felt cowboy hat to reveal a full head of white hair. Setting it crown down on the desk Rebecca settled in. “What can I do for you?”

“Admiral, how are you?”

“I’m not an Admiral.  Not anymore. I retired Aoife, call me Becca.”

Aoife smiled and lifted her tea to her lips and sipped it. “So I hear. How’s that working out for you… uh… Becca?” That familiar term felt weird on her lips.  

Aoife McKenzie had served under Rebecca Sandoval over a decade out of her more than twenty-five year career.  She had left Starfleet Academy to enlist for the Dominion War. After the Battle of Tyra she earned a battlefield commission to Assistant Chief Engineer.

Rebecca simply shrugged, “I’m working harder than I have ever worked before. Branding and castrating calves is a young man’s game and I’m neither.  Milo’s gotten so he can barely throw a calf with his arthritis.” She poured herself a glass of water from a carafe sitting just off screen. “I miss the center seat of a starship. As much as I miss command I hated serving in the admiralty.  I don’t like politics, and I don’t like the constant office back stabbing.  Whatever you do, don’t let them promote you.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Adm… Becca are you following the events in Denab?”

Rebecca gave Aoife an odd expression, “I’ve seen some things on the news networks. They have been downplaying it as a Breen incursion.  Let’s just say it has a certain smell about it that I’m not buying. When you have been around as long as I have you get a sense when you are being fed a load of bullshit.”

“It’s not the Breen… well, not just Breen.  The Dominion’s lost fleet is back.”

Rebecca sat back with raised eyebrows. She had heard of the lost fleet. Everyone had. The fleet was a matter of great amount of speculation. Theories ranged from mass murder to alternate timelines.  Rebecca had always leaned more towards the mass murder side of things. “I assume that’s why you didn’t call looking to catch up then?”

Shaking her head Aoife began to plea, “We need help.  The Dominion is positioned to take Arkan II. Ma’am, if they control the planet they will have a source to produce white for the Jem’Hadar.  You and I both know how patient they are. The Dominion plays the long game. A year, a decade, a score or even a century to obtain their goals is nothing to the Founders. A supply of white gives them a chance to sit back and breed Jem’Hadar and build ships.”

“I don’t know how I can help unless you want me to send a strongly worded letter to the Dominion or throw some cow patties at them. I’m retired.”

“I know, but I hoped you had some connections or favors or some strings you could pull to get us some reinforcements.”

Rebecca thought for a long moment considering the request.  “I’ll ask around. I still have a few connections in Starfleet, but none are in the Admiralty.  If you’re hoping for a fleet of ships I don’t see that happening. Let’s just say Command couldn’t tender my retirement fast enough.”

Aoife frowned.  She didn’t like how her mentor had been put to pasture like that. Rebecca Talon had a habit of telling her superiors what she thought.  This was often to the detriment of their character. It was no surprise that her superiors didn’t take kindly to that sort of abuse, and it didn’t help that she was often right. They were stupid, scared, timid or short sighted.  “Thank you ma’am, that’s all I can ask.”

“It was good hearing from you Aoife. Next time you are near Terra Alpha I expect you do drop by. We’ll get the grill going and feed your whole senior staff.”

“I’m sure they would like that. I’ll chat with you soon ma’am.”

“Be safe out there Aoife, and keep me posted.”

With that the screen went black replaced by the Starfleet logo. Aoife turned her chair to face the window that was behind her. Left to her troubled thoughts she stared into the black. 

She needed a coffee.  So much for your one coffee a day goal McKenzie, she chided herself as she went to the replicator. In truth she really wanted something with a little more kick to it. But to her dismay she was on duty and could ill afford to have her mind impaired by alcohol. Caffeine would have to suffice for now.

USS Andromeda…

Captain Órlaith Murphy entered her quarters stripping off her uniform jacket. With reckless abandon she tossed the jacket onto the armrest of a nearby chair. The uniform, of course, slid off and landed in a pile of black and crimson.

Dropping into her chair behind her computer she entered commands into the touch panel. After a few moments an impressive looking Klingon woman stared back at her on the screen.

“Órlaith, it has been too long,” the Klingon greeted. 

“Far too long,” Órlaith agreed with sincerity.

Órlaith had met Commander Hur’agha, daughter of M’ress of the House of Lu’poq, from opposing sides as a Commander during Operation Gatecrasher. Old Lu’poq was a rare pro-Federation voice within the empire and as such sided with Starfleet during the operation. 

“How are you my sister?” Hur’agha asked.

“I am well. For now.”

The Klingon frowned,  “For now?”

“The Dominion is back.”

Hur’agha pounded the desk with her fist, “ghay’cha‘! And what is Starfleet doing about it?”

Órlaith shrugged,  “They are sticking their heads in the sand and pretending that this is all an exaggeration and hoax perpetrated by the Fourth Fleet.”

“QI’yaH! Cowardly petaQs! What can I do?”

Órlaith explained the situation while the Klingon listened. “House Lu’poq doesn’t hold the sway that it once had with the High Council,  but I will bring your plight to the Chancellor and make the argument. At the very least you will have the eight ships of my House.”

Órlaith sighed with relief.  Reinforcements were coming, “Thank you Blood-sister.”

“It will be a glorious battle!” Hur’agha exclaimed.  “Songs will be written of the eleven that stood to face thirty. Kah’less will be honored and the path to Stov’o’kor will run red with the blood of out enemies.”

“I don’t mind sending our enemy there,  but I would very much like to put my journey to Stov’o’kor on hold for now.”

“Bah!” Hur’agha exclaimed. “Dying in battle  is preferable to my bed!  I owe you blood sister.   I will be there, and when we drive the Jem’Hadar from that system we will share a barrel of the finest bloodwine.”

Órlaith smiled,  “I look forward to it.”

“Q’pla! Hur’agha out!”

“

Órlaith stepped into the transporter room. The transporter tech looked up from his console, “The G’Rath reports they are ready for transport.”

Órlaith turned to the man and simply nodded before turning to face the transporter pad. Moments later the hum of the transporter cycle deposited Commander Hur’agha. The Klingon smiled at seeing Órlaith and she stepped off the pad to warp her arms around her. “It has been too long my friend.”

“It is good to see you,” Órlaith said grinning and pounding Hur’agha on the back as the two women hugged. “Captain McKenzie is looking forward to meeting you.”

Hur’agha grinned,  “I as well. She seems to have the heart of a warrior to stand tall against an enemy and face certain death. You too my friend.  I am honored that you asked me to come.  I only regret that I could not convince the Council to send more ships, but I brought what I could.”

“We are grateful,” Órlaith replied.  “Thank you crewman,” She announced as she headed for the exit with Hur’agha at her side.

The man at the controls nodded, “You’re welcome ma’am.”

As the pair stepped into the corridor Hur’agha gave the man one last look. As the doors slid closed behind them the Klingon woman sighed, “Is it just me or are they getting younger?”

“No, not just you. And we’re getting older too.  I still can’t believe it’s been 27 years since I came to this reality. It seems like it’s only been ten. Time has been called a thief,” she shrugged,  “I don’t know about all about that, but we don’t live forever.”

Hur’agha grunted,  “And to die in battle bringing horor to one’s House and the empire has no greater significance.”

“Maybe for you,” Órlaith quipped. “I plan to die asleep in my bed after meeting  my great-great grandchildren.”

Hur’agha laughed,  “They say you humans are weak. Death is easy compared to facing a body that increasingly fails you. A mind that becomes riddled with dementia.  Perhaps we Klingons are the cowards choosing death in our prime.”

Órlaith shrugged as they entered the turbolift at the end of the corridor,  “I think we are all cowards when it comes to death. We just approach it differently is all.  Deck One, main bridge.” The computer beeped and the lift shot upwards.

“Perhaps,” the Klingon said thoughtfully. “And you my friend? How are the kids and Cory?”

Órlaith let out a heavy sigh, “The kids are fine. They are here on the Andromeda with me.”

“Good! Family is everything.”

Órlaith cocked an acknowledging nod, “As for Cory and I… We separated.  We were oil and water. Just too different.”

Hur’agha nodded, “I can see that.”

“I know you did.  You called it too.  I should have listened to you.”

Hur’agha laughed,  “Some can learn from other’s mistakes. You and I… we must make our own.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” Órlaith muttered.  “I got too much of my parents in me.”

“Órlaith you are nothing like your parents. They were murderous and dishonorable petaQs. You turned your back on them and that shows your honor and I am honored to know you… even if you are Starfleet!”

Órlaith gave Hur’agha an amused look as the lift slowed to a stop and the doors parted to reveal Andromeda’s bridge. Commander Hayden was seated in the Captain’s chair when they entered.  Standing,  she approached Órlaith and Hur’agha.  “Commander Choi reports the final repairs will be completed within the hour, and the last of our portion of the colonists have been brought on board.  The Val’s at about fifty percent.”

“Understood,” Órlaith replied. “Commander this is Hur’agha, daughter of M’ress of the House of Lu’poq.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Erin replied. “Lieutenant Commander Erin Hayden. Ship’s XO.”

“Qapla’!” Hur’agha responded. 

“Is the enemy still on the move?” Órlaith asked now that the introductions were out of the way.”

Erin nodded, “Yeah.  Direct intercept course moving at warp five.”

“Why so slow?  That puts them ten hours out.” Hur’agha observed. 

Órlaith shook her head, “I don’t know.”

“It does make for a smaller warp signature.  They may not know we’ve been observing them and are hoping to catch us unprepared,” Erin suggested.

Órlaith shrugged. “It’s as good an explanation as any.”  Nothing about this mission has gone to plan and ironically the Andromeda had taken the brunt of it.  Twenty of her crew were killed when the Kat Changeling detonated that torpedo in the tube. Now, they were using a lottery to evacuate a mere 1,050 colonists from Arkan II before they bombed their own citizens.   But, if they didn’t sacrifice 19,000, billions if not trillions of lives in the Alpha and Beta Quadrants were at steak.

“I never thought I would have to play out the trolly problem in real-life,” Erin said echoing Órlaith’s own thoughts. 

“This trolly problem. What is it?” Hur’agha asked confusion etched on her face.

“It is a…” Erin started and then looked to Órlaith for help.

“It’s a philosophical thought experiment where a trolly is rolling out of control.  On one track you have one victim, and on a separate track you have several victims. You could do nothing and the trolly will kill multiple people,  or you can throw a lever and be active in one person’s demise saving the group.”

Hur’agha grunted,  “The Vulcans would say that is simple. The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few.”

Órlaith sighed, “True. I’m just glad I don’t have to make that call. I do not envy Captain McKenzie.”

“Nor I,” Erin agreed. 

“Captain,” Lieutenant Wheeler announced from operations. “Sensors are picking up a ship entering extreme sensor range.”

“Can you put it on screen?” Órlaith asked approaching the station.

“Still too far out, but I am detecting a transponder signal.” There was a pause as Amanda tapped out the controls and relief washed over her. “NCC-97604, USS Sojourner.”

“One ship isn’t going to turn the tides of this, but it’s one more that can help. Commander Tarken is one hell of an officer too.”

Hur’agha and Erin both nodded, but Erin’s expression showed considerable foreboding.  They really were in a pickle and this was truly unplesent work.

Aoife Mackenzie plucked a doughnut from the tray. It was a simple glazed, but fluffy and chewy with the right amount of sweet. Taking a bite she chewed thoughtfully on the pastry. After consuming half of the doughnut she set the cresset on her plate. She placed the tips of her fingers into her mouth and sucked the surgery glaze from the digits. “So, how does the Andromeda look Commander?”

Commander Nicholas Halstead set his coffee down and licked his lips. “With the help of the Val the hull has been repaired. According to Commander Choi they’ll have full shields and phasers by the end of the day.”

Aoife drummed the desk with her manicured nails thinking. After a fashion she spoke, “That’s good news, and of our crew? How are they holding up with all of this?”

Halstead found himself lingering on the captain’s delicate fingers. Looking away he chastised himself. Aoife had made her intentions clear, and it was his job to honor them. “They are holding up so far. They are trained Starfleet officers, I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

Aoife nodded and lifted her tea, English breakfast, and sipped the scalding liquid. She noticed Nicholas staring at her and she spun her chair away to face the window and the vacuum of space beyond. She only hoped her reflection didn’t expose the flush of cheeks. After a moment she discreetly turned halfway back to face Nicholas.

Did she turn away from me? Nicholas asked himself. What’s that all about? Out loud he spoke, “Commander Talon reports strong resistance to evacuation. Since our ships cannot accommodate the entire colony he is issuing a lottery. There has been some unrest because of this.”

Aoife swore under her breath. With her fists balled she fought for composure, the struggle etched into her face. “Damn the Dominion! And damn Starfleet for pretending this is some stupid Breen skirmish. We need a Galaxy or even an Odyssey class for this mission. Here we are stuck with these two small ships doing a job that took a whole damn task force back in the war.”

“And while we are damning things,” Nicholas said a bit more composed than his captain but no less irate. “Damn Captain Barrington for giving us that order.”

Aoife nodded and sighed turning back to the window and space beyond. After an extended silence that hung over the ready room thick like fog, she spoke. Her voice carried a defeated tone, soft and filled with pain. “We need some form of early warning that the Dominion fleet is on the move.”

Nicholas was looking down at the floor and didn’t look up when he spoke. “What are you thinking Captain.”

“I’m thinking we should send a runabout out to observe that fleet. Sitting at the edge of their sensor range they could remain undetected. When the the Dominion does go the move they can radio back and warn us.”

“Not a bad idea. Who should we send?”

Aoife shrugged, “That’s more your department Commander.”

Nicholas sat back to think for a moment. Blowing air through his lips he finally spoke. “Most of the crew is busy, but Lieutenants Shrin and Talon have been sitting on their hands of late.”

“Shrin and Talon?” Aoife asked mulling it over for a moment. “Not sold on Talon. He’s a bit immature, but he has done a lot of growing. Captain Murphy praised him following the Blood Dilithium fiasco.”

“He has,” Nicholas agreed.

“Yeah, that’s who I would send,” she said with decision. She pressed a button embedded into her desk. “Lieutenants Shrin and Talon please report to the ready room.”

 A few moments later Anthony and Shrin entered the ready room.  They stood before the CO and XO at attention.  Aoife looked up from her PADD. “Thanks for coming.”

“Ma’am,” Anthony responded.

“Lieutenant I want you and Ms. Shrin take a runabout and observe the Dominion fleet at the edge of your sensors.”

Anthony and Shrin glanced at each other. “Aye Captain,” the Andorian replied.

“Ma’am I want an engineer along?” Anthony spoke up.

“An Engineer?” Nicholas demanded.  “Wouldn’t you rather have an tactical officer?”

“No sir,” Anthony replied.  “If it comes to a shooting fight I will mot be wishing for a tactical officer.  It will be an engineer.”

Aoife and Nicholas glanced ar each other and nodded in agreement,  “Okay, but Marcus isn’t going with you.”

“That’s fine.  Ensign Taylor will do.”

“Very well. You better get to it.”

“Yes ma’am!” Anthony said with a grin.

19 hours later…

“You like her don’t you?’” Shrin asked as she looked up from her novel, “The Aenar and the Impetuous Pirate”.

“What? Who?” Anthony said. 

“Sara!” Shrin exclaimed in exasperation.  “Who else do you think?”

“Oh… I uh.”

Shrin grinned at him. “’Oh’ is right. So?”

Anthony didn’t look away from his sensor data. The Dominion fleet was steadfast in their position. After completing the scane he stated a diagnostic on the runabout’s engines and shields. “Look, I know nothing about her.”

“So?” Shrin said. 

“Look there’s stoic and then there’s stoic.”

“Who’s stoic?” Sara asked as she returned to the cockpit.  She was finishing up buttoning her gold tunic.  As always the engineer was put together.   A lot of times officers would let things slip while in the field.  Ensign Taylor wasn’t one of them.

“Uh…” Anthony stalled.

“You,” Shrin said returning to her book. “Oh this is good. D’shin has met the pirate captain on his ship.” Looking up and glancing around her antennae twisting. “Why do they always depict the love interest as shirtless?”

 “I’m stoic?” Sara demanded ignoring Shrin.

Anthony looked sheepishly into his display while giving Shrin a dirty sideways glance. “Uh… sorry? I don’t know anything about you. Where did you come from? What are your folks like? It’s like you didn’t exist before Starfleet.”

“Oh you’re sorry? Why do you even care?”

“He likes you,” Shrin said stoking the fires without looking up from her pages.

 “My reasons are my own Tony,” Sara seethed, “and it’s none of your buisness.”

“Sorry,” Anthony replied.  “You’re right. It’s none of my buisness.”

“Sir,” Sara said not acknowledging the apology, “It is my watch now.”

Anthony glanced at Shrin for help, but got none, “Very well,  Ensign.” As he was standing up from the pilot’s seat and alarm blared. Dropping back into the seat with Shrin sitting upright in her own their fingers danced over the consoles.

“What is it?” Sara asked.

“The Dominion is on the move… Heading for Arkan II.”

Aoife,  Órlaith and Ethan were sitting around the conference table aboard the USS Valhalla.  Aoife nervously drummed the table with her finger tips.  “So, we’re all in agreement?”

“Yes,” Órlaith said simply.

Ethan sat back in his chair, “If the Dominion takes this planet it would be catastrophic.”

Aoife nodded and opened a channel to Captain Theo Barrington on Starbase 86. A moment later the Task Force chief appeared on screen. “Captain,” Aoife greeted.

Theo lifted his head, looking up from the reports he was reading.

“Captain McKenzie,” he said. “A pleasure to finally ‘meet’ you, so to speak. A pity it’s not under better circumstances.”

“The feeling is mutual,” Aoife responded.  “May I introduce Captain Órlaith Murphy of the Andromeda and Commander Ethan Talon. The Commander was visiting Arkan II when it was attacked and stranded him there.”

Theo offered a polite smile. 

“Captain. Commander,” he said, then returned his attention to Aoife. “Not to put too fine a point on it, Captain… You contacted me for a reason, so out with it.”

Aoife nodded, “Yes sir. Captain as you know Arkan II contains the raw materials to manufacture and produce the drug Ketracel White.  A Changeling replaced one of our officers and was posing as said officer until we discovered it. Unfortunately it escaped. We tracked it to the Drakus system where we encountered a fleet of thirty-five Breen and Dominion ships. I don’t think it needs to be said that it would be a very bad thing for the Dominion to obtain a source of white right here in the Alpha Quadrant.  Especially considering they have a solid and uncontested foothold in Breen territory.”

Theo sat back in his chair, his expression serious. 

“Indeed it would not,” he replied, letting the silence stretch out in expectation. This was an unusual call, and he had a feeling something else was going on here.

“We need any and all reinforcements you can send our way,” Aoife concluded.

“This planet cannot fall into their hands and we cannot hold it with just two ships,” Órlaith added.

He took a breath, and rubbed his chin. There was more than a five o’clock shadow there, testament to how long he’d been awake today.

“Captain, I’ll be perfectly honest with you… while I’d love to send you all the back up you need, and then some, unfortunately I literally don’t have them. The taskforce, and by extension, Fourth Fleet, are stretched to the limit. We have every ship out there in this fight, so you are going to need to get inventive. You’re going to have to beg, borrow or requisition whatever you can to achieve your objective. Hell… I’ve even got a ship out there using a livestock transport to help evacuate a planet.” 

He paused for a moment, to look at Aoife directly. “As soon as I have something free, rest assured I will send them your way. But for the moment, Captain, I am afraid you are on your own. And if you cannot hold that planet, then make damned sure the Dominion can’t use it. Do you understand?”

Aoife stared at the others in disbelief.  That fungus not only grew abundantly on the planet but everywhere. She was being asked to destroy an entire ecosystem not to mention she could never evacuate the entire planet if and when the Dominion made their move on it. Especially with just shuttles and the very limited transporter capacity that they had due to the ionization. 

“Sir, I don’t know that I can follow that order. There are twenty thousand Federation citizens down there.”

Theo kept his expression level. “I know, Captain. Believe me, I know. There are no good calls at the moment. There are just bad calls and worse calls. Do your best and limit the damage wherever you can. I’ll get help to you as soon as possible.”

Aoife let out a defeated sigh, and rested her head in her hand. The stress was eating at her, and the gnawing feeling in the pit of her stomach just intensified, “Understood sir.”

“I’m afraid I have other calls,” Theo excused himself. “But keep me updated, Captain. And good luck.”

With that, he closed the connection.

Ethan let out a long sigh,  “That didn’t go as planned.”

“Understatement of the century Commander,” Aoife replied ruefully. “Now what?”

There was a long silence and the three thought on their options. Ethan broke the silence “Peter.”

“Peter Crawford?” Aoife asked.

Ethan nodded, “Yeah. He’s part of the Mackenzie Squadron now aboard the Olympic.”

“I met Captain Harris when… well, he saved our butts after I lost the Crazy Horse,” Órlaith added. “There’s also Captain Tarken of the Sojourner. Met her on that same mission.”

“Well, three starships isn’t exactly a fleet,  but it’s better than nothing,” Aoife said. She was already opening a sub-space channel to the two captains. “No response from the Olympic,” Aoife said, “but looks like we got the Sojourner.”

After a moment the left display was filled with the image of an Orion woman as she sat down in her chair. “Captain Mckenzie and Murphy,” she said with a nod of greeting though her features clearly show puzzlement as to the call. She smiled letting the question leave her face before she glanced at Órlaith. “How is the Andromeda treating you?

“At this rate it’s looking to be short lived,” Órlaith responded. 

Kirin’s mouth twisted into a bit of a grimace and she grunted in acknowledgement, “I take it that is why you have called? I am not sure how much help the Sojourner could be.”

“Listen, I wish this was a social call, but we need help.”  Aoife went on to explain the tactical situation as concisely and as detailed as possible.

Kirin listened intently before she leaned back in her chair and sighed, “Well damn, that is a tricky situation you have yourself there. I am not sure how much we can be of assistance as we need to get to you mission right away.” She paused and shook her head for a moment, “That said, we will be passing your location soon, we can provide some assistance before we make our rendezvous.”

“Any help you can provide will be welcomed.  Right now it’s looking like it will be helping evacuate the inhabitants before we obliterate the surface so it’s useless to the Dominion. Which your added firepower will help there too,” she added.

Kirin paused for a moment as the colour left her face, “An orbital bombardment? Fleet cannot be seriously considering such a measure?”

“Orders from Captain Barrington of Task Force Command.  If we can’t stop them from taking the planet we give them a source of white. Arkan II will be nothing compared to the destruction wrought by a second Dominion war.”

Kirin nodded at that, “I understand that they cannot be allowed access to materials for the manufacture of white but it is a hard pill to swallow. As for the evacuation we can provide support though the Sojourner is a small ship, we cannot accommodate many people but we will take who we can.”

“It 400 more than otherwise,” Órlaith observed.

Kirin nodded, “That is true, and we will make space for as many as we can.” Kirin glanced over to her side and the chimes of a computer could be heard. “We can be at your location in one day. Does that work?”

“See you then,” Aoife said. “Valhalla out.”

Aoife closed the channel and the three officers stared at each other.  Aoife frowned tapping the table with the tip of her finger.  “Suggestions?”

“I know our orders are to only trust the 4th Fleet,” Órlaith started, but I think we’re out of options within the fleet route.”

Aoife sighed,  “Yeah, looks like it. Anyone have favors floating around?”

Ethan ruefully chuckled,  “I spent a career burning bridges.”

“Well, I haven’t.  It’s outside of Starfleet though,” Órlaith replied. 

“Do it,” Aoife said. “I’ll talk to Admiral Talon,” Aoife announced. 

“Mom?” Ethan frowned,  “She’s retired and wants nothing to do with Starfleet.”

“Yeah,” Aoife said considering, “but she had a forty some year career. Surely she acquired some contacts that might help.”

Ethan sat back and crossed his arms, “Maybe, but she didn’t make a lot of friends there at the end. But, I can talk to her.”

“No, no I better do that.” Aoife said with a sigh of resignation. “It’s my mess. In the meantime Mr. Talon I want you to get the colony prepared for evacuation. I would hate to give the Dominion this system but we may have no choice.”

Ethan nodded respecting Captain McKenzie. Órlaith acted as if she was about to say something,  but fell silent. “Okay people we have a lot of work to do. Let’s get to it,” Aoife ordered.

Ethan and Órlaith nodded in unison and they both stood and walked out of the observation lounge leaving Aoife to her thoughts.  

Ships on vigor of the waves are skimming

Barren summits to the verdant plains

Each horizon is a new beginning

Rise and reign

 

Far from the fjords and the ice cold currents

Ravens soar over new frontiers

Songs and sagas of a fate determined

Shields and spears

 

Vows of favor or the thrill of plunder

Pull together for the clan and kin

Clank of hammers and the crash of thunder

Pound within

 

Oh-ho-oh

The echoes of eternity

Oh-ho-oh

Valhalla calling me

Oh-ho-oh

To pluck the strings of destiny

Oh-ho-oh

Valhalla calling me

Valhalla calling me…

The captains of this little impromptu task force assembled around the conference table on the USS Valhalla.   There were heavy bags under Aoife’s eyes. Her crimson mane was normally up in a neat regulation bun but, today it was simply tied back in a loose queue.

“We got word from the runabout Willamette, the Dominion and Breen forces are on the move. Their current course puts them on a direct heading to Arkan II,” Aoife announced drumming her fingers on the desk, a rapid tap of manicured nails on glass.

Commander Hur’agha grinned from ear to ear.  The Klingon woman had supplied seven birds of prey and a Vor’cha from her own house.  “It has been a long time since I have been in a battle.  Today is a good day to die.”

“I would rather have the Dominion do the dying,” Ethan added.  He wasn’t in command of a ship, but Aoife had put him in charge of evacuating the colony.

Kirin looked around the room, surprised at how far things had come as she reflect quickly on her time on the Daradax which was not long ago. “How certain are we of their numbers and disposition? The Breen’s tech has been advancing for years and I am sure they have outfitted the dominion ships to a degree. A straight-up confrontation would not go in our favour.”

Ethan grimaced, “Very certain. I saw the fleet with my own eyes, two Dominion battleships, three Dominion cruisers, five Breen cruisers, and twenty-two Jem’Hadar fighters. To say it wouldn’t go in our favor. Yeah, that’s the understatement of the century.”

Kirin shook her head, “That is a lot of firepower even for ships that are 30 years old.”

“When will they be here?’ Órlaith asked.

“They are moving at low warp. Probably to make their energy signatures less obvious, but we only have five hours.” Aoife responded. “How are the evacuations going?”

Ethan sighed. “Slow.  The lottery is complete and we have a final head count for the 1,450. The governor is going to move the rest into the mines.”

Aoife hung her head. There were 20,000 colonists on the planet.  She doubted all of them would be able to seek shelter.   This didn’t feel right, but their backs were up against a wall. They had called in favors. They had begged and borrowed and this was it.

“I will take what I can.” Hur’agha said somberly. “My Birds-of-Prey can land.”

“Do it,” Aoife responded. 

“I’ll open the lottery for the additional spots,” Ethan added.

“The Sojourner is capable of landing as well but given how close the Dominion forces are I think transporters may be best, last thing we would want is a ship, full of civilians to be caught grounded and thus easy pickings for any of the Dominion.” Kirin looked around the room before continuing, “We have freed up as much space and think we can take another hundred people but it will be a tight fit. In addition, I have ordered our runabout to detect and take as many people as it can. Once it is full I have ordered it to make all speed to Farpoint Station.”

“That’s a good idea. We’ll do the same with our auxiliary craft as well. As for landing.  I think that wouldn’t be a good idea.  You are too vulnerable while I’m atmosphere.  You’d be a sitting duck if something happened and you couldn’t lift off in time,” Aoife said.

Kirin nodded, “We will get started on the evacuation now.”

USS Sojourner – Bridge; 5 hours later

“Status?” Kirin said as she sat in the command chair looking at the view screen which was dominated by a view of the Dominion Fleet.

“The Dominion fleet has dropped out of warp and slowed their speed to one-quarter impulse,” Belania responded. “They could be here in only a couple minutes though if they wanted.” 

“Bring us to red alert but keep bringing up the evacuees as long as possible,” Kirin said. A moment later the lights dimmed and took on a red tinge and the all-too-familiar sounds of the alert echoed through the corridors. “How long until we have completed transporting?”

Several sets of eyes glanced over at Kerry who was overseeing the transport, “We have had some issues with the transporter which has slowed us down. The pattern buffer keeps falling out of alignment. We have about 70% of the civilians we are meant.” Kerry paused for a moment, “I think we need another 3 minutes at least, assuming the transporter doesn’t act up again.”

Kirin frowned and looked over at Thanen, “Get down to the transporter room and see what you can do to stabilize the pattern buffer and give Crewman Floxan a hand.” 

Thanen nodded, “On it.” He then made his way to the turbolift but stopped when Kirin spoke, “We need to get as many people off as we can but I will not jeopardize this ship more than I have to and the lives of those already onboard.”

Thanen turned and looked at her, understanding what he meant, “I know, we will have it sorted in no time.” He turned to Ril quickly as he was about to step onto the lift, “Send a few more security officers to cargo bays to keep an eye on things and to the transporter rooms, just in case.”

USS Valhalla – Section Charlie 

“Here they come,” the Tellarite tactical officer announced. 

Lieutenant Commander Abbygale Willis glanced down at the tactical display embedded into her armrest.  “We have to keep the Dominion off the Sojourner as long as we can.”

“Aye Captain,” the officers and enlisted on the bridge said in unison.

A large squadron of fighters charged towards the planet heading for the Sojourner.  “Helm break left. Follow them,” Abby ordered.   The lower half of the drive section rolled hard to the left and chased after fifteen fighters.

As the squadron closed in on the Sojourner the planetary defenses opened up. They were limited in capability but it was better than nothing. 

“The Sojourner has taken direct hits,” tactical reported.

“Helm, get us there.”

On the screen a Jem’Hadar fighter exploded after a concentrated attack from an orbital weapons platform.  As section Charlie closed in on the squadron she released a full volley of quantum torpedoes and phaser fire.  A second and then a third fighter exploded.  While many of the Dominion ships had been upgraded there hadn’t been enough time to upgrade all of them, but the Valhalla had been upgraded multiple times in the last twenty-six years.

USS Andromeda – Bridge

Órlaith braced herself as a polaron beam slammed into the Intrepid-class.  Alarms blared in protest. She grimaced in sympathy for her ship. “Sorry baby.”

“Direct hit,” Lieutenant Oskar Eichmann reported. “Shields are holding.” 

Doctor Mulder had protested his reinstatement to duty.  Órlaith could have honored the good doctor’s request, but she knew the kind of person Eichmann was.  His place was on the bridge.  Healing would come secondary. 

The Breen cruisers flanked by fighters were an intimidating sight. But, Andromeda wasn’t alone.  She was flanked by a pair of Klingon Birds of Prey. As they approached the lead cruiser let out a volley of weapons fire. 

“Evasive maneuvers,” Órlaith ordered. 

“Aye captain,” Ensign Vass responded as she piloted the ship in a zigzag pattern.

“Target locked, weapons ready,” Eichmann announced. 

“Fire!’ Erin announced from the XO’s position. 

The Andromeda opened up and released volley after volley of torpedoes.   The Klingons followed the Andromeda’s example and explosions rippled along the enemy shields.”

“Direct hit,” Wheeler announced from operations.  “Minimal damage.”

USS Sojourner – Main Transporter Room

Thanen staggered into the main transporter room as the Sojourner shook violently. Before him, several of the evacuees were thrown from their feet. Among them, three of the ship’s security officers helped them regain their footing before leading them out into the corridor. Turning to look at the raised console controlling the transports he saw Crewman Trisim Floxan, “Status?”

Trisim look up from the console as she tried to recalibrate the pattern buffers, her long brown hair a mess as it hung down around her shoulders. “Sir, I don’t get it. The pattern buffers continue to fall out of alignment. I can only manage a couple of people at the time then I need to realign them.” The frustration she felt was clearly visible and her normally bubbly and cheery personality was replaced with one of annoyance and worry.

“Show me,” Thanen said as he moved beside her and looked at the read-out. “This looks ok now?” he said questioningly. He did not doubt her work but the current situation had him on edge.

“I just finished realigning them for the next transport,” Trisim responded with a bit of annoyance. Before Thanen could respond the ship shook again and part of the console erupted in sparks. The impact threw Trisim from her feet right into Thanen sending them both to the floor.

USS Sojourner – Bridge

“Impact to the primary hull, deck 5. Hull is holding but that won’t last,” Ril said after another Dominion fighter strafed the Sojourner.

“Damn, Ril, weapons free. Show them we have some teeth.” Kirin ordered before turning to look at the science station.

“Anything from the transporter room or Thanen?” Kirin asked. “Nothing ma’am,” Kerry said without looking back. “They have continued to transport up but slowly.”

Kirin grimaced and looked towards the con, “Ensign Tycon, evasive maneuvers but keep us within range of transporters. With our shields down we are sitting ducks.” With that, the ship began to move forward and roll as it dodged several polaron beams from the fighters rapidly overtaking them. As it did the numerous phaser arrays opened fire, their fiery orange beams striking several of the fighters as they flew past.

Ril shifted focus as two of the fighters pulled off leaving a third to fly past the Sojourner crossing right in front of her. “That was a mistake,” she muttered under her breath as the ship’s two-phase cannons fired, the high energy discharges slamming home into the main hull of the beetle-like ship ripping it apart.

USS Valhalla – Section Alpha 

Aoife stared down at the tactical display as they made a run on the Dominion Battleship.   They only had to buy Sojourner the time it needed to get the last of the colonists then they would turn the planet’s own orbital defenses on the planet and warp out of there to Farpoint.

With the saucer section of the Valhalla was a pair of Birds-of-Prey and the IKS G’rath. Part of her felt guilty dragging Commander Hur’agha into this, but they wouldn’t have lasted this long without their help. 

The ship shook violently as a squadron of fighters swooped in hammering the Valhalla’s shields.  The lights on the bridge flickered for a moment and then returned to full intensity. 

“Moderate damage to dorsal shields,” Eddie reported from tactical, “72% and holding.  Inertial dampeners are down another five percent.”

“Mister Talon keep them off of us,” Aoife ordered. 

“I’m trying ma’am. There’s just too many of them.”

The Valhalla lanced out with a bust of phasers and a fighter exploded.  The G’rath used her own disruptors and destroyed a second fighter. A Bird-of-Prey  took a direct hit and started to tumble out of control as it spewed drive plasma.

Another hit shook the saucer,  “Shields down to 62%,” Eddie stated preempting the Captain’s query.

“Where’s Section Bravo?  Tell Commander Halstead we need him formed up on us, ” Aoife said without looking up from her tactical map.

“Section Bravo is swamped with fighters.  They cannot get to us,” Eddie replied. 

Aoife swore, “Then it’s the three of us. Have everyone concentrate their fire at the point just aft of the port impulse exhaust port. The computer says it could overload their shields.”

“Aye captain, weapons locked.”

“The G’rath and B’Moth have acknowledged the target,” Operations added.

“Hold your fire,” Aoife said staring at the main viewer. “Mr. Talon direct intercept course, full impulse.”

“Intercept course. Full impulse,  aye,” Anthony repeated back as the saucer shot toward the battleship like a rocket.

“Captain should I fire?” Eddie asked.

“No! Hold your fire. Helm on my mark adjust course 181 mark 90 with a one second warp one jump.”

Anthony glanced back at his captain before entering the navigational maneuver as the saucer was hammers by the battleship.   Consoles exploded and bathed the bridge in darkness as the battleship drew closer and closer. 

Now, it was filling the whole viewscreen as Eddie nervously stared at his captain.  It looked like to him the captain had gone crazy and was going to ram the Dominion ship.

“Shields down to twenty-eight percent,” Operations reported.  “Hull fractures and casualties reported on all decks.’

“Impact in fifteen seconds,” Anthony announced. “10… 9…”

“Fire! Eddie fire! Now, Mr. Talon!”

The saucer lashed out with phasers and torpedoes at the last moments before impact and then seemingly disappeared only to reappear above the battleship is the aft weapons batteries opened up slamming into the ship.  With the help of the two Klingon ships the shields failed and soon the battleship was streaming plasma, but it was still far from out of the fight.

“Heavy damage to the battleship,” Eddie announced not believing his eyes.

“Don’t get too excited,” Aoife cautioned.  “It isn’t disabled yet, and I doubt that trick will work a second time.”

An alarm blared from the operations station,  “Captain,  I am reading a massive tachyon surge.  A ship or ships are de-cloaking.”

USS Sojourner – Main Transporter Room

Thanen slide the access panel partially back into place and glanced back up at Trisim and the additional security officers that had arrived within the last few moments. “Give it a go now. I have also looped in the cargo bay transporters, we can get everyone we need.”

She looked at him, “What was the issue, I didn’t see anything off?”

Thanen scowled slightly at that, “I am not sure, the pattern buffer seems fine but I have put a temporary fix in place which should avoid it losing alignment.” As he spoke he picked up the PADD which was directly connected to the pattern buffer. “If it starts to lose alignment I can directly manage it. Start the beam-up process.

The transporters activated and a moment later a dozen civilians were standing before them in the room. Without waiting Trisim tapped her combadge, “Cargo bay 1, do you have them?”

A voice responded, “Affirmative, based on my counts on that last transport we have 420 civilians onboard now.”

Thanen nodded and opened a channel, “Bridge, we have our allotment.” Closing the channel after a quick confirmation he glanced down at the PADD again and the data there. As he looked at it his frown deepened.

USS Valhalla – Section Alpha

Space filled with a hodgepodge of twenty Romulan ships. Mostly older D’deridex-class warbirds, but there was at least one modern Norexian, and five ancient D7 types with warbirds painted on their hulls.

A pair of D’deridex warbirds closed on the battleship,  their green disruptors lashing out and ripping the ship apart in a brilliant antimatter explosion. There was a lull in the battle as the Dominion fleet broke away from the allied ships to regroup.

“We’re being hailed by the lead Romulan ship,” Operations announced. 

Aoife sat up and adjusted her uniform, “Patch it through to the Sojourner, G’rath, and Andromeda.”

The main viewer switched to a four-way split so the five captains could communicate. The Romulan was a stately looking woman with her straight black hair cut into a traditional inverted ‘V” over her forehead.  “Captain McKenzie, I am Governor Tomarah.  Rebecca Talon said you were in need of assistance.  I can see she was not exaggerating.”

“Glad to see you Governor,” Aoife responded. 

“I must apologize for our tardiness.  Organizing a fleet these days is not as easy as it was during the days of the Empire.”

“Better late than never,” Hur’agha grunted.

Tomarah took in the Klingon with mild contempt. “Yes, it appears it will be like the… as you humans say, ‘like the good old days’’. It has been a long time since I fought beside a Klingon.”

“Don’t worry Romulan,” Hur’agha grinned, “We won’t shoot you in the back.”

“Let’s avoid that, shall we?” Kirin said with a smile. “I for one am glad for the assistance Governor,” as she spoke the image of Kirin flickered on the screen as the bridge around her shook. Kirin glanced down at the small display on her armchair, “I suggest we cut this short and deal with the Dominion forces. We can pick up the conversation when the job is done.”

“This changes things,” Órlaith announced.

“It does,” Aoife agreed.  “Kirin you and Órlaith get out of here.  That goes for the Birds-of-Prey with passengers.”

Hur’aga frowned, “My people will not be happy missing out on a fight.”

“Perhaps I have a solution.  Those Klingon ships are more valuable to this battle then those D7s I brought. How about we transfer the colonists to one of those ships,” Tomarah offered.

“Do it,” Aoife ordered.

Kirin nodded in agreement, “Agreed. Good luck.” She turned in screen and spoke to the helm control, “Ensign, break contact and move us towards the other system with then Andromeda.” 

With that the Sojourner adjusted course, passing close to several of the Romulan ships which engaged the pursuing Dominion forces.

USS Valhalla – Section Alpha, Engineering

Lieutenant Marcus Washington scanned the open panel on the second deck of engineering. Scowling he walked to the railing and shouted down to the main deck. “Sara I need a new phase inducer.”

Ensign Sara Taylor looked up from the warp core control panel the glow of the antimatter reaction falling in curelian across her face. She hesitated. She was almost done realigning the injector coils to bring main power back online. “Yes sir.”

She turned collided with Chief Gibson sending them both stumbling. “God damnit Taylor!” Gibson grumbled as he regained his composure. “Are you okay ma’am?”

“Sorry Chief,” Sara replied heading for the parts replicator. “I’m fine!” She shouted over her shoulder.

“Chief how are the inertial dampers coming?” Washington shouted down.

The whole ship shook threatening to send anyone not sitting or too far away to grab something to brace.  The hull groaned and the lights flickered. Gibson looked around. “I re-routed power from the replicators and sonic showers to the dampeners up to 82%,” Gibson reported.

The ship shook again under another volley of Dominion weapons fire.

“Good,” Washington replied.  “The aft number three phaser strip is disabled.  Get a team on it Chief.”

Gibson nodded, “On it.” As he was heading to the location he was shouting names to bring with him as Sara rushed past him with the new part.

“Lieutenant Washington!’ She shouted getting the Chief Engineer’s attention.  With the part in both hands she bent her knees and in an underhand to overhead motion the part sailed upward for Marcus to catch deftly. ”Thanks Ensign. How’s main power?”

“Give me two minutes. I think I have to damage rerouted…” The ship shook and a console exploded. “That’s assuming the Dominion doesn’t undo my progress.

“Think of it as job security Ensign,” Washington quipped as he left her standing staring up at him.  At the open panel he jerked the damaged phase inducer free of it’s mounting before slotting the new in its place.  It was just a matter of seconds to attach the power and data cables and press a series of five buttons on a keypad next to the inducer as energy surged through the device. Slapping his combadge, “Engineering to bridge.  You have dosal shields.”

Warbird Vival – Bridge

Tomerah nearly lost her grip on her chair as the aging warbird shuddered under a series of attacks. “Damage report?”

“Shields holding at 68%,” the tactical officer said working the controls of his station. 

Tomarah was certain that the young man on her bridge was Tal Shiar.  She knew the look from first hand experience from her brief stent with the organization prior to her service as a senator. 

The massive ship turned with a group of three other Romulan ships one was one of the outdated D7s. The ship was of Klingon manufacture and received by the old Star Empire in the 2250s. With the fall of the Empire that ship and several others had been pressed into service by local planetary governors for protection. With a few upgrades they were generally capable of deterring pirates,  but against actual warships they were outclassed in every way.  Yet, somehow it was still in the fight. 

“The Dominion cruiser is in weapons range,” the tactical officer said.

Tomarah couldn’t show a slight grin. This was like the old days, “Fire!”

USS Valhalla – Section Charlie

The lower half of the Valhalla‘s drive section hd become swamped with fighters. Their Romulan allies nowhere to be seen.  Lt. Commander Abbygale Willis gripped the armrests of the chair she was sitting in as another volley of enemy weapons pounded the ship.  Consoles exploded.

“Damage report?” Abby demanded.

“Shields are down to twenty-eight percent,” Operations reported. “Hull breeches are on all decks.”

“I’ve lost targeting scanners,” tactical added.

“Keep firing. I don’t care if you are missing,” Abby ordered.

Another round of incoming fire slammed into the section. This time the violence of the attack dislodged her from her seat and she was thrown free landing with a heavy thump upon the deck. Support beams in the ceiling collapsed sending a shower of sparks down on the bridge crew as wires, ODN relays and EPS conduits were torn apart bathing the bridge in darkness.  Even the red emergency lighting failed to activate.  All but three consoles were dark.

The operations officer picked herself off the deck and slid behind her console that was still working.  It was flashing on and off from the damage but she could at least access the data. “Main and auxiliary power are offline. Impulse and warp engines are offline. Shields are offline.  Decks 15 and 14 are exposed to space. We are adrift ma’am. All coms including internal are down.”

Abby was picking herself up as a pair of warbirds flew past the section on the viewscreen. Between the flickering static the massive green ships dove right in on the enemy unleashing angry beams of disruptor fire. Now with a new threat the fighters broke off to deal with the Romulans instead of finishing off Section Charlie. 

“Could have used you two five minutes ago,” Abby muttered bitterly, “but better late than never. Mr. Stevens get down to engineering and get a report.”

“He’s dead ma’am,” someone at the back of the bridge announced. 

Abby sighed, she really liked the man. He would have been one hell of a chief tactical officer someday. “Ms. Orik I guess it’s you. Tell him priority needs to be shields and coms.”

“I Captain,” the operations officer replied already pulling away the hatch to the jefferies tube entrance, and in an instant she was gone.

USS Sojourner – Bridge

Ensign Dese Tycon relaxed as she scanned the sensor display to her right as it showed that the Romulans had successfully intercepted the dominion ship that had been in pursuit, “We have left weapons range of the dominion ships, Captain.” She glanced back quickly to see Kirin sitting in the command chair, with her chin propped up on her elbow as she focused on her small display screen.

Without looking up she tilted her head ever so slightly, “Thank you Dese. Get us to the Andromeda ASAP.” As Kirin said that she was torn about having left the rest of the allied ships but she knew it was the right thing to do, there were over 400 civilians on board.

She shook her head ever so slightly and glanced over at Belania, “Keep an eye on the battle, give me any updates, I need to go have a chat with our guests.” Belania nodded but before Kirin had reached the turbo lift the Ferengi went rigid. “Two contacts less than 20 thousand kilometres aft and closing fast, Jem’hadar fighters. I don’t know where they came from!”

Kirin swore under her breath and turned back to the bridge, “Send a message to the Andromeda and Valhalla, Bring us about; let’s get them off our tail.”

USS Andromeda – Bridge 

“Two Jem’Hadar fighters have broken formation and following us,” Amanda Wheeler announced.

Órlaith glanced at Erin for a fraction of a moment,  “How’s the Sojourner?”

“They’re being pursued as well Captain,” Eichmann said.

Órlaith sighed. “Adjust course to bring us in closer with the Sojourner. Let’s cross each other’s paths and see if we can dislodge our shadows out there. On screen.”

The main viewer switched to show pair of fighters in pursuit of the the Federation science ship. There were nearly a thousand civilians on these two ships and it was their job to protect then.  “Attack pattern five-omega-Riker Ms. Vass.”

Ensign Miranda Vass entered commands into the helm and the Intrepid-class ship shot forward in a spiral motion.  As they bared down on tne enemy ships the Andromeda let loose  full barrage of phaser fire and torpedo after torpedo from its sole working launcher.

“Direct hit. We have disabled the enemy’s shields,” Eichmann announced triumphantly as one of the fighters fell out of formation as flaming wreckage.  The other undamaged fighter broke right. 

“Steady the course, ” Órlaith said as the Andromeda shot past the Sojourner dragging their own fighters past the Pathfinder class ship and right into Sojourner’s most powerful firing arc.

USS Sojourner – Bridge

“Clever girl,” Kirin muttered to herself as the Andromeda flew past the Sojourner. “Ril, target the ship following the Andromeda and fire.

As the Jem’hadar fighter followed the Sojourner a barrage of phaser bolts flew directly before its pather, unable to evade them at the last second the unfortunate ship sailed right through them exploding under the intense fire.

“Any more surprises out there Belania?” Kirin asked.

“None that I can see, I do not know where those two came from. Our sensors did not detect them until the last moment.” Belania said clearly puzzled as to what had happened.

“Run a full diagnostic on the sensors and the transports. There have been too many odd issues of late. Pull in whoever else you need to help you,” Kirin remarked before turning to the con.

“Dese, bring us alongside the Andromeda and continue on our course.” Without waiting turned to her ready room to assess the damage.

USS Valhalla – Section Bravo

Section Bravo was sandwiched in the middle of a six ship formation.  A Breen cruiser grew larger on the viewscreen. A pair of Klingon Birds-of-prey broke from the formation to chase a Jem’Hadar fighter leaving Section Bravo and three Warbirds to deal with the cruiser.

“Helm adjust course 151 mark 12,” Commander Halstead ordered.

“Aye captain.”

“Breen ship moving into range,” tactical announced. In response the cruiser opened fire and the ship shook violently. 

A console exploded in at the back of the bridge. Nicholas glanced over his shoulder to see a crewmember laying on the floor. “Steady…” Nicholas urged as they closed the distance. “Full spread on my mark…”  There was an uncomfortable silence at the Breen hammered the section. “Mark!”

Section Bravo opened up. Despite taking damage they had closed in where their weapons would be the most effective.  The Romulans followed the example and green disruptor beams and torpedos crossed the inky blackness of space slamming into the hull of the asymmetrical ship. The shields glowed blue under the onslaught before failing altogether just as the Alliance formation sailed over the top of the cruiser. As their aft firing arcs fell upon the damaged Breen vessel they let loose a final volley and the Breen ship explode in a ball of flame, one of the elongated arms of the ship detached and floated away.

Jem’Hadar Battleship – Bridge

The Changeling that had replaced Kat Donovan stared down at the tactical readouts.  Someone had upgraded the planetary defenses and the defenders were using them to great effect.  The unexpected reinforcements of Klingons and Romulans had been unfortunate and she had to admit was contributing to the massive shift in the balance of this engagement in favor of the enemy.

As she studied the tactical readout two fighters vanished from the screen having stayed too closely to the planet, and the four fighters following the three fleeing Alliance ships had been eliminated. She scowled at the information. Victory could not be had now even with her battleship in the fight. They would have to secure another source for white. Until then they must conserve their finite resources. This Federation was far more powerful than they were in 2373. This was not going to be an easy victory.

“We cannot win this,” she announced decision made.

“Of course Founder,” her Vorta shadow replied with the bow of his head. “What are your orders?”

“We will regroup with the rest the fleet located in the Ciatar Nebula,” the Changeling replied. “See that it is done.”

The Vorta nodded and approached the Jem’Hadar First, “Hur’klatin, signal the fleet to break from the engagement and set course for the Ciatar Nebula.”

The Jem’Hadar first glared at the Vorta murder in his eyes. The Vorta must have sensed the danger and hesitation, but to his credit he didn’t back down. “Victory is life,” Hur’klatin said at last and turned to shout orders to his troops. They didn’t like retreat, but they would follow an order from a Founder. It was ingrained into their very being. Defying it was as unthinkable as not breathing.

USS Valhalla – Section Alpha

“Captain,” Eddie announced not believing his eyes. “The Jem’Hadar fleet is disengaging.”

Aoife stood her expression a mix of surprise and relief, “On screen.”

The viewscreen switched to a wide scan of the battlefield to show enemy ships turning away from them and then warping away leaving the burning wreckage of dozens of ships from both sides. It was carnage Aoife had not seen in a long time and a chill ran up her spine.  It brought up some very old and very bad memories.  Had she been religious like her old mentor she would have crossed herself in a silent prayer.  

Pushing the flood of emotions aside she let out a long sigh. It was over for now. They won the battle, but she also knew the war was far from over. For now there was nothing left to do but lick their wounds and try their best to put the fractured pieces back together.

“Mr Talon,” she said to her helmsman. “It’s time to reintegrate the ship. See to it please. Mr. Vee  please scan for survivors in the wreckage.” The tactical chief and pilot both acknowledged their orders and went to work. “Ms Fontaine,” she said to the operations officer. “Notify the Sojourner, B’mal, and Andromeda that the threat is gone and they can return with the colonists.”

Rescue operations were well underway. There were hundreds of survivors from the nearly thirty damaged or destroyed ships. Most were Jem’Hadar, but there were plenty of Romulan, and Klingon survivors as well. Ethan didn’t think it was a mercy rescuing the Jem’Hadar. They didn’t have any white and they would die without it. It just seemed… well more humane to let space take them.

The bridge of the USS Valhalla was a hive of activity with repair crews and standard bridge operations. More than half the access panels were opened and had hunched over engineers repairing damage sustained in the battle. Standing in the center of the bridge with her hands on her hips she was surrounded by officers giving her various reports. Behind her was the blue and green ball that was Arkan II on the viewscreen.

“Aw Commander,” Aoife greeted. She looked almost excited for the distraction that his presence provided. “How is the transfer of the colonists back to the planet?”

“Almost complete Captain,” Ethan replied.  The Andromeda took on Soujourner‘s colonists before landing on the planet. No need to worry about overwhelming the life support system for that short of a duration.”

“Good call,” Aoife agreed.

“Ma’am I have a request.”

Aoife studied Ethan for a moment, “Of course Commander. I owe it to you to at least hear you out.”

Ethan nodded, “I would like permission to recover Lieutenant Donovan’s body.”

Aoife didn’t hesitate, “Of course. I believe the Runabout Bighorn is prepped and ready. Take Lieutenant Eichmann from the Andromeda with you as well.”

Ethan nodded, “Yes, of course captain.”

“Good luck commander.”

Later…

Ethan entered commands into the helm as the runabout broke through the clouds. Named after the Bighorn River in Montana Ethan piloted the little ship low over the sea. The tall cliffs of the Fjords loomed in the distance quickly grew large.

“Runabout Bighorn to Arkan Approach, we are at flight level one-two-zero at 250 knots,” Eichmann reported.

“Acknowledged Bighorn. Slow to 160 and you are cleared to land. Be aware of traffic four kilometers to your right on parallel course.”

“We have traffic on sensors,” Eichman replied. He briefly glanced over at Ethan who was busy manipulating the helm controls. Returning his attention back to pilot monitoring he continued, “Slowing to 160. Cleared to land.” Eichmann entered commands into his terminal and started working through the checklist. “Impulse engines… standby. Plasma exhaust ports… closed. Landing lights… on. Decision height… 100 meters set. Missed approach altitude… 3000 set. Landing struts… green. TOGA… armed. Reverse thrusters… set. Antigrav generators… on.  Landing checklist is complete.”

“Thank you,” Ethan said as they flew through the Fjord where the Village of Brimir lay at the end.  The USS Andromeda sat in a clearing offloading their passengers a kilometer away from the village. 

“There’s the crashed fighter,” Eichmann pointed out.

“I see it,” Ethan replied as he slowed the runabout and circled over the water.  “I think we can land on that rocky beach.” He entered commands into the helm and the ship slowed a few meters over the beach. It slowed to a stop and after a second of hovering and then it landed amongst the rocks.

After several minutes Eichman entered commands into his terminal, “After landing checklist is complete.”

Ethan sat for a long moment and after blowing air through his lips he announced, “Okay, let’s get this over with.”

Eichmann gave the commander a sympathetic smile, “She deserves to come home.”

“She does.” He stood and picked up the collapsed stretcher and a bundle of navy cloth before hammering the exit button and the airlock hissed open.  

The pair headed up the bank and entered the pine forest. They stepped over fallen logs and stumbled over loose rocks. At one point they came to a low cliff and climbing over the scattered boulders they emerged into the destroyed swath of forest where a Jem’Hadar fighter lay upside down and hull ripped open.

Ethan crossed the several meters and pushed his way into one of the many breeches. Pushing aside polymer conduits he dropped onto the ceiling of a corridor. He made a disgusted expression as the scent of death hit him. 

He glanced at Eichmann before flicking on his flashlight and dove into the darkness.  Stepping around a dead Jem’Hadar he entered the upside down bridge and there in the middle lay the lifeless form of a Starfleet officer laying face down.

He set the stretcher down and opened it up. Kneeling next to the form of his friend he hung his head. “Okay, help me won’t you?”

“Yeah,” the big German said.  “You get her shoulders and I’ll get her feet.” 

Together they rolled Kat onto the stretcher. Ethan shook out the bundle of navy cloth to reveal the Scottish flag. With it’s white Saint Andrews cross on a field of blue he carefully laid it over his friend and tucked it under her so it would stay in place.

“You honor her.”

“Yeah,” Ethan said distracted. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

The sun was setting over the Fjord golden rays of light danced upon the water. The great hall of Brimir was bathed in gold, and the. A pair of burning braziers flanked the heavy wooden entrance.

Six individuals ascended the granet steps to the hall’s entrance. Three humans, an Orion, Klingon,  and a Romulan. This was a rare unification of the three great powers of the Alpha Quadrant.

“These are an interesting people,” Ethan observed. 

“How so Commander?” Aoife asked breathing harder than she would have expected by just walking up these steps. Note to self: add in some cardio.

“We’ll, we did threaten to kill most of them or at the very least destroy their homes.”

“Perhaps they understand the circumstances,” Órlaith replied. 

“I understand,” Hur’agha replied. “They live a warrior’s culture.”

Kirin quirked a smile at that and looked around at the scenery of the fjord and the great hall before them, “They will understand why we did what we did but they will be unlikely to forget. I am glad it worked out in the end.”

“It did,  but the cost was great,” Governor Tomarah. “However, the alternative could have been much worse.”

Aoife frowned.  Tomarah was right.  There had been several fatalities amongst the Starfleet crews, and of the seven ships that had accompanied Hur’agha only two were operational with a third salvageable.  The Romulan fleet had been hit even harder with the destruction of all of the D7s, three D’deridex warbirds, and several others of varying types. 

“The dead will be honored in Stov’o’kor,” Hur’agha added confidently. 

Aoife hoped the Klingon was right. At least for her people.  Taking a deep breath she pulled open the door to the great hall.  The wrought-iron hinges creaked under the weight of the oak door. 

Kirin drew up short as the doors to the great hall opened and marvelled at the view and muttered, “That is something.” The large hall was made entirely out old growth wood and a large fire pit in the very centre. Looking at the others Kirin shrugged, “Guess we just go in?”

“We were invited,” Órlaith replied.

As they entered the assembled within fell silent and stood. The people parted to either side of the hall creating a path to the back where there was a low raised dias upon a wooden throne rested.  A man with a goblet in his hand stood and beckoned the them to them. 

“Welcome to the Hall of Brimir warriors of Oden,” he announced.  Aoife glanced at Órlaith and she was sure the other woman saw the absurdity of this man acting like a Viking chieftain while dressed like a politician. “I am Rolf Thorson, Jarl of this district.”

Giving Órlaith one last look Aoife stepped forward and introduced their party. “May introduce Captains Tarkin, and Murphey. Commander Hur’aga of the Klingon Empire and Governor Tomorah of the Romulan Free States. I am Captain McKenzie.”

“We owe you and your crews a debt of gratitude,” Thorson replied. “You have all risked much to ensure our freedoms were preserved.” 

Kirin nodded in response before she spoke, “It is our duty to protect those who are in need of assistance. I know we would do it again if asked. I am just glad that we were victorious.”

“We feast in your honor,” Thorson announced and raised a horn of mead to the ceiling.” 

Long tables that had lined the interior walls were moved towards the center of the hall and benches set up. The assembled guests took their seats and severs set the tables.

“I swear if they bring out some roasted venison on a wooden spit I am going to  lose my ability to keep my composure.  It’s like these people watched a bad Hollywood movie and built a society upon it,” Órlaith said leaning into Kirin. 

“What is this, ‘Hollywood movie’,” Tomarah asked her head cooked in confusion. “Yes, we Romulans head better than you Humans.”

Kirin laughed, “We differ on that one Órlaith. I for one am a big fan of venison.” She then turned to Tomarah, “Hollywood, correct me if I am wrong,” glancing at Órlaith, “is a reference to where many motion pictures were, are made on Earth.” She then picked up a large mug of mead and took a long sip of it. Glancing at the others she shrugged, “When in Rome?”

“When in Rome,” Órlaith echoed and took a drink of her own.

The food ended up not being roasted deer, but rather mundane pork.  Based on the smoked flavouring flame was still used to cook it. The meal also included fish, mashed potatoes and some sort of vile substance someone referred to as lutefisk that looked like it had started life as fish.

Kirin happily dug into the meal while making a mental note to get some of the mead and food for her crew if possible, there was no substitute for fresh food.

She looked over at Thorson and finished off a sip from her glass before she spoke, “Jarl Thorson, I am curious about the culture you have set up here. You are a long way from the traditional grounds of the Norse culture. Do many of the people of this planet trace their heritage back to,” she paused for a moment as she tried to remember where on hear this culture arose as she had to read up on it before she beamed down, “Ah, was it Scandinavia?”

“No, very few,” the Jarl replied.  “But our founders were. They requested that the planet be terraformed in the fashion of Scandinavia and they built a society around that.  In the old days they were a little more harcore with the Viking thing. Now, eighty years later this is more or less just tradition. We only break out all of this during special occasions of during the Viking festivals during of Yule, Beltane, and Samahin. Of course government duties have changed very little over the years. As you can see with the title of Jarl and the hall where civic matters are attended to. But, for the most part most of our people live like every other Federation citizen.”

Kirin nodded as she listed, “It is fascinating the effort the founders of the colony put in and to terraform the world as such. An impressive and beautiful feat.” She turned to Órlaith, Tomarah, Hur’agha and Aoife as she smiled, “Is everyone enjoying the feast?”

“I do not understand you humans and your obsession with cooking your food,” Hur’agha frowned. “However,  this mead is a warrior’s drink if not a little weak”

“I for one find the food rather enjoyable,” Tomarah said who seemed to be enjoying the lutefisk. “This reminds me of a dish I used to have on Romulas.”

Kirin smiled as she disagreed with Hur’agha about the mead being weak. She had to admit she was caught off guard by its strength and was feeling a little tipsy. “While I do enjoy gagh there are times when something cooked hits the spot. The lutefisk thought I will have to take your word on it Tomarah. Doesn’t work for me sadly.”

“That is unfortunate. In the Free States this would be  celebrated as a delicacy.  A nod to what we lost when our home was destroyed.”

Kirin nodded in understanding as an idea crossed her mind, “As my Operations officer would likely point out that there is latinum to be made. Perhaps you can reach an agreement with the Jarl about gaining access to this delicacy. Friendships have been strengthened over less.”

“That sounds like an opportunity for your operations officer,” Tomorah replied. “Not for an old woman such as myself. I have no interest in trade or business.”

Kirin smirked as she reached for another serving of food, “I will be sure to let Belania know.”

“Órlaith, I have been meaning to ask, how is the Andromeda? Are you enjoying commanding her?”

“It’s been a breeze,” the Andromeda’s captain replied. “I enjoyed the Crazy Horse It was always a fight with her old systems.  The computer was old and tried and at least several generations behind the more modern ones with bio-neural gel packs. But you know, I miss that old hunk of bolts. When you hit warp you felt it in the deck plates,  and a ship’s galley and mess was always a great way to met up and connect with the crew.”

Órlaith had replaced Aoife when she had gotten transported to Avalon.  Even though it was only a little over a year that felt like a lifetime ago, and Nicholas,  her XO came back from there different.  There was a sadness to the man now.

“Órlaith I know exactly what you mean, but now we can be explorers again,” Aoife said.

Órlaith raised her cup, “To exploration.”

Aoife raised her’s in response,  “To old friends and new. We couldn’t have done it without you..”

Kirin smiled at that and raised her cup along with many others at the table, “Too old friends and new.”

Commander Ethan Talon sat alone in a quiet corner of the crew lounge named Freyja’s Rest. He nursed his beer, staring down at the barely touched pint glass, watching the bubbles rise to the surface of the amber liquid and pop. Outside, streaks from the warp effect morphed into single points of light, and the hum and vibration in the deck plates fell silent. Sighing, Ethan stared out into the black for a long moment, not moving. In an act of resignation, he finished the beer in three enormous gulps. He dug into his pocket and tossed a couple of slips of latinum onto the table for the server. He had no idea if that was customary on the Valhalla, but he would never miss it, and it just seemed rude not to acknowledge her hard work.

Side-stepping and ducking through several relaxing members of the crew, he was quickly out into the corridor. In contrast to the busy lounge, the silent corridor was deafening. Turning right, he headed down the hall. At the end, he stepped into the parting doors of a waiting turbolift, “Deck six.”

The lift beeped in response and started moving toward its destination. Slowing to a stop, the doors opened, and Ethan stepped out, heading for the second door on the right that would take him to sickbay.

Doctor T’Lar was sitting behind her desk in her office just off the entrance to sickbay. The large windows, which she could frost at her discretion for privacy, offered her an unobstructed view of the whole sickbay. Setting down her PADD containing the medical chart of Crewman James Harrison, she looked out to see Commander Talon enter the medical ward.

She slipped out of her chair, and the Vulcan woman exited the office. With a placid expression, she looked the commander over, “You do not appear to be unwell, Commander. What can I do for you?”

“I am fine,” Ethan said. “I just wanted to take a moment to check on the arrangements for Lieutenant Donovan.”

“Your officer that was killed by the Changeling? Of course. Right this way, Commander.” T’Lar led Ethan across the sickbay to a door leading to the morgue. Rows of stasis chambers lined either side of the walls of the macabre room. Due to recent events, more than he would have liked had occupants within.

Halfway down on the left-hand side on the bottom, T’Lar pressed a button, and with an obedient beep, the door clunked open, and the bed within extended with a whir of servos. Kat’s body was still covered in the flag he had draped over her. In a knee-jerk reaction, he looked away. The woman that had become a friend and had been so alive was now being stored in the morgue like odds and ends tossed into the kitchen junk drawer. The images of how he found her lying on the Jem’Hadar fighter where the Changeling had discarded her like yesterday’s garbage still fresh in his mind.

Seeing his reaction, the doctor spoke, “Are you okay, Commander?”

Ethan pushed air through his lips. “No, but I will be. Thank you, Doctor.”

The Vulcan woman had dealt with human emotions all her career, but she never did understand them. How could someone not be okay, they would be? She wondered to herself. With a raised eyebrow, she spoke, “When you are done, Commander, all you have to do is press this button. I’ll leave you alone with her. I do believe that is a human custom?”

Ethan nodded in acknowledgment, “I don’t know if it’s a custom or not, but thank you. Have you finalized her arrangements to be transported back to Earth?”

“Not yet, Commander, but rest assured I will take care of it.”

“Thank you again, Doctor. Her parents were quite upset. I would like to at least give them a chance to bury their daughter.”

The Vulcan raised an eyebrow at that, “I will not question their beliefs or yours, Commander, but I do find that a very illogical statement.”

“We humans are a sentimental lot, and certainly very illogical.”

“Indeed.” Without further formality, T’Lar turned and walked out of the morgue, the hissing of the closing doors marking her passage.

Ethan stared down at her lifeless form covered in the flag of her birth. “Well, between the two of us, I figured it would have been me lying there.” He rubbed his jaw with his right hand. The two-day stubble made a rasping sound against the calluses on his hand. “You were a good officer and an even better friend. I’m certainly going to miss you. The Outpost won’t be the same without you. I told your parents you died without pain. I don’t know if that’s true or not. Somehow I doubt it, but I wish it was true.”

He paused, and he broke down. The raw emotion overtook him, and he cried. He leaned against the nearby bulkhead and wept into his forearm until it was slick with tears, saliva, and snot. When all his tears were done, he took a deep breath. “Time to cowboy up,” he said to himself. Wiping his face, he just stood there as if standing guard over his friend until the com chirped.

“McKenzie to Commander Talon.”

Ethan cleared his throat before tapping his combadge, “Go ahead, Captain.”

“We’re in orbit of Sheo III. Please report to transporter room three.”

“On my way. Talon out.”

He paused for a second before pressing the button to close the morgue. As it slid shut, he spoke, “Goodbye. See you in the next life.”

Captain Órlaith Murphy sat in Captain Aoife McKenzie’s ready room, sipping tea as the two officers debriefed the events at Arkan II. “Mr. Choi thinks he can get the main deflector operational by the end of the day.”

Aoife looked up from her coffee, setting it down. She looked across the desk at her fellow Captain. “I thought it was damaged beyond repair?”

“Me too,” Órlaith said with a shrug. “But you know Starfleet Engineers… they always make it sound worse than it really is so they can look like miracle workers.”

“We do not!” Aoife exclaimed.

Órlaith laughed, “You can’t lie to me, Aoife. You forget Ming made me work as a crew chief when I first got on the Denver.”

Aoife scowled, “Some will exaggerate a bit. I did not.” The buzzing of the com interrupted the playful banter. Aoife pressed the answer button.

An older man with dark hair, a goatee, and a killer grin appeared on the view screen, “Captain McKenzie. I’m Captain Keith Anderson, your new Task Force XO for 86. How are you doing?” 

“Alive,” Órlaith remarked dryly. 

Aoife gave the othe woman a scowl, “Sorry sir.  We are fine.  The squadron has sustained quite some damage, but repairs are underway.”

Keith chuckled a bit at that, “Hey, that’s a completely fair response,” He said. “I wasn’t out there, but I read the after action reports and it was… certainly something,” He said, knowing exactly what the Val and Andromeda had been up against. “The Valhalla and the Andromeda performed admirably in absolutely unfair conditions. You all should be proud of yourselves and your crew,” He told them, earnestly. 

“I’m thankful that apparently we know the right people,” Aoife said, “Or we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

Keith nodded, “Absolutely. How are your crews doing? That was… nothing short of terrifying, I’m sure.” Keith admitted. 

“We…” Aoife started, “are leaning on our senior chiefs who have gone through this before.  Chief Gibson has been the rock our engineers have needed.”

“Good. If you need anything else, please don’t hesitate to ask,” Keith said with a nod. “Unfortunately, I didn’t just call for introductions. You’ve also got new orders. With the recent activity, there’s a lot of concern that there may be uh… a Breen incursion into Federation space and Starfleet Command has asked us to tighten up our border patrols,” He explained. 

“Your Squadron will be moving to patrol near Galadkail. You’ll receive orders with exact locations and patrol zones shortly,” Keith explained. “I’m going to let Starfleet Command know that you’re still undergoing repairs so that they know there will be some delay in you getting there,” He said, his face softening a bit, “Take some time to rest and regroup and get your feet under you again,” He said. 

Aoife nodded, “We’ll head that way.  Repairs can continue en route.”

Órlaith nodded in agreement,  “Andromeda will be as repaired as much as we are capable of by the end of the day, and if we are sitting or traveling at warp it won’t effect that.”

“Okay,” Keith said with a nod. “Then I’ll let them know you’re en route. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Captains, and I’m looking forward to speaking more in the future. Please let me know if you need anything, okay?” 

“Likewise Captain,” Aoife replied. 

“Thanks, Captains. Be safe out there,” Keith said with a smile and a nod. 

“Will do Captain. Valhalla out.”

Aoife sat back in her chair with a heavy sigh. “Well, this day has gotten a lot more interesting.”

“I have a bad feeling about this,” Órlaith said dryly. 

“That makes two of us. Let’s just hope out luck continues.”

Story Continues on USS Mariner: “The Highway to Hell” (Part One),  (Part Two) , (Part Three)

Hours of reports and endless streams of messages later, Aoife retreated to her quarters. The Mariner was no longer her squadron’s problem, and the Valhalla and Andromeda limped back to Starbase Bravo. There was still much to do, but the immediate problems were solved. She could worry about the rest tomorrow.

Entering her quarters, she opened her uniform jacket and let it fall to the deck. She was a tidy person, and under normal circumstances, disorder wouldn’t be tolerated. Tonight… or is it morning? She mused, too tired to even ask the computer the time.

She dropped into her chair behind the desk and sat silently in the dark. The only light was the blue glow of the four warp nacelles through the window. At the edge of her view, she could make out the Andromeda, her grey hull pockmarked with carbon scoring. She sighed.

“Computer, open Captain’s Log… Belay that, open personal log.” The computer beeped in response, and her shoulders drooped. The soft hum of the engines filled her quarters. At last, Aoife spoke in a wavering tone, her brow furrowed. “Personal log, supplemental. I, uh… well, I don’t really know how to say this. I’m pretty sure what I feel isn’t something any Starfleet Captain wants to admit… Computer, pause log.”

She drummed her fingers on the desk before pushing herself away and stood. She crossed her quarters, and at a cabinet, she slid open the door and with a tink of glass on glass, removed a bottle of Scotch Whiskey. Returning to her seat, she sat down, poured a dram, drained it, and refilled it. Once again, she drummed her fingers on the desk.

Sighing, she spoke at last, “Computer, resume log.” She waited for the computer and sighed once more. “We lost a lot of people in this… in our encounter with the Lost Fleet. Damn the Vorta! Damn the Founders for putting me in this again. It was bad enough when I was fighting those greedy degenerate lowlifes the first time. I wasn’t making the decisions on the Denver. Here I am. How do I live with sending good Starfleet men and women to their deaths? They died on my watch. They died from my orders. Twenty-eight from the Andromeda, and another ten here in the Valhalla.”

She stared into her whisky. It was black in the dim light of her quarters. She took a sip. She held the glass in front of her, and she was overcome with rage and threw the glass across her quarters. It slammed into the transparent aluminum of the window, shattering and smearing whisky over the window. “Damn the Dominion.” She clenched her fists, and her manicured nails dug painfully into her palms. She paid that no attention. “I don’t know how many Klingon and Romulan lives died at the Battle of Arkan II. I called them in. That’s on me too. They would be home with their families right now.”

She stood and started to pace, her body rippling with uncontained rage. “I don’t want to hear it. The whole honor,  and dying in battle thing,” she spat, pacing the room with restless energy. “All that Klingon honor and whatnot… it’s a load of bull crap. And the Romulans aren’t that way. Hur’agh and Tomarah came to aid me. That’s a debt I can never repay.”

She snatched the bottle from the desk and drank directly from it. “And what of the Jem’Hadar? I know they aren’t exactly innocent in this, but they don’t have free will. They are slaves to the situation. I gunned them down. Snuffed out their lives. Yeah, it was kill or be killed, but that doesn’t make it any easier. God, how many ships did I personally order destroyed?” Her voice wavered, the weight of her words hanging heavily in the air. She clenched her free hand, the memories of her past decisions flooding her mind with sickening clarity.

Taking a long drink from the bottle, she shuffled to the window and stared out as the stars streaked by, her breathing uneven. Tears streaked down her cheeks as the silence filled the air. It hung heavy in the quarters like an oppressive blanket, removing any hope of joy and optimism. She collapsed on the couch that sat in front of the window with her elbows resting on her knees. Plap, plap, tears hit the carpet one by one.

“I can’t talk to anyone about this,” she spoke, breaking the silence. Her voice was low and soft. “Who do you talk to about this? They’ll take my command away… but do I even want it now? I… we saved Arkan II and the Mariner. Is that enough? Obviously, 20,000 lives are greater than what was lost in the battle, but how do I know the Dominion would have killed those miners… irrelevant. If they got their hands on the stuff to make white, they could breed Jem’Hadar, and then millions if not billions of lives would be at risk from a return of the Dominion in a second war… They had to be stopped. I just wish it hadn’t been my responsibility.”

She sniffled and paused to collect her thoughts. Swallowing, she stared up at the dark ceiling. “Those letters home to mothers, wives, or sons and daughters… They never seem… No, they aren’t. They aren’t sufficient. They are not… How do you tell a mom about her son who you met once when they came on board? Sorry for your loss. His sacrifice will not be forgotten? We all know that last part isn’t true…”

She stood. “Perhaps command isn’t right for me. Step down and leave the Valhalla? Go where? Starfleet Academy and teach engineering? Leave Starfleet altogether?” She went to the cabinet and slipped the bottle back into place and slid the door shut. She stood silently for a long time, gazing into nothingness.

At last, she wiped the tears away with the back of her hand. “Computer, end log, and delete the entire entry.” The computer beeped in acknowledgment. Taking a deep breath, she scooped up her uniform jacket and pulled it on. As the zipper closed on her uniform, she took one last sigh of self-pity and walked out of her quarters to start another day, having not slept at all.

Sara entered her quarters and tossed her toolkit onto a nearby chair. It bounced on the cushion and fell to the floor with a soft thump. With a sigh, she pulled the elastic from her hair and shook the light brown strands free. She could still smell the scent of that morning’s shampoo – rose hips and strawberry as she shambled into the tiny sleeping compartment.

Her boots hit the carpet with a thud, each one landing in a different direction as if they, too, sought escape from the day’s burdens. She stripped off her dirty duty jacket, releasing a day’s worth of body odor. Tossing it to the deck in a crumpled heap, she collapsed face-first into the bed. A moment later, the hum of the ship’s systems was interrupted only by her soft rasping snores.

The chirping of her combadge woke her. Stirring in bed, she rolled over, her hand seeking the blankets to pull them over her. The combadge chirped again.

“Shit!” she exclaimed, exploding out of bed, her heart racing. “No, no, no! Washington is going to kill me if I’m late again!” She grabbed one boot and then the other. She had pulled the right one on when the door chimed.

Rubbing the sleep from her eyes with one hand and her left boot in the other, she crossed her quarters and opened the door. Chief Petty Officer Charles Gibson stood on the other side. His eyes went wide at the sight of the towering Amazon. Her hair was a wild frenzy with a strand sticking to the corner of her mouth, which she self-consciously peeled away from her skin.

“Are you okay, Ensign? You didn’t answer your combadge,” Gibson asked, his concern evident.

Sara turned away, “Come in, Chief. Sorry I’m late,” she said, her tone sheepish. She sat on the armrest of the chair and pulled on her other boot.

“Late?” Gibson asked, his confusion etched across his face.

“For duty,” Sara replied as she rushed into the bedroom. She returned with her duty jacket. She shook out the now wrinkled uniform and gave it a “sniff test”. She wrinkled her nose to the sour smell of body odor and bitter scents of lubricants.

“Ensign, you aren’t on duty until tomorrow morning,” Gibson replied, his voice tinged with amusement.

“Computer, what time is it?” Sara asked, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

“The time is 20:08 hours,” the computer dutifully responded.

Sara collapsed into the chair, laughter bursting from her like a floodgate opened. Each chuckle released pent-up tension, shaking her body with convulsive spasms of amusement. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she surrendered to the sheer absurdity of the moment, the weight of the universe momentarily lifted by unbridled relief.

After a few minutes, Sara sat up wiping the tears from her eyes. “What can I do for you Chief?” With wild hair, makeup smudged, and half-dressed in a dirty uniform she looked as deranged as she felt.

“Are you sure you are well Ensign?” Gibson inquired, his concern returning.

“Chief, I’m fine. Have you ever been abruptly woken from a deep sleep?” Sara asked, her tone lighthearted.

Gibson chuckled, realization dawning on him, “And you have lost all track of time and reality? Yeah, I think we all have.”

Sara nodded and took a deep breath and asked once more, “What can I do for you Chief?”

Gibson’s expression softened, a knowing smile playing at the corners of his lips. “Young mister Collins and I were going to grab some drinks. Thought you might want to come along.”

Sara hesitated, glancing down at her disheveled appearance. Despite her reservations, she found herself nodding in agreement. “Yeah, uh… sure, Chief.”

Gibson’s grin widened, his eyes twinkling with camaraderie. “We’re off duty. Call me Charles.”

“Okay, Charles.” She frowned and shook her head, “That’s weird I think I’ll stick with Chief.”

Gibson shrugged, “Suit yourself, Ensign.”

Was he hitting on me? She asked herself.  Nah, surely not. He’s just being friendly. He is just one of those guys. She smiled at Gibson and pointed towards the bedroom with both thumbs. “Give me a minute so I can get changed?”

The Chief nodded and gave her a knowing smile, “By all means. Take your time. It’ll be good for Mr. Collins to have to wait. Teach the kid some humility. He thinks that Academy ring is special.”

Sara slid off the chair and headed for the privacy of the other room to change. As she did she replied over her shoulder, “It is special Chief. It just doesn’t make you special.”

Gibson slid into the recently vacated chair and guffawed, “I knew there was a reason I liked you, Ensign.”

From within the bedroom, she shouted back, “You might regret that… I can be a bit much at times.”

Shaking his head in an amused chuckle, “To be fair all you officers are often a bit much.”

A few minutes later Sara emerged from her bedroom wearing a pair of black skinny jeans and ballet flats. She had pulled on a grey Pink Floyd band tee shirt and was brushing out her hair as she strode into the common room. She would have liked to have redone her makeup completely, but wiping away the smudges would have to suffice.

Gibson stared at her like he had just realized for the first time he was looking at a woman. She resisted the urge to shrink from the stare. She didn’t care for extra scrutiny. 

“Well, aren’t you lovely,” Gibson said, his tone admiring.

Sara’s cheeks flushed red and she pushed a strand of hair out of her face, tucking it behind her ear. “Thanks,” she replied, her voice slightly shy.

“Ready?” Gibson asked with a raised eyebrow. She nodded and they stepped out of the quarters. 

The Midgard Lounge located on Deck 4 was a hive of activity as the doors parted and the din of music and a hundred overlapping voices flooded out. The scents of food from a dozen cultures and alcohol mixed into a sickening sweet, sour aroma. Windows lined the far wall offering a breathtaking view of the ship at warp. On the opposite wall was the bar where several civilian bartenders plied their trade.

Along the left side was a stage for live bands. The stage lighting bathed the musicians in harsh white light. They were playing a folksy tune with banjos, guitars, fiddles, and even a uilleann pipe and hide drums. She didn’t know much about this kind of music, but to her ears, she would have called it traditional Irish. She would have preferred something with a little more electric.  

There was a group from Steller Cartography that played rock and she liked them. Mostly covers of ancient songs like “Take it Easy” and “Turn the Page”, but they had written a few original songs. She liked their original stuff better. It just seemed more relatable over things like cars, airplanes, and some ancient war in Vietnam.

Sara frowned as Gibson led her inside. She squeezed her arms together in an effort to make herself as small as possible as they weaved through the crowd of off-duty officers and crew. I should have stayed in my quarters, she thought as she dodged a male Coridanite.

They pushed their way to the corner of the lounge where Ensign Collins was already sitting and enjoying a cocktail. He waved them over and Sara and Charles pulled out chairs and sat down at the table. Sara held her clammy hands under the table and gave her companions a nervous smile.

“I didn’t think you two were going to make it,” Lance said taking a sip from his highball glass.

“I had to wake Sleeping Beauty up here,” Charles teased.

Sara blushed, “Yeah.”

A waiter arrived and took their drinks. Sara chose a Coke while Charles ordered a beer. Their conversation consisted of small talk. The work in engineering had been grueling over the past few weeks with non-stop double shifts. This was the first not off in a long time, and the fatigue was catching up with them.

The conversation as it often does eventually evolved into talking about their pasts. Charles took a long drink from his beer bottle, He was on his second. Setting it down on the table in front of him he leaned forward on his forearms. “So, Ensign Taylor how about you?”

Sara’s heart skipped a beat, though she knew that question was coming.  She stared into her Coke watching the carbon dioxide fizzle and pop as it rose to the top.  She gave Charles a half-hearted smile, “Oh you know, nothing special. Earth. Starfleet Academy. A ship or two.”

Lance cocked an eyebrow at her response and exchanged a glance with Gibson. “Could you possibly be more vague? You just described eighty percent of the crew on the ship. It’s like you didn’t exist before the Valhalla.”

Sara swallowed the lump in her throat and fought the urge to panic. “I guess I’m just boring.” She tried hiding her emotions with a laugh.

“Now, I know that ain’t true,” Charles said. “We’re friends here. Tell us about your family?”

Sara stood, “Thanks for inviting me Chief.  I… uh…well it’s late. I better get to bed.” She felt a knot tighten in her chest, a knot formed by the weight of her own emotions and the suffocating pressure of the crowded lounge. With a swift turn, she made her way through the throng of people, her movements urgent and frantic.

As she turned and pushed through the crowd heading for the door she thought she heard Charles’s voice calling after her over the noise, which she ignored.  She dodged a Deltan and slipped past a Bajoran before crashing into a Bolian waiter carrying a tray of drinks.  Contents of the drinks flew in all directions, and the glasses fell to the floor with a crash and shattered. 

Cheeks flushed in embarrassment she uttered a hasty apology over her shoulder.  At last, she burst into the corridor and leaned against the metallic wall. Her heart pounded in her ears and her breathing broken and heavy. Tears streamed down her cheeks unchecked, a silent testament to the turmoil that churned within her.

She took a deep centering breath and shambled down the corridor.  Sara had almost made it to the turbolift when Gibson’s voice shouted after her, “Ensign! Wait!”

She frantically pressed the call button for the turbolift, yet the doors  stubbornly refused to open to allow her into the lift’s safe embrace. At last, the doors parted, but it was too late and Gibson followed her into the car. The two stood in silence as the doors closed with the tension between them almost palpable.

After what seemed like an hour  Gibson broke the silence, “Your quarters?” She nodded, and he told the computer to take them to her deck.  They rode in silence and when the doors parted on her deck he followed her.  At last at the door to her quarters, Gibson spoke again. “Ensign, are you okay?”

There was a long pause and for the first time since leaving the lounge, she spoke. “No, but I will be.” Her lips twitched as if she was about to say something and then she stared down at the deck leaving her thoughts unspoken.

“You wanna tell me about it?”

She shook her head. “There’s a reason I don’t talk about my past.”

“Fair enough,” Charles replied. There was confusion etched into his brow and concern in his eyes. “Sorry, we brought it up.”

“Yeah, me too,” she said just above a whisper. There was raw emotion in her words that seemed to mix embarrassment, fear, and regret.

“I’m here for you if you need to talk.”

“Thanks… I don’t think so though.” She unlocked the door to her quarters and they slid open. “See you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow,” Gibson said sadness and concern in his voice.

“Good night… Charles.” 

With a heavy heart, the doors sealed shut behind Sara, enveloping Chief Gibson in an eerie silence. He stood alone, his gaze fixed on the closed doors as if searching for answers that eluded him. Drawing in a deep breath, the Chief exhaled a weary sigh, the weight of the evening’s events settling heavily on his shoulders. With a resigned shake of his head, he tucked his hands into his pockets, heading for his quarters.