Pezara Barim plunged his spoon into the bowl of porridge, a human dish he’d been introduced to at the Academy, and scooped a spoonful of it out. Opposite him, Alexander Mitchell shovelled his breakfast of scrambled eggs with sausages and bacon into his mouth like the food would disappear from his plate at any moment. Barim often wondered how the XO didn’t spend his days walking around with indigestion.

Bringing the spoonful of porridge to his mouth, his hand paused when a shadow crossed the table. He looked up and found Lieutenant Shepard standing beside the table with a PADD in his hand. “What can I do for you, Lieutenant?” Barim asked, placing his spoon gently back in the bowl.

“I…uh…have that data…data…analysis you asked for,” Shepard nervously held the PADD out to Barim, which he accepted.

Barim wasn’t sure why Shepard was bringing him the report this early, but that was no matter. A cursory glance at its contents showed the kind of thorough and thoughtful analysis that he’d come to expect of Shepard. “This looks like good work, Lieutenant. Thank you.” Shepard smiled and nodded before retreating. Barim set the PADD to one side and picked up his spoon, his eyes falling on Mitchell who was smirking over the top of his coffee mug. “What?”

“He’s got a crush on you,” Amusement danced in Mitchell’s eyes.

Annoyance bubbled up from deep within the Bajoran. He dropped his spoon, the metal instrument hitting the sides of the bowl with a clatter. “He does not.”

“Yes he does,” Mitchell shot back before sipping his drink.

Barim opened his mouth to respond to Mitchell’s ridiculous assertion but was interrupted by the arrival of Captain Matheson, who slid into the seat next to him.

“Who does what?” Matheson asked, setting a steaming mug of freshly replicated coffee on the table.

Most officers, once they reached the loft heights of starship command, preferred to maintain a distance from their crew, and as such they chose to eat alone. Captain Matheson was of a different view. She was a regular feature in the Mess and would often be seen sharing meals with her junior officers. 

“Shepard has a crush on Barim,” Mitchell reiterated, undeterred by Barim’s stern expression.

Any hopes Barim held that Matheson would shut down Mitchell’s ridiculous teasing was short-lived. “Oh yeah,” Matheson readily agreed, “he’s got it bad.”

“You can’t not have noticed it,” Mitchell narrowed his eyes, studying the Bajoran’s features.

Shepard had always been nervous around Barim, but he’d assumed that was due to Shepard being intimidated by his intellect. Barim lifted his spoon and resumed eating his now lukewarm porridge. “The only thing I’ve noticed is the Lieutenant’s professionalism and his dedication to his work.”

“The guy can’t string a sentence together when you’re around,” Matheson pointed out. “He keeps getting tongue twisted.”

His frustration was beginning to boil over. With the porridge only half finished, Barim placed the spoon back in it and pushed it away. “How can you both be so cheery at a time like this?” He asked seriously. “Dominion forces have launched an attack on the Deneb Sector, Izar and Sevury have already fallen and we could be called upon at any time to wade into that fray.” He looked from Mitchell to Matheson and back. “Doesn’t that scare you?”

“It terrifies me,” Mitchell replied soberly. “I was in San Francisco when the Breen attacked Earth, weeks from starting my second year at the Academy. The entire cadet corps was mobilised to assist with the response.” He wasn’t looking at either of them. His eyes were fixed on the half-eaten bowl of porridge, lost in his memories. “It was the first time I’d seen a dead body, and they were everywhere.”

He looked up and met Barim’s gaze, “But we can’t give into our fear.” Mitchell glanced at the Captain. “If we’d done that the first time, the Dominion would’ve walked all over us and we wouldn’t be here to have this conversation.”

“The crew is looking to the three of us,” Matheson added softly, “not just for leadership but for reassurance. So we have to act as normally as we can, which means teasing you about Shepard’s crush on you.” She smiled, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

The tension that had briefly enveloped the table lifted as quickly as it descended and Barim found himself more willing to tolerate their gentle ribbing of him. 

“He’s a good-lookin’ guy,” Mitchell pointed out, that smirk from earlier making a return.

Barim would be lying if he said he hadn’t noticed the handsome Lieutenant’s good looks. 

“Bridge to Captain,” the voice of the Gamma Shift comms officer broke through the teasing.

Matheson tapped her commbadge, “Matheson here.”

“We’re receiving a transmission from Fleet Captain Forrester,” there was a pregnant pause during which the three command officers shared a knowing look, “Priority one.”

This was what they’d been waiting for; the orders that would, in all likelihood, involve them in the Deneb conflict with the Dominion. “Patch it through to my Ready Room. Matheson out.”

Matheson shared a look across the table with Mitchell. The pair had developed a strong working relationship in the few short months they’d been working together and could already say as much with a look as they could with words. Barim had a similar relationship, though finely honed from years of serving together. Mitchell nodded as the Captain removed herself from the table, her still-hot mug of coffee abandoned. 

Barim didn’t need to look around to know that every pair of eyes in the room watched the Captain leave. They’d all heard the news of Forrester’s incoming transmission. In less than an hour that news would have reached every corner of the Nova-class starship.

Mitchell stood and picked up his plate. With his free hand, he reached out for the Captain’s mug. He was trying to act casual, but Barim could see the tension in his neck, the stiffness of his muscles.

That tension had returned, and this time it would descend upon all of them.

The lights activated automatically when Ana reached her Ready Room, her private sanctuary on deck one. She moved behind her desk and punched her command code into the terminal. Within seconds, it looked as if Fleet Captain Forrester was standing in front of her as his holographic avatar materialised.

“Captain,” his grim features and the dark circles under his eyes spoke volumes.

Ana gave him a curt nod, “Sir.”

“The Higgs is to proceed to Farpoint Station with all possible haste,” Forrester told her, “there you’ll take on components and personnel that you’ll deliver to Galadkail Minor. It’s been identified as a prime target for Dominion attack.”

Learning that they would be travelling to the Galadkail system terrified Ana, not that she would admit that to anyone. If her face betrayed that fear, Forrester didn’t say anything. “That’s not far from Izar.”

“It is,” Forrester nodded solemnly. “Their orbital defence platforms are capable of repelling Breen raiding parties with ease, but the Dominion are something else entirely. Work has been done to upgrade them but they still need some final components and engineers to help install them in time. The space between Farpoint and Galadkail is contested, so watch yourselves.”

Ana nodded. “Understood, sir.”

“Once you’ve delivered your cargo, you’ll join a mixed group of seven Federation and Cardassian ships to repel any Dominion attack,” Forrester added.

The Higgs was a science vessel, and while her spaceframe had originally been developed to be an escort, the end product was more suited to self-defence than offence. That, however, mattered little in the circumstances. They had their orders.

“You said the Cardassians would be involved?” Ana asked.

Forrester’s features were guarded as he nodded. “The Third Order has been dispatched to provide whatever assistance they can.”

“Huh,” Ana’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, “I wasn’t expecting that.”

A mirthless chuckle escaped from Forrester, “They probably don’t give a shit about helping us and are only getting involved so they can give their former Breen and Dominion allies a bloody nose.”

“That’s an awfully cynical way to look at it,” Matheson replied.

He gave her a tight smile. “You’re probably right, but I’ve had enough dealings with the Cardassians that my cynicism is warranted.”

“Anything else, sir?” Matheson hoped she never reached Forrester’s level of cynicism.

Forrester shook his head. “Not right now.” He turned halfway but stopped and turned back. “Ana,” the use of her first name and the softness of his voice and his features were a stark contrast to how he’d conducted the rest of this briefing, “be careful out there. Good luck to you all.”

“Thank you, sir,” she replied, touched by his concern for not just her but her crew.

Ana watched as Forrester’s holographic avatar dissolved until she was left standing alone once more. She immediately reached up and tapped her communicator. “Matheson to bridge.”

“Mitchell here.” She allowed herself a smile. 

The last look she gave him had been intended to signal her desire for him to get to the bridge. She was glad to see he had gotten as good at reading her signals as she had his. “Lay in a course for Farpoint Station. Take us to maximum warp.”

“We’re getting underway now,” the vibration of the deck beneath her feet shifted within seconds, an indication that the ship was accelerating. “Estimated time of arrival is eight hours.”

That was slower than she would’ve liked but the Nova-class wasn’t as fast as her more modern Rhode Island-class cousins. Through the window in her office, she could see the moment the Higgs jumped to warp. “Assemble the senior officers in the briefing room in thirty minutes.”

“Aye, ma’am,” Mitchell replied dutifully. Matheson tapped her communicator again, cutting the link. 

She stood silently at the window and watched the stars streak past as they hurtled through the inky black nothingness of space. Ana knew nothing of war, she’d been a child when the Dominion last threatened their way of life, nor did most of her crew many of whom weren’t even born. There was one exception.

To look at him, one would conclude that Lieutenant Commander Mitchell was also much too young to have any experience of the Dominion War, but that would be the wrong conclusion to draw. Thanks to an encounter with a temporal anomaly, he’d skipped ten years in the blink of an eye. He was the only one of them who had any real idea of what lay ahead of them.

But Ana was confident in her own abilities, confident in the ability of her crew to rise to any challenge and confident in the Higgs herself. They would persevere. If it came to it, they would fight tooth and nail, fight until they’d breathed their last, to protect the Federation from this new Dominion threat.

With the parts required to complete the upgrades to Galadkail’s defence platforms, and the engineers to help install them, safely onboard, the Higgs had set off from Farpoint less than an hour after she’d arrived. Now she had to safely navigate an area of space that was crawling with Dominion and Breen starships that wouldn’t hesitate to destroy the Nova-class starship.

Alone in her quarters, Ana speared a chunk of salmon with her fork and absently pushed it around her plate. The salmon salad sounded like a good idea when she replicated it, but the only reason she’d even ordered the food was because she could hear Cal’s voice telling her she should eat something, not because she was actually hungry.

Ever since her briefing from Fleet Captain Forrester, her appetite had almost disappeared. She’d managed to force herself to eat a sandwich but her primary fuel now was copious amounts of coffee. The sound of the computer announcing an incoming transmission from the Challenger. She set the fork down and pushed the plate away as the computer connected them.

“Hey beautiful,” Callum Egan’s warm baritone filled the room and Ana was instantly comforted. For a moment she could believe he was there with her, she could almost feel the heat from his body as he wrapped her in a hug; almost. He wasn’t really there with her, his arms weren’t wrapped around her. He was light-years away.

“How’s life on that luxury cruise liner you call a starship?” Ana asked playfully as she moved from the dining table to the couch.

She could hear the smile in Callum’s voice, “Luxurious. Have I mentioned that my quarters are bigger than yours and Mitchell’s combined?” 

“More than once,” Ana replied.

He sighed sadly. “I’d give them up in a heartbeat if it meant I got to be with you on the Higgs again. I miss you.”

“I miss you too,” Ana told him. “We knew a long-distance relationship wasn’t going to be easy, but I didn’t think it was going to be this difficult.” She let out a sigh of her own. “Then again neither of us were expecting to rerun the Dominion War, either.”

Being apart was difficult enough, but knowing the last time they saw each other might be the last time…on duty, she could put those thoughts to one side, but here in the silence and loneliness of her quarters, those thoughts were difficult to ignore.

“I still can’t believe Starfleet Command isn’t taking this seriously,” Callum’s frustration was not only obvious but was shared by Ana, “It’s like they don’t want to see the truth right in front of them so they’re sticking their head in the sand.”

Ana could understand not wanting to believe the Dominion were back, but that didn’t make the threat any less real. “If it wasn’t for Fleet Admiral Ramar and his spymaster, the Dominion and their Breen friends would’ve taken the entire Deneb Sector unopposed.”

“How’re you holding up?” Cal’s voice was soft.

That was a question she’d been anticipating and she knew her boyfriend wouldn’t be satisfied with her answer. “I’m fine.”

“You wanna try that again?” Egan’s chuckle filled the room with momentary light.

Ana pushed herself off the couch and slowly paced around the room. “I’m terrified, Cal,” she told him softly. “I’m a science officer, an archaeologist. I’m supposed to be excavating ruins and getting dirt under my fingernails.” Her intensity increased as she spoke. “Now I’m a fucking soldier,” She spat, “with seventy-nine souls looking to me for leadership.”

“You’ve been in combat before.”

Egan hardly needed to point that out. Just last month they’d tangled with an old Klingon Bird-of-Prey in the Paulson nebula. “Sure, in one-off skirmishes against pirates and mercenaries. Not an all-out war with an enemy that doesn’t just want to destroy me but everyone I love, and our entire way of life.

“Dad was right,” Ana continued, “I should never have applied to the Academy. I should’ve just gone to college, got my degree and found a nice dig site on some remote planet far from anything of any significance.”

Life certainly would’ve been so much easier for Ana, but Egan was quick to point out that it wouldn’t necessarily have been better. “Sure, you could’ve done that. But then you and I would never have met.”

“Good point.” The smile on her lips was only fleeting and it quickly fell. “I never wanted command.”

There was a brief pause. “Be not afraid of command. Some are born to command, some achieve command and some have command thrust upon them.”

“Paraphrasing Shakespeare?” Ana wrinkled her nose and made a sound of disgust “You’ve been hanging around your ex-husband too much.”

Egan’s laughter filled Ana with warmth. “Did I tell you he’s planning to put on a production of Macbeth?”

“The Challenger’s XO is putting on a production of Macbeth? With himself in the starring role, I assume?”

“Well he wanted Liz Wescott to play the role,” Egan’s amusement at the idea came across clearly”

That raised an eyebrow. “I only met her once but she doesn’t seem like the amateur dramatics type. She’s,” Ana paused momentarily, “kinda serious.”

“She’s very serious,” Egan confirmed with a chuckle, “and she told him, in no uncertain terms, that she would not be taking part in ‘his little play’. So he’s taking on the role himself.”

Ana smiled. She would’ve loved to be a fly on the wall for that conversation. Before she could say anything else, the room was bathed in red. “Red alert. All hands to battle stations.”

“I have to go,” Ana announced urgently as she pulled on her boots. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Egan replied quickly. “Be safe.”

With space at a premium on the Nova-class starships, both the Captain and Executive Officer had quarters on deck one. In emergency situations like this, that meant she could be on the bridge within seconds. She stepped onto the bridge with Mitchell following close behind her.

“What’s going on?” Ana asked as she moved to the command chair.

The duty officer quickly stood and relinquished the bridge. “We’ve detected three Jem’Hadar fighters on an intercept course.”

“How long until they reach us?”

The answer came from Mitchell, “Nine minutes.”

“Can we outrun them?” Ana’s heart was pounding in her chest. The Higgs didn’t stand a hope in hell of surviving an encounter with three Jem’Hadar fighters.

Mitchell shook his head. “If I push the engines as hard as possible, we won’t even reach warp nine,” He told her. “Jem’Hadar fighters top out at warp nine point six.”

“Suggestions?” She asked, opening the question up to everyone on the bridge.

But for the constant hum of the engines and the gentle beeps of the consoles around the bridge, there was silence. No one immediately came forward with a possible solution to the dire predicament they found themselves in. Finally, Pezara turned from his console. “I believe I have an idea, Captain.”

“Let’s hear it,” Ana told him eagerly.

He pressed command into his console to transfer a star chart from his console to the main viewscreen. The Higgs was represented by a Starfleet delta, the Jem’Hadar fighters were three dots with a fourth larger dot labelled Daylos.

“The Daylos system is approximately three light years to starboard,” Pezara explained calmly. Ana was certain he was as afraid as the rest of them but he hid it well. “I believe we will be able to take refuge in the systems asteroid belt.”

Mitchell was quick to jump in. “Jem’Hadar fighters could easily follow us in there. We might be able to shake one or two of ‘em, but we won’t be able to hide from them.”

“I believe we will,” Pezara manipulated the star chart to show a more detailed view of Daylos. At its heart lay an unremarkable F-type star. The first two planets were both class N, the third fourth and fifth were class D, while the sixth planet in the system was class H. Between the fourth and fifth planets was the asteroid belt in question. “The belt is saturated with high concentrations of radiogenic particles.”

Ana opened her mouth to ask a question, but Mitchell jumped in again. She shot a look at the back of his head as he spoke, “Will the shields protect us?”

“We’ll have to reroute additional power to them, but I believe they will,” Pezara replied.

This time, Ana was able to get a question in before Mitchell. “How can you be sure that the Jem’Hadar won’t follow us in? Their shields are as good as ours.”

“Actually, they aren’t,” Pezara turned and tapped another command into his console. The viewscreen changed to show the specifications of a Jem’Hadar fighter. “Their shielding is much lighter than you would expect, it’s why they generally attack in groups. They won’t be able to survive in that radiation.”

With no other suggestions forthcoming, they had little choice. “Commander, alter course. Get us into the asteroid belt.” She jammed her thumb on her armrest panel. “Bridge to engineering.”

“Armstrong here,” the English Chief Engineer’s reply was almost immediate.

Ana crossed her leg to prevent her from incessantly bouncing it. “I’m taking the ship into an asteroid field saturated with radiogenic particles and I’ll need you to divert as much power as you can to the shields.”

“Brilliant,” Armstrong muttered frustratedly. “I’ll do what I can for ya. Armstrong out.”

Over her left shoulder sat the young Trill comms officer Ensign Jora Edal. Unlike Pezara, who was the model of outward calm, Edal wasn’t quite as practised at masking her fear. She looked as terrified as Ana felt.  “Ensign, send a message to the Challenger. Let them know what’s happened and give them our coordinates.”

“Aye, Captain,” Edal nodded meekly before turning to her console.

Ana turned back to the viewscreen. The star chart was gone and she could now see the three Jem’ Hadar ships chasing them down. Her heart lept into her throat at the sight. They were a pack of predators and the Higgs was the prey. “Mister Mitchell, time to the asteroid belt?”

“Four minutes,” Mitchell replied tersely.

Her grip on her chair’s armrest tightened. “How long until the Jem’Hadar ships are in weapons range?”

“Three minutes.”

The Jem’Hadar ships could do a lot of damage in one minute. The Higgs’ shields may not be strong enough to keep the radiogenic particles at bay by the time they reached the belt. “Lieutenant Fournier, lock phasers on the lead ship. Prepare to fire on my command.”

“Phasers locked,” Fournier confirmed seconds later. 

Those three minutes seemed more like three hours as they waited for the Jem’Hadar fighters to enter weapons range. Fournier needn’t have announced the moment it happened, because the Jem’Hadar did a good job of that. Each of the ships fired a phased polaron beam at the Higgs.

The ship lurched violently, throwing Ana to the floor and causing the engineering console around the perimeter of the bridge to explode in a shower of sparks. Thankfully the officer manning it had also been thrown to the floor and was spared being caught in the explosion. “Return fire!” 

“Direct hit,” Fournier announced. “Their shields are down to eighty-five percent.” The Higgs shuddered as her shields took another beating. Fournier had to shout to be heard over the din. “Shields down to seventy-eight percent!”

Mitchell quickly followed that, “Dropping out of warp. We’ll be entering the asteroid belt in thirty seconds.”

The Higgs was rocked again, though this time Ana managed to keep her seat by gripping the armrest of her chair with every ounce of strength she had. “Casualty reports coming in from all over the ship,” Edal’s hands worked furiously on her console.

“We’re entering the asteroid field,” Mitchell announced. On the screen, the Jem’Hadar fighters showed no sign of slowing. Under Mitchell’s control, the Higgs was incredibly nimble for a science ship as she weaved and dodged the large chunks of floating rock.

Ana looked over her right shoulder. “Pezara, how are the radiation levels?”

“Radiogenic particle concentration in this region of the belt is moderate,” he told her as he studied the sensor readings. “The shields are protecting us from its effects.”

From the helm, Mitchell gave a triumphant whoop. “The Jem’Hadar fighters are withdrawing from the belt. Looks like they’re holding station on the edge of it.”

“All stop,” Ana ordered as she rose to her feet. “How secure is our position?”

Pezara took a few seconds to examine his readings. “The Jem’Hadar can’t follow us in and the radiogenic particles in here are scrambling their targeting sensors.” He turned to face the Captain. “I’d say we’re as safe as we possible could be, given the circumstances.”

“I want to know if those Jem’Hadar so much as twitch,” Ana told him. “Mister Mitchell, I want full damage and casualty reports. Let’s make use of this time to make repairs and prepare for what comes next.”

Mitchell spun round to face the Captain. “What comes next?”

“I don’t know yet.”

Calvin Armstrong’s fingers moved deftly across the surface of the console in front of him as he prepared to bring the warp drive back online. Three hours ago the Higgs took shelter in an asteroid field to escape from three Jem’Hadar warships. In that brief encounter, the Nova-class starship suffered moderate damage and her crew had spent their time in the asteroid field licking their wounds.

Those wounds were greater than the crew could completely repair on their own; a hull breach on deck four and buckling of the hull plating on the port nacelle would require a week, maybe more, in drydock to repair. For now, they focused on the repairs they could make themselves; restoring the internal and long-range sensors to full functionality, repairing the myriad EPS conduit ruptures the length and breadth of the ship and, as Calvin was about to do, bringing the warp drive back online.

As a drop of sweat fell from the tip of his nose, Calvin used the sleeve of his uniform to wipe his face. It had been getting progressively warmer for the past hour and a half, and he couldn’t find the reason. According to the computer, environmental controls were working fine. That’s a problem for later, he reminded himself as he primed the deuterium tanks and initiated the final startup sequence.

Calvin watched with a proud smile as the warp core slowly came to life. Within minutes the room would be filled with the familiar gentle hum of the ship’s heart beating once again while the deck plates underfoot would begin to vibrate imperceptibly.

“Good work everyone,” his smile evaporated as a wave of nausea hit him. He clamped his mouth shut and reached out to steady himself on the nearby console until the wave passed.

Ensign Sarrin, the young Trill engineer, looked at him with worry furrowing her brow. “Are you okay, Lieutenant?”

“I’m fine,” Calvin replied through gritted teeth. When he was sure he wasn’t about to revisit his dinner, he relaxed and let go of the console. “I’m not sure what that was.”

Sarrin quietly studied his face. “Perhaps you should visit sickbay, sir,” she suggested. “You don’t look well.”

“I said I’m fine,” But it immediately became clear he wasn’t. Calvin gripped the console again as another wave of nausea washed over him. He was unsteady on his feet, his free hand was shaking and felt faint. The last thing he remembered was the deck rushing up to meet him.

T’Nira entered the morgue to find Lieutenant Commander Mitchell standing over the body of Ensign Andreus McIntosh with unshed tears in his eyes. When the CMO had delivered the casualty report to Mitchell, he’d asked permission to view McIntosh’s remains and T’Nira had granted that request.

McIntosh was a recent Academy graduate who arrived at roughly the same time as the Commander and had quickly proven a popular member of the crew. T’Nira had found him an agreeable young man.

“He married his high school sweetheart last year,” Mitchell said. He sniffed and wiped the tears from his eyes. “They were expecting their first child.”

McIntosh had spoken to T’Nira at length of his excitement at becoming a father and asked her many questions about her own experience of parenthood. She was dubious that her experiences as a mother would be of much help to a human parent but she shared them with him and he’d listened intently. “I believe he was looking forward to being a father.”

“His wife went for her first fetal resonance scan last week,” Mitchell didn’t take his eyes off the dead Ensign as he spoke. “I had dinner with him a few nights ago. He was showing everyone the scan image and bending the ear of anyone who’d listen.” Mitchell sniffed again. “Now he’ll never get to meet his child, and they’ll never get to know their father.”

T’Nira watched as a lone tear rolled down Mitchell’s cheek before he quickly wiped it away with an angry sniff. “The Ensign’s death is regrettable, but he was aware of the risks when he joined Starfleet and willingly accepted them.” She told him.

He took a deep intake of breath and let it out slowly through his nostrils. “I’m sorry. I’ve never lost anyone under my command before, not like this.”  He cleared his throat and straightened and met T’Nira’s gaze. “I should make my report to the Captain.”

With Mitchell gone, T’Nira returned to sickbay. The two secondary biobeds were occupied by patients in critical but stable condition while Lieutenant Armstrong was being settled onto the main biobed by Nurse Oleer and Ensign Sarrin.

T’Nira picked up a medical tricorder as she moved to Armstrong’s side. “What happened?”

“I’m not sure,” Ensign Sarrin replied. “One minute he was fine and the next he looked like he was about to vomit. Then he fainted.”

Pointing the head of the handheld scanner at the engineer, T’Nira activated it and studied the readout. “I’m detecting an increased radiation level throughout the Lieutenant’s body.” She looked up at Ensign Sarrin. “Has Mister Armstrong been exposed to any radiation sources recently?”

“None,” Sarrin shook her head slowly. “He’s been coordinating the repair efforts from engineering.”

If Armstrong hadn’t been exposed to a radiation source, that left only one alternative: the radiation surrounding the Higgs. “Ensign, would you submit to a non-invasive medical scan?”

“Sure,” Sarrin replied with a shrug.

T’Nira reset the tricorder and pointed it at the young woman. The readings were consistent with T’Nira’s theory. “You are also showing elevated levels of radiation.”

“How is that possible?” Ensign Sarrin asked. “I haven’t been exposed to any sources either.”

T’Nira was already pressing a sequence of buttons on her tricorder to reset the scan and change the parameters. “We are currently in an asteroid belt with high concentrations of radiogenic particles.” She explained as she scanned the room. “I believe we have all been exposed.”

“But the shields are protecting us from it, aren’t they?” Oleer asked.

The readings on the tricorder suggested otherwise. “Apparently not completely,” T’Nira told them. “I’m detecting elevated radiation levels.”

“Then why haven’t the internal sensors detected it?” Oleer’s disbelief was odd, considering the evidence in front of them.

T’Nira didn’t have an answer for Oleer’s question, but having an engineer in the room proved fortuitous. “The internal sensors are offline for repairs.”

“Oh,” Oleer said, “that would explain it.”

T’Nira replicated a phial of hyronalin and loaded it into a hypospray before administering it to Armstrong. It would counter the effects of his radiation sickness for now but it was clear they couldn’t remain in the asteroid field much longer. 

“Monitor the Lieutenant until he wakes. I don’t believe he will suffer any long-lasting effects, given the relatively low level of exposure.” T’Nira told Olerr. “Computer, activate the EMH.”

The computer-generated doctor materialised in the middle of the room. “Please state the nature of the medical emergency.”

“The crew is being poisoned by exposure to radiogenic particles,” T’Nira told him. “Begin administering three ccs of hyronolin to the entire crew.”

The EMH didn’t move. “Isn’t that task better suited to a nurse?”

“Carry out my instructions,” T’Nira told him evenly.

The holographic doctor huffed but moved off to carry out her order. T’Nira often wondered why the engineers who designed these holograms always gave them such wearisome personalities. That, however, was a question for another time. She replicated several more phials of hyronolin to administer to the Captain and the rest of the bridge crew before leaving sickbay. 

When T’Nira arrived on the bridge, she was greeted by the sight of Lieutenant Commander Pezara in command. “Doctor,” the Bajoran greeted her cheerily, “what brings you up here.”

“Lieutenant Armstrong has presented with the early symptoms of radiation poisoning,” She told him. “I do not believe the shields are fully protecting us from the radiogenic particles in the asteroid field.”

Pezara shook his head dismissively, “The internal sensors would’ve picked up any increase in radiation levels onboard.” No sooner had the words left his mouth than the realisation dawned on him. “Except the internal sensors are offline for repair.” He bolted out of the command chair and moved to the science station.

Meanwhile, T’Nira retrieved the hypospray from the bridge’s emergency medical kit and began injecting the other officers on the bridge with hyronolin.

“Pezara to engineering, I’m bringing the internal sensors back online.” His hands furiously worked his console.

With Lieutenant Armstrong still in sickbay, it was left to the senior officer in engineering to reply. “Sir, we still need another forty minutes to complete repairs.”

“It’ll have to do as it is for now. Pezara out.” The Bajoran cut the commlink and brought the internal sensors online.

Pezara was the last to receive his dose of the anti-radiation meds. By the time he did, the internal sensors were confirming what T’Nira’s tricorder already had. 

The Captain needed to see this.

“McIntosh is dead,” Alex announced sadly as he handed a PADD to the Captain. “Two more are in critical condition.”

Matheson’s eyes widened. “McIntosh.”

“Yeah,” Alex’s voice was barely above a whisper. “He suffered fourth-degree plasma burns to eighty percent of his body. There was nothing T’Nira could’ve done.”

Alex winced as Matheson slammed the PADD on her desk. “Dammit!” The Captain pushed her chair back when she stood, forcefully enough that it hit the bulkhead with a loud bang. “What the hell was Forrester thinking, sending us out here?”

“These parts are needed at Galadkail Manor urgently,” Mitchell said, though he knew the Captain didn’t need reminding. “We were the only available ship close enough.” 

McIntosh’s death was eating Alex up. The younger man had become a good friend in their short time on board and he shouldn’t be dead, he had so much to live for, but blaming Tom Forrester wouldn’t change the reality or make them feel any better. Doctor T’Nira was right, life in Starfleet came with plenty of risks attached and McIntosh joined anyway.

“Bullshit!” Mathson shot back angrily. “The Challenger wasn’t much farther from Farpoint than we were. They could’ve picked up the engineers and parts and gotten them to Galadkail Manor a hell of a lot faster than we could.” She let out a frustrated sigh. “And that luxury liner he calls a starship is also armed to the teeth. But I suppose this mission is below the mighty Fleet Captain.”

Alex was quick to jump to his best friend’s defence. “That’s not how Captain Forrester operates. He doesn’t consider any mission beneath him,” he told her firmly. “Besides, the Challenger was tied up and they couldn’t guarantee they’d be done in time to get these supplies to Galadkail.”

“I should’ve known you’d take his side,” Matheson hissed.

Matheson’s words and the look of disgust on her face as she said them stunned Alex into momentary silence. “There are no sides,” he finally said as he struggled to keep an even tone, “My loyalty is to Starfleet and my duty is to the Higgs and her crew, a duty I take very seriously.”

The pair glared at each other. Alex knew that she’d only said that because of the pain and anguish of losing a young officer who’d quickly made an impression on the entire crew, but the accusation still cut him deep. It meant that on some level she believed his first loyalty was to Tom Forrester instead of the Higgs, the crew or her. If that’s how she felt, then why did she pick me to be her XO?

“If that’s how you feel, I’ll have my request for transfer on your desk once we get out of this,” Alex quickly added, “if we get out of this.”

Matheson didn’t reply to that, she just continued to stare at him. The tension between them was thick and neither was willing to break the silence. Her eyes bored through him, anger burning in her eyes while he was sure the hurt he felt was written all over his face. 

As the seconds ticked by, he had a chance to really study her. Matheson’s skin looked pale and clammy, which only made the dark circles around her eyes all the more obvious. She didn’t look well but before Alex could say anything, the chirp of the comm system and Lieutenant Commander Pezara’s voice broke the silence in the room. It was a welcome interruption.

“Captain to the bridge.”

Alex followed the Captain onto the bridge where they found the Chief Science Officer sitting at his console with Doctor T’Nira standing beside him. The pair of them were studying readings from what looked like the internal sensors. As the Captain and her XO approached the science station, Matheson asked, “What’ve you got?”

“Lieutenant Armstrong is suffering from the early stages of radiation poisoning,” T’Nira told them. “We have detected elevated levels of radiation throughout the ship.”

Alex glanced at the Captain but she refused to look at him, focusing her attention on T’Nira and Pezara. “How is that possible? Aren’t the shields protecting us?”

“They are, for the most part,” Pezara replied, “but there’s been some bleedthrough.”

Alex’s brow furrowed. “Why didn’t the internal sensors detect a rise in radiation levels?”

“Internal sensors were damaged in the Jem’Hadar attack and have been offline for repairs,” Pezara supplied.

Matheson folded her arms. “How much longer can we remain here?”

“The radiation will reach a critical level in approximately thirty minutes,” T’Nira told them. “I suggest remaining no longer than fifteen minutes.”

Alex looked to the Captain, who was worrying pale and looked like she was fighting back nausea. “Captain?”

“I’m fine,” Matheson replied through gritted teeth. Alex couldn’t tell if that was because she was holding back nausea or another display of the anger she directed towards him. 

T’Nira didn’t reach for a tricorder; she already knew what the problem was. She pressed a hypospray against the Captain’s neck and activated the device. “Hyronolin,” she explained, “it should help with the symptoms of radiation poisoning.”

“Better,” the Captain confirmed, “thank you.”

While the Captain recovered her equilibrium, Alex asked Pezara, “Any sign of the Jem’Hadar fighters?”

Pezara shook his head. “Between the radiogenic particles and the damage to the long-range sensors, we can’t see them. They could still be there, or they could’ve gotten bored and moved on.”

“The Jem’Hadar don’t get bored,” Alex murmured. “They’ll wait us out, or worse try to smoke us out.”

The CSO glanced up at him. “Why haven’t they tried that already?”

“No idea,” Alex answered.

Pezara’s console let out a synthetic alert, drawing both of their attention. Alex could read the sensor readings as well as anyone. That’s what we get for tempting fate, he grumbled silently. 

The CSO’s report was urgent but not panicked, “The Jem’Hadar fighters are firing into the asteroid field.”

“I thought they couldn’t get a lock on us because of the radiogenic particles?” The Captain asked.

Pezara took a few seconds to study what the short-range sensors were telling him before answering. “I don’t think they can. It looks like they’re firing blind.”

The asteroid in front of them exploded spectacularly as a torpedo impacted it, sending large chunks of rocks flying off in all directions, including at the Higgs. Her shields flared as the remnants of the asteroid came into contact with them. For those onboard, the deck lurched and anyone on their feet quickly found themselves crashing to the deck with a thud.

“Mitchell, get us moving!” The Captain shouted over the din of alarms and klaxons, the tension between them momentarily forgotten.

Alex’s shoulder ached from its impact with the deck but he pushed through the pain to pick himself up. “And go where?”

“Anywhere that’s not here,” Matheson’s vague orders weren’t helpful but Alex moved the Higgs further along the asteroid belt. They needed a plan if they were to leave it.

Back in the command chair, Matheson turned to her Chief Science Officer. “Is there any way we could use these asteroids against the Jem’Hadar?”

“You mean throw an asteroid at them?” Pezara asked. When Matheson nodded, he told her, “Most of them are too big for us to use a tractor beam on. For those that are small enough, we’d need to be able to take out all three ships at once. I don’t see how we do that.”

Their chances of survival were quickly narrowing. What had started out as a simple mission to deliver cargo and personnel to Galadkail Manor was turning into a fight for their lives, a fight they were probably going to lose. 

Alex wasn’t afraid to die, though if he thought about it long enough he would come up with a list of regrets a mile long. What upset him most about the idea was the pain it would cause his friends and family. They’d already suffered through that once when thanks to some temporal shenanigans, he didn’t want them to suffer through that again. Though this time, there would be no doubt as to his fate.

“What else do we have in his system?” Matheson asked.

With his focus on piloting the Higgs through the asteroid field, Alex was only half listening as the Captain and Pezara worked through their options. There wasn’t much else in the system they could use to hide effectively from the Jem’Hadar and trying to outrun them was a non-starter; they’d be lucky to make it out of the system before those fighters caught up to them.

The Higgs darted left and right around asteroids, dipping under them and rising over them. Pushing the envelope of what the compact Nova-class starship was capable of, Alex skirted as close as he could to the large chunks of lifeless rock; in some cases getting as close as a few hundred metres.

“Helm, alter course; bearing two-eight-one mark zero-three-five,” Matheson sounded like she had a plan.

Captain Matheson’s order penetrated his focus as clearly as a ringing bell, there was no mistaking the course she’d given him, but when Alex input that heading into the navigational computer, he started to doubt himself (not something that he was accustomed to). That must be a mistake, he thought. “Captain,” he spun in his chair to face Matheson, “that course will take us directly into the heart of the Daylos star.”

“Thank you for starting the obvious, Commander,” Matheson replied with a steely gaze. Alex could feel the eyes of Shepard and others on them, no doubt wondering what had caused such a frosty response from a woman known for her warmth and kindness, but he held the Captain’s gaze.

Eventually, Alex turned back and altered the Higgs’ course, taking them out of the proverbial frying pan and into the literal fire. The one good thing about the Dominion’s decision to fire torpedoes blindly into the asteroid field was that it allowed them to establish a rough position for their ships but there was no telling how long it would take for the Jem’Hadar ships to spot them once they emerged from the asteroid belt.

The Higgs cleared the belt and hurtled at full impulse towards the heart of the Daylos system. “We’re clear of the effects of the radiogenic particles,” Alex announced.

“Where are the Jem’Hadar fighters?” Matheson’s question was quickly answered on the viewscreen when a trio of purple dots appeared beside the asteroid field. “Have they seen us?”

Pezara shook his head. “Not yet. They’re still firing into the asteroid belt.”

“Good,” Matheson said. “How long until we reach the star?”

Mitchell glanced at the countdown timer on his console. “Two minutes.”

“Captain, we’ve been spotted,” Pezara announced urgently. “The Jem’Hadar ships are moving towards us.”

The map on the viewscreen disappeared, replaced by a view of the three Jem’Hadar fighters chasing them down.

Matheson gripped the armrests of her chair tightly. “Come and get us.”

“Weapons range in ninety seconds,” Fournier announced.

Alex checked the timer. The Jem’Hadar fighters would be able to get a couple of shots off before the Higgs entered the star’s corona. He pushed the impulse engines as hard as he dared, but the increase in speed was negligible.

“Captain, radiation levels and hull temperature are rising,” Pezara announced.

The Jem’Hadar fighters slowly closed the distance between them and the Higgs. Alex watched on the navigational sensors as the three purple dots edged closer and closer. Red circles surrounding each of the dots indicated the range of their weapons. The instant the Higgs entered one of those red circles, the ship was rocked by a fierce barrage of polaron beams and torpedoes. The Jem’Hadar were determined to finish the job they started before the Higgs reached the star.

“Shields are down to thirty-three percent!” Fournier shouted.

The news from the helm was no better, “Warp drive is offline. Impulse engines have sustained heavy damage. We can only manage one-third impulse.”

The momentum they’d established would carry them into the star’s corona at full impulse but when it came time to emerge, their speed would be severely limited. “Fournier,” Matheson barked, “Activate the metaphasic shielding.” 

As soon as Fournier acknowledged the metaphasic shields were active, Pezara announced that the hull temperate and radiation levels were dropping back to normal. Under the best of circumstances, the metaphasic shields would only protect them for so long and the Higgs was far from her best.

“Well, we’re here,” Alex asked, turning to face the Captain. “What now?”

Matheson smirked at him but there was no warmth to it. “Now we fight back with science,” She turned to her CSO. “Pezara, where are the Jem’Hadar fighters?”

“They’re holding position orbiting the star,” The Chief Science Officer responded.

Alex glanced over at Lieutenant Shepard’s console, where the Ops Officer was monitoring the hull temperature and radiation levels. Both were already on the rise. It wouldn’t be long before they reached dangerous levels. I hope whatever the Captain has planned, she does it soon.

“Fournier, I want you to reconfigure the tractor beam emitters to fire a particle beam at the surface of the star,” Matheson ordered as she moved to the science console.

It still wasn’t clear to Alex what the Captain’s plan was, but he trusted that she knew what she was doing. You have more trust in her than she does in you, he thought bitterly. While Fournier went about her work, Matheson and Pezara huddled around the science station working on the calculations on which spot to target on the star’s surface.

“That’s it,” Matheson finally announced after several minutes of work. “Fournier, throw  a tactical display up on the screen.” The Daylos star took up half of the map on the viewscreen. A delta in the corona indicated the Higgs with three purple dots waiting patiently.

Matheson returned to her seat. “Pezara, overlay the projected path of the solar fusion eruption.” The three purple dots appeared well inside the predicted path of the solar ejection. “Exactly where we want them.” She turned again to science, “Pezara, transfer the target coordinates to tactical.”

“Aye, Captain.” The anticipation on the bridge increased as they prepared to put the Captain’s plan into action. The solar eruption she was going to initiate would get close enough to the Higgs to cause the hull temperature and radiation levels

The transfer took a few seconds. “Coordinates received,” Fournier announced. “Ready to fire on your command.”

Everyone on the bridge held their collective breath, waiting for the Captain to give the order. Alex gripped the edge of his console so tightly that his knuckles were turning white.

“Fire.”

The particle beam shot out at the surface of the star. Within seconds the hull temperature began increasing faster as the star reacted to the particle beam. Superfluid gasses burst forth from the surface, ejected outward in the direction of the Jem’Hadar fighters.

“Captain,” The urgency in Pezara’s voice was not a portent of success. “The Jem’Hadar fighters have detected the eruption. They’re scattering.”

The three purple dots started moving in different directions as they tried to escape the solar fusion eruption. The silence on the bridge was such that you could hear a pin drop. They wouldn’t get a second chance at this, so it had to work and right now that was far from certain.

“Looks like two of them won’t be able to escape it,” Fournier reported. “The third has moved far enough out of range.”

Sure enough, two of the purple dots disappeared as the solar eruption engulfed those fighters. Two ships, the Jem’Hadar on board and their Vorta handlers. Alex surprised himself when he felt a pang of remorse for taking those lives. It was easy to see the Jem’Hadar as heartless murderers, but they were genetically engineered to obey the Founders; they had no choice, no free will. 

“Captain,” Now it was Shepard’s turn to be urgent. “Hull temp and radiation levels have reached dangerous levels. We have to leave, now.”

The course was already plotted, Alex just needed the order. The problem was the remaining Jem’Hadar fighter would be waiting for them. While the odds were evened, the fight would be tough; it would be the fight for, and of, their lives.

“Helm,” Matheson said, “get us out of here.”

Alex’s index finger had never jammed down so hard on his console before. The Higgs engines propelled the ship forward. With the damage she’d sustained, the Nova-class ship would never come close to reaching full impulse but she could still move quickly enough to get clear of the star in less than a minute.

“Fournier, target the remaining Jem’Hadar ship,” Matheson ordered. “As soon as we’re clear of the star’s influence, throw everything we’ve got at them.”

Matheson opened a shipwide comm channel and as she spoke, everyone on the bridge steeled themselves for what was to come.

“All hands,” the Captain’s grave announcement echoed around the bridge, “battle stations.”

The atmosphere on the bridge was tense as the Higgs limped out of the Daylos star’s corona. Waiting for them was the last remaining Jem’Hadar fighter preparing to strike and finish the job it started with its fallen comrades. The crew of the Higgs wasn’t about to go down without a fight. They primed the phasers and loaded the torpedoes; they would throw everything they could at the Dominion ship.

“One minute ‘till weapons range,” Commander Mitchell announced from the helm.

Ensign Jora Edal took a deep breath at communications before placing the earpiece in her left ear. She had been in combat several times since arriving on the Higgs but it had never felt like this before, never this tense. Those were fights against pirates and mercenaries, little more than skirmishes. This was different, this was a war against an enemy who wanted to destroy not just them but their way of life.

In her left ear, Jora was receiving readiness reports from every corner of the ship. “All decks report ready, Captain.”

“Very good,” Matheson replied, her voice firm but calm. “Fournier, fire everything we have the instant we’re in range.”

Jora glanced over her shoulder at the Captain. The normally light and bubbly woman that occupied the centre chair was gone. She looked calm and determined. Sensing the eyes on her, Matheson met Jora’s gaze and offered a reassuring smile.

She wanted to be reassured, but Jora couldn’t get rid of the knot in her stomach. The closer they got to their encounter with the Jem’Hadar fighter, the tighter that knot became. No matter how much she tried to focus on her work, that sense of dread continued to gnaw away at her. Even twenty-five years out of date, the Jem’Hadar fighter still posed a grave threat to the already wounded Higgs.

Some part of her hoped for a miracle, that the Challenger would swoop in at the last minute and destroy their Dominion hunters. But that only happened in fiction. If the Challenger were on her way, she would arrive too late to help them, perhaps just in time to watch the Higgs being blown to bits. Jora shook her head to banish that thought and wiped her sweaty palms on her pants leg.

“Twenty seconds,” Mitchell reported.

In her head, Jora started counting back from twenty, gripping the handrail along the bottom of her console tightly in anticipation. She shut her eyes as her count neared zero.  The familiar whine of phasers firing and the thud of torpedoes being fired reverberated through the hull when she reached ‘two’, indicating her count was slightly off. 

The Higgs shuddered violently a second later as the shields weakened under the intense barrage the Jem’Hadar fighter unleashed on them. Shouted reports rang out from the other senior officers around the bridge, but her focus was on the voices coming from her earpiece reporting the damage and casualties they’d sustained, reports that she promptly passed onto the Captain. The only bridge officer’s voice she heard, other than the Captain’s, was Fournier’s French accent announcing, “Shields down to twenty-one percent.”

“Helm, bring us round for another pass,” Matheson barked. “Fournier, prepare another spread of torpedoes.”

The Higgs shuddered again, even more violently this time, causing Jora to reach for the handrail to keep herself upright. More reports came in; casualty reports from every corner of the ship, and damage reports from all decks. One, in particular, caused Jora’s heart to leap into her throat. It contained the two words that struck terror into her: hull breach. 

It was only once she was at the Academy that the possibility of a breach opening in the skin of a ship and someone being blown into the vast emptiness of space occurred to her. Jora’s experience of space flight before her journey to the Academy was limited and she’d never even heard of a hull breach. She’d had nightmares for weeks. 

As more reports flooded in, her mind raced. Had there been anyone working right beside this hull breach? Did she know them? Did they survive in the vacuum long enough to realise what was happening to them? The casualty reports might answer some of those questions, but did she really want to know? Jora decided she didn’t, instead forcing the thought from her mind; she needed to focus on her work. 

The bridge shuddered again. Fournier’s panicked voice struggled to be heard over the din on the bridge,  “Shields down to ten percent!”

“What about the Jem’Hadar?” Matheson asked.

The whine of the phasers firing had blended into the background for much of the past few minutes but Jora heard it loud and clear again now. “Their shields are down,” Fournier reported seconds later.

“Helm, bring us about” Matheson ordered. “Tactical, fire a full spread on my mark.”

Everyone held their breaths, waiting for Commander Mitchell to bring the torpedoes to bear on the Jem’Hadar fighter. Matheson leaned forward in her chair, waiting for her moment before finally hissing, “Fire.”

Another series of thuds sounded through the hull as more torpedoes were angrily hurled at the Jem’Hadar fighter. Jora glanced around at the viewscreen just in time to watch as the torpedoes find their target. There was no flare of shields, the torpedoes impacted directly on the Jem’Hadar’s hull in violent eruptions of flame.

They were too close. The shockwave from the Jem’Hadar’s warp core breaching would knock into the Higgs like a rugby player taking a particularly ugly tackle.

“Brace for impact,” Matheson shouted urgently.

All hell broke loose. The bridge was thrown into darkness as the Higgs lurched violently to port and consoles exploded as the conduits behind them overloaded. Jora was thrown from her chair, reaching for the handrail too late. She didn’t have time to consider if the inertial dampers responded too slowly or not at all as she fell towards the deck. Looking back she would swear she heard the sickening crunch of bone when her hand connected with the deck, but the pain shooting through her left wrist was enough to tell her that she’d broken something.  

Jora kept still while the chaos raged around her. It was only when it had passed and silence fell over the bridge that she looked up. The hum of the engines was gone and the only illumination provided by LCARS displays flickering like the flame of a candle being blown by the wind. The silence was eerie. 

With her good hand, Jora pushed herself to a sitting position and looked around the bridge. Everyone was picking themselves up, looking around them as their eyes adjusted to the diminished lighting. Everyone except the Captain. She remained still, lying on her back with her face towards the ceiling. 

Has she injured herself worse than everyone else?

Mitchell was first by Matheson’s side. Jora’s blood ran cold when the XO reached out and placed two fingers on her neck; he was checking for a pulse. She was certain her heart stopped beating while she waited for Mitchell to tell them he’d found a pulse, but he didn’t. He looked up at Lieutenant Commander Pezara and shook his head solemnly. 

Tears welled in Jora’s eyes. When she came on board, she’d expected the Captain to be aloof, detached from the rest of the crew. Captain Matheson was anything but. She’d been warm, funny, occasionally goofy and loved to hear the crew’s gossip. Matheson never liked to eat alone and most nights would have had dinner in the mess hall with her crew. 

Tears rolled down Jora’s cheeks as she awkwardly climbed to her feet, careful not to jostle her injured wrist. She wiped the tears away with her good hand and sat down at her console. Her earpiece was gone, somewhere on the floor but she’d make do without it. 

“How bad is it?” Mitchell asked.

Shepard’s trembling voice betrayed his own sadness. He’d been on the Higgs for longer and knew the Captain from when she was the Chief Science Officer. “Engines are offline,” he reported, “so are weapons, shields, sensors and communications. We also have hull breaches on decks two and five.”

“Alright,” Mitchell sighed, “anyone who has any kind of engineering skill and can hold a hyperspanner is to be assigned to repair efforts. Lieutenant Armstrong can coordinate from Engineering.” He turned his attention to Jora next. “Casualties?”

She spun her chair to face the XO. He’s the Captain now I suppose, she thought. “Seven dead and twenty-one seriously wounded at last report.” Her eyes flicked briefly to where Captain Matheson’s lifeless body still lay, her face covered by Lieutenant Commander Mitchell’s uniform jacket. “Eight dead, I guess.” She whispered.

“What happened?” 

Jora looked down at where Mitchell was pointing at her left wrist sitting limply in her lap. “Oh, it’s nothing,” she told him. “Probably just a sprain.”

“Get yourself down to sickbay and get it checked out,” Mitchell told her.

As much as Jora wanted to protest, and tell him that she was fine, the pain in her wrist told her otherwise. “Aye, sir.” Cradling her left wrist with her right hand, Jora left the bridge. Even though the three Jem’Hadar ships had been destroyed, at a terrible cost, they weren’t out of the woods yet. There could be more out there, about to strike them down but without sensors they couldn’t see them coming.

The knot in her stomach tightened further.

Acting Captain’s Log, Supplemental. With the help of engineers from the Challenger, Lieutenant Armstrong made sufficient repairs to allow the Higgs to get underway. The rest of our journey to Galadkail Manor was uneventful. While the Higgs assists in completing the upgrades to the planet’s defence platforms, the Challenger and Cernan have joined the Cardassian/Federation battle group.

Upgrading the computer systems that controlled Galadkail Manor’s defence platforms was easier said than done. What Calvin Armstrong had anticipated would take a few hours had turned into a twenty-hour job, and it would be a few more before they completed the work. That meant, instead of completing the upgrades before the Dominion arrived, work continued while the battle raged at the edge of the Galadkail system.

“Could you hand me the optronic coupler?” The requested tool didn’t appear in Armstrong’s view. “The optronic coupler?” Still nothing. He slid out from underneath the console to find the civilian engineer assisting him, Polx Broslo. 

The Bolian stood by the room’s large window with a view over the island’s south coast. On the horizon, Armstrong could see clouds so dark they were virtually black, laden with unshed rain, moving slowly towards them. Below them, waves crashed violently on the rocks as the wind picked up. Armstrong whistled softly, “That looks like a nasty storm.”

“I’ve never known a storm this bad,” Broslo muttered.

Armstrong watched the storm brewing for a few brief moments. “Maybe we’ll get lucky, and it’ll pass to the east.”

Broslo hummed in agreement, though he sounded less than confident.

“Come on,” Armstrong gently removed the optronic coupler from Broslo’s hand, “we have work to do.”

They spent the next two hours working on completing their upgrades, with the two men sharing occasional snippets of conversation. Broslo was a competent engineer but a rather gloomy man whose disposition worsened in the face of the oncoming storm.

The PADD at Broslo’s elbow had no sooner begun to emit a shrill warble than the muffled voice of Lieutenant Commander Mitchell sounded through Armstrong’s commbadge. “Higgs to Armstrong.”

“Your Captain is certainly punctual,” Broslo commented.

An impatient sod, more like. Armstrong tapped his commbadge, “Armstrong here.”

“Status report, Lieutenant.”

“We’re almost done,” Armstrong replied. “The platforms should be online in thirty to forty minutes.”

“Understood. Higgs out.”

Broslo reached for his PADD and tapped a control, “Resetting the countdown timer, twenty minutes.”

Armstrong smirked and opened his mouth to deliver a witty retort, but a low rumble filled the room, cutting him off.  “The storm’s getting closer,” Armstrong commented as his fingers darted across his console, inputting one command line after another. 

The Bolian engineer didn’t reply. Armstrong didn’t need to look at Broslo; he could feel the tension radiating from the other engineer’s body. They worked in silence, the tension increasing with every rumble of thunder. The shill warble echoed around the room again, but the chirp of Armstrong’s commbadge didn’t come, nor Mitchell’s voice demanding another update.

“Where is he?” Broslo asked.

Armstrong shrugged. He wasn’t concerned by Mitchell missing his usual check-in; he was grateful not to have the Higgs’ acting captain breathing down his neck yet again. Broslo wasn’t as accepting.

“Your captain has been punctual; he’s contacted you every twenty minutes for the past two hours,” Broslo grumbled. “I believe humans would describe him as ‘like clockwork’.” He paused. “What if something’s happened? What if your ship has been destroyed? What if the Dominion got them?”

It was challenging to bite back a sarcastic retort. “Any Dominion ship approaching the planet would’ve set off the proximity alarm,” Armstrong assured him.

“Well, what if they’ve warped away? Maybe the Dominion has broken through the defensive line?”

Thunder rumbled in the distance again. There were plenty of reasons why Mitchell was late in contacting them. Speculating served no useful purpose. “Can you pop up to the roof to check on the transceiver assembly?”

“I, uh,” Broslo hesitated, “is there a problem?”

No, Armstrong thought. “Yeah, the diagnostics are giving me some weird feedback.”

Broslo stalked out of the control room, grumbling something under his breath. As soon as he was out of sight, Armstrong let out a relieved groan. The peace and quiet didn’t last. Less than a minute later, Lieutenant Commander Mitchell strode into the room. “It’s been almost half an hour, Lieutenant. How close are you to bringing the defence platforms online?”

“I just need a few more minutes, sir,” Armstrong told him. “There are a few final diagnostics to run, and Broslo is on the roof doing some last-minute checks.

Mitchell nodded, “Alright. Good work.”

“Higgs to Mitchell.”

The acting captain tapped his commbadge, “Go ahead, Commander.”

“Incoming transmission from the Challenger,” Pezara announced. “Patching them through.”

There was silence for a few seconds before Fleet Captain Forrester’s voice emerged through Mitchell’s commbadge, “Dominion forces are in retreat. It’s over.”

For now, Armstrong added silently. That thought was quickly followed by worry that Broslo’s pessimism was beginning to rub off on him.

“That’s good news, sir,” Mitchell replied, beaming from ear to ear. “What’s the battle group’s status?”

“Cardassians lost two Galor-class ships,” Forrester replied. “Cernan and Blackbird sustained heavy damage. We’ll return to Galakail Manor and begin to effect repairs.”

Armstrong wondered briefly if he’d be asked to assist the Cardassians with repairs. Would they even want our help?

“Understood, sir. We’ll see you when you arrive. Higgs out.”

Broslo wandered back in, looking less gloomy than he had when he left. “The Transceiver assembly’s fine.” He reported. By Broslo’s standards, his tone was practically cheery. “And the wind’s changed direction. The storm’s going to pass us by.”

Armstrong shared a knowing look with Mitchell, “You can say that again.”