“I know this one is going to hit close to home, son.” Captain Richards looked solemn on the view screen.  He knew that Lt. Commander Chris Rouse would be having a difficult time conducting this mission.

“The Dominion?” Chris asked incredulously, “how is this possible? There’s been a treaty in place for decades. No one has heard a word from them in almost as long.” Lt. Commander Chris Rouse had recently been diverted by Starfleet Command to support a compromised patrol group carrying evacuated Federation citizens to the safety of Farpoint Station.

“I don’t know. We…,“ Captain Richards wiped his brow in frustration, “we didn’t see it coming. There was no warning. No intel.” His frustration turning to anger, Richards slammed his fist down on the armrest of his captain’s chair. “This is bad, Chris.”

Commander Rouse felt Richards’ rage shoot through the screen like lightning. It galvanized his own white-hot fury.  Years ago, when Chris was still a young boy, his parents were killed by Jem’Hadar forces as they attempted to run a blockade of Betazed and provide aid during the Dominion War. It was a then-Lieutenant Richards who rescued Chris and took custody of the small boy, essentially raising him into the man he would become.

“Commodore Ekwueme has ordered a pursuit.  I’m taking the Redding and Yosemite to drive off the remaining Jem’Hadar ships.” Behind Richards, the damage sustained by the USS Redding was clear. “I’m having the remaining patrol ships rendezvous in the neighboring Karna system. There is a nebula there that should provide some temporary coverage and allow for time to affect a few repairs.” Richards stood and rearranged his uniform. There were scorch markings on the fabric, and it drew attention away from the cut protruding from his hairline. “Check with your Ops, you’ll find the Commodore’s updated orders.”

Chris pulled up his ship’s current heading and confirmed. “Aye, Captain. We should join the patrol in just under two hours.”

Richards offered what might pass for a smile under different circumstances. “I know this isn’t what you had in mind for a first command, but we play the hand we’re dealt.”  The viewscreen shook violently and the crash of polaron beams against failing shields could be heard. “Good luck, son. You and the Corax are all that stand between the patrol group and the Jem’Hadar. Save them.” A look fell upon Richards’ face. It was one Chris recognized all too well. Captain Richards believed this would be the last time they would speak. “Goodbye, Commander. Redding, out.”

Commander Richards took a deep breath. He never really considered himself to be much of a leader. He did, however, know that he didn’t want to let Captain Richards down. Adjusting his posture and composing himself, Chris exited the ready room and stepped onto the modest bridge of the USS Corax. The nervous eyes of the crew all met him in unison. No one had expected this situation and the ambivalence filled the air.

Chris led with his heart. If nothing else, he’d use his hatred of the Dominion to will his crew and ship to victory if needed. “Helm, increase speed. Maximum warp.”

“Aye, sir.” Ensign Sixto Márin, fueled by adrenaline, tapped his console furiously and the ship responded obediently.

“Yellow Alert!” The bridge darkened, and a dull yellow light pulsed. He was unsure as to what they would find upon arrival, but Chris had just over an hour to make sure the crew was prepared.

*****

Commander Rouse paced the bridge so feverishly a path was wearing into the deck plating.  The Corax lacked a formal conference room, but with a minimal crew the bridge was as good a place as any to meet. Tensions were high and all stations were standing by for Chris’ next command.  He turned to the Ops station and locked eyes with a stately young woman who had closely been monitoring her instruments. “Ensign Côte, are your scans complete?”

Manon Côte managed to disguise her anxieties behind a façade of stoicism. “Yes, sir. I have confirmed six distinct Federation warp signatures within the Karna system.  The nebula may be interfering with scans, but I’m fairly certain my scans are accurate.”

“Six ships?” Lt. Commander Gisso Rao, the ship’s assigned executive officer, did nothing to dispel her dismay. “How many were originally part of the patrol? Twenty? Twenty-five?”

Ensign Côte responded, not missing a beat. “There were twenty-three ships, Commander.”

Lt. Commander Rouse ran his hand across his beard. His eyes, darting with thought, reflected the pulsating yellow light giving him a slightly demonic appearance.  Slowly, he turned again to face Manon. “Ensign, are you able to raise the patrol on comms?”

“I’ve been trying, sir. There’s a lot of interference.” If she was frustrated, it didn’t show.

Lieutenant Rolan Decane, the ship’s Chief Engineer, chimed in with what might be a solution. “Sir, if I may,” Decane’s documented bravado was beginning to emanate, “I can reroute power from our defensive systems to boost output to our comms. If we won’t be expecting a fight any time soon the amended settings could cut through the interference.”

Chris observed as Ensign Côte gave an approving nod. “Agreed,” he said confidently. “I’d like to know what the hell it is we’re walking into if I can.” Chris prompted Ensign Márin for an update. “Helm, time to rendezvous?”

Sixto scanned his panel and looked over his shoulder at Chris. “Thirty-six minutes, sir.”

Chris nodded and stroked his chin again. “That’s not a lot of time.” He then gestured to his first officer. “Commander Rao, I’d like to see you in my ready room.” He then turned to Rolan. “Lt. Decane, you have the bridge.” With that Chris made his way to the ready room, Commander Rao in tow.

*****

Chris sat in the chair, hands steepled under his chin, staring at Gisso for what seemed an eternity. Finally, the silence war broken. “Commander Rao, I’ve read your objections to this posting. You made it clear you didn’t want this assignment when we were being deployed to aid in Romulan colonization efforts, so I can imagine you don’t want to be here now fighting the Dominion.” Chris observed closely, watching Rao’s every reaction.

Gisso did not seem fazed. Her posture unflinching, her gaze was lowered to meet Chris’. “May I speak freely, sir?” Her deference to his title bordered on sarcasm.

Chris paused, considered the alternative, then nodded.

“You’ve read my file,” she inhaled deeply, “and I’ve read yours. I cannot imagine a scenario in which Starfleet would deign it appropriate to place you in command of a vessel. Especially with my qualifications what they are. Yet here we are.” She resumed her original forward stare, breaking eye contact and peering ahead out the viewport.

“Since we’re being candid, Lt. Commander,” Chris started, he now accentuating rank, “you were demoted. In another life, you might have been a captain by now. But you angered all the wrong people and now here you are. We may share rank, but make no mistake, you are my first officer.” Chris rose from his chair and made his way towards the door before pointing towards the bridge. “I know you are more than thorough. You’ve read the jackets of everyone assigned to this ship. You are aware you’ve been assigned a crew of misfits. We’ve all made mistakes. We are expendable.” He took a deep breath and collected himself. “I also know that this is an opportunity for us all to prove we are more than what others assume we are. If there is ever a path for you to be captain, it goes through the Corax. You will do well to remember that.”

Gisso did not appreciate Chris’ tone, but she understood she invited it when she initiated this line of conversation. As much as she hated to admit it, she knew Chris was right. She had earner her demotion all on her own. Now, instead of being an arm’s reach from the captain’s chair, she found herself second-in-command of a glorified cargo ship. “Aye, Captain,” she said defiantly.

“Please,” Chris said while waving a dismissive hand, “I know the naval traditions, but ‘Commander’ is fine.”

It was almost so entirely imperceptible that even Commander Data would have been hard-pressed to notice, but Gisso rolled her eyes. “Aye, Commander.”

Chris relaxed some. He modified his posture so it was less defensive. “Look, Gisso. If we survive this mission, I’ll support your transfer off the Corax, but I need your best if we’re to make it out of this alive.”

Gisso nodded, her face resolute. “Rumors and accusations and demotions aside, sir, I’ve only ever given my best.” She extended her had and Chris took it, shaking it firmly.

Just then, Chris’ combadge chirped. “Côte to Commander Rouse. I’ve got a Commander Tonkin on subspace. He says taken command of the remaining patrol ships and that they’re awaiting our arrival.”

Chris tapped his communicator. “Understood. Keep him on the line. I’m on my way. Rouse, out.” With that Chris and Gisso exchanged a glance and a nod. He couldn’t say for sure, but Chris hoped they had reached some sort of understanding.

*****

Commander Tonkin filled the bridge’s main viewscreen. The Andorian’s blue skin was muted and his left antennae seemed damaged. Ensign Côte and Lt. Decane had managed to cut through the static created by the Karna’s resident nebula, so the remaining comms issues were emanating from Tonkin’s ship.

Chris was still processing the information relayed by Tonkin. Not only were there just six remaining ships, none had weapons online and one was only capable of warp three. “Listen, Commander,” Chris starter, “we’ll be there in sixteen minutes. Once we arrive, I’ll dispatch a team to the and we’ll assist in the repairs. This now-caravan of crippled vessels is only as fast as its slowest ship. We need to get that barge moving.”

Commander Tonkin agreed. “We’ve not had any success thus far. We’ve been trying to get weapons online as well, but it’s probably best at this point to abandon our attempts and focus on getting us to Farpoint as quickly as possible.

Commander Rouse smiled sheepishly. “It’s been a long day, Commander, and it’s bound to get longer. Let’s see if we can’t get through this together. I look forward to meeting you shortly. Corax, out.” With that, the viewscreen reverted to its default sight of passing stars.

Chris knew time would be at a premium once they arrived. “Lt. Decane, you’ll be point once we arrive. Take who you need to assess the state of the Barstow. I don’t know what experience you have with California-class vessels, but I have every confidence you’ll be able to help what’s left of their engineering team.”

Rolan smiled. He always seemed to be smiling. “Aye, Commander. I apprenticed on a Parliament-class. They’re virtually identical.” He scanned the bridge. It had been very quiet. The newly formed crew seemed mostly apprehensive as relied on their training. He knew Manon was more than competent. He also knew a science officer would likely be of use. “I’d like to take Ensigns Côte and Talan with me.”

Talan looked up from his station. He’d been quietly observing and running routine sensor sweeps. He gave a half wave to Rolan. “Happy to be here,” he said with feigned enthusiasm.

Manon, for her part, remained statuesque at Ops. “I’ll be ready, sir”, she said confidently.

Chris tilted his head towards the turbolift. “All right, Lieutenant, assemble your team and head to the transporter room. I’ll want and assessment and recommendations within an hour of arrival.”

“Aye, sir.” Rolan snapped to and motioned for Talan and Manon to join him. Talan clapped his hands on his knees and slowly rose from his chair. He grabbed his kit and slung it over his shoulder as made his way to Rolan and Manon.

As the trio disappeared behind the closing turbolift doors, Chris turned to the remaining bridge crew. “The rest of you, once we arrive, I’ll need all of you on task.” He addressed each individually and dished out assignments. “Commander Rao, you’ll be setting up command and control aboard the Corax. It’ll be tight, but we’re the only ship at a hundred percent. Ensign Márin, I’ll need multiple vectors to Farpoint Station. Let’s plan for the most direct route, but I’ll want alternatives in case the Barstow remains hobbled. We may have to get creative along the way.” Both affirmed with their glances. Chris turned to Lt. Zendell Zane who had been following the situation closely from the tactical station. She had been itching to put a Jem’Hadar ship in its place and had been tweaking the ship’s settings to maximize their tactical abilities. “Lt. Zane,” Chris said trying not to focus on the tattoo that seemed to be vibrating angrily on her chin, “I’m hoping we can avoid a tactical engagement, but I want to be prepared. We left Bravo Station with more colonization supplies than armament. I want you to see what we can pilfer from the other ships as they’re clearly not in fighting shape. You have my permission to take what we need and dump what we don’t.”

“Aye, sir. I’ll get us ready to scrap if needed.” Zendell was no stranger to a fight. Rarely did she seek out an altercation, but often, they found her. One could not tell by looking at her, but she was a formidable warrior.

“Commander,” Ensign Márin interjected, “We’re entering the Karna system in five…four…three…two…one…”

*****

Lt. Decane scratched his head out of frustration and disbelief.  The Corax had contacted the wayward patrol group and he boarded the Barstow just under an hour ago with Ensigns Talan and Côte. The Jem’Hadar attack was brief but effective. Before they had managed to be chased off by Captain Richards and the USS Redding, they unleashed a series of surgical strikes. None of the surviving ships had operational weaponry. It had appeared it was intended that they be left defenseless for when an eventual second wave arrived. The Barstow had received the lion’s share of the damage. In addition to a weapons platform that was damaged beyond repair, the phase inducers and intermix chamber has sustained critical wounds. Rolan was told that the ship was capable of no more than warp three, however that seemed to be an overestimation. Now came the time to deliver the bad news to Commander Rouse.

Rolan activated his combadge. “Decane to Corax.”

“Go ahead, Lieutenant.” It was Commander Rao’s voice coming through the conn.

“I’m here with what’s left of the Barstow’s engineering team. Talan and Côte have been working with the Ops team as well. I’m afraid the situation here is dire.” He paused and waited for an interjection, but when it didn’t come, he continued. “I might be able to borrow some parts from other ships, but without effectively crippling them as well, the best we can do for the Barstow is warp four…conservatively.”

Now Commander Rouse could be heard. “Lieutenant, you have six hours to do what you can. I’m having Commander Tonkin coordinate with you directly. After six hours, I want you all back aboard the Corax so we can get under way. We’re about to have company and I want to put as much distance between us and the Jem’Hadar as possible.”

“Yes, sir,” Rolan managed to say, “we’ll do all we can.”

Commander Rouse didn’t mince words. “The Barstow is the weakest link in our chain. I hope it’s not so weak we break.” He made sure to emphasize again the ticking clock. “Six hours, Lieutenant. Six hours and not one minute more.”

Rolan had already been stripping of parts in his mind. He knew exactly where he wanted to start. “Aye, sir, I’ll get this tub moving. Decane, out.” The Jem’Hadar were on their way. Could this day get any worse? Then a dark realization came to Rolan. Yes, it most certainly could.

*****

Commander Rouse sat in the captain’s chair. He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees and chin resting on his clenched fist. It had been some time since Lt. Decane had checked in and his allotted hour was nearly up. Chris new the team was hard and work and checking in now would only slow them down. Still, all this waiting made him incredibly uncomfortable.

At the tactical station, Lt. Zendell Zane had been working on transferring munitions on and supplies off the Corax. She was just about to report her status to Commander Rouse when a text alert came across her screen. She had to read it three time to make sure she was seeing the information correctly. Had she been any less a scrapper, she might have slumped in her chair dejected. Still, she did not look forward to delivering the news to the crew.

Zendell cleared her throat loud enough to draw attention. “Commanders,” she started as Rouse and Rao turned and looked up from their respective command chairs, “I’ve just received word from the USS Stratus. They’ve picked up the Jem’Hadar on long range sensors.”

Chris stood abruptly. The Ops station was empty with Ensign Côte aboard the Barstow. He didn’t like to be caught off guard and wondered if sending Côte away had been a mistake. “How could we have missed this, Lieutenant?”

Zendell put her hand up defensively, attempting to calm Commander Rouse to some degree. “We didn’t, sir. Our sensor range is far shorter than that of the Stratus. She’s a Pathfinder-class. She’s taken quite a beating and her ship-to-ship comms are down, but her sensor array appears fully operational.”

Commander Rao wasted no time attempting to assess the situation. “The Jem’Hadar? How much time do we have? What are we up against?” Her voice began to quiver, but she composed herself quickly.

“I’ve confirmed it twice with the Stratus’ tactical officer,” Zendell said, not trying to hide her dismay. “If we remain at our current position, we’ll have six hours and forty-nine minutes until we are host to a Jem’Hadar battleship.”

“A battleship?” Helmsman Ensign Márin was shaken. “Against six crippled ships and us?”

Commander Rouse walked over the helm and placed his hand on Sixto’s shoulder. “We must all remain calm. We have time. We will get through this if we stick together.” Chris then turned to what remained of his bridge crew. “We’ve only been together a short while, days in most cases. I’ve read your files. I know what you are all capable of individually, but now it’s time to show what we can do as a crew.”

Commander Rao nodded aggressively in the affirm. “You heard the Commander, let’s get to work!”

Just then, Rolan’s voice came over the comm system. “Decane to Corax.” His voice sounded less than enthusiastic. For someone who always seem to find the light in the darkest of situations, his lack of pep was telling.

“Great,” Ensign Márin said sarcastically, “more good news.”

Ignoring Sixto, Commander Rao tapped her combadge. “Go ahead, Lieutenant.”

Crumm Widdy never met an eatery he didn’t like. Any place where friends and family could come together and break bread was an ideal setting. His own home found the kitchen as its social focal point.  From the large picture window, he and his wife, along with their co-husband and co-wife and seven children, could view the splendor of the equatorial region of Bolarus IX.  Still, as he found himself in the confinement of the Corax mess hall, he couldn’t help but feel the walls of despair closing in.

“This place could use a splash of color,” Crumm said as he watched the stars at a standstill through the viewport. “Perhaps a plant or two.”

“If what I’m hearing is correct, you may want to hold off on those redecorating plans my blue friend.” Voracek’s low, gravelly voice rumbled as he swirled the drink in his hand. The Romulan propped himself against what served as the mess hall’s bar. He maintained a visage atypical of what one might expect from a Romulan. Having boarded the Corax as an advisor on a recently abandoned mission, he felt his adherence to dress and appearance codes was to also be abandoned. His hair was messy and his beard, while manicured, was showing signs of overgrowth. In an accent that Crumm recognized as being common to the working class of Peld’rath Peninsula, Voracek prophesied doom. With a glass in hand, he gestured to the depths of space and mouthed the word as if it were closely kept secret. “Dominion.”

Never one to let a dire situation get in the way of an opportunity to smile, Crumm, with neon white teeth radiating against his bright blue skin, pulled his glasses to the tip of his nose and said, “I’ve lived through one war with the Dominion, Mr. Voracek, and, if need be, intend to do so again.”

“Brave Bolians are a rare find, my friend.” Voracek, flirting with inebriation, carefully crafted his words. “To disparage your race is not my intent,” he started, while waving his empty hand in Crumm’s direction, “but there’s a reason your kind are more barbers than brawlers.”

From behind the bar, Crumm pulled out a cutting board and paring knife. He then produced an oraka root and lightly seasoned it. Voracek, intrigued (and hungry) pulled up a chair across the bar from Crumm. Crumm, in a display of prestidigitation, diced the root in an ornate pattern. His hand was a blur and Voracek could not help but be impressed at the man’s showmanship and presentation. As the board was moved in front of Voracek, he seemed confused as a shower of small hair follicles rained down upon his freshly prepared meal. Crumm smiled, but this time there was something dubious lurking behind his eyes. “I may be a just a chef to you Mr. Voracek, but cutlery cuts in the hands of cook and commando alike.”

Voracek’s eyes grew wide as the realization set in that the hairs belonged to him. He reached up and felt at his face, realizing that his beard at his chin was a good two centimeters shorter.

“And since you mentioned it, I am a barber as well if you’re ever in need of a more thorough trim.” Crumm was on the verge of laughter, but kept Voracek’s reaction in mind. His smile was now closed and tightlipped.

His eyes shifting from amazement to amusement, Voracek burst into a hearty round of laughter. He realized he had allowed his misconceptions to take root and underestimated a man who, in the blink of an eye, could have ended his life. Crumm followed suit and belly laughed with a jolt. “You are a wonder, Bolian.” Voracek gulped what remained of his drink and slammed the glass on the table. “One more, my new friend.” He shook his head in disbelief and his laughter subsided. “Cook? Barber? When we cross paths with the Jem’Hadar, make sure you prepare them your ‘special dish’”.

His laughter also dissipating, Crumm was forced to address the elephant in the room. “Do you really think we’ll encounter the Dominion?”

“I think the Dominion does nothing without a purpose.” If he was inebriated, he sobered quickly. “I remember a time, shortly after my people entered the conflict against the Dominion some years ago, when a civilian convoy I was attached to was attacked by a wing of Jem’Hadar fighters.” Voracek’s voice grumbled lower. “Wave after wave, we took loss after loss. Slowly, we were picked off one by one. You see, they could have wiped us out in one fell swoop, but they wanted to make us suffer. We were made to live in fear. Our spirits meant to be crushed. We were being punished for breaking our nonaggression treaty with the Dominion.”

“You think that’s what’s happening now,” asked Crumm. “That they’ll be back to finish the job?” Crumm filled Voracek’s glass again, replacing the missing Saurian brandy.

Voracek huffed a brief, sarcastic laugh. “We’re the prey, the Jem’Hadar the predator. Like a Mogai playing with its food before it finally gulps it whole, I guarantee they’ll be back to finish what they started.”

Pouring himself a drink now, Crumm tried to avoid letting Voracek’s premonition get the best of him. “Well, I know we’re in good hands. Commander Rouse and I go back many years. If anyone can get us out of this jam, I know it’s him.

Voracek raised his glass. “To the Commander. May he not get us all killed.” Crumm raised his glass and the two men clinked their libations before summarily dispatching them down their gullets.

*****

“I hope I don’t get everyone killed.” Commander Rouse pressed his fist on his desk as he read the updated projections Lt. Zane had submitted. In just under three hours, the Jem’Hadar battleship will have descended on their location.

Commander Rao, not known for her sense of humor, tried to bring a little levity to the ready room. “Well, when the Jem’Hadar arrive, they’ll make sure no one is left to point out any mistakes you might have made.”

Chris feigned a smile. He appreciated Gisso’s attempt lighten the mood. It was stark departure from the tension of their earlier discussion. Still, he was in no mood to avoid the impending storm that was the Jem’Hadar. “Yes, Commander, I’m sure that will be true.” He picked up his PADD and scrolled through Lt. Decane’s notes on the repair efforts aboard the Barstow. “It seems like Decane and the others will pull through. They’ll get the Barstow up to warp four under the deadline.”

Gisso nodded and pulled her own PADD up to view. “With your permission, I’d like to assemble our bridge crew and formulate a plan. Even if we clear the system before the Jem’Hadar arrive, at warp four they’ll catch up to us rather quickly.”

“Leave Decane to finish up with the Barstow’s engineering team, but recall the rest of the away team.” Chris considered what the Corax crew would be facing and realized he’d need all the help he could get.  “And get Dr. Onya up here as well. She may have some insights. We’ll have to be smart about this if we’re to survive.”

Gisso continued to scroll through her PADD, reviewing the crew manifest. “What about Mr. Voracek? He’s here to advise.” She scanned his file briefly. “Granted, this isn’t the mission for which he was assigned to advise, he’s bound to have some ideas.”

Chris agreed quickly. “I’ve met with him briefly. He’s a terse man, but it’s clear he’s a wealth of knowledge.”

“Aye, sir,” Gisso said as she made her way to the door.

“Oh, and Commander Rao, have Crumm Widdy join us as well.”

Gisso did nothing to hide her confusion. “The cook, sir?”

Chris smiled. Clearly, he knew something Gisso did not. “Yes, Commander. The…cook.”

*****

The bridge of the Corax was full once again. The entirety of the senior staff, except for Lt. Decane whose face filled the main viewscreen, was seated at their respective stations. Voracek and Crumm Widdy, along with Dr. Onya, had also made their way from the mess hall and sickbay. Standing behind his chair, Chris was able to pivot and rotate to face each of the crew as they addressed the looming threat.

“All right,” Chris started, “I’ve reviewed your various recommendations and, along with Commander Rao, made some edits.” He looked at everyone aboard and smiled in awe of the talent surrounding him. Everyone on the bridge had made a mistake along the way, angered some flag officer or failed to react in a critical moment, but here aboard the Corax they seemed to be coming into their own at just the right time. “You may all be aware of another small vessel that went toe-to-toe with a Jem’Hadar battleship. The USS Valiant. The ship was lost and all aboard killed, save two.” He looked around the room. “So, how do we fare any differently?”

There was a short, but uncomfortable silence before Ensign Talan chimed in. “We don’t die?” The bridge broke out in laughter. Talan was confused as he was offering up what he felt was a serious solution.

“Agreed, Mr. Talan” Chris said with a smirk. “Now, let’s figure out exactly how we accomplish this.” Chris reviewed the notes he made on his PADD. “Ok, Ensign Côte, you’re up. Walk us through the first phase of our escape.”

Manon, stiff as ever at her station, spoke confidently with her chin elevated slightly. She gestured favorably towards Rolan on the viewscreen. “Thanks to Lt. Decane and the team, it looks like we’ll be underway an hour ahead of schedule. However, at warp four, the Jem’Hadar will close the gap long before we reach Farpoint.” She looked over to Commander Rouse who nodded approvingly. “Before we depart the system, we will launch a probe I’ve been modifying into the Karna system’s nebula. It will then broadcast a fake Federation warp signature making the Jem’Hadar think we’re hiding.”

Talan held his finger up before interjecting. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but won’t they be able to tell almost immediately that it’s a ruse and move on to intercept us?”

Manon, almost dismissing Talan outright, responded with a hint of frustration. “The amount of gravimetric radiation emanating from the nebula will have a significant distortive effect on sensors, even at close range.” She began to seem slightly more animated, almost excited. “They’ll have to enter the nebula to confirm their initial readings. Yes, they will very quickly learn of our deception, but they’ll be precisely where we want them.”

Lt. Zane jumped up eagerly. “Is it my turn?” Commander Rao half smiled and gave a look as if to say, go ahead. “So, I was able to borrow a quantum torpedo from the Stratus. We’re not equipped to fire quantums, but,” she paused for dramatic effect, “I’ve wired the warhead into the probe’s systems and jerry-rigged a proximity sensor into the chassis.” She then lowered her voice, as if telling a ghost story around a campfire. “Once they get close enough and run their sensor sweep, the warhead will detonate and ignite the dense metreon gas pockets. The Jem’Hadar ship will be consumed!”

Ensign Márin raised his head quickly, surprised. “So, we win? We’ll blow them up?”

Zendell crinkled her nose knowing she was about to burst Sixto’s bubble. “Well, no. Not exactly. I don’t suspect we’ll do any significant damage. However, it should be enough to disrupt their systems enough to buy us some time to extend our gap while they make repairs.”

Commander Rouse tapped a few buttons on his chair’s armrest. The main viewscreen changed, Lt. Decane’s image minimizing into the corner while a map with a charted course appeared. Chris pointed to a dot on the map which was slightly off their plotted course. “Our destination is the Aletha Cluster. With Ensign Côte’s diversion, we’ll prevent the Jem’Hadar from catching us unprepared, but we won’t make it to Farpoint Station. They will catch us, but it will be on our terms.” He drove his finger in the air, pointing at the map. “We make our stand there.”

Ensign Talan, the voice of what he considered to be reason, again chimed in. “Apologies, sir, but what chance do we have against a battleship?”

Chris smiled coyly. “You tell me, Mr. Talan.” He had reviewed all the staff’s files, but Talan’s had caught his eye in many ways. “Think back to your fourth-year thesis on shield harmonics.”

Talan raised an eyebrow in a way that would make the most curious Vulcan proud, if they could feel pride. He pulled himself up to his console and called up information on the Aletha Cluster. His eyes grew large. “A protostar!” He looked up at Commander Rouse excitedly. “A graviton pulse?”

Commander Rouse clapped his hands. “My thoughts exactly! If we can bring their shields down, we might have a fighting chance.”

Ever the engineer, Lt. Decane’s voice filled the bridge from his small corner of the main viewscreen to ask the obvious question. “Pardon me, but even with the shields down, what can we hope to accomplish against a battleship with ten torpedoes?”

“Eighteen!”, Lt. Zane corrected excitedly. She noticed all eyes had turned to her and uncharacteristically retreated into herself some. “I was able to pilfer a few from the other ships.”

Not trying to dismiss Zendell’s accomplishments, Rolan again spouted facts. “Ten torpedoes? Eighteen? We’d need a lot more than this ship can carry if we’re hoping to do any more than leave a few dents.”

Commander Rouse knew the bridge was filled with cautious optimism. He wanted to leverage the crew’s desire to come out of this unscathed. “Look, we are up against it here. We’re going to have to succeed where many others have failed.” He looked around the bridge, slowly making direct eye contact with everyone. “This crew was assembled for what many would consider a throwaway mission. We were supposed to support an essentially completed colonization effort for our Romulan friends.” He nodded at Voracek who stroked his beard thoughtfully. “Now we will have to prove to ourselves that we are all much more than the Starfleet afterthoughts we’ve been labeled. I don’t have all the answers, but we have an initial plan and some time bought to figure out our next step on route to the Aletha Cluster.” He held his hands out as if receiving a gift. “All suggestions are welcome.”

Voracek came to life. His deep, surly voice carried. “These Jem’Hadar seem no different than any I’ve encountered in the past. They are dangerous, relentless. But they are also predictable.” He sniffed angrily. “They will want to make an example of our little collection of ships. To show all that there is no running from the Dominion. Their hubris is a weakness we can exploit.”

Now the cook, Crumm Widdy, offered his bit of advice. “This doesn’t seem to be a fight we can win, but it can certainly be one we survive.” He looked upward, accessing the recesses of his memory. “’Live to fight another day’ I believe is the line?”

Commander Rouse smiled. He could always count on Crumm to offer simple, yet sage words. “I know all too well what it means to have lost everything at the hands of the Dominion,” he started solemnly. “At a darker point of my life, I’d gladly fly this ship right down that battleship’s throat.” He cleared the lump forming in his throat. “But one enemy ship hobbled at the cost of my life does no good in the larger effort to thwart the Dominion. We all have a greater purpose and I’m glad we get to face this threat together.” He grabbed the headrest of his chair tightly. “We have learned to trust each other with our ideas and skills, but now we learn to trust each other with our lives.”

Chris took his seat in the captain’s chair and the rest of the crew followed suit and staffed their stations. He gave Command Rao a look as if to say you’re up now.

Gisso, falling into a role that was more than comfortable for her, took charge. “Ensign Márin, transmit our updated flight plan to the rest of the ships and move us into position at the head of the column.”

Sixto’s fingers were a blur on his console, “Aye, Commander,” he said as the Corax lurched forward.

“Lt. Decane, say your goodbyes to the Barstow team and beam back. We’re leaving.”

“Aye, sir,” Rolan said before his image disappeared from the screen.

Lastly, Gisso turned to face Manon. “Ensign Côte, send word to the other ships that we leave in fifteen minutes. Max speed is warp four, no exceptions. I want as much distance between us and Jem’Hadar as possible, but we stick together no matter what.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Manon replied.

“And please, fire your probe.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Ensign Côte made a series of taps on her console and the main viewscreen, which had returned to its default outward view, showed the Corax’s probe flee into the distance before disappearing in the adjacent nebula.

Commander Rouse knew the odds were stacked against the crew of the Corax, but he couldn’t help but feel a healthy dose of optimism. He checked the status display on his armrest console. Lt. Decane was back aboard and all ships had reported in as ready.

“Ok everyone,” Chris said with a poorly hidden smirk, “Let’s roll!”