‘Good news,’ said Commander Kosst as she emerged from her ready room into the Nighthawk’s bridge. ‘I’ve had word from SB514…’ But her voice trailed off at the sight that greeted her.

Lieutenant Tyrell Rhade was slumped in his seat at the bridge station he rarely assumed, head in his hands. Ensign Fox knelt beside him, a hand at his back, while Ensign Percian hovered nearby with the air of one who wanted to offer comfort but didn’t know what to do.

Kosst’s hands dropped by her side. ‘What’s happened?’

Percian straightened, looking like he’d been caught out doing something wrong. ‘Sorry, Captain; Lieutenant Rhade just got back…’

‘We cleared out entry to that collapsed facility in the northern district.’ Rhade straightened and scrubbed his face with his big hands. ‘They were all dead down there. Some must have been crushed, but a few we maybe could have saved if we’d been quicker…’

Percian sucked his teeth and began to pace. ‘If I’d managed to pierce that radiation obstructing the transporters…’

‘The power station’s containment field had been intentionally targeted,’ Fox reminded him, expression creasing at his visible distress. ‘The Jem’Hadar meant for this.’

‘The Jem’Hadar maybe,’ rumbled Rhade, big shoulders hunching up. ‘But if we’d still had the teams from Endeavour…’

Kosst’s back turned to steel. ‘Ty.’

‘If the squadron had stuck around instead of running off, eager to kill Dominion -’

‘Lieutenant.’ She took a sharp step forward. ‘You said yourself this morning, it wasn’t a matter of manpower. You had to take the task slowly, or you could have brought everything down on top of them. Then there would have certainly been nobody to save.’

Rhade looked up, dark eyes bleary. ‘I said that so we’d feel better about ourselves as we worked because we didn’t have a choice. All day I felt it. Felt them begin to flicker away from my consciousness. I knew we were too late before we got down there, but I…’

From across the bridge, stood at tactical, Commander Brennos raised his voice. ‘You said you’ve received word, Captain.’

Kosst rallied, the eyes of the younger officers falling on her. However right or wrong Rhade was, everyone hoped for a diversion. She cleared her throat. ‘TG514’s patrol has arrived in the region. They’ll be keeping up the defence of Vamuridian and any other nearby targets. It’s time for us to leave.’

Fox looked down at Rhade, but squeezed his shoulder quickly before heading back for her station. ‘If we gun the warp engines, we should be able to catch up with the squadron soon enough…’

‘They won’t be too deep into the nebula,’ Percian agreed, looking relieved to have something else to think about. ‘The plan was for them to reach the periphery and begin scanning – for what little good that does with Ciater…’

‘A difficulty that’ll make all the difference on our upcoming attack,’ Kosst said, breathing a little easier now the moment was breaking. She looked at Rhade before thinking better of her next words and turning to Brennos. ‘Commander, recall our teams on the surface. I want us underway ASAP.’

Her bridge crew swung into action, but Rhade stayed put, his face slumping back into his hands. Kosst glanced around, then realised that as both captain and friend, nobody else was going to deal with their Betazoid engineer and his feelings as big as his muscles. With an apprehensive sigh, she headed over.

He didn’t move, so she had to sink onto her haunches to be level with him. She dropped her voice. ‘Talk to me, Ty.’

‘There’s not much to say,’ he rasped, dragging his hands down his face. ‘The Dominion hit these people, but caring for them is a lower priority.’

‘They’re being cared for. Our job is to make sure it doesn’t happen to anyone else.’ The words sounded hollow, even to herself, and she sighed. ‘They did this intentionally. Stretched themselves out for maximum devastation before pulling back and consolidating their hold. Forced us to spend time helping people, saving people. And spend a little bit of ourselves along the way for the people we couldn’t save, so by the time we face them, we’ve lost resources and resilience. They want to wear us down like this.’

‘Yeah,’ Rhade said roughly, and did not look mollified as he straightened. ‘But if it didn’t work as a tactic, what kind of arseholes would we be? I’m alright, Dani. I’m just going to be pissed off about this for a while.’

‘Then take it out,’ she said, standing as he did, ‘on gunning our engines so we catch up with the others.’

It seemed to work. Not just in the moment, sending Rhade down to engineering to make them ready to get underway, but in the hours that followed, once Nighthawk broke orbit and left the desolation of Vamuridian behind. It wasn’t safe for the squadron to hurtle towards the Ciater Nebula at maximum warp – anything could have been waiting along the way, but with the path cleared, Nighthawk could go hell-bent-for-leather catching up.

Even though they were heading to danger, Kosst could feel spirits on the bridge lighten. Leaving Vamuridian behind was only a part of it – now they were on the offensive. Not merely scrambling to respond to whatever the enemy had thrown at them, but taking action, seizing control. And still, Kosst thought as she watched her officers work, they were so young. Nighthawk had seen very little direct action during the fall of the Star Empire, mopping up trouble from behind Triumph once the bulk of the fighting was done. They had not faced the devastation of war. Neither had she.

Nor, she knew, had most of Starfleet.

There was a likelihood she should say something. Dig deep and find the words to soothe everyone’s frayed nerves, make them confident in their belief in one another and their training. But anything she could think of sounded hollow, performative. Kosst was still playing in her mind with words to the effect of them all being the sum of what everyone aboard had ever faced when there was a chirrup from Science, and Ensign Percian sat up.

‘Captain? Picking up something on sensors.’ When she looked over, he was peering intently at his display, fingers running over controls. ‘I’m struggling to get an ID – they’ve been running on low power. Smaller than us…’

‘Ensign.’ Brennos’s brusque voice cut through. ‘Is it Dominion? Breen?’

‘Not Breen; I’m picking up no signs of organic components.’ Another chirrup from the sensors, and Percian pressed on with victorious urgency. ‘Contact! Sir, it’s a Jem’Hadar fighter, they’ve just gone to full power and are turning tail.’

‘They must have been scoping us out,’ said Brennos. ‘Sir, if they’ve detected the squadron…’

‘Then we can’t let them report in,’ Kosst concluded. ‘Red alert! Fox, put us on an intercept course.’ The deck surged like a sea ship breaching a fresh wave, the slightest tilt as the Nighthawk came about faster than the speed of light to run down this fighter. ‘Percian, keep an eye out in case they have friends.’

‘Captain.’ Brennos’s voice remained that low, tense tone. ‘We’re going to have to be on our feet against even one Jem’Hadar fighter.’

‘I know, Commander, don’t worry. We live on our feet.’ Kosst frowned, hearing the brag clunk even as she said it. But it was too late to salvage that bungled moment of attempted inspiring bravado.

‘We’re in weapons range,’ Fox called minutes later. Already travelling at full speed, Nighthawk had been able to pounce on their enemy before they could get far.

‘Open fire, Commander Brennos – target their engines. I want them winged.’

There was the distant whine of Brennos firing phasers, the hum through the whole ship as the Nighthawk unleashed her weapons, and on the viewscreen Kosst could see the bright lights lancing towards that distant pinprick of purple against starlight. A second later it was lit up, rippling against shields, then the Jem’Hadar fighter began to bank.

It had begun.

‘We’re going to try something,’ Kosst said, heart in her mouth. ‘Fox, start an attack run straight on. Brennos, fire only fore-facing phaser arrays for now.’

‘Captain?’

She grimaced at the question. ‘You have your orders.’ It was a gamble, and one where if she was wrong, she’d do more than look stupid. But if she was right…

‘They’ve come about to face us. Beginning their attack run,’ Fox called.

Nighthawk shuddered as enemy weapons fire raked across her, but a glance at the display confirmed for Kosst their shields could take it. She gave a thin smile. ‘Fox, make it seem like we’re trying to keep them off our aft-starboard. Percian, I want you cutting power to non-essential systems and getting ready to pump it into our phaser array – but don’t do it yet.’

‘Returning fire with forward-facing phasers,’ Brennos called, and sounded like he’d cottoned on to her plan.

‘They’re trying to slip past us!’ Fox yelped as the Jem’Hadar fighter hurtled towards them.

‘Let them! Give us a little weight to our manoeuvres for the moment, Fox, let them think they’re even quicker on their toes.’

‘They’ve come about,’ barked Brennos. ‘They’re settling in at our aft-starboard.’ A fresh note of urgency hit his voice. ‘Sir, they’re pumping all power to their weapons.’

‘Percian – do the same. All power to our starboard phaser array.’ Nighthawk rocked at the next wave of enemy weapons fire, and this time alarms blared as their shields took a hammering.

‘They’re – they’re staying put,’ Fox reported, sounding confused.

A small wave of relief flooded Kosst at that. Her theory was sound. Now it was time to see if her practice was, too. ‘Brennos? Hit them with everything we’ve got.’

It felt like the bridge itself surged in brightness as the Nighthawk unleashed every phaser array she could bring to bear on the enemy that had settled at their haunches like a dog sinking in its teeth. Their phaser systems, always with the capacity to take power but with the ship rarely able to spare it, unleashed utter hell from their starboard. From their aft launcher, a flurry of torpedoes spat into the breach, and for a moment, the two ships hung close together, skirmishers entangled instead in a vicious broadside.

Then as Kosst watched on the sensors, the Jem’Hadar fighter spun away, its power readings fluctuating wildly. Fox whooped.

Percian gasped. ‘Captain, they’re – they’re listing! Reading multiple hull breaches on multiple decks!’

‘They’re losing power and are drifting,’ Brennos confirmed, with the slightest hint of relief. ‘Life signs are vanishing – they’re venting atmosphere. Do we finish them off?’

It was not the sort of question Kosst had expected to be asked, even at a time like this. ‘No,’ she said quickly, but realised how this sounded, and realised it was not exactly what she meant. ‘No – there’s nothing we can do with Jem’Hadar POWs. Starfleet policy is clear. But I want to recover their computer. See what they spotted while they were out here and who they’ve been talking to.’

Fox turned on her chair, peering at her. ‘Captain? How did you pull that off – what did we just do?’

Kosst sighed, rubbing her brow. ‘In the war, the Dominion showed they had a good knowledge of our starships and their capabilities – they’d been spying on us for a while. They exploited every advantage they could get. Older ships, like the Miranda-class, really struggled against them because they were slower and, above all, because they had really bad weapons coverage.’

Percian stared with dawning realisation. ‘You let them think we were designed along the same parameters as a Miranda-class.’

‘I thought it possible that our similar profile would make them jump to conclusions about our capabilities, and get over-confident parking themselves somewhere they thought we couldn’t hit back. But we have better phaser coverage and aft-facing torpedo launchers.’ Kosst shrugged, not because she was casual about her success, but because the fading adrenaline was leaving her a little light-headed.

‘That’s brilliant,’ Fox said, with all of the awe of a junior officer likewise too dizzy with success to realise they were being a little dramatic.

‘It was effective.’ Kosst raised a hand to forestall any gushing. ‘Now, lock us on a tractor beam. Let’s see if we can pull the brain out of that ship.’

‘Warning. Hull integrity compromised. Chamber pressure low.’

That seemed important. But how could it be? How could it be more important than closing her eyes?

‘Warning –’

But the voice had dragged her from the seductive darkness, and now she was in the light. Dim and bloodstained though it was, it was impossible to ignore the searing ache in her left arm. Sound and pain piled together, a cacophonous symphony dragging her from unconsciousness.

Reluctantly, Daniran Kosst opened her eyes. And remembered she was in hell.

Nighthawk had been shattered. One moment they’d been in the stars above the weapon emplacements, fighting and hunting the defence systems control centre at the same time. She’d ordered Fox to take evasive action. Then there’d been an impact. The sound of shrieking metal. A thousand emergency alerts.

And darkness.

With her good hand, Kosst pushed herself up to her knees. Steam and smoke cascaded from shattered consoles and panels, refracting the alert lights to paint the chamber in dizzying red. There was no sign of movement.

When she stood and turned, she found the body of her XO draped across the tactical controls, unmoving. Almost against her will, Kosst’s legs dragged her to Brennos’s side, and she reached for the side of his neck.

Nothing.

A low, pained moan escaped her throat unbidden, but Kosst staggered away, turning to the rest of the bridge. ‘Is anyone here?’

For a moment, nothing. Then a small voice from behind the science console creaked, ‘Captain?’

It was not Daelus Percian. But there she found him, now a still, broken bundle in the arms of Abigail Fox. Her helmsman looked up from the corner she’d crawled into, cheeks streaked with tears. ‘I thought you were dead. I thought everyone was dead.’

Kosst stared for a moment at Percian – at Fox’s friend, that she’d known throughout the Academy – and knew the answer to the question she didn’t want to ask. She swallowed. ‘I need you to stand up, Ensign. We have to save the ship.’ Or run.

Fox hesitated. Then she nodded, and slid away to gently, reverently, lay Percian’s corpse on the deck. Now Kosst could see the shattered remains of the young man’s face. His console had overloaded. It had probably been quick.

‘Alright,’ Fox warbled as she stood.

‘I need you to seal and restore pressure on the bridge. Then check the state of the ship,’ Kosst said, pointing at the empty operations console. ‘Tell me how bad we’re hit. Tell me casualties.’ But instead of moving to the command chair, Kosst limped to one of the auxiliary stations. Awkwardly, limited to only one hand, she reprogrammed it to bring up the feed and commands that had been at Percian’s station.

‘We’ve got hull breaches on decks one, two, three – almost all decks,’ Fox reported, wavering. ‘Something punched right through us. We have emergency power only, and… oh.’

‘Don’t give me oh, Ensign.’ Kosst didn’t want to be harsh. But if she was soft, she worried they’d both fall apart.

‘The warp core’s been jettisoned. Logs say there was a coolant leak.’ Fox audibly swallowed. ‘Casualty reports are high. Some escape pods have launched. I’ve got a hundred life signs aboard but there’s no telling how many people got out, how many people…’

Died. Kosst tried to not think too hard about the coolant leak, about Tyrell Rhade in main engineering, holding his post long enough to eject the warp core even as the bridge was silent on orders, even on telling him what was going on. She could not control if he was alive or dead.

‘We don’t have external sensors,’ Fox continued. ‘We barely have enough power for life support, emergency forcefields, and for me to even see this.’

‘Do we have sensors? Comms?’

‘No, and… yes. We’ve got power reserves for emergency comms. Short-range only.’

Kosst closed her eyes. ‘Are there Starfleet communications in the system?’ Fox made a small noise of confirmation. ‘Put them on.’

‘…form up your ships on Independence, Shepherd. Let’s finish these fighters.’

‘Aye, Captain! All support wing ships, you heard him. Disengage with me and form up on Independence!’

‘Gul Malek, if your Hideki could lend us reinforcements…’

‘As you wish, Captain. Second wing, follow Independence. All other ships – we’re joining Endeavour against that battlecruiser and those oncoming Dominion vessels.’

When Kosst opened her eyes and turned around, she found Fox staring at her.

‘Is that Captain Rourke?’ the ensign gasped. ‘On Independence?’

Kosst knew she should have been delighted. The last she’d known of the battle, their plans had been on a knife-edge, and with Nighthawk taken out, there was no clear way for them to achieve their objective. Now their missing ship was back, their missing captain was back – and giving orders, with Jericho ominously silent.

But she had to swallow bitterness before she could reply. ‘It sounds like he’s here. With reinforcements.’ The squadron leadership could squabble with and scheme against each other and still ride in like heroes, it seemed. But Nighthawk had paid the price for that in-fighting, hung out to dry by Rourke’s betrayal and Vornar’s absence and Jericho’s judgements. They could attempt acts of great heroism to pull this crisis out of the fire. Meanwhile her crew were just dying, not saving the day.

Kosst shook her head and focused on her screen. ‘Our part isn’t done,’ she said, to herself as much as Fox. ‘Abigail, come here.’

Bewildered at her captain’s use of her first name, Fox was slow to join her. But the young helmsman’s expression fell to awe-struck sorrow as Kosst gestured to the display with her good hand. ‘Daelus did it?’

‘His program was running even after we were hit. But, yes. He did it.’ This time, Kosst swallowed a lump, not bitterness. ‘That’s where the system defences are being controlled from. I’m transmitting it to the squadron.’

Fox sucked on her teeth. ‘That’s in the orbital complex above Izar V. That’s not going to be easy.’

‘Better than needing to get to III,’ Kosst mused. That’s their problem, she didn’t say, as the transmission got away. Only moments later, the tone from the squadron changed.

‘Are you seeing this, Independence?’

‘Looks like Nighthawk pulled through.’

‘Permission to get the fighter wing up close and personal and land my team there?’

‘You’ll need an escort.’ Kosst heard the hesitation in the voice she recognised as Rourke’s, but the answer came from a new voice that the comms display told her was from Pathfinder.

‘You should take Independence, Captain, and escort in Commander Shepherd.’

‘There’s still that battleship, and the Triumph -’

But Commander Valance pressed on, undaunted. ‘Pathfinder and Endeavour have got Triumph, Captain.’ A moment’s pause. ‘Trust me.’

The discussion broke down to a flurry of exchanges then as the squadron split themselves up; one wing going after the main bulk of Dominion forces and rescuing the Triumph, the other breaking through, deeper into the system, to seize control of Izar’s defence emplacements.

Kosst sagged in her chair, closing her eyes. ‘Put me through to the ship, Ensign.’ Fox’s footsteps retreated and the bleep of comms systems activating came moments later. Limbs leaden, Kosst sat up.

‘This is Captain Kosst. All hands report to secure shelter locations, or get to the escape pods. Reinforcements have arrived. The Jem’Hadar are off our back.

‘Hold your heads high. We did our duty. The squadron is armed with the knowledge of how to take control of Izar’s defence systems. If there is victory today, it’s victory won by Nighthawk. Now, look to yourselves and your comrades. Now, get safe.’

Kosst’s hand braced on the edge of the controls as she finished the communication, and she looked back up to Fox. ‘That includes you, Ensign.’

Fox didn’t move. ‘Why not us, Captain?’

‘There’s no telling how many people are alive on Nighthawk, trapped, unconscious. I’m going to sweep the decks.’

Fox shook her head. ‘I’m not letting you go alone. Your arm…’

Kosst looked down at the injury. The dull ache had not gone away, and now adrenaline was fading, its thud was intensifying. ‘…get the medkit.’ As the ensign moved to one of the lockers, the captain’s eyes fell back on her console. Internal sensors were not operating well. Comms were working, giving her the distant buzz of the squadron’s condition, the battle raging millions of kilometres away, far from Nighthawk’s reach.

Was that it? Was it over for them? Was the only thing left to help her crew, and wait to discover if they were victorious? Even though defeat could mean Nighthawk’s survivors would perish anyway, or fall into Dominion hands?

Kosst reached for the controls, and accessed the recorded messages in their comms databanks.

‘I can’t fix your arm, Captain, but I can get you a painkiller,’ Fox reported as she arrived with the medkit. Her eyes landed on the controls. ‘What’re you doing?’

‘Sending one more transmission.’ Kosst rolled her shoulder back, so Fox could more easily apply the hypo.

‘Of what?’

Kosst tapped the final command, and a new voice filled a new communications channel. Even on Nighthawk’s limited resources, the pre-recorded message could reach across the system.

‘People of Izar. My name is Sophia Hale. If you’re hearing my voice, Starfleet is here. We’re fighting for you. And you are not alone.’

Kosst stood, though she needed Fox’s help to do so. ‘Hope.’ Together, the two women moved stiffly for the Jefferies Tube that would lead to the next deck, lead them to somewhere someone, likely, needed their help.

‘…I do not pretend to imagine that I understand what you have been through under the Dominion. What you have lost. What you have sacrificed. And I do not have the right to ask anything of you…’

Fox stopped halfway, and Kosst grabbed her arm with a hint of urgency before she realised the young woman was staring at the body of Percian.

Kosst instead squeezed her arm gently. ‘Abigail.’

‘He was so smart.’ Fox’s voice shook. ‘He could have gone anywhere in the fleet. They offered him postings on Odyssey, on Sirius. Why’d he come here?’ Kosst hesitated. She suspected the answer, but now did not feel like the time to say it. Fox didn’t stop, though. ‘Why’d he come with me?’

Kosst swallowed. ‘I can’t answer that. But if he hadn’t been here – if I’d had a science officer an inch less smart – then we wouldn’t have this chance to win the Battle of Izar.’

Fox drew a shaky breath. ‘Yeah. Yeah, you’re right.’ She swiped at her eyes. ‘Let’s see who we can save, Captain.’

Staying on this shattered ship for even a moment more was dangerous. At any second, a power relay could overload. Emergency forcefields could fail. The hull could buckle and breach somewhere new. Bulkheads could collapse and crush them. But so could that happen to anyone trapped aboard.

‘…but if you have been waiting, now is the time to step up. Now is the time to act. As one. Because only together can we win this.’

So onward they went, into the belly of a dying ship, as all around them the skies burned.