In a dusty corner of a street, the bright noon sun bleaching the brown architecture even paler, a young Cardassian wrapped his coat close his chest as the thud of Jem’Hadar soldiers began echoing between the walls. The voice of Gul Damar seeped from the walls like a ichor as he announced the new security procedures in effect, more curfews, more inspections and less restrictions on searches; more tyranny from central command’s tan spire of authority. As the grey skin of a dozen commandos came into view around the corner the breeze coursed down the long avenue, threatening to whip the young man’s coat asunder and expose his starving frame to the encroaching troops. Gripping the long trench coat’s seams he begged them to close even tighter, to mask him from the all-pervasive eyes of the troopers. The heavy rhythm of boots crashed ever closer, a tidal wave of perfectly engineered enforcers that threatened to carry the young man away with them, into darkness, inescapable. For an eternity his beath paused, his mouth dry from the dust, or possibly fear, he dare not even wet his lips lest the Jem’Hadar take it as a sign of offense. Clinging to the wall like a limpet the young man turned his gaze down toward the cracked street; avoiding both the soldier’s eyes and rifle muzzles. Eventually the wave passed and the young man felt the pressure of the wind and the sun and the Jem’Hadar ease as they all pressed forward to the town square and their newly built, ominous watchtower. Finally taking a shallow breath the young Cardassian reached inside his pockets; taking hold of the explosives hidden amongst the folds of his coat headed northward in the wake of the patrol. 

Zaya’s hand massaged their the ridges across their collarbone, fingers and thumb easing the tension in their shoulders, simultaneously their other hand reached for the cup of Raktajino in the cup holder affixed to the edge of their desk. A minor infringement of Starfleet policy it had been a gift from the young Tellarite engineer Log, who after Zaya’s 4th spilled drink had quietly fitted the holder in an effort to avoid having to make future repairs to the console. It had been the start of a good friendship and a sign of their welcome to Theta Squad. With a sigh Zaya’s attention returned towards the screen which provided a pillar of support to the stacks of padds that towered threateningly across the small desk, each another sensor report from a different members of the Fourth Fleet deployed throughout the sector. Idle fingers danced across the panel whilst the latest round of Nestus’s sensor readings were compiled, they replayed a short instruction message from command. 

The face of Admiral Beckett appeared, “Theta Squad, your mission is imperative…” Zaya began scrolling, Nestus’s  missions were always imperative, it was the nature of the job. Lifting a finger from the desk the Admiral was allowed to continue”…You must find this Breen research facility. There is no telling what upgrades they may have made to the dampening weapon, especially with the Lost Fleet’s resources. Do not allow them this advantage.” The message finished, hovering momentarily on the fatigued face of the Admiral. 

“I’ve finished those upgrades to the sensors for you Zaya” a low voice offered from the open door. The short frame of Log, the Tellarite engineer, appeared. Almost silhouetted by the light from the corridor behind him and shuffling his feet awkwardly as was his nervous habit, Zaya was transported to their father’s study on Cardassia watching another young man hover awkwardly at the door awaiting the Zaya’s tuition to be done so they could play in the garden. Zaya had loved playing in that garden. It had been a long time since they had thought of their brother, Kyem, with anything but sorrow following his death during the war, a victim of the Dominion’s draconian presence. Perhaps they were finally ready to discover a path to healing, ironic that it should be whilst hunting for the same threat. Zaya had spent most of their adult life working to further the dream that her brother had shared with them, of a Cardassian people free of military influence, doubly so after Kyem’s death during an attempted sabotage of a Jem’Hadar police tower. Unfortunately their paths had diverged many years before the war following a disagreement over each siblings preferred path to the cause; Zaya had never really known the truth of his rebel activities more than cryptic communiques from fellow attachés when reports of anti-authoritarian incidents occurred on the home world. The news of Kyem’s death had only reached them after the war was over and unfiltered information began filtering back into the de-militarized zone where Zaya worked with the colonists. Had they made more of an effort to keep in contact, perhaps Kyem would still be alive. More than once Zaya had wished they could return to the joy of playing in the garden, ignorant of the reality of the galaxy.

“Thankyou Log.” Zaya uttered, their mouth dry with the growing sadness that inevitably came with remembering the loss. “That was much quicker than you expected?”

“It was nothing. We had a frank conversation and the sensor palettes came around, eventually.” Log replied, a wide smile beginning to spread across his wrinkled face. Waving the spanner still in his hand in mock accusation “You’re not working your hardest are you? I said.” The smile grew ever wider, as was common when Log spoke about feats of engineering. “I think we can get a bit more out of you. I said.” 

Zaya found their own mouth slipping into an appreciate smile as the Tellerite continued his tale, anyone would think that he had battled against a leviathan from the effort of his re-telling. Each modified relay held the same important as a dangerous duel and the challenge of balancing the EPS conduits for a higher power draw sounded akin to the most difficult game of Kal-Toh. 

“So in the end it wasn’t that bad. They saw their full potential and now you should get a clearer picture of whats in the cluster.” Log finished. His smile almost as wide as his round face. 

Turning their attention to the small cabin window, Zaya and Log both gazed upon the cluster of young stars that hung a few lightyears away, technically inside occupied territory. Drawn together by their massive gravitational forces the cluster was an minefield of stellar gasses, destroyed planets and subspace eddies. Cursory examination even suggested the presence of micro-black holes and gravitational anomalies that could crush a starship before they were even noticed. The large stellar radiation of the dozen stars bathed the area in a wide spectrum of electromagnetic interference, whilst the variety of exo-planets caught in the stars grip caused random sensor ghosts and dark spots in the ever shifting tempest of the cluster. It was dangerous, unpredictable and unforgiving; the perfect place to hide a secret if you could find a safe port to anchor yourself. The cluster had long been used as a hiding place for pirates and was well known to local traders and Federation patrols as a bolt hole for the less reputable members of the galactic community. An inscrutable and almost unassailable dead spot right on the border of your enemy, if Zaya wanted to hide a secret research facility its where they would put it. 

“It’s scary. The Jem’Hadar might be right there and we wouldn’t know.” Log quietly uttered, his smile fading. 

“You weren’t old enough to remember the war were you?” Zaya responded, neither of them had turned from the small window. 

“No. I was a child on Tellar Prime.” His tone becoming staccato. Log had heard many stories of the war, particularly when he moved to Utopia Planitia, it seemed every member of Starfleet had lost someone. More than once Log had helped officers back to their quarters after one to many drinks had opened old wounds, the sadness and anger dripping from every mumbled word. Log had never repeated their stories. Log had never wanted to. 

“I was working on the border colonies when it began.” Zaya began, the usual mask of confidence slipping to this young man who reminded them so much of Kyem. They motioned Log into the office and toward an open seat across the desk, closing the lid on the Admiral’s face they continued. “I was helping a small colony on Cirdan improve their independent agriculture. I always loved being outside, my brother and I used to climb this giant tree in our garden…” they continued as Log took a seat. 

Bathed in the light of the nearby cluster Zaya began to speak once more of Kyem and the joy they had once shared. 

Perhaps, the Dominion had inadvertently provided the first step on the path to healing. 

A shudder spread up Maine’s spine, initially he blamed the transparent aluminium of Nestus’s rear windows, against which he had propped himself up for this impromptu briefing. Shifting his weight forward and sliding round to lean on the post he urged the icy twinge to depart, attempting to return his attention to Zaya’s update regarding sensor modifications. After more fussing and turning he admitted to himself that the chill was omnipresent, it seeped into his bones and tugged at old wounds, growing steadily in the few days since he had heard the words Dominion spill from the Admiral’s briefing. Like an infection carried on the breath of fearful subspace whispers Maine felt a foul miasma hover over the small ship and it’s familial crew. Ole and Hermira, the Bolian and Orion specialists, were veterans of conflict like Maine, Zaya had seen action too in her work in the Cardassian government, though they were as secretive as Maine about that time in their life. It troubled him to see the younger members of the team, David and Log, attempt to quash their fears. David Mitchell in particular, their newest recruit, seemed to have become a great deal more panicked in the last few days. One night Maine had found him alone in the mess, sat in the darkness, gripped by the cold clutches of fear.

“Everything alright David?” Maine said, gently padding into the dark room, only the familiar trails of stars at warp lit the room. Silently rolling by it was a constant reminder of the speed at which they were approaching danger.

Only ragged breaths responded from the depths. Like torn streamers whipping against a sharp wind David’s breath was short and desperate, crackling against the otherwise muted rumble of their sanctuary at warp.

“I just came to get a drink.” Maine continued, crossing over to the small catering station. The low glow of the replicator screen faded into existence and the alcove’s lighting glowed gently. Barely enough to illuminate the room it managed to cast a ghoulish visage across the face of the young Ensign; sat with is back against the L-shaped counter his wide eyes and taught face emphasised his heaving shoulders. Drenched in sweat like he’d run a marathon the young ensign seemed fixated on the wall across the room; hidden behind his make shift shelter, concentrating on the door. A defensible position if ever Maine had seen one.

“Vanilla Hot Chocolate.” Maine stated to the machine. “With marshmallows.” he added under his breath. Casting a quick look to the fearful young man he added another instruction. “Two of.”

With a swell of light and a familiar trickle of the minute transporters that formed the mechanism of the replicators two steaming mugs of liquid topped with tiny clouds materialised in the alcove. Going to reach for them as they finished materialising a clatter stopped Maine before he took grasp. David had a phaser in his hand. Still on the deck but clutched, white knuckled, in his hand. The small amber light emanating from it’s top indicating it was primed and charged.

“David.” Maine spoke, slowly turning to the man, muscles tight they both seemed ready to run. “I need you to give me that David. You don’t need it here.” His calm, authoritative voice seemed to bounce from the ensign’s icy exterior.

“But what if they come?” David replied, between stifled, heaving breaths. “What if they’re here?”

“But they aren’t here David.” He breathed, he had only thrown on some sweats to fetch a drink, no combadge and the nearest panel was near the door. He didn’t want to be mistaken as a threat by the manic man. “There isn’t anyone here but you and I.”

“The Jem’Hadar. They can turn invisible. You don’t know if they’re there until its too late.” He mumbled. “The changlings can look like people. They could look like you.” His eyes slowly turned to the older man. “What if they never went away.” White knuckles clutched the phaser tighter.

The moment was becoming dangerous. Maine was confident that he could overpower the young scientist, he had taken down bigger adversaries but a cornered creature was an unpredictable threat.

Slowly lowering himself to David’s level he began subtly reaching for his closed palm.

“I’m not a changeling David. I’m your friend. The Jem’Hadar aren’t here. It’s only us.” He took a deep breath, partly to assuage his own worry. “You are safe.” He promised. He slid his open palm over David’s armed fist.

“Mummy said Starfleet would kill me.” David said, his eyes never leaving Maine’s own blue stare. “Mummy said that they take good young men and women and break them into tiny pieces.” His eyes becoming wet with tears. “Mummy said that’s what happened to Clive. Stolen by machines and he never came home” His childlike voice chilled Maine further, even here in this perfectly maintained atmosphere he felt cold to the core as he realised what David meant. “Mummy said that’s what happened to Aunty Sarah, went to help others and came back as a flag.”

Tears began to overwhelm David’s saucer eyes.

“I don’t want to be a flag.” He whispered, fearful that speaking the words would make them true.

“I know David. I don’t want you to be a flag either.” Maine reassured quietly. He dropped finally to the deck. His hand reaching to the phaser and deactivating it. Seated on the floor he realised the other mans hand was shaking. Sliding the phaser out his grip he took the Ensign’s hand in his own and turned his back to the counter as well, joining his vigil against the closed door.

“But you were there. You sent people home as flags. Didn’t you? You watched the Jem’Hadar kill them. Invisible.” said David, his tone almost accusatory to Maine’s ear.

“I did. I sent them home as flags. Some were friends, some were loved ones, many were complete strangers.” Maine felt the pressure of his own tears building behind his eyes. He had been quiet about his history during the war to most of the team but rumours abound on a small ship and Maine’s work with Starfleet Intelligence was a constant source of quiet speculation. “Each of them died for what they believed in. They died for the freedom of the Federation.” Maine said, his tone sorrowful.

“I don’t believe you.” David said, his eyes returning to the closed door behind which his imaginary enemy stood.

“Neither do I.” Maine sighed. gripping David’s hand tighter as the tears warmed his cheeks.

They sat together until the drinks were cold. The soldier and the scientist, each mourning the coming morning.

The monotonous pitter patter of small impacts continued against T’sal’s shelter, each tiny speck of dust reverberated through the duranium walls and into the small chamber creating an orchestral score that swept through the room. Each swelling crescendo was counterpoint to moments of total silence for eternal seconds in the stillness of the shuttlecraft T’sal found himself floating in nothingness. With the small craft’s magnetic plating depowered and the almost innocuous hiss of life support systems recycling air absent as the depowered craft floated effortlessly in the silent inkiness. Sand storms were common in the desert biomes of Vulcan and T’sal had been taught early on that the best way to survive was hunker down and wait; trust the walls of your shelter and with patience breaths outlast the danger. The pilot, tethered by a small seatbelt to the conn station of the shuttle Thronia, was not known for his ability to sit still. Despite a century of practice in a multitude of Vulcan traditions T’sal had only ever found logic in flying, the ebb and flow of atmosphere, the mathematical precision of vectors and arcs, flying was mathematics and mathematics were logic. To T’sal, sitting still was illogical. A great boulder does not outlast the storm forever but is ever worn away by the gusts that beat against its back; the leaf on the other hand rolls and twists, it flies as well as any creature of the sky and is transported, bruised and battered admittedly, with an adventure to retell. 

Silence hovered throughout the briefing room like a dense cloud, the cogs of brains permeating multiple possibilities almost audible against the low thrum of Nestus’s heart a few decks down. 

“Sensor range has been extended 15% due to Log’s upgrades but the cluster is still obscuring the long range scans. We can see further into the cluster but the ambient electromagnetic interference causes any usable data to be clouded in mess.” Zaya sighed, their cup lifting to their lips. Finding empty again they crossed the room towards the small replicator nestled in the corner bulkhead. “By the time the sensor data gets to us from the cluster it’s just filled with interference.”

“We need to be is closer.” Ole stated. The large Bolian was not known to be a man of many words, ‘succinct’ was how his last psychological review had reported him. The counsellor had used a selection of less professional words in private. 

“Ideally yes. The massive amount of stellar radiation makes any data collection unreliable. At best we can see shadows of objects through it but it’s like dropping a drop of dye in one end of an Olympic swimming pool and asking someone underwater at the other end to tell you how much you put in.” David said, turning to the large Bolian and hoping his Olympics reference wasn’t too alien. “If we can close the distance to the potential targets we can get the data before it becomes clouded. The less radiation between us and the target the more improved our chances are of getting a positive identification.”

“That’s what I said.” Ole replied. “Closer.” 

“Unfortunately  being closer means entering Dominon occupied territory and getting closer to those patrols.” Hermira added. Keying a button on her padd the Orion computer expert brought the holographic display in the centre of the table to life. Arcing lines of purple criss-crossed the map. “Patrols are moving through the area regularly, which is one of the reasons we were sent to investigate in the first place, they’re irregular in size, route and schedule.” Another button press added more lines to the map, each slightly different than the one before. 

“One of the Dominions common tactics, randomise patrols and searches to disadvantage hostile recon.” Maine identified from his position leaning over the table. “Any indication they’ve seen us?”

“Nothing obvious, it’s hard to tell with the random schedule whether patrols are increasing or not, plus their ships are in an advantageous position looking out from the cluster.” Hermira nodded. 

“We are a very exposed target.” Ole said. “They’d be idiots if they aren’t watching us.” ‘Blunt’, that had been the descriptor the counsellor had used behind closed doors.

“So we can’t get closer ourselves.” Maine said, lifting his hands to his temples and massaging his strained brain. 

“A probe?” Zaya offered, returning to their seat, ice cubes clinking in a freshly filled mug. 

“We don’t have anything designed for large packet data relay, we only carry basic scanning probes.” Log replied, the young Tellerite engineer looked uncomfortable stuck in the conversation. He clearly longed to get back down to his safe space in Nestus’s engine room. “I could probably convince something to pass a message on. It’d take some sweet talking and a transmitter upgrade with parts nicked from Nestus’s secondary array…”

“Not likely, the probes don’t have strong enough power plants to make the detailed scans and relay it back to us through the radiation.” David interrupted. 

“Plus anything with a power signature is going to be jumped on by Dominion ships. We aren’t in a position to face off against a full patrol.” Hermira noted. 

“Exposed & weak.” Ole quietly muttered. 

“There is a shattered exo-planet just over the border that’s slipping out of the gravity well of the cluster.” T’sal offered. The quiet Vulcan had been running a number of simulations in his head, half listening to his colleagues whilst his cybernetically enhanced brain factored thousands of variables. The momentum of stellar breezes and gravity wells, speed and trajectory analysis, energy dispersal and radiation density calculations; it was only now when a clear solution presented itself that he chose to speak up. 

“A probe might make it to the exo-planet but I doubt it’d last long in the dust cloud, not on automated piloting. It’s not hardy enough to take the beating.” Maine sighed. 

“What about a shuttlecraft?” T’sal responded quietly. Their eyes met and Maine began understood his suggestion. 

“How would it cross the border and avoid the patrols?” Maine queried, his unwavering confidence slipping as he caught up to T’sal’s plan. It would have to be precise. Something the Vulcan pilot excelled at.

“We would leave it, make a quick crossing into the territory to the exo-planet under the guise of trying to sneak a better look and when patrol heads to engage us, Nestus leaves. There is a massive amount of planetary debris in the remains of the planet, it is highly unlikely they would notice an unpowered shuttle craft.” T’sal offered. 

“Can’t we just take the scans whilst we’re there?” Ole asked, his blue brow furrowing in confusion. ”Seems stupid to go there and not just scan it ourselves.”

“We wouldn’t get long enough out there, we’d need to stay for several hours to get a good look inside the cluster as the stars move around each other.” Zaya answered, beginning to realise T’Sal’s suggestion. “It would need someone onboard to powerup, take the scans at intervals and make minor course adjustments to avoid debris.”

“Agreed.” T’sal responded, he channelled his father’s best stoic Vulcan facade as he began to see the realisation spread across the faces of the other in the room. Only Log remained lost, his wrinkled forehead criss-crossed with canyons as he struggled to comprehend. 

“I don’t see any other option, we’re running out of time. It won’t be long before the Dominion take offense to us hanging so close to the border.” Maine whispered. “Make whatever preparations you need to. We’ll make for the exo-planet in 3 hours.”

As the team slowly rose to exit the briefing room, Log still rubbing his chin in confusion, Maine and T’sal were left alone in the briefing room. 

“Are you sure?” Maine offered, he had known T’sal longest of the team. Their paths having crossed several times over the years before being assigned to the team, both professionally and personally. 

“I am always sure Jacob. I would not suggest it otherwise.” T’sal replied. 

Crossing from his seat at the head of the table Maine seemed to move through treacle, each step dragging him behind as he crossed to the other end of the small conference room. He placed a hand on the shoulder of the Vulcan and with a squeeze he said “Come back to us with a tale to tell.”

The monotonous pitter patter of small impacts continued against T’sal’s shelter as the Vulcan pilot slowly opened his eyes and reached forward to the console. Beyond the window he could see the blazing Oromal cluster bathing the small sanctuary with light and warmth, he reached forward and pressing a quick set of keys began his next sensor sweep into the heart of the flaming stellar cluster. Perhaps sitting still wasn’t always illogical.

The grey bullet streaked through the field of planetary debris, rolling to port and pulling upwards T’sal allowed momentum to toss the small shuttle’s frame between two large fragments. Narrowly avoiding the two giant chunks of rock as they crashed into one-another the beaten impulse engines flared once more as T’sal plotted his next course deeper into the broken exo-planet. The following purple streak was forced to break its relentless pursuit as a wall of shattered rock, once full of possibilities, served as a life-saving defender of the Vulcan pilot, forcing the Dominion vessel to make a wide arc around the barrier.  

“New Contact. Bearing 181, Mark 46,” came the frustratingly calm voice of the shuttle’s computer. 

“Excellent,” T’sal muttered. “Another hunter.” He could probably dodge one frustrating bug but a second would likely overwhelm even T’sal piloting skills “Computer, Status.”

“Shield status, 23%. Hull integrity, 78%. Minor damage to starboard warp nacelle. Port phaser emitter…”

“Warp?” T’sal interjected. 

Unbothered by the terse interruption the computer responded in its perpetually calm tone. “Warp drive is available but inadvisable within the debris field.” 

Inputting another course correction into the console as the second purple dot entered the extreme weapons range. T’sal took the risk to glance out the forward windows of the shuttle Thronia. He would have to navigate out of the cluster of planetary debris to be able safely engage his small warp drive, the risk of throwing his small boat close to the speed of light with so many unpredictable objects around was far to high. The moment he left the cover of the swirling maelstrom of rocks, however, he would be an easy target by the Jem’Hadar who pursued him. 

“Especially now there is more than one.” T’sal sighed. As the first hunter completed its arc and formed up with its colleague he noticed a trap in the making. “Pincer. Interesting.” His nimble fingers danced across the console, quicker than T’sal could think he began entering a new course, instinct would serve where logic was too slow. Before he could engage the new command the shuttle rocked as a bright blue glow rippled across the hull, the impacting silver beam fading from sight as the Dominion vessels continued to close. Quickly followed by 2 further beams of devilish rays, T’sal completed the new course and with a tight roll, the shuttle nimbly skipped away form the incoming fire.

“Too close for comfort.” Had T’sal been a Sehlat, he would have lost his tail. He was too slow, despite all his years of experience and his various mechanical upgrades he was still simply not fast enough. 

“Shields have collapsed. Hull integrity at 52%. Major damage to Starboard Nacelle. We are venting plasma.” 

Glancing to his right as the shuttle made its next turn he could see the small blue nebula that followed Thronia as he banked round a small chunk of debris. He had been lucky the Jem’Hadar had tried to hit him from so far away, a direct hit at close range would had sliced the small craft in two. 

“Computer, prepare emergency buoy. Full sensor records.” Escape might no longer be an option but Nestus must know about the base located in the heart of the cluster. From his hidden lookout amongst the shattered exo-planet T’sal had managed to witness a small space station, locked in orbit between two stars and bathed in solar radiation it was only through luck that he had noticed its presence. As a third star passed behind the station he had noticed the small shadow on his long range scans, it was his choice to move to a better vantage point and take more intrusive scans that had given him away. The metal content at the edge of the cluster was thinner and a patrol had noticed his spy-craft, thus the hunt had begun. 

A breath that lasted an eternity stretched out in the tiny cockpit. The underscore of straining metal, punctuated by the staccato percussion of tiny debris battering the hull, rolled beneath the frantically fast tones of T’sal’s console. 

“Prepared.” The voice announced. “Incoming hail. U.S.S. Nestus.”

The voice of Maine filled the shuttle’s interior, the man’s fearful face appearing in the corner of the Vulcan’s vision, he did not move to acknowledge the link. The Jem’Hadar were closing and the slightest slip in concentration would spell disaster. “T’sal, we’re en route to retrieve you. Hold On. Nestus is crossing the border.” 

“Negative sir.” T’sal called out, within the confines of the shuttle the whining of engines and screaming of twisting hull panels was almost deafening as he cancelled entered course corrections with one hand and removed safety overrides with the other. “I will make it to you. Computer, prepare warp engines.”

“Warp Travel is not recommended within…” The disembodied co-pilot began. 

“Override T’sal-Oscar-Two-Rho.” The two Dominion craft were closing, another pair of silver beams. white hot with energy and hate, stretched out across the void, missing by a breath. T’sal could feel the heat of the weapons fire on his neck, scorching his short hair. 

“Warning starboard nacelle is compromised, extended warp travel is not possible.”

“A sprint it is then.” T’sal muttered. If he could make it across the border to Nestus the Dominion would think twice about pursuing them further into Federation territory and the massing forces of the Fourth Fleet. “Standby to engage.”

Swinging the shuttle craft in a tight turn T’sal feinted to port whilst he rolled to starboard, hoping to cause his tails to swing wide as he settled the shuttle’s slim nose on his window out of the debris field. The stellar cluster to port bathed the area in brilliant light, as he darted from his shelter amongst the broken planetary core he could see more clearly now, the grandeur of the cluster. 

T’sal’s heartbeat hung in the air, once more he was soaring amongst the clouds of Vulcan, the bright orange sun beating down with warmth against his skin; the vast rocky deserts of red rock creating warm updrafts as he was propelled forward. His hand hovered over the large yellow button on his console as his mind flew over his homeword. His finger dropped. The engines screamed. T’sal smiled. 

“New contact. Bearing 003, Mark…” the computer began.

The holographic recording froze in the centre of the briefing table. The tall Vulcan pilot held perpetually at the moment of engaging the warp drive, a warning that came too late, forever unheard. Reaching forward and pressing a small key nestled into the desk’s surface Maine struggled to hold back the tears that threatened at the dams of his eyes. Across the room from the wall screen a grim-faced Denobulan stared out at the room, his red shouldered service uniform pulled open to the side causing his four gold pips to loll at the side. 

“I’m sorry Jacob. I know you were close.” the captain acknowledged. Maine’s silence responding in the affirmative. After a pause the Denobulan continued, “We’re lucky that you were able to retrieve the black box, that sensor data is vital in confirming the presence of the base, from the looks of it Breen designed. It must be the research base we’re looking for, why else is it so hidden in the cluster.” Silence. Still no response from Maine who stared at the small box that housed the last moments of the shuttle, the last moments of his friend. “We’re en-route to you now. We’ll rendezvous in a few hours.”

A cold silence hovered over the briefing room. 

“I’m sorry Maine. Tanek out.” The Denobulan disappeared, replaced by the familiar Starfleet Delta. 

Reaching forward Maine pressed the desk control again, the Vulcan appeared hovering over the table once again.

“Personal Log – Lieutenant T’sal. I have been tasked by Maine with a vital mission…”

The sleek race-car lines of the Rhode Island class vessel slipped away from Nestus as its impulse engines flared into life, heading to its station trillions of miles from their current position. Gently arcing through the infinitely empty sea of stars, its belly shined with reflected autumn glows of the nearby Oromal cluster. From his chair in the aft observation lounge Bib watched as the vessel that had couriered him to his new assignment skimmed through the thick void like a delicate pond skater, until the orange glow was overwhelmed by a flash of blue light from the vessel’s nacelles, catapulting it to incomprehensible speeds. He had only been aboard a few days during the transit to Nestus‘ position of retreat but given the small nature of the ship it was hard for visitors not to get a good glimpse into the lives of its crew, particularly for someone as friendly and outgoing as Bib. Everyone was tense as expected but the young Andorian had found the crew members also struggling with the sting of betrayal. A few of the older officers and NCOs had recently left the small ship, unable or unwilling to face the Dominion one again; the various news streams from across the fleet striking at wounds that had barely healed. Each one had left a tight-knit family and some had left behind mentorships, relationships in the kindling and dearly beloved friends; even now the Dominion War was costing lives in the face of this renewed threat. Lifting his Raktajino to his lips Bib sighed, here too on the Nestus they were struggling to deal with a departed family member. 

“Are you ready?” Maine said, stepping through the port door and crossing to Bib’s position at the wide windows of the lounge. The tall pale human had always struck Bib as sombre at the best of times but now he seemed even colder, more detached; his gaunt features were stretched even further across his bones and his pale skin had turned as white as a snow-blizzard. They had once joked that Maine’s could have been confused for an Aenar, laughing as Bib tussled his frosty hair looking for antenna. It had been a very different time, a time when they had been happy together, before a life in Starfleet Security, before Theta Squad, before the Lost Fleet. Bib felt a small sting of betrayal remembering his own sense of abandonment. 

“I think so, unless you make Raktajino differently here?” Bib responded. His familiar grin spreading across his face. Desperate to lighten the heavy mood in the room.

“Nope. Replicator standard.” Maine responded. ‘At least he is talking’ thought Bib. 

“It’s going to take a few minutes for Captain Tanek to get into position, why don’t we catch-up?” Bib offered, his hand patting the seat next to him. 

“I’m not interested in talking Bib. If you don’t need anything, I have things to do.” Maine muttered, beginning to turn away from the windows and back to the doors that would lead him back to his office, to his silent mourning.

“Like watch old footage of T’sal?” Bib interrupted. It was harsh, possibly even cruel to comment on the man’s grieving process but theirs had always been a relationship of brutal honesty, it had been what made it successful. It was also what made it end. The mission was going to be dangerous and difficult, Maine needed to be focused and there would be time to remember T’sal once they had succeeded. 

Maine’s footsteps stopped with a explosive thud. Even on the plush carpet that ran throughout the ship, muting footfalls and the ever-present rumble of the ships small warp core, the sudden slam of his whole body stopping sounded like a boulder dropping. Silence descended on the room like a fog, obscuring Maine’s face in the half-shadows cast from the door. The lounge’s perpetually dimmer lighting state cast deep shadows into the already gaunt hollows of Maine’s cheeks, for a moment he appeared as a skeletal husk of the officer Bib had grown to love. 

“I’m sorry you aren’t getting the chance to say goodbye.” Bib offered, it hurt him to see the officer who had once been his own rock look like he was melting away into sorrow. The silence continued, heavy and almost without end; it seemed to pour from Maine and suffuse through the large windows. attempting to fill the empty void with his sadness. In his current state Maine might overflow the galaxy’s vast empty container. Bib wondered if this was finally one loss too many, had the difficult life of service finally pushed the harrowed Human too far?

“He was going to take me to Vulcan.” Maine whispered, more to his own ears than Bib’s. “We were going to go para-gliding over the Stalik Plateau. Then camp and watch the stars.”

“I didn’t realise things were serious?” Bib said, his tone comforting, despite the bitter taste in his mouth. Memories of their own holiday sailing an ice-cutter on Andoria echoed in his head, making his antennae twitch. They had been good days, full of joy and laughter as they huddled against the blizzard and shared their secrets. 

“They weren’t. We were just enjoying the time together.” Maine replied, he was almost convincing. “We didn’t want to have it conflict with our duty like…” Maine paused, becoming aware of the other man in the room once more. 

“… like us.” Bib finished. It had been Maine’s deployment on Nestus that had caused the end of their relationship, Bib had been ready to leave Starfleet Security for a more stable and safe posting on a Planetary Starbase, perhaps even ready to return to Utopia Planitia. Maine had not yet willing to give up his perceived duty. ‘Too many people to protect’ had been his excuse. In truth Bib suspected the man couldn’t give up the purpose his work gave him. He had never met another person who felt things quite so deeply, despite his serious exterior and stoic tone Maine seemed to feel personally responsible for the safety of every being in the Federation. They had never managed to resolve the conflict and went their separate ways. 

“Why did they send…” Maine paused. “…you?” Of all people, a visit from an old boyfriend right as he tragically lost the possibility of new love seemed a cruel joke from the universe. 

“I was closest.” Bib answered matter-of-factly. “I have relevant expertise in experimental weapons.” He paused, there was another reason that Bib had been dispatched to support Theta Squad. “And they needed someone to assess your mental state. Who knows you better?” he finished. The Andorian offered a small smile, he had the authority to remove Maine as team leader should he need to; doing so might make the team all but useless, endangering the mission but it had to be an option on the table. 

A cold wave washed across the room, causing the Andorian’s spine to shudder. Maine still hadn’t turned to face him but his shoulders were now squared, his body rigid and tense. 

“What is your assessment Lieutenant Commander?” Maine spoke, formality binding his words as he realised that the team’s visitor wasn’t necessarily the sympathetic shoulder he might have hoped. 

“That depends.” Bib responded. Was this really how their relationship was to be now? Cold. Formal.

The chirp of the intercom sliced the tension that flooded the room, pressing against bulkheads that threatened to buckle against the uncomfortable atmosphere. A young woman’s voice battled through the dense air. 

“Maine. Tanek has signalled they’re in position. We are standing by to begin our approach to the Breen station.” 

“I’m on my way Hermira.” Maine said. “It’s time to go”.” He continued to Bib, taking a heavy step towards the door he looked back towards the seated Andorian who began to rise and follow. Illuminated by the light streaming from the corridor his eyes hovered on the man who had once been the most important person in the galaxy. 

“Ready?” Bib said quietly, offering a familiar and comforting smile. 

“Ready.” Maine whispered. Almost convincing.  

The dark green hull plates creaked with a deep groan as they struggled against the titanic tides of gravity that wrestled for control of the small space station. Balanced between the two young and energetic stars at the heart of the Oromal cluster, the secret Breen base was held in a perpetual tug-of-war; the exhausted structural integrity fields frantically attempting to hold together this dark sanctuary. Hidden between two large supply crates in the shadowed corner of the cargo hold, Maine waited with baited breath for the familiar glissando of the transporter that would herald reinforcements, another soul to join his vigil in the dark. 

As another groan echoed in the belly of the station as the dark room was momentarily filled with an angelic glow, the tall blue form of Bib materialising in the dungeon hold. Phaser rifle in raised he quickly scanned the room, noticing the crouched form of Maine he quickly joined the sweating man cowering against the walls.

“Mitchell wasn't joking. It's warm as hell in here.” He noted, his antenna beginning twitching haphazardly. “The background radiation is wreaking havoc with them. I don't think the Breen shields filter out as much, their suits must give them added protection.” he added, noticing Maine cast a glance to the officers writhing extremities. “I won't be a problem, I can ignore it.”

“Sitrep?” Maine responded, risking a glance around the boxes to the still closed bay hold doors. 

“Looks like Tanek's distraction is working, the patrols have engaged him, No indication they've noticed us in the suns's shadow." Bib acknowledged, attempting to steady himself, hoping Maine didn't notice his difficulty balancing. It felt like the room was filled with flashing lights, it was all too much sensory input for his antenna. 

“I know Zaya said we'd have to transport individually to keep the signature down but this feels like an eternity.” Maine responded. He hoped his face didn't betray that he had noticed Bib's wobble. He trusted the Andorian to be honest about his capability, if he was unable to continue with the mission he would say so.

Bib didn't respond, his eyes closed, attempting to focus through his sensory overload. Agonizingly long seconds dragged by, raking their claws down Maine's neck as he waited for the next ally. A quiet sigh of relief slipped out of Maine's lips as the angelic light returned, delivering the huge blue form of Ole into their dark greenhouse. The Bolian quickly slipped behind a crate several meters away, his heavy backpack gently thudding against the large box. Maine tensed, Ole had reassured him the explosives could only work with a detonator and couldn't accidently be activated. Maine wasn't particularly interested in testing that promise. A quick thumbs up from the Bolian was enough to reassure Maine that Hermira wasn't far behind. Bolstered by the presence of his allies the passage of time for Maine quickened, accelerating forward as the reality of the mission came to fruition. 

“Step one, get everyone on board,” he whispered to himself. As the divine light delivered another angel into the hold in the form of the young Orion computer expert, the gentle jingle of her toolbelt echoing into the hold after the transporter beam had dispersed. Crossing to take position with Ole she offered a quick nod to Maine. “Complete. Now for step two," he mused.  

Motioning to the team he signalled towards the dimly lit interface panel near the door, the spiked icon of the Breen Confederacy gently glowed in the centre of the panel. Casting a glance to Bib, who seemed to be navigating his way through the maelstrom of sensory data his brain continued to receive with some effort, the squad silently padded across the room. Taking station at the doors Hermira descended instantly on the panel, placing her rifle on the top of the standing panel she quickly reached to her belt for a modded tricorder. 

“It'll take me a minute and I doubt I will be able to get much out of this panel. I don't think anyone grants a lot of access to a cargo management interface.” Hermira cautioned, her melodic voice dancing over another groin from the war-weary hull. Her long fingers danced across the panel, cautious initially but with growing fervour as she began to understand the layout of both the computer system and the space station. 

“Just a direction to the labs Hermira,” Maine muttered “that's all we need.”

Silence hovered over the room, the oppressive darkness of the dimly lit hold threatened at every corner. Each small creak and shift of the hull felt like a gong, declaring their un-authorised presence for a lightyear. The quick beeps of the console as Hermira navigated through submenus sounded akin to Red Alert klaxons to Maine's tense eardrums until the technician's melodic voice cut through the swelling empty static.

“Looks like the command and control, operations and central systems are on this pontoon,” she motioned to one long curved section of the display, the middle of three long curving ellipsoids, bolted to a large crescent shaped main hull. “Barracks, habitation and crew services are located here,” she pointed to the section at the top of the screen. Indicating the lowest of the three hull structures, “Labs and research facilities are in this hull section.”

“And how does that relate to where we are?” Bib asked, his focus clearly returned to the mission at hand. 

A furrowing of brows signalled Hermira's tone before her full lips had even parted. Pressing a button on the console she narrated the path being drawn out on the screen, “Theres only two access routes to the lab section, both through major bulkheads. It looks like its designed to be locked down and separated in an emergency. We have to cross here, from the end of the central hull structure through the support hull and into the lower pontoon.”

“How long?” Maine asked, his heart beginning to beat a percussive rhythm he was sure a guard would hear. Ejecting the lab section might be a good option to destroy the research but they'd need to get to a console with greater access. 

“Six, seven hundred meters in total but there’s no back corridors.” Hermira responded.

“Jeffries tubes?” Ole offered. “Or an exterior walk?”

“The Breen don’t appear to have maintenance tubes, at least not on this plan.” Hermira replied, her eyebrows raising in an apologetic look. 

“I suppose it'd make an awful noise when they banged their heads.” Ole smiled, he could always be relied on to find the humour. 

“Exterior walk is out of the question, we'd have to get EVA suits from somewhere. Even then the heat and radiation would cook us in seconds.” Bib noted, joining Hermira at the console. “It looks like we might not have to get all the way though.” he continued, indicating a small glowing light on the deck plans. “It looks like there is an emergency command panel at the bulkhead to the research pontoon. If we can get to it we might be able to separate the section and eject it toward the sun, it wouldn't last long separated from the SI field of the main base.”

“And we're sure that its dampening research?” Maine asked, pleading that T'sal's death attempting to recon the base wasn't in vein. 

A few more taps at the console and a gasp escaped Bibs lips. 

“The lower section looks like it contains independent infrastructure and a massive energy generation system for a large dampening array fitted to the prow of the hull structure.” Bib confirmed.

“Shocked?” Maine queried, it wasn't like Bib to be so outwardly taken back by something. 

“Not by the weapon. By these warp nacelles," he said, expanding the plans on the console. “And these look like impulse engines.”

“A ship?” Ole whispered, his smooth head furrowing in confusion. 

“Yes, a mobile weapons platform. Big enough to take out a Starbase.”

Breen Base

The piercing siren rang through the corridors, screeching around corners and through bulkheads it sliced through the gloom of the Breen base. The high pitched tone pursued the small squad through the dim, green alleyways and gulley’s as they attempted to evade the security forces now hunting them. Slowing their pace as they reached a junction that would lead to the base’s main artery, a wave from Maine signalled the coast was clear to cross the relatively brightly lit highway through the centre of the base. One-by-one the group dashed across the deck plates, desperately hoping to evade any surveillant eyes. Hermira slipped across into the darkness of the opposing corridor, gliding across the deck without a sound, quickly followed by Ole who took the corridor in two enormous steps. As Bib cast a final look down the corridor the siren stopped abruptly. 

“(%$&&$^”(£)!(“$~:@>>{}¬” announced the incomprehensible voice, the heavy Breen vocoder making the announcement unintelligible to anyone who wasn’t fitted with their own translator. 

Casting a glance between one another they awaited the resuming of the siren or the echo of Jem’Hadar and Breen boots to overwhelm them. But only silence hovered in the air, the tense absence of any noise, save for the ragged breaths of the team as they attempted to settle their panicked gulps of air. Crossing to join the rest of the team Maine and Bib quickly leapt across the corridor, their boots landing with dull thuds against the metal surface, terrifyingly loud in the acute silence following the overwhelming scream of the siren.

“Tell me again, that wasn’t about us?” Maine whispered. 

“I don’t think so, there was no indication of a security alert whilst I was working.” Hermira responded. They had been attempting to access data on the bases new version of the dampening weapon when the siren had sounded. Fearing they were detected Maine had instructed the team to flee. “I had only just got my head around the architecture. I hadn’t even started probing, let alone trying to breach anything.” she said, offering a defence. 

“If we were detected, this place would be busier, not empty.” Ole noted, his eyes moving systematically up and down the long corridor they had just crossed. Taking a position at the corner he pressed his huge frame up against the wall, attempting to blend his dark blue skin into the omnipresent shadows. 

“How far are we away from the labs?” Bib interrupted, his antenna slick to his head, twitching intermittently against the overwhelming EM radiation only just blocked out by the base’s deflectors. 

“Just down there.” Hermira pointed round the corner to a large set of blast doors. “Probably only 25m at most. But I’ll need to override the door to get us through and that’ll take me a few minutes.”

“There are a couple crates down there for cover but we’re very exposed.” Ole muttered, his surveillance of the corridor continuing. 

“It’s the only way?” Maine asked, turning towards Hemira.

“Unless you wanna go outside.” she replied, offering a grim smile. “We can’t even try beaming in. Between the stellar radiation and the additional shielding around the section we’d never get in.”

“Massively exposed door it is. I’ll move down with Hermira first, you two follow.” Maine instructed, nodding towards the team members. “Ole, clear?” Maine asked the impressively stealthy Bolian. 

“Worryingly, there’s been no passing patrols, no wandering scientists.” said the man, his phaser rifle pressed close to his chest. “I would’ve thought we’d see or hear someone by now.”

Maine waved the team forward as he took the lead rounding the corner and dashed down the central highway, quickly followed by Hermira. Left alone in their quiet hidey hole, Bib reached a hand onto Ole’s shoulder. “As my mother said, don’t insult the thick ice. Maybe everyone is focused on something else.”

Nestus Bridge

“I’m detecting a massive build-up of energy in the smaller sun.” Mitchell offered from his small station on the bridge. “I think it’s some sort of stellar eruption.”

Seated at the curved conn console Zaya had been left in de-facto command of the small vessel. Though not a Starfleet officer, her time with Central Command had given her a great deal more experience than the two young ensign’s who had also remained on the ship. “Are we in danger?” she asked, her eyes fixed on the large view screen where the Breen base loomed, blocking out the vibrant orange sun behind it. 

“I don’t think so.” Mitchell replied, the young officer’s hands shaking as he attempted consolidate the data on his console. “The base is a much more likely target, its an EM lightning rod. We should be safe here in its shadow if it does erupt.” 

“From the eruption at least.” Zaya noted. Hovering so close to the base’s hull any sudden shift or change in position could cause a deadly collision. “Any sign of the team?” If they could get the team out and escape before the eruption even better. 

“Nothing since we confirmed they had successfully transported over. Though it does appear that the base has moved to a heightened state of readiness. I’m reading additional shielding being raised around core systems and what looks like modulations in the SI & static deflector systems to increase hull integrity.” Mitchell responded. “I don’t think I can see anything more concrete without giving our position away.”

“Will the shielding interfere with transporting the team out?” Zaya asked, finally drawing her eyes away from the glowing orange orb on the screen. Swinging the chair round to face the young Tellerite seated on the other side of the small bridge. His furrowed brow locked in position as he attempted to keep the energy signature of Nestus as low as possible to avoid detection. 

“Almost definitely, we managed the slip them in last time because we were inside the base’s shield bubble. The new shielding seems to be local to the sections and I can’t even start trying to think about messing around with frequencies whilst I’m keeping us running silent.” Log responded, choreographing his own ballet across the engineering console. 

“Then we need to get them a window. Prepare to adjust our position.” Zaya announced, her own fingers beginning a dance upon the sweeping helm console; a discordant symphony of beeps began filling the bridge.  

The wait at the massive blast doors had felt like an eternity, crouched down behind a large crate Maine had listened to the breaths of the four team members as they quietly whistled through the empty corridor. The sighs and frustrated mumbles of Hermira the only interruption in the otherwise silent base. “Where is everyone?” he thought to himself. It had been almost half an hour since they had initially entered the base and they hadn't seen or heard anyone on the base, his team were good but given the Breen & Dominion's militaristic nature it was a difficult to think they could escape notice this long. 

The hushed voice of Bib interrupted Maine's thoughts, “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” A worried glance was his answer.

“Maybe they're watching, waiting to see what we do?” Ole offered, his earlier suspicions about the absence of the base's staff spreading across the team. 

“Not really their style. They're more likely to capture us and beat it out of us.” Bib responded, even his hushed whisper sounded like a gong in the empty hallways. 

“I don't really want to hang around long enough to find out.” Maine stated, turning to Hermira. “Any update?”

The lithe Orion was elbow deep in the wall console, tricorder in her other hands. A stream of expletives flowing from her lips as she reached into the door's inner workings. “They Breen really know how to build a lock.” A few frustrated twists later she let out a sigh as the tricorder chirped and the large doors began to slide open. “Still, no lock can stop this green machine.” She stated with a smile. Making a deep genuflect she motioned the team inside. 

“Except that one on Katos minor eh?” Ole whispered out the corner of his lips as he passed. 

With venom in her eyes she fell in behind the giant Bolian as the team began to sweep the darkened lab. “How was I meant to know that Ferengi had a second mother?” she hissed as her focus returned to the mission. 

The interior of the lab complex was dark and dim as the rest of the base, the low green glow from the lighting panels in the walls casting a sickly pallor upon the team as they quickly swept forward through the central corridor. Passing individual labs and workshops on either side they proceeded up the long pontoon, parallel to the central axis of the base, the sporadic lights creating shadow visages behind the observation windows. The team moved quickly through the complex with practiced and professional speed, clearing and checking as they went. It was by the 5th pair or labs that Maine began to notice a common theme. Each room was void of anything useful; laid out like an operating theatre, with one large light into an overhead sensor cluster and trays of tools lined the workbenches around each lab's perimeter, each individual lab was identically laid out. 

“They're all empty. No tools, no equipment, no ongoing experiments.” Maine said, stopping the team with a raised fist. 

“There's signs that someone has been here. Look, some blast marks are still present on the walls and around this doorway, signs of an experiment gone wrong?” Bib motioned towards a nearby lab wall that still had a dark ring around the inside of the small doorway. “Another one back there had gouges in the deck plates, presumably from some heavy equipment.”

Appearing from another lab just ahead Hermira spoke, tricorder in hand. “There is evidence of biomatter in this one, not completely cleaned away.” Returning to the small group, she closed the tricorder with a familiar click. “It's like they just took all their toys and went away." Silence hung over the mysterious lab complex, the groaning of the hull against the tides of gravity noticeably absent. "The dampening lab should be just up ahead." the woman offered, taking the lead towards the double doors at the end of the corridor. 

As the wide doors hissed open, a gust of air whipping past the small team, the large central lab opened up before them. A large cannon array extended the length of the room, narrowing to a peak at the foremost point of the pontoon; thick walls fitted with transparent observation windows along its length created an isolation block around the cannon, access into which was via one of two small doors near the entrance from the lab complex. Around the rooms, consoles and panels hung on the walls and jutting out of floor pillars, great worm-like cabling reaching out of them like roots into the soil of the deck plates. In comparison to the clean and efficient labs of the corridor behind them this room felt more alive and natural, even in it's darkened and dead state Maine felt as if he was crawling through the body of a living being. 

“Breen bio-tech.” Bib whispered, allowing his rifle to drop to his side, his eyes widening in astonishment. He raced across the entryway to a tall panel where several of the wormy arteries converged. “This is amazing. Stafleet has had some success with bio-neural circuitry like the gel packs on the Intrepid class but it's always been a difficult thing to manage. Can you imagine what this can tell us?”

“Not a lot. I don't think its got much to say.” Ole quickly replied. 

“I don't mean literally.” Bib responded, now was not the time for stupid statements. 

“I know that." Ole spat back, his large eyes narrowing toward the Andorian. "I don't think it's going to last very long.” With his rifle he motioned to a large mass on the floor by the panel that appeared to be rotting away, the biological components sloughing off the pedestal’s frame in thick decaying blobs.

“This guy might.” Hermira called from across the room, the face of a Vorta appearing on the screen, various figures moved behind him hurrying on with work. 

“Research Log: Tayul recording. It appears the experiment with the upscaled Breen dampening weapon has been a failure here. The biological components of the weapon's design cannot maintain sufficient power levels to service the weapon, becoming overwhelmed and burning away. Uthot Nil has attempted to upscale the conduits in several ways but each has been as unsuccessful as the last. Other bases are reported to be having better success and with the advancing of Starfleet's Fourth Fleet the Founder has instructed us to abandon this research base in favour of other avenues. A few days ago we noticed a Starfleet vessel surveying us from the across the border so we have elected to leave the base on automated operations in the hope it will be a distraction from our other objectives. Without direct support the base will likely fail in a few days but this should be sufficient for us to evacuate. A small patrol will remain here to watch the border and maintain the appearance of an active base. The Breen have begun poisoning the bio-components of the base to make them unsalvageable and the Jem'Hadar have begun loading our ships with what research we have managed to gather. I have failed the Founder in my service.”

The screen finished on the face of the Vorta as environmental-suit clad figures froze in the background, syringes of viscous green liquid in hand. Hermira reached across and deactivated the screen, the groaning of the hull against the titanic forces of the suns sweeping into to fill the silent void.

“Abandoned.” Maine whispered, tears beginning to form in his eyes. “Empty.” T'sal had given his life to bring them recon of what had turned out to be an empty floating hulk. 

“The Vorta was telling the truth, the base is on automated operations, but I can already see some major systems are beginning to fail. It'll only be a few hours until the biological components in the computer core fail and then with it power generation, shielding, SI fields. The suns will finish the job.” Hermira paused, slowly closing the tricorder as Maine slowly began to collapse to his knees. “There's nothing here to salvage.”

Noticing Maine begin to crumble, silent but for a quiet whisper of defeat, Bib turned to the team. “Anything worth saving in the computer library?”

“Nope. Wiped clean of anything but basic functions and information.” Hermira replied. The three of them uncomfortably aware of the man whom they loved and respected beginning to fall apart before their eyes. 

Bib tapped his combadge, “Bib to Nestus.”

“This is Zaya. What happened to comms blackout?” Came the Cardassian's voice.

“No longer relevant, the base is abandoned. We need an out.” Bib replied, waving to Hermira & Ole to begin preparing to move. 

“And quickly, theres a sizeable flare growing. I don't think the station's shields will handle it very well.” Mitchell offered. 

“Transporters?” Bib asked, taking a kneeling position next to the collapsing body of Maine. The man's pain was palpable, it tinged the air with a bitter taste.

“The section your in has some ambient interference, probably part of the shielding around the labs. There is an airlock near to your location. We could pick you up there.”

“Agreed. We're en-route.” 

“Maine?” Zaya asked, her loaded question hovering in the air. Zaya was smart enough to guess at the situation. 

“We have him.” Bib responded, only half-believing his own statement. “Ole, I need your help.”

As the giant Bolian scooped up Maine in his arms, cradling the weeping man like a child against his chest, Bib grabbed his dropped gear and followed the squad down the corridor to the airlock. They moved quickly through the abandoned base clinging to one single thought; soon they would be back onboard Nestus and flying back to safety in Federation territory. Soon the sun would consume what remains of the Dominion experiment. Soon this would all be behind them. 

As the echoing thud of the two hulls gave way to the quiet hiss of equalising air pressure, all three team members drowned in one sound. The haunting sobbing of a man who had killed his lover, hunting empty threats. 

The bright yellow orb of 40 Eridani beat down unrelentingly on T’Sal’s bare-back whilst the orange tinged sky rolled on eternally into the distance. The tall Vulcan took a final step onto the overhang. Hovering at the edge, his chest swelled, drawing in a portion of the thin, dry air that would carry him into the horizon and onward over the Stalik Plateau. Once an island in Vulcan’s vast seas the plateau was a reminder that over time, ‘all things change’. T’Sal could hear his father’s dead-pan voice from across the decades. Vulcan’s held logic in such esteem as to almost deify it and the irony was not lost on T’sal as a child when he would listen to his fathers evening sermons, his grand rhetoric expounding the virtues of patience and consideration, beatifying Surak at the head of his non-religion. Standing here at the edge of the vast emptiness of the terracotta plateau, devoid of any sign of habitation, a gargantuan silent void into which he could soar or plummet, he heard another rise over the bluster off the winds. A young voice by Vulcan standards but wise beyond its years, both soothing and invigorating, a masterclass in dichotomy. 

“Are you really going to go over the edge?” Maine asked, hovering a few metres from the cliff face, clinging to a large boulder that acted as an anchor against the rustling breeze. His usually impeccable Starfleet uniform rolled up at the sleeves, his collar split open and damp with sweat under the baking sun. 

“Yes. I had hoped you would come with me.” T’Sal responded, a smile edging against his lips. Reaching into his pack he withdrew a gliding apparatus. Flowing silk rolled out from the frame as he unfolded it, the dark blue fabric cutting sharply against the tan rock as it billowed into life. 

“I’m not sure I’m able.” Maine whispered.

“We’ve walked this route several times, I had hoped this time you might make the leap with me.” T’Sal said, his smile widening as he clicked the final cross beam into place, lifting the handles into place the para-glider sat primed for adventure. “I would not wish to leave you here alone.” he continued. “It’s a lonely walk back.”

“I’m aware.” Maine said, his cheeks becoming tight and flustered as he watched the Vulcan close his rucksack and tighten it to the flying frame. “Aren’t you ever scared that you’ll just plumet out of the sky? Hit the ground and be gone?”

“Vulcan’s are not scared.” T’Sal responded, joining his fingers in a peak just as his father had done when he scolded the young boy who took too long to control his emotions. “Not out-loud anyway.” Smiling as he broke his peaked hands and reached forward to Maine’s pale fists as they clutched to the sanctuary of the boulder. 

Taking his long fingers between his own Maine sighed, tears beginning to roll down his cheeks. Shaking his head he looked up into deep brown eyes. This man who soared through skies and stars, graceful as an eagle; this man who had breathed new life into Maine’s broken shell; this man who had whispered old fold tales as stars older than time raced past the windows. This man was gone.

“One day you’ll come flying with me Jacob.” T’sal promised, crossing over to the para-glider and taking up position at the end of his hastily cleared runway. 

“How do you know that? I’m terrified of heights.” Maine said, a disbelieving valley spreading across his brow. 

“All things change.” T’Sal smiled and ran. Taking a final leap into the emptiness the silk billowed and the wingless pilot took flight, lifted ever higher by the currents of swirling air, tumbling and arcing towards the horizon he flew. 

A chirp interrupted Maine’s vision of flight, the voice of Zaya cut through the ambient sounds of the breeze. “Jacob, we’ve had confirmation that the Vulcan survery ship Nayol will be arriving in a few minutes.”  

“I’ll join you in the observation lounge when they arrive.” Maine responded solemnly, closing the channel with a tap of his combadge. They had come to take T’Sal away, they were going to take him over the horizon; what remained of the his shuttle had been broken down into ashes and, combined with his personal effects, were being taken back to Vulcan for a memorial. “Computer, return to index 1553.”

The small holosuite froze for a moment as it reconfigured itself, returning T’Sal to the edge of the cliff, the glider folded back into his backpack, Maine still clinging to the boulder. 

“Are you really going to go over the edge?” Maine asked.

The brown needle hull of the Vulcan deep space research vessel Nayol dwarfed the small raven-class transport as they floated in the inky blackness of Deep Space. From the small window of his quarters David gazed at the familiar smooth tan hull, sipping his coffee he remembered his time on Vulcan and a deployment on a similar deep space vessel with fondness. It had been an easier time, where amongst the tall peaks of the Vulcan Science Directorate David had helped discover new worlds and stars in the endless galactic frontier. Safe in the cloistered halls and secure foundations of the research labs he had been able to expand his knowledge of the universe and improve the expansive scientific world of research in security. No threat of surprise black holes, no roaming bands of pirates attempting to sell them into a slave market, no ultra-powerful space gods sending them across the galaxy. Even his time on the Shu’min was spent deep in Federation space, far from the threatening frontier regions. His parents had long drummed into him the dangers of space, and particular Starfleet, these fools who trotted about the universe butting into everyone’s business and getting innocent people killed. In Vulcan and its people David had discovered like-minded scholars who sought to safely peel back the veil of the universe. 

T’Sal wasn’t at all like the Vulcan’s David had worked with for so long. The man had been adventurous and exciting, constantly looking for the next mountain to conquer, usually with little backup. Though David was relatively new to the team T’sal had been quick to overlook David’s awkward nature when he had offered the pilot home-brewed Plomeek soup after hearing him complain in the galley. 

“The replicator rarely makes it correctly.” T’sal said as he sipped from the traditionally carved wooden spoon David had offered alongside the yellow dish. ”Your carving skills are to be commended also. The serving size is small enough not to lose temperature but not so small as to be unsatisfying.” David smiled at the praise. “Ensign Mitchell, may I pick over your brains?” T’Sal said, offering a small padd alongside the jumbled human expression. 

“Is this long-range sensor data?” David asked, reaching across for the padd and scrolling through the variety of sensor readings. 

“Our next mission takes us into the Higonian Nebula, I was hoping you might be able to assist me in charting a course through the spatial anomalies.” T’sal said, sipping again from the spoon. 

David smiled again at the memory, T’sal hadn’t really needed his assistance, already mentally charting several courses through the nebula dependant on a dozen environmental factors. It had been a kind offering of welcome to the small ship and team to a young officer who was clearly terrified and out of place. David’s sense of fear had yet to abate entirely but that day had offered him a reason to belong in the team. 

A chime from the doorway interrupted his pleasant personal wake for his friend. “Come.” he announced to the room.

With a quiet slide of pneumatics the doors opened and the short figure of Log entered the room. 

“Captain Tol is aboard, we’re assembling in the aft observation lounge if you want to join us?” Log whispered, his cheery disposition tinted with a quiver of sadness. Though new to the team himself Log had been welcomed by the pilot just as quickly, spending many hours covered in grease tinkering with the impulse manifolds. 

“I’m coming Log.” David said, rising to his feet. Casting a quick glance to the mirror he inspected himself and after pulling back a particularly difficult forelock he turned to join Log at the door. Placing a hand on the young Tellerite’s shoulder he smiled. “Let’s go say good-bye.”

Mother had told him when he left for Starfleet that it was full of fools and idiots. As the small doors swished shut behind them David smiled, glad that he knew these ones. 

Zaya massaged her temples with two long fingers as Bib pressed a small button in the desk of the office, deactivating the wide screen behind him and dismissing the familiar gold edged delta.

“So that’s about the size of it.” Bib finished, reaching across the messy desk for his cup of raktajino. “Thoughts?”

“Too many.” Zaya replied, life on the colonies of the Former demilitarised zone had been hard but never filled with such difficult propositions. “This is already decided though isn’t it?”

“Partly.” Bib responded, taking a long sip from his cup. “Fourth Fleet is still dealing with the Lost Fleet and we’ve been dispatched to support the a op at Farpoint station.” The Andorian took a long breath of contemplation. “After that, Theta Squad will be re-assigned.”

“Together, though which is a blessing.” Zaya thanked whichever gods were listening. They had already lost a friend, it wouldn’t do anyone any good to break up the team on top of that. 

“A blessing indeed.” Bib agreed, it had taken a touch sales pitch with the brass not to disperse the team to different postings. They had recognised that the team had uses and a good track record but the loss of T’Sal had highlighted fractures, for now at least Theta Squad had a gained a stay of execution. 

“How do you think Maine will take the news?” Zaya asked, the thumping in her temples continuing to bash against he scaled forehead. 

“That I’m now in charge? I’m not sure, at the moment I don’t think he’d even notice.” Bib admitted. The squad’s stalwart leader had taken T’sal’s death particularly hard and since departing the Oromal cluster had been locked in the small holosuite constantly. Leaving only to spend time in the aft observation lounge where Hermira & Ole had arranged T’Sal’s ashes with his personal belongings in a small memorial, turned outward towards the stars he had loved to adventure in. 

“Are you worried?” said Zaya, leaning towards the small replicator fitted into the wall of the room. “Raktajino, double strength.”

As the small shelf stirred with white light Bib considered her question. He was worried about Maine, when they had been in a relationship the man had always been realistic about the fact that service could be dangerous but duty came before personal concerns. He had constantly quoted Ambassador Spock; “the needs of the many” he muttered every time Bib expressed concerns. This was different, T’Sal’s death had shattered Maine’s idolisation of the dangerous duty they all undertook. Turning back to Zaya he let out a long sigh. “Constantly, but command has agreed to allow Maine to remain with the team when we re-locate though on a temporary leave from duty.” Bib paused. “We’re his family, I don’t think there is anyone else he could turn to.”

“Agreed.” Zaya quietly acknowledged. 

“What about you?” Bib asked. “What does my number two think?”

“That red clashes with my eyes.” said Zaya, a smile gently tugging at her lips. “I’m honoured that Starfleet deems me suitable to grant a provisional rank, let alone put me on the team but is it really the best choice?” she confessed. 

“You served Cardassia for several years and retired with honours. Not many people can say that about the Central Command.” Bib noted. 

“The honours were mostly ceremonial, they were happy to have my bothersome doo-gooding fingers out of the order.” Zaya admitted, “That’s what led me to the DMZ, restless hands.”

“But the rank wasn’t, you don’t make it to Glinn without having some skills. With Maine out of action I need capable officers who can take the lead. Mitchell & Log are too fresh to raise up.” said Bib, offering a pleading look.

“Hermira? Ole?” 

“Neither are interested in command. Maybe one day we can convince them to take a commission, maybe even their own teams, but for now they’re happy as NCOs.” Bib let out a long sigh. Whilst he wouldn’t admit it to Zaya, it had taken his best charm to convince command to grant Zaya a position, professional or otherwise.

“I was a different…” Zaya paused. “I was a different man back then.” She held her breath, waiting for Bib to catch up. 

Without blinking Bib smiled reassuringly. “I’m aware Zaya but you’re a better woman now. Take the skills you got from Central Command and combine it with the passion you were able to grow serving in the DMZ and you’ve got everything Starfleet needs.” 

Her fear at revealing her transition dispelled out the nearest airlock Zaya found the tension in her temples dissipating. 

“What do you say then?” Bib stood, offering his mug. 

A chirp interrupted their conversation. “Hermira to Bib. All ships systems are on automation and the visitors from Nayol are in the observation lounge. It’s time.” 

“I think we have a team to take care of.” Zaya answered, lifting her mug slightly in acceptance of the new position. 

The ceremony was completed quickly, solemn Vulcan chants and a few words from the team and the small box was taken from the room back to the transporter room. T’sal’s final excursion through the stars was about to begin. Maine stared at the triangular table that had held the urn at its centre. The display littered with empty holes in the arrangement where pictures and tokens of affection had been quietly collected by the visiting Vulcan’s, their distaste to these overt expressions of emotion barely disguised. They had however silently respected the teams wishes and taken their memories with them to inter alongside T’Sal amongst the red sands of his homeworld.

“I am sorry Jacob.” Bib whispered, left alone in the darkened room together he felt responsible for the man’s well-being. “On Andoria we like to believe that our loved ones carry on sailing out on the ice fields. Adventuring into the heart of Andoria.” It was a shallow offering but Bib was stuck for consoling words. There was both too much to say and not enough words to say it, their relationship had been long and complicated and Bib could only wonder at the sting of having an ex-partner witness the departure of the current one. 

“I assume you’ve been given command.” Maine stated, his voice cold as ice.

“I have.” confirmed Bib, like a weight had been dropped into the deck, the room resonated with the words. 

“And me?” 

“You’ll remain with the team on service leave whilst you decide what you want to do. You can stay with us as long as you want.” said Bib. “We’re all here to help you Jacob.” he added quickly. “For now we’re to rendezvous with the fleet at Farpoint Station for a big defense.”

Silence permeated every bulkhead as Noya began turning away from Nestus, her huge tan form passing across the large windows of the lounge as she arced back toward the heart of Federation Space. A building glow across the large circular warp ring elicited a sharp intake of breath from Maine. With a silent crack the ship catapulted to warp speeds and was gone from sight, carrying T’Sal on the next leg of his journey.

“He’s really gone Bib.” the words felt like posion in his mouth. 

“Yes, Jacob.”

Maine let the gasp slowly slide from his lungs, T’Sal had left him behind. “I guess all things change.”