Bridge

Ensign Gus Viat had been on duty early. It was likely to be an even longer day. Briefing over, the fleet action expectations, squadron orders, and lastly fallback positions. The Vulcans for their part showed up for the fight. Whether it was logic finally winning them over or not, the appearance of more than a dozen Vulcan heavy cruisers and an array of other ships was a welcome sight.  It had also fallen to him to provide that logic. He simply told them, “The logic of the situation is we are about to be overrun. That is not defeatist. If we do not win this day, that will be the reality.”

The handling of the ship he was less worried about. Recent weeks had been spent in uptraining much of the crew in close-quarters combat with an emphasis on edged weapons backups. Surviving the face-to-face with the Jem’Hadar was the trick. Gus had a physical strength advantage but he could teach others to be quick and move.

“Logic or not, we are in for a fight, that is for sure Ensign Viat. The line will be drawn here, and no further.” Commander Jeter said as he looked up from the console on the side of the command chair. “We will not be caught unaware this time, this will not be a repeat of Betazed or the earlier engagements in this war,” he continued.

Gus cocked his head and responded to Jeter. “Indeed. The appropriate response would be, you’re preaching to the choir. We will need to be stubborn today. While I no longer consider Vulcan my home, an enemy stepping one foot on my soil is intolerable.”

Jeter let out a little chuckle, “I pity any Dominion solider that sets foot on Vulcan.” He glanced up at the view screen and admired the flotilla in orbit around the planet before he turned to look at the Ensign, “That said, they will not get close to the planet.”

“I won’t go into the odds.” Gus retorted. “But not without a helluva fight,” Gus added with a slight smirk.

Farl shifted nervously in his chair at Ops. Perhaps he’d spent too long at the Academy, and wasn’t used to starship bridge seating. Or, more likely, he was just nervous about going into battle. It had been a long time. He tried some levity to burn off the nerves.

“No need to trouble the troops planet-side. We’ll stop them up here. They can read the after-action report over afternoon tea.” Farl flexed his claws. He had not yet tangled with a Jem Hadar soldier, but he was confident he was up for the challenge. Still… he’d rather not need to repel boarders.

Arin concentrated on what she was doing. The additional fleet movements were updating every few moments. It was hard not to have her mind go to Lavender.. Lavender had her own hand in the fight and would be full due to the impending action. Shaking any errant thoughts away, she doubled down on her console.  They both had jobs to do and thinking about her would be not thinking about what she was doing.

Standing next to Gus, Milo leaned in, “I know you have experience beyond what I can comprehend,  but never as the Chief of Security. How are you doing?”

Tapping commands as he looked at displays, Gus nearly laughed. “Sir, security is easy compared to gathering the logic of a fleet of Vulcan Captains. I believe the cliche is ‘herding cats is easier’.

Milo grinned and patted him on the shoulder forgetting the Vulcan’s aversion to physical touch.  “I believe you are correct.”

Gus offered a ‘don’t worry about it’ look to Milo. “This will require some lounge time and a few stiff drinks later. ” Leaving the comment open for everyone.

Lounge

The morning had started normally enough for Yaaya Deepre.  It was routine now – get up, check on her regulars in sickbay or the hallway, or eventually at the bar when she opened up.  The stories were much the same.  Wars were like that, she had decided.  As different as each encounter was, there was the same smell, the same sound…a complicated rhythm on the war drums that varied in other movements but always seemed to pound towards the same result – death, destruction, and the bottomless well of grief.  She had heard it said, “This has happened before…and it will happen again.”  Deepre had wished for a change in the universe since she’d fled Bajor, her family, and her people.  Wishes and hopes, she groused, were nothing against the darkest-winged serpents hunting from the darkness.  She poured another sparkling drink to an ensign, giving a smile that briefly lifted the man’s spirits before he walked away and back into the listless throngs that had taken refuge in the lounge.  Unease dancing on everyone’s collective nerves, and she wasn’t sure how to push the unwelcome visitor off and away.  She wasn’t sure she could.  The war took its price – physical and mental.  She grimaced to herself.  They could only hope to survive it if they were lucky.  She hoped the luck of the Denver, her crew, and the venerable captain would hold.

At the end of the bar Aoife sat with a tea and basket of untouched fish and chips. In her hand was a PADD and she was scrolling though photographs of her in a cadet uniform and others huddled around her with smiling faces. Her expression was set, but there was sadness in her eyes.

Commander Nalam stepped into the lounge and made her way towards the bar as she hid the apprehension she felt within. She nodded to Deepre with a smile, “Deepre, how are you doing today?”

Yaaya pulled a cup and began crafting Nalam’s preferred drink: “We’re still here and in one piece, so I’m as happy as an Earth clam, as the saying goes.”  Her hands worked the ingredients until the mug was perfect.  She slid it over to the commander, “Another day where I get to serve drinks to y’all is a good day.”

“Thanks,” she said taking her drink she smiled, tinged with a hint of sadness knowing what was to come. She turned seeing Aoife at the end of the bar. She stepped up beside her and set her drink down, “Ensign, how are you doing?

“I— I don’t know.” She slid the PADD containing last Friday’s casualty report to Riandri. “I finally got the courage to look at this accursed list.  One name. Yay.” She said that last word flatly and emotionless. “My academic advisor.  She left the Academy at the outbreak of the war, too, and was assigned to the Saguache. It was lost with all hands in the Kalundun Sector.  I should feel sad but— But, I just feel nothing.  That is— Well, that bothers the hell out of me.”

“Ah, I, I get that,” she remarked as she sat down at the bar beside her. “The reports are not something anyone looks forward to. If I am honest, I feel the same way. I had two on the list last week, both cadets I went through the academy with, and I will admit I was surprised at how little I felt. At the start of this damn war, I would have been in tears; now, though, it was just another day, and I hate that feeling.”

Aoife sighed and stared down at the bar. “Yeah… ‘ this damn war.'”

Riandri nodded and took a long sip of her tea from her mug, “You can say that again.” She paused for a moment as she looked around the lounge, “How do you feel the ship is doing? Everything ready?”

Aoife sighed,  “There are some minor deficiencies,  but the department is fully staffed at least, and with a chief engineer.”

“That is good to hear. The new chief has a good amount of experience under their belt. I think they will be a goo…”

With no warning, the klaxon announcing Red Alert blared, startling but a few.  Deepre clocked them – they were relatively new to the Denver.  They weren’t used to these moments yet. The quiet, reflective silence was thrown into determined chaos as officers moved with purpose, eyes forward with a sliver of panic at the edges.  She began to lock up and secure the bar.  Whatever was coming, she had a muster station to get to – and some god of luck to pray to.

Aoife stood with a heavy sigh and dug into her pocket and tossed a silver coin on the counter.  It wasn’t anything valuable just an old American quarter.  She carried for good, luck, now it was being used symbolicly. “Yaaya, if I don’t come back, have a drink on me.”

Riandri understood the sentiment Aoife expressed and felt it a bit herself. She placed a hand on her shoulder, “Don’t think like that Aoife, the Denver is a good ship with the best crew. She will see us through.” With a nod to Yaaya, Riandri looked around at the other officers in the lounge, all of whom were starting to move, “OK Everyone. Report to your stations right away. This isn’t a drill.”

Deepre picked up the coin, admiring its classic nature.  She slipped it into her pockets and headed out the door with the rest of the crew.  She had a duty station and duty called.

Lavender’s new quarters

“Computer begin recording personal log.” Lavender sat on the end of her bed, clad in her uniform, minus the jacket and boots. Her hair swung about her cheeks as she leaned forward, holding her forehead in her hands and scanning the carpet with her eyes, collecting her thoughts. The computer beeped acquiescence and her monologue began.

“Lavender Haigh personal log stardate five two zero nine six point nine. We know the Dominion will be here soon. Despite that, I did what I was told by my psychiatrist, like a good little C.M.O., and slept when I could. Only one nightmare. Managed five hours which is pretty good, but I’m taking the piss if I try more now. I coulda tried to style it out and just stay up in case they decided to invade our asses while i was unconscious, but tired messed up doctors kill people and I ain’t gonna be that person. Not fucking happening. The waiting is pretty shit, but hey, what are we gonna do, ask the Dominion for an E.T.A.? I do wish Arin was here. I sleep better when she is. It’s easier to recover from a nightmare when she’s there, but the guilt of waking her is also… well, it’s a thing. Since I caught up on the briefing, my nightmares have shifted back to the Jem’hadar prison. Doesn’t take a doctorate in advanced psychiatry to work out why. But hey, variety is the spice of life r…”

Lavender’s flow was interrupted by the Red Alert sirens starting to wail.

“Fuck, here we go. Computer, save, and end! End and save! Whatever!” The doctor made the few paces to her boots, walking on the bottom of her trousers, and pulled the cuffs irritably from out of the way as she crammed her feet in. Fastened quickly, her uniform jacket was snagged from the back of her desk chair, and, hair tie in hand, she marched out into the corridor at a brisk walk, shrugging the jacket over her elbows and shoulders, only going it up when her hair was marshaled into a half-ponytail.

Sickbay

It was less than ninety seconds since leaving her quarters that the sickbay doors admitted the C.M.O. to her Sickbay. Eyes turned to rest upon her. Heads Meerkatted to spot her. Lavender was glad to note the medical staff were preparing exactly as they should be.

“This is the Real Deal people,” Lavender said loudly, her voice charged with authority but calm also. “Move it in,” she beckoned, and the staff surrounded her for a moment.

“Remember your training,” she told them, looking from face to face, noting the different reactions, some calm, some hardened, some worried. “We’re going to get a lot of casualties, and they’ll be people you know. Steel yourselves. Be prepared. Check, double-check, and triple-check your equipment, and do it now. Stay calm, remember your procedures, they will help you through everything. If you need help, ask. Remember, those who shout loudest are not necessarily the most badly injured. Don’t be sidetracked by drama. We help everyone we can, but we use our procedures to do so, not theirs. If you need a judgment call on who to treat, ask me if anyone kicks off or gives you grief about who’s being seen when, get me. I’m number one for priority calls; Doctor Lorsa is number two if I’m not available. Good luck, and make Starfleet proud. I don’t have to say make me proud because I already am. Now, go to it!”

The staff scattered, most heading straight for equipment trolleys or screens to make sure they were prepared. There was a light hubbub as some spoke quietly to one another with words of reassurance or some louder, generally words of procedure.

Lorsa stepped up beside Lavender, glancing over her shoulder as the medical staff bustled about, prepping for the flood of casualties they all knew was coming. Her voice was low, measured, and private, ensuring no one overheard her suggestion.

“I recommend we use the nearby crew lounge as a triage station. It’ll help filter non-critical cases and keep sickbay from getting overwhelmed.” She paused, her sharp gaze scanning the bustle as a nurse zipped past piling medical supplies into the open arms of a medic.  Meeting Lavender’s eyes, “What’s our protocol if we have to evacuate? The biology labs share similar diagnostic capabilities; we could set up there if it comes to that.”

Lavender nodded, considering Efe’s points.

“It does,” she agreed, “but I’d be worried about contamination, they have good protocols but we have no idea what experiments they’re running in there. Plus if it comes to evacuating here… I feel like we’d be fairly far into the brown stuff by then as a ship. Sickbay is bang in the middle of the saucer, if we have damage or boarders reaching here…” Lavender shook her head. “But it’s worth keeping in mind. I think that decision will have to be by ear in the moment. The lounge thing I like. Delegate someone to set that up. I’d rather keep you here with me, I’ll need surgeons. Whoever it is can’t be critical to the current rotation. Let’s have alpha shift in here, beta as auxiliary in here and gamma shift in the lounge. You agree?”

She nodded, “Makes sense.” She grinned, “and if it didn’t,  it wouldn’t matter.  You’re the boss.  Glad to have you back.”

Lavender smiled at the unexpected compliment.

“Thanks Efe, it’s good to be back. I feel like it would matter though. I don’t want my staff to think they can’t challenge me if I’m talking nonsense. Right, get that lounge operation going.”

Lorsa smiled, nodding in understanding, then turned to rally the medical team. Her voice rang out over the controlled chaos of sickbay as she collected staff members. Within minutes, the group was ready: several anti-grav stretchers loaded with supplies, a dozen medics, technicians, and nurses, and Dr. Lazar of the gamma shift, all trudging off toward the lounge with determined expressions.

Dr. Lorsa glanced over her shoulder at Lavender while carefully arranging instruments in the surgical suite. Her movements were deliberate and precise, but the tension beneath the surface was unmistakable. This wasn’t Denver’s first battle, yet the strain of the moment found its way through the cracks in her composure.

A slight tremor in her hand as she reached for a laser scalpel. The faint flutter of butterflies in her stomach threatened to upend breakfast. She masked it as well as she could, but the weight of what was coming was undeniable. This wasn’t going to be a skirmish; it would be a battle they would likely never forget.

Bridge

With the klaxons blaring, Rebecca exited the ready room, her eyes scanning the bridge. The crew was humming, and there was palpable tension. Pausing at the edge of the operations console, she stared into the void of the view screen. There was nothing there yet. She knew the Dominion was out there, watching and waiting. They were the immovable object meeting an unstoppable force.

Rebecca patted Farl on the shoulder reassuringly and nodded encouragingly to Arin before taking measured steps to cross the bridge. That walk made her think of the condemned’s journey to the gallows, sending a chill down her spine. Sliding into the center seat beside Riandri, she allowed herself a fleeting thought of their dinner with the other captains and their first officers the night before.

“I’m glad we had that dinner last night,” she said, her voice quieter now. She didn’t add that it might have been their last.

Riandri gave a tight smile understanding the unspoken message, “Same.” She turned to the small display on the arm of her chair, “The Andromeda and Texarkana have confirmed they are at battle stations. Guess it’s time…”

Taking deep breath through her nose and letting the break out her mouth she gave Riandri a curt nod. Turning her attention ahead she gripped the ends of her armrests. “Mr. Viat, charge weapons,” Rebecca ordered, her tone sharp again. “Reserve power to shields.”

“Aye, Captain. Shields at the ready. All phaser banks and torpedo bays answer green.” Gus said.

Farl’s panel lit up with new indications. He tapped a few commands in, and the ship’s sensors spat out data for the interlopers. “Enemy vessels moving in. Small squadron, likely coming to probe our front lines. Four Jem Hadar attack fighters on an intercept course to the fleet.”Arin offered, “I thought they’d be bigger. Not that I’m complaining.”

“They’re big enough,” Milo replied. “Probably a scout force probing our defenses.”

“That is exactly it. These are scouts only. The main force though will not be far behind,” Riandri said.

The Engineering Officer, Trosin finally looked up at the Captain with no emotion on his face, but the nervousness on his eyes grows obvious as every seconds pass.

“The warp core is at full power and all weapons are charged. Deflector shields are at maximum. Everything is in order,” said the engineer in a calm, but worried tone.

Rebecca glanced over he shoulder towards the engineering station at the new Chief Engineer.  They were still getting yo know each other and she had to learn to trust him and his abilities.  “Thank you, Lieutenant. I expect you are going to be quite busy.”

Trosin smiled a little hearing the Captain’s words, he looked back at his console before saying.

“Sir, yes, sir.”

Inside he knew this is a life or death matter, if he caused a single error, 930 crewmates and more will die, and he didn’t want to make a much more bigger mistake than he did on the Normandy.

“Okay people,  enough with the banter,” Rebecca’s voice cut through sharp.  “Mr. Viat target the lead ship. Ms. Jones, attack pattern: Epsilon IV.”

“Gladly, Captain. Epsilon IV, Aye.” His fingers flew as he added the commands to the console, “Target locked, Jem’Hadar battle cruiser. Bearing zero four seven, mark three zero two. They are arming torpedoes.”