The corridor stretched before them like a gutted carcass, a jagged wound torn through the very decks they had once called home. This once-familiar passage was now in disarray and marked by chaos and devastation. Ceiling panels sagged precariously on twisted girders that seemed to weep in pain, their metal skin warped and fatigued under the relentless assault of time and disaster. Conduits split and frayed, their innards exposed like ruptured veins, pulsating with the last vestiges of power, faint arcs of energy dancing like fireflies in the oppressive atmosphere. Smoke drifted in lazy coils, like a ghost clinging thickly to the scorched deck plates, twisting and twirling as if to escape the grim reality that engulfed them.

Once gleaming with quiet power, the polished walls of the USS Odyssey now bore deep fissures and gaping holes, its duranium skeleton shattered and splintered into jagged shards bulging like broken teeth from a gaping jaw. Burnt scorch marks spiderwebbed in rough patterns across every surface, dark reminders of the catastrophic event that had transpired within these hallowed halls. As they moved deeper into the corridor, the overhead lighting flickered sporadically, sputtering weak light into pools of encroaching gloom, casting long, eerie shadows that danced and shimmied in the dimness, creating an ambience of suspicion and dread.

Long cracks streaked across bulkheads like fractures in brittle glass, suggesting that the vessel had cried out in pain during the onslaught. The air was thick with the smell of burnt circuitry and melted remains, a pungent reminder of the ship’s demise. Scattered debris littered the floor, chunks of console housings intermingling with snapped isolinear chips, shredded PADDs, and a partially melted commbadge that fused grotesquely into the flooring, a tragic artefact of a once functional command interface. Each step they took sent a shard of pain through the memory of what this corridor had been, where laughter and camaraderie had once echoed, now replaced by the eerie silence of abandonment and loss. The sense of history was palpable, the weight of their surroundings pressing down on them with every breath and step they took.

Cadet Alfie McCallister’s throat tightened as his gaze swept across the destruction. This wasn’t just a ship. This was once their home. The Odyssey. The place where he was born with his two brothers. Where he had grown up chasing dreams and friendships, these corridors were where he and his brothers had played tag, where his parents had dragged them to school. They had lived here, laughed here, and learned everything about their lives here. It was where he met Jordan, where they had become friends, and then eventually admitted their feelings for one another. This place meant so much to him. Now it was a hollowed ruin, the skeletal remains of his childhood.

Cadet Jordan Duncan-Court stood motionless beside him, shoulders squared but jaw tight, his lips pressed into a grim line. His blue eyes, normally sharp and alive, were dulled by disbelief as they tracked the blackened devastation ahead. His brother, William, flanked him, a deep furrow cut into his brow, his expression distant as though detaching himself from the pain gnawing under his composed exterior. All three of them shared the same silent ache. A place that had once been their cradle was now their graveyard.

“Secure the corridor,” Scott Florrick’s command came crisp and sharp, breaking through the oppressive haze.

Alfie swallowed, forcing composure as he nodded. 

“Jordan, Jib, take point. Beatrice, sweep for hostiles.” Scott’s voice wavered on the edges but held steady.

They advanced cautiously, stepping over mangled beams and jagged shards of wall plating. Beatrice’s tricorder blinked steadily in her steady grip. Jordan ducked under a buckled girder, his movements tense and controlled but edged with simmering frustration. Jib trailed him, eyes sharp and scanning.

“We’re two junctions from the turbolift shaft,” Beatrice announced tightly. “Jefferies Tube fourteen-beta is our detour. Longer route, safer path.”

“Take it,” Scott ordered quietly.

Inside the Jefferies tubes, the world constricted. Bare metal pressed close. The amber glow of emergency lighting pulsed faintly along conduit bundles, and every surface felt oppressively claustrophobic. They crawled forward, breath shallow. Eventually, they got through onto the other side and into another corridor. 

Suddenly, Florrick froze, hand shooting up. “Movement. Two meters ahead.”

Alfie walked carefully up beside him. His heart stumbled.

Commander Tobias Court lay crumpled against a nearby bulkhead. His godfather, Jordan and William’s dad. He had never seen this man in any state but healthy, alive, and energetic. His uniform was shredded and scorched, deep gashes marring his chest. Blood streaked his hair and pooled darkly beneath him. His phaser lay abandoned, fingertips barely grazing it.

Jordan’s breath caught audibly. His face crumpled as he lunged forward, his hands seizing Tobias’ shoulders with trembling desperation.

“Dad? Dad! Wake up! Please!” His voice cracked under the strain. He shook Tobias gently, then harder, urgency spiralling into panic. Tobias’ lifeless eyes stared past him, glassy and unseeing.

William’s face pinched as he ran forward beside them. With methodical precision, masking the anguish behind tight lips, the younger brother flipped open his tricorder and scanned. The soft warble confirmed what they feared. He exhaled sharply, lowering his gaze.

“He’s gone,” William murmured, voice thick with restrained grief.

Jordan sagged forward, forehead resting against Tobias’ torn uniform. His shoulders shuddered silently. 

Alfie edged close, resting a firm but subtle hand between Jordan’s shoulder blades. His fingers pressed gently, steadying, anchoring, before withdrawing to respect Jordan’s space.

“Jord, I’m sorry, but we have to move,” Alfie whispered. “I’m here.”

Nodding through held-back tears, Jordan got up, hugged his brother William, and then tightly grasped Alfie’s hand for assurance. 

This was too real. 

“We’ve got another access hatch to take,” Scott reminded them as they moved on.

The crawl through the ship continued, each turn compounding the nightmare. Commander Reddick was found crushed beneath a collapsed beam. As they got out of one tube, they discovered Doctor Slyvexs sprawled lifelessly in a corner, her medical kit right by her. Lieutenant Commander Keli’s form was next to her; all three women had been killed trying to defend the Odyssey. As the cadets moved through the ship, more familiar faces twisted by death and ruin haunted every passage.

They finally emerged at the bridge hatch. Florrick forced it open with brute effort.

The bridge was shattered. Consoles sparked weakly in the gloom, fires flickering amid warped metal and crumbling displays. Clusters of Vaadwaur soldiers moved through the wreckage, their armour glinting ominously. Their disruptors barked mercilessly as they engaged the bridge crew in a fierce close-combat situation. 

Odyssey’s Betazoid first officer and former chief engineer was the first one the cadet saw get taken out. Commander Hunsen crumpled instantly, his form collapsing under heavy fire. His Imzadi screamed out his name as she ran to his side; however, before Counsellor Horin could reach him, she was vaporised mid-motion. Commanders Marjo, Flemen, and Tomaz fell in rapid succession. Each of them tried to hold their positions, using hand-held phasers or rifles. None of them succeeded. 

In the centre bridge, Commodore James Preston McCallister and Captain Max Duncan fought furiously, side-by-side. Their phasers blazing defiantly. Grappling lines shot forward. McCallister started to order the ship to begin auto-destruct, and Duncan confirmed the order with him just as the Vaadwaur surged towards the two of them. Before either man could give the final code to arm the destruct sequence, the enemy soldiers overpowered them and dragged them down. They did not have any time to react; they turned to see their sons and the rest of the cadet squad arrive just as a Vaadwaur transporter beam shimmered and whisked them away.

“No!” Jordan’s roar erupted as he broke formation, charging toward the chaos.

Instinct drove the cadets after him. Two Vaadwaur fell to their phaser bursts, but incoming fire seared the air in retaliation. Scott dove behind the helm console, narrowly avoiding a polaron disruptor blast. Lieutenant Commander Paynkor’s motionless body sprawled there, his uniform bloodied.

“Cadet… Florrick…” Paynkor rasped faintly, voice strained. “Finish… what we… started…” His breath fled just as the cadets took out the final Vaadwaur soldier. 

Knowing it was safe to move after watching the Odyssey’s pilot die before him, Florrick slid into the chair, fingers flying across the cracked interface of the helm. “Odyssey’s locked on a collision course with the Vaadwaur flagship,” he announced. “They were going to ram them!”

Jordan spun, fury igniting his glare. “No, we go after them! We beam aboard the ship that took them and get our dads back! We can’t let them win.”

“We won’t make it,” Alfie countered sharply. He was treating a badly injured Lieutenant Bollwyn, who was sitting up against the communications console with a disruptor wound to his left shoulder. He was barely alive as Alfie tried to save him with his limited medical knowledge. Alfie’s voice frayed at the edges, heavy with bitter finality. “If we try, we all die. What’s the point in that?”

Jordan’s hands curled into fists, rage quivering beneath his skin. “You’re giving up?”

“I’m giving meaning to their deaths,” Alfie snapped as he rose to his feet and confronted his boyfriend. “They’re gone, Jordan! And if we’re not careful, so will we!”

Jordan shoved him violently, frustration boiling over. “Well, look who has finally arrived at the party! Finally, the real Alfie McCallister is here!” Jordan pointed his finger at his boyfriend. His anger fuelled every action and every word. “You know, you’re just like him! Always trying to be the hero! The big man! Look at me, I’m the commodore’s heroic son!” He mocked back.

“And you’re being reckless,” Alfie hissed, breath ragged. “Look at where we are, Jordan! There’s nothing left here. The Odyssey is lost. Our dads are dead. The people who raised us, cared for us, and protected us are all gone. They died defending our home, but they couldn’t save it. It’s over! We need to move on.”

Jordan recoiled, wounded. “How can you say that, Alfie?”

“Enough!” William snapped, stepping in between them. “Both of you.”

“Will is right, this isn’t helping us,” Beatrice added. Her tone was laced with defeat and sadness, too. “We’ve lost, but we can’t let it end like this.”

Scott got up from the helm. “What are our options then?”

Alfie’s jaw locked. “There’s only one.” He tapped his combadge. “McCallister to Astra. Emergency beam-out, get us out of here. Now.”

The transporter beam started to shimmer, but before he was gone entirely, Alfie turned to the helm controls and tapped the final button on the helm. Lieutenant Commander Paynkor’s pre-programmed collision course activated the ship’s engines. Its target, the Vaadwaur dreadnought flagship. Alfie wouldn’t let his father down in their final hour. After he had done that, he heard Jordan scream a strong, elongated ‘No!’ in his direction. He knew this was over and would make sure the Odyssey would go out in a blaze of glory.

Seconds later, the cadets all reappeared on the Astra’s transporter pad. Jordan stormed toward the bridge after pushing Alfie out of his way. When the rest caught up, Jordan stood before the viewscreen. Captain Niro stood up from his chair and looked at the team.

“What have you done?” He asked before turning back to the scene before them. 

The Odyssey smashed into the Vaadwaur flagship. Twin explosions engulfed both vessels in a blinding inferno.

Jordan’s anguished scream echoed as he collapsed. William caught him swiftly, steadying his brother.

Alfie held back the tears and wished his father a final goodbye. 

The Odyssey was gone.