10 hours before Zero Hour

Sparks exploded from the aft consoles as another Vaadwaur barrage slammed into their weakened shields. AJ braced himself against the tactical station, blood trickling down his cheek.

“Shields at forty percent!” Krev shouted. “Port nacelle is venting plasma!”

“Reroute auxiliary power to structural integrity.” AJ snapped, “We’re not done yet.”

Beside him, Carter kept one hand on the helm, the other on the chair. She’d taken the conn when the first hit disabled the XO’s station. “Evasive pattern Delta-Three. Bringing us about to cover the station.”

AJ turned, “That’ll put us right in the path of fire.”

Her eyes didn’t leave the screen. “Better us than the station.”

He didn’t argue.

The ship shook again. “Direct hit!” Krev called. “Hull breach decks 9 through 12!”

AJ tapped his commbadge. “Talresh, how bad?”

Static.

He tapped it again. “Bridge to Engineering, damage control.”

Nothing.

A sharp jolt threw them both forward. Carter slammed against her console, catching herself with one arm.

AJ moved to her side, helping her up. “You alright?”

She nodded, breathing heavily. “Probably cracked a rib. Nothing I can’t work through.” She forced a smile.

He looked at her. Her face was stained with a mixture of blood and sweat. Her usually neat ponytail was half undone. She’d always been solid. Professional. The one person who never hesitated to challenge him, to keep him from going too far over the line. They’d shared coffee and combat drills, late-night strategy reviews. Never more.

“Liz,” he began, his voice quiet.

She raised a hand. “Don’t.” Another blast shook the ship. The viewscreen cut to static. Liz looked at the viewscreen. “It’s dead, switching to auxiliary feed.” But before she could act, the panel in front of her exploded. AJ caught her before she fell.

“Liz”

She held her side, coughing violently. Blood dotted her lips. Her left arm was scorched.

“Stay with me. That’s an order, Commander.”

She smiled faintly. “Always were bossy.”

“Medical team to the bridge!” AJ shouted, but no one answered. He looked down at Liz. “Help’s coming.”

Her voice was weak, “You remember that shuttle run a few months ago? The one where we got stuck on the ice moon?”

“Yeah.”

“I wanted to tell you then. But I didn’t want it to be a thing. A… complication.”

He shook his head in confusion, “What?”

“I think I’ve always known. That was my job was to keep you safe.” She coughed again, weaker this time. “I never said anything because I didn’t want you to change.”

AJ was on his knees now, cradling her head. “Why the hell would I change?”

“Because you always try to protect us. You’d protect me, and I couldn’t have done my job if you did.”

“I’m not letting you die.”

“You don’t get a vote, AJ.”

Her breath was getting shallow as the klaxons were getting louder. The bridge was beginning to fill with smoke. “Before the end,” she said. “I just wanted you to know.”

“Stop talking,” AJ lied. “You’re going to be fine.”

A faint smile crossed her lips. “Go, AJ,” she pushed him, “Get our people off this ship. Get to the Romulans, or the station.”

He tried to put up a fight, but he couldn’t. Standing up, he turned to the crew. He waited for a second, “Abandon ship,” he ordered. “All hands, abandon ship.”

As he turned to leave, he watched as Liz pulled herself up, “computer set course for the biggest ship, maximum impulse, fire everything we got.” She turned to AJ this time with more force, “GO!”

Once he was gone, Liz leaned back in the chair as she coughed. With one hand, she found the terminal. She whispered something as her fist slammed the impulse drive to max.

Far beyond the explosion, one of the Romulan warbirds adjusted course, just slightly. A tractor beam flickered to life, locking onto a tumbling escape pod. One by one, that small beam of light gave the crew some hope. Maybe things hadn’t completely ended.