Time, ever more fleeting with each passing moment in battle, played on the minds of hundreds of Starfleet officers across the ship. Smoke plumes filled corridors. Raging infernos sealed bulkheads. Conduits collapsed while EPS relays exploded. From the depths of deck 42 to the heights of the bridge itself, uniform-clad personnel and their civilian counterparts alike used the time they had to keep their weapon of war trained on the enemy and their assault against the legendary ice planet.

Flanked by brethren from her lineage, the mighty explorer had shed the last vestiges of her mission of scientific discovery and taken on the role of a war-torn leader, high above the ice planet of Andoria. Captain Kauhn had assumed command of a dwindling Federation-Andorian armada at the behest of the sector’s commander herself, coordinating with Theron aboard Starbase 7. Armed to the teeth but barely surviving the onslaught, the Starbase was no longer the responsibility of Kauhn or Columbia. Their priority had shifted; their task now was simple: ensure the safety of billions, whatever the cost.

And as those relays blew and consoles imploded, as bulkheads collapsed and systems failed, everyone was united in their mission. Time, however fleeting, was all they had. That, and the belief that they could succeed if they stuck together. Admirable in the face of such overwhelming odds. Even now, as reports came in of the Vaadwaur Supremacy breaching the planet’s outer defences, surging towards the Federation blockade, the crew remained resolute. It was all they could do in the face of insurmountable odds.

Brushing a strand of hair out of her face, a dishevelled-looking Noli stood at her station, making the most of a momentary lull to review the situation in the system and coordinate with Vashara.

“They’re regrouping…” the Orion pointed to several clusters of enemy ships dotted around the system map.

“It’s pretty clear; all that stands between them and total victory here is Starbase Seven,” the Bajoran cautioned the strategic operations chief as both looked towards the Captain, “…or us.”

“I know what my target would be at this point,” Giarvar spun in his chair and looked towards the two women clad in red. In truth, they all knew. Why would they attack the station when they could wipe out the forces defending the planet and subjugate the populace below?

You didn’t need to be a strategist to know this. The Vaadwaur knew it too, according to the three officers watching as the enemy forces converged on the location of Columbia Division.

“Noli,” Giarvar called the Bajoran woman forward and stood from his seat. Once she joined him, the Trill hushed his tone and leaned in to speak to the XO. “Look at them,” he whispered, nodding discreetly in the direction of different faces.

Noli followed his gaze to each face around the command hub. Not tired, but exhausted. Not scared, but terrified.

“That look I see in them? I see it on your face right now. I’m the Captain, but you are their Captain. Your crew needs you right now,” Giarvar whispered, looking her in the face and giving her a warm smile. “I could talk to them, try to inspire them, but you are the one they know and trust. You have to lead them through this,” he told her firmly, but with a smile that failed to hide the utter confidence he had in her.

She took a step closer to the Captain, tears welling, her eyes trained so hard on the man that no one else saw the weakness, the helplessness that she felt.

“I don’t think I can…” she whispered back, shaking her head in disbelief. “I don’t believe we can win this.”

“I believe in you,” Giarvar looked her in the eyes, but this time it was no ordinary look. His fingers traced along her right arm. A spark as they touched hands, a spark they hadn’t felt for an age. And in that moment, everything around them faded from existence. “Fuck the Admiral. Fuck the Vaadwaur. Fuck everything,” he told her. “All that matters right now is you. Show those bastards who took your command. Show this crew. Show the galaxy who Noli Auru is. Because I believe in you. It’s time you did too…”

Giarvar Kauhn had always had the uncanny ability to calm her nerves in the darkest of moments, to inspire her in ways she’d never experienced or imagined. But there was something else between them of late, and it was growing, growing since before Or’uil’s funeral. Growing exponentially in this very moment. Growing in a way that, in ordinary circumstances, would change the very dynamic of their relationship, but for now, they had to focus on events around them. They had to focus on saving the galaxy one planet at a time, in a way that only they knew how.

Taking a deep breath, the Bajoran steadied herself and reached for the panel to her left. ‘Find the words Noli,’ she told herself, ‘find the words…’

Across the ship, the boatswain’s whistle reverberated, echoed and rang out.

“My friends,” she spoke into the comm, holding back tears as she turned to the view screen at the heart of the bridge. “I wish I had the words to make things better, to make things easier, but I don’t. What could possibly make this better? Despite everything we’ve done, everything we’ve tried, and everything we have accomplished, the odds are against us. The galaxy is against us.”

She pushed her hands into her pockets and stared at her feet.

“This is our galaxy’s darkest hour. Wherever you look, we’re outnumbered. We’re outgunned. We’re running on empty. But we’re still here. We’re still together, and we’re still fighting. And as I look out of this viewscreen, the truth is, I’m scared. Petrified even. But I’m proud. I’m proud of the uniform we wear. Not because we’re stronger than our enemy, or because we’re smarter, or quicker, but because we care enough to fight anyway. Because even now, when the system burns around us and death lingers, we’re still fighting. Still fighting for the lives behind us. Still fighting for innocents across the Federation. Still fighting for our family in a way only we know how.”

When she eventually looked up, her gaze fell on Henry at the Conn, then T’Kir. Slowly but surely, she locked eyes with each and every one of the bridge crew. Then her thoughts drifted to those missing. People she loved and cared for. People she had to acknowledge.

“That’s what we are; family,” she told them, every one of them across the ship. “Sometimes we forget that. Sometimes we forget how much we mean to each other, until a day like today, when we remember. We remember that we are brave. Brilliant. Unbreakable. And today I want you to remember that whatever happens here, in this place, we mattered. You mattered. In the grand history of our collective peoples, what we did here mattered.”

“This isn’t some cliche, some throwaway comment every captain makes in a time of crisis. You matter to me. Everything you do matters, and everything you don’t do. And today, we do not yield. We do not break. If this is where we make our final stand, where our journey ends, then let our ending be one the galaxy remembers…”

Finally, her eyes locked with Giarvar one last time, the Captain smiling approvingly as she returned to her seat.

“Vaadwaur forces incoming,” Linn called out to the two senior officers. “They’re throwing everything at us.”

“Commander Zail, contact the Division,” the Trill called out firmly. “We’re done running from these assholes. Mister Mora, Henry; attack pattern Alpha-Five-Nine. We’re going in…”

High above the ice world of Andoria, the defenders of peace and liberty linked up with the planet’s native defence force for one final push in the defence of, arguably, one of the most important worlds in all of the Federation. There were to be no reinforcements, no calls for help. And as the mighty Galaxy, flanked by her Nebula-class sister and New Orleans-class cousin, surged forward, her phaser arrays flickered continually, firing in wide arcs and short bursts. From ventral and dorsal tubes alike, furious torpedo salvos exhausted her launchers. Her defence of the system was manic and terrifying, but still the Vaadwaur surged forth.

Watching from her vantage point on the Starbase, Theron found herself praying for the first time in a great many years. Praying for victory, praying for the safety of her colleagues, praying that Columbia would survive. But with each enemy barrage, her core destabilised a little more. With each polaronic blow against her shields, impulse power fluctuated further. One by one, section by section, the aging command ship’s systems failed. And amid the flickering lights and the thrum of the station’s own failing systems, Admiral Kelsa Theron could do nothing. Nothing but pray.

“Keep them safe, Captain…” she found herself whispering, “…whatever the cost.”