The stars flickered in her canopy, but Dathasa only saw fire. They were still behind her, two Vaadwaur fighters were locked on, their weapons firing relentlessly. Dranoj managed to peel one away, dragging it across a gravity ripple and blasting it to pieces. But the second…

It was relentless. 

Dathasa’s corsair, Saeihr, shook again. Internal warning lights flashed red as her starboard engine sputtered and died. “I’m hit, Dranoj.” she said into the comms, her voice tight. “My shields are gone.” 

You’re not done yet, Suvwl’. Dranoj’s voice growled in her ear, I’ve got eyes on you, keep moving. 

Dathasa pulled hard on the controls, weaving between the wreckage. Her targeting display was a spider web of damaged systems. Her coolant gauge flashed warnings, and smoke had begun pouring from her starboard side, like blood in the water, but still she flew. Through her canopy she saw the Battle hurtling towards the outpost, its hull ablaze. She saw the Leif Erikson cutting through the Vaadwaur ships like a razor, and the fighter, squarely behind her. 

She gritted her teeth and threw her ship into a corkscrew as polaron bolts flew past her canopy. One clipped her port side stabilizer. The ship bucked hard, and then began to spin. She pulled hard on the controls, trying to right the craft, but it was no use. The controls were all unresponsive as she plummeted towards the wall of the conduit. “Stabilizers have failed.” She said, “Dranoj, I can’t…” Sparks burst from her console as the corsair’s systems finally failed. She heard the tone as the Vaadwaur fighter’s torpedo locked in. She felt the heat, heard the alarm.

And then the whole world tore away. 

On the Leif Erikson’s bridge, Ensign Pym swore loudly. “Captain, the Saeihr has been hit badly. It’s spinning into the conduit wall.” 

Scott sat bolt upright in his seat, scanning the viewscreen for the little fighter. Once he found it, he launched himself from his seat stopping at Ezra’s side. “Ezra, get us within range. Pym, can you get a lock on her signal?”

“Working on it, Captain.” Ensign Pym said, his fingers working frantically over the console. “Underspace interference is – wait. Okay, I’ve got it.” 

“Beam her out of there. Now!” Scott commanded. 

The transporter room glowed white as Dathasa rematerialized, collapsing forward onto her hands and knees with a ragged gasp. The smell of smoke and ozone clung to her like ash. She straightened up slowly, cradling her left arm, a deep gash welling up with green blood above her right eye. The transporter technician hurried over from around the console, but she waved them off. Without another word, she left the transporter room, headed for the bridge. 

The USS Battle tore through space like a wounded predator. Fire streamed from the starboard nacelle, and a trail of wreckage hung in the ship’s wake. Shattered panels, glowing debris, the remnants of what was once Starfleet precision. But her weapons still hummed, her engines still screamed, and her course held true. The station’s defenses fired frantically now, wild and disorganized. Photon torpedoes streaked past her viewscreen, glancing blows lit up her shields like a dying sun, but she did not stop. 

Inside the bridge, Commodore Sorev stood with her hands clasped neatly behind her back. Her face, smudged with ash and blood, was bathed in red and yellow light. Smoke curled around her ankles. To her right, the ops officer lay slumped over her console, burns covering her shoulders, and to her left, the Helm officer bled quietly into his collar. “Adjust course by point six degrees.” she said, her voice level. “All remaining power to Impulse engines. We won’t miss.” 

“Ma’am, you’ll tear the drive core loose.” he replied, his voice cracked with dryness. 

“I am aware, Lieutenant.” she replied. “Seal the deck and continue power transfer.” The station defenses realized what she was doing, but too late. The weapons lit up, scoring the Battle’s hull with dozens of impacts. One of the nacelles tore free, spiraling away in a fiery explosion. A forward bay imploded. A shockwave shuddered through the ship’s spine, but she held. 

Ensign Pym’s voice called out through the haze of smoke. “Multiple Vaadwaur signatures rerouting, Captain. They’re trying to intercept the Battle.”

“Then we need to keep them busy.” Captain Bowman replied, eyes locked on the viewscreen. He could see the Battle, wounded and belching flames, plow towards the base of the spire. “All available power to forward phasers, pattern Gamma-Two. We need to hammer their flanks.” Scott wheeled around quickly as the door opened behind him. Dathasa had just stormed in, with a fairly disgruntled transporter technician in tow. 

“Apologies, Captain.” said the technician, “I tried to make her go to sickbay, but she refused.”

“Damn right I did.” Dathasa said, wincing as she dodged out of the technician’s grasp again. “Is Dranoj okay?” she asked Scott, a look of pleading in her eyes. 

“She’s still flying.” Captain Bowman replied, “And we have a lock on her transporter signal.” Dathasa collapsed into the captain’s chair with a sigh of relief. The transporter technician looked horrified, but Scott just stooped down to examine her. 

“Told you the plan was to make it out.” she said with a weak smile. She reached up and placed her hand on the side of Scott’s face. 

“Number One, take her down to the Doctor.” Scott ordered, lifting her gently out of the chair. “Do not leave her side”. He added, leveling a serious look at Bema, who nodded curtly, and threw Dathasa’s good arm over his shoulder. Together, they left the bridge. 

The ship surged forwards, light and shadow dancing off her hull as she picked her way through the chaos of wrecked ships. Her phasers carved arcs of red across through the junk, slicing deep into vulnerable joints in the enemy ships. One escort burst with a flash like starlight, another careened into the crippled battleship, detonating in a chain reaction. 

The other Astika battleship, damaged but still deadly, made a break for the Battle’s unshielded side. “Target its engines.” Scott said to Vail, “If we can’t kill it, at least we can slow it down.” Vail worked the console, and after a moment, every forward facing phaser bank and torpedo tube lit up under her command. The torpedoes slammed into the aft section of the ship, sending one of the engines flying away from the battleship. The phasers cut deep into the exposed hole, causing more explosions to rock the vessel. The battleship twisted sideways, its remaining engine sputtering. It was drifting harmlessly now, between the two Starfleet vessels. 

The Erikson took a hit – hard. A well placed polaron burst cracked into the port nacelle. The bridge lights dimmed, and consoles behind the captain’s chair exploded, sending one officer to the floor. 

“We’ve lost primary shields.” Vail reported, watching the warnings appear on her display. “The secondary grid has come online, Captain.” 

“Good.” Scott replied. “Keep firing.” He watched the flaming wreck of the USS Battle make it through the rest of the resistance. Nothing left now but the end.

“She isn’t going to make it through that alive.” Ezra said quietly. 

“She’s not supposed to.” Captain Bowman replied, as he saw the escape pods fly from the Battle.

“Impact in forty seconds, Commodore.” said the Tactical Officer quietly. His hands trembled on the console as he spoke. 

Sorev turned around, surveying the remains of her bridge and crew. Her voice softened. “You are relieved.” she said to the crew. “Transfer command authorization to automated systems. You will eject, now.” 

“But-” started the helm officer.

“That is an order, Lieutenant.” Her gaze was not unkind, just unshakeable. The remaining crew scrambled, escape pods hissing into launch readiness as they filed into the small cramped spaces. The first few launched, spinning out into space away from the Battle as it tore unimpeded towards the base of the spire. 

Sorev stepped forward, alone now, and activated the manual helm control. The bridge was nearly silent now, smoke drifted around in thin, lazy sheets. The only noise remaining was the snaps and hisses of ruptured power conduits, and the rhythmic hum of the impulse engines, still pushing the broken warship towards her target.

Twenty seconds.

 From her chair, she accessed the main engineering controls, bypassing the safety protocols one by one. The computer’s calm voice rang out through the silence. 

Main engineering controls transferred to bridge.

Warp core breach protocol unlocked.

Containment interlocks disabled. 

A low whine began to build deep within the ship, barely audible at first but building, like the breath before a scream. Commodore Sorev tapped her combadge. “Computer, authorize command level override. Commodore Aylin Sorev, Beta-one-zero-four-epsilon. Initiate warp core overload. Delay detonation, impact plus four point seven seconds.”

Confirmed. Warp core breach in progress. 

Ten seconds. 

Commodore Sorev allowed herself one final breath. No sadness, no regret. On the viewscreen, the Vaadwaur outpost filled every inch. The base of the spire looming ever closer. Sorev stepped forward, once again clasping her hands behind her back. She tilted her head slightly. “The needs of the many…” 

Impact. 

The USS Battle hit the base of the Vaadwaur outpost spire like a comet, tunnelling deep into the base before finally coming to a stop. For a moment all was quiet, then the world tore itself apart. The warp core detonated with merciless ferocity, vaporizing entire decks. The fireball surged upwards through the spire, atomizing conduits and overloading power cells. Explosions bloomed all over the surface of the outpost as the spire collapsed. 

Through the main viewscreen, there was a muted flash as the USS Battle buried itself in the base of the spire. Then, a rising blue-white glow pulsed outwards from the crash site. The lights dimmed automatically as warning klaxons began to sound. Vail shouted over the noise. “Warp core breach!” 

The warp core went critical, in a blinding flash of brilliant, searing light. The explosion tore outwards, casting aside the thick hull plates of the Vaadwaur outpost as if they were bits of paper. A shockwave of force hit the Erikson, and the deck plates under their feet groaned and shook. Initial dampeners kicked in just in time to keep the ship from tearing itself apart. On the viewscreen, the outpost had begun to tear itself apart. Great fissures of white-hot energy tore themselves into the surface. The spire split up one side, then collapsed in on itself. The remaining structure broke apart, a great wedge drifting slowly away from the burning husk of the outpost. 

And then – darkness. 

In seconds, the inferno vanished into the void, leaving only smoldering wreckage, floating plasma clouds, and an eerie calm of the aftermath. For a moment, no one spoke. Wreckage drifted silently where the outpost had once pulsed with malicious energy. 

“Readings?” Scott asked quietly. 

“Subspace distortions clearing.” Ensign Pym reported as a soft chime sounded. “Warp field integrity is…restored.” Another chime. “Captain, we are receiving incoming signals. Local subspace traffic, automated Starfleet relays, a priority one message from Starbase 21. Safe to say communications are back.” 

“Let’s take care of this first.” Bowman said, taking his seat. “ Start by locating all of the survivors from the Battle. I want all of the pods accounted for.” 

“What about Commodore Sorev?” Ezra asked. 

“I’m not picking up any life signs inside the outpost.” Pym answered. “Not even a body.” 

“She made the only choice that would guarantee our success.” said Vail, from behind the captain’s chair. 

“She made a Captain’s decision.” Scott added.

All survivors accounted for, Captain. Came Lieutenant Sargent’s voice over the comms.

“What now, Sir?” Ezra asked, turning around. 

“We get the wounded to Deep Space 12, and we tell Starfleet what happened here.” The Leif Erikson banked slowly to port, and headed back towards Deep Space 12, followed by Dranoj in her corsair. 

The celebration was still happening two decks above, both for the reports of widespread repulsion of the Vaadwaur invaders, and the solemn celebration of all those lives lost. Cheers, toasts, laughter all muffled by duranium. Scott had come down here to check on the status of the repairs. At least, that is what he told himself. Dathasa found him there, leaning on the railing, watching repair crews replace hull plates, sending showers of sparks raining down to the floor. She didn’t speak at first, just stepped slowly up to him, her boots squeaking softly on the duranium floor. Her arm was still in a sling, and there was a bandage on her forehead. Scott turned at the sound of her boots, and they locked eyes. Something shifted between them – subtle, seismic. 

“I told you I’d come back for you.” He said. 

“You did say that.” She said, her voice low. “You also said ‘Not yet’, but that was before we almost died out there.” Another step. She was very close now. 

“I remember.”

“And now?”

Silence. 

Then Scott stepped forward, took her in his arms and kissed her. Not tentative, or explosive, just sure. Like something he knew the shape of for a while now, and finally let himself have. His hand found her neck; her free hand curled itself into the fabric of his undershirt. Neither of them trembled but the kiss carried the weight of everything they hadn’t said. When they pulled apart, breath shallow, foreheads brushing, she whispered to him “You still think you’ll mess it up?”

He gave a quiet, broken laugh. “Probably, but I’m willing to try.”

She leaned into him again, her lips brushing his cheek. “Good, because I’m not walking away this time.”