There was no smalltalk, no discussions. Just an eerie silence that seemed to suffocate the occasional beeping of consoles and hushed murmurs of the crew.

Yellow alert bathed Ops in a soft amber light, having lost its urgency after weeks of expecting the worst, and hoping for the best.

Ceix, at the central command console, busied himself with reviewing whatever intel Gant had provided. He knew the report by heart, but it was the only thing that kept him from pacing. Next to him, Keller’s eyes were fixed on the holographic display table which was projecting a real-time schematic of the station itself and the space surrounding it, still filled with the shuttles and freighters the refugees had arrived with.

He stood still. Too still. But his hands trembled ever so slightly whenever he adjusted the display, and Ceix knew he was scared.

They all were. Certainly fear was a reasonable emotion to feel, but they were Starfleet. And because they were Starfleet, they did whatever it took to pull themselves together, and not say out loud what they were all thinking – that this day could be their last.

“Sir.” Velix’s voice cut through the silence, and at once, all faces turned toward the young Trill. She didn’t even notice. “Spectrographic filters are showing large buildups of polarized gravitons.” she continued, uncharacteristically high pitched as her fingers flew across the console, already anticipating Ceix’s unspoken order.

Ceix’s breath caught in his throat, momentarily struggling to breathe, as if the oxygen had been sucked out of the room. Keller straightened, abandoning the schematics he had been reviewing. They were just symbols and words now. Sh’shiqil’s jaw set.

“Confirming aperture signatures.” she called out.

On the viewscreen, space seemed to fold inward before splintering apart under the pressure. Constellations of stars were warped, twisted, distorted, and then vanished, just moments before the darkness that had mercifully swallowed them was replaced by the blooming apertures.

Velix gasped. “Sensors are detecting several warp signatures.”

They spilled out of the aperture like insects following the scent of decay. More than Ceix could count.

“Multiple pythus-class fighters incoming – three squadrons. They’re setting course for the station!”

“Three-… n, four Manasa-class escorts.”

“They’re here.”, Keller whispered, staring at the viewscreen, momentarily unable to move, or look away.

“The fighters are forming a pincer. Flanks covered by the Manasa escorts.”

Like a noose tightening.

Ceix felt a cold chill run down his spine. His fingers clutched the armrest of his chair until his knuckles turned white.

He should say something. Something wise. Something professional, yet uplifting. They were Starfleet. But after a long moment of silence, all he could press out was  “Red alert. Raise shields. Power weapons.”

“Please! Stay calm.”, Una tried. She was pleading, begging, not wanting to draw weapons on unarmed people, but at the same time swallowed by the panic that had set in the moment the air had filled with the sound of the red alert klaxon.

“They’re here!” screamed a woman, trying to shove her out of the way. Orders were to keep the civilians in Little Risa, its position making it more safe than the outer sections of the station, but no one wanted to stay.  They were headed towards the shuttle bays, the transporter rooms, the docking platforms. Anything to get them out of here.

“We will do whatever we can to protect you!” she tried to reassure them, her voice barely audible over the screaming of the crowd.

A moment later, the air was knocked out of her lungs. They were pressing into her. She stumbled backwards. A glance to her right and left showed her that the other security officers were facing the same.

“I order you to stop!”, she yelled, usually not one to raise her voice, but hoping it would give them pause. But it didn’t.  The crowd moves as one, and she was just a single person.

“Fall back!” another officer called out, and Una obeyed, stepping away from the exit.

“Where are you going?”, she asked desperately, not sure why it mattered. She knew that they were leaving. And she knew that they wouldn’t survive.

“We will protect you!” she tried again, this time screaming.

A hollow promise. She knew that. The plan might work, but it would takea miracle. And she didn’t believe in those any more.

“You’ve done enough already.” someone said. Gently. It was the first time someone addressed her. She couldn’t see who had said it.

She didn’t know why, but it felt reassuring.

“Sir, there’s a new aperture forming. This one … it’s bigger.”, Velix said quietly. “Structural stress increasing. It’s coming through.”

On the viewscreen, the aperture shimmered violently. Then it vanished. Eclipsed by… something.

“Astika-class. Confirmed. Hull configuration matches intelligence reports.”

It emerged, slowly, menacing. Massive and brutal. Designed to break things.

“They’re holding positions. No fire yet.” Sh’shiqil frowned. “They’re hailing us.”

“On screen.”

A Vaadwaur appeared on the viewscreen, a face carved from stone, with harsh features and jagged scars. He was calm. Too calm.  As if the outcome of the battle was already decided.

“I am Capt-…” Ceix tried, but was cut off before he could finish his sentence.

“The Federation has fallen.” the Vaadwaur snarled, pausing a single beat to let those words sink in, Observing in thinly veiled glee how they had the desired effect. From the corner of his eyes, Ceix could see Eshrevi’s eyes widen, and Velix covering her mouth. Keller, who stood motionlessly next to him, clenched his fists.

“No one will come to your aid.”, the Vaadwaur continued. “Your station has no means of defending itself against us. But we are… merciful.” Ceix noticed the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Surrender now, and we will spare you. You have three minutes.”

The commline cut.

“It’s a trick.” Velix said, eyes fixed on the now empty viewscreen.

“No” Keller shook her head. “It’s not.”

Ceix turned his head toward him.

“Gant predicted this.” he explained hastily. ”They want us to surrender. It would destroy Starfleet’s ideals more than destroying the station ever could.”

Ceix gave a slow nod. “They don’t just want to destroy us. They want to destroy everything we stand for.”

“But they will spare us. If we surrender. Unconditionally.”

Ceix let that sink in, not yet having finished his thought process when, unexpectedly, Sh’shiqil spoke up.

“This isn’t the Callisto.” she said.  “It’s… a home. Two thousand officers, families, civilians, almost fivehundred refugees. We could save them.”

The silence that followed was deafening, and seemed to stretch over minutes. Minutes they

“There… there is activity from the refugee ships.”, Velix announced urgently. Una had informed them of the situation, and while they should have expected it, it still came as a surprise.

“They’re leaving.” Keller said quietly. “And they will be heading right into the Vaadwaur.”

“They’re taking shuttles and runabouts.”

Would they be able to escape? He didn’t know. But it meant they had a chance. He couldn’t force anyone to die here.

“Releasing ships from terminals”. Sh’shiqil said heavily, and one by one, the ships powered up their engines.

“Let them go.” said Ceix.

But they didn’t leave.

“What’s happening?”

“They… they are forming a defensive parameter. They’re powering up weapons…”

Ceix’s heart leapt. Despite all, despite the fragility of trust, despite their differences and despite the already damaged state of their ships, they were ready to fight.

“They’re defending us.” Keller nodded, eyes wide.

Ceix drew in a short breath, and looked at the view screen. “And we will not surrender.”

The decision was made, seconds before their time was up.

“Well?” the Vaadwaur asked, but his demeanor had changed. No longer calm.

“We will not surrender.”, Ceix echoed his earlier statement, and now, the crew mirrored his expression. Determine to face whatever may come.

“Prepare to be crushed!”