“Contact the squadron. Tell them to assemble their teams. We’re going down to the surface,” Fleet Admiral Reyes ordered urgently. She’d heard the Ferengi clear as day when he described it as the Jem’Hadar’s best reenactment of the Cardassian Genocide. A repeat of that massacre would not happen on Nasera. Not on her watch.

“Admiral, all ships reporting massive damage control efforts ongoing,” warned the strategic operations officer. “It’s going to be several hours before they’ve got it under control.”

All around them, consoles flickered and conduits sparked. The bridge was a wreck, as was the entire ship. The USS Polaris had hull breaches on a half dozen decks, and crewmembers were tending to their own wounds because the medical staff was completely overwhelmed. The tale was similar across the entire squadron. The Norway had been destroyed, the Steamrunner was dead in the water, and the others had all taken heavy damage.

“Do they still have officers that can walk and shoot?” Reyes asked frustratedly. “Unless they’re actively sealing the hull or stopping a core breach, tell them to grab a phaser and get their asses down there.” She was having none of it. The battlespace was clear. The battle that still needed to be had was down on the planet. “There are still eight million Federation citizens that depend on us to clear the streets.” 

Fleet Admiral Reyes had no illusions about what lay ahead. The Jem’Hadar were dug in. It would be hard work to eradicate the scourge. They were going to have to go building by building, block by block, to clear them out, and that took manpower. Lots of manpower. Fixing the ships could wait for later. 

Reyes turned to head for the turbolift, but a hand reached out to stop her.

“Where do you think you’re going Admiral?” asked Captain Devreux with a disapproving look. He had worried she would try something like this. She always wanted to go on away missions, and while he didn’t usually bother to try and stop her, they weren’t usually near as dangerous as this one would be either.

“I’m an officer that can walk and shoot, and do you see me actively repairing the hull or stopping a warp core breach?” Admiral Reyes countered. “I’m going down there, just as I ordered everyone else to do.”

“You’re needed up here to command your squadron.”

“There are no more speeches to give Gérard,” Reyes replied emphatically. “It’s time to get our hands dirty now.”

Captain Devreux wondered what ‘get our hands dirty now’ meant since they’d just gone through hell up here. They’d seen their life flash before their eyes at least twice in the last half hour. They’d engaged ramming speed for crying out loud! How could Reyes so quickly go for a third round? That was tempting fate.

“These officers we’re sending down,” Admiral Reyes continued. “Most of them have never seen anything like the nightmare they’re about to walk into. It is important that I am there.” Her face was a mix of conviction for her own choice and concern for the officers under her.

“Important to them? Or to you?” Captain Devreux knew his friend well.

“Does it matter? I‘m going.” Admiral Reyes’ mind was made up.

“If the Jem’Hadar realize you’re down there, they’ll do everything they can to shove your head on a pike for all to see,” the captain persisted. His fear came from friendship, but there was also logic behind his opposition. “You’re a high value target, Admiral.”

Reyes had to admit he had a point. The Dominion was as versed in psychological warfare as direct combat. Sticking an admiral’s head on a pike would send a strong message, and they’d go out of their way to accomplish it if they knew she was there. But there was a solution to that problem. 

Without hesitation, Fleet Admiral Reyes ripped the bar of pips off her collar and dropped them on the deck. Then she plucked one pip off Captain Devreux’s collar and placed it on her own. It was a trick as old as war itself, admirals and generals concealing their rank to avoid being marked by the enemy.

“Problem solved,” she said with a smile.

To the enemy, the admiral was now just another nameless redshirt, except that she knew the enemy. She knew how they fought, she’d killed them before, and she was ready to do it again. For all those they killed in the Dominion War, and for all those who’d lost their lives today. She didn’t even want to think about what the final number was from today, but she knew it would be in the hundreds, if not higher. There’d been one hundred and ninety souls aboard the Norway alone. “Any other concerns?”

“If there were, would it stop you from going?”

“Not over my dead body.”

And with that, Allison Reyes turned and headed for the turbolift.

Captain Devreux stood there a ball of nerves, worried for the woman he’d explored the galaxy with for the past seven years. In many ways, they were two peas in a pod. They had the same adventurous spirit, the same insatiable curiosity, the same love of the unknown. But in others, they could not have been more different. Today, he was reminded of that. Her word choice had not helped either. Captain Devreux certainly hoped that the next time they saw each other, it would not be over her dead body. 

He picked the admiral’s bar of pips up off the floor. She’d better come back for them.