The room was dark besides the luminance of Nasera’s K-Type dwarf star bleeding through the window over her headboard. The deep orange-red hue it cast across the bedroom reminded Allison Reyes of the blood spilled the night before. By last count, 889 souls lost across the squadron, and more still lay in a state of medical limbo. As for the ship, the Polaris was weeks away from taking to the stars again, but at least it was in one piece. The Norway class vessel from Task Group 514, on the other hand, had been committed to the deep, all hands lost, 190 souls gone in a single instant.

Allison Reyes lay in her bed, exhausted but restless. After the battle, there had been so much to coordinate. There were casualties to manage, a medical field unit to stand up, engineering efforts to start the rebuild, counseling and cultural affairs efforts to care for officers and colonists, and so much more. She hadn’t even spoken with Commander Lewis or his covert operators yet, the people without whom victory would never have been possible. 

By the time she’d returned to the ship at 0240, nine hours after the battle and eighteen since she’d last slept, she had nothing left. After speaking briefly with Captain Devreux, she’d collapsed in her bed still in her battle fatigues, still with dirt on her face and blood on her hands. She slept horribly, her mind a maelstrom of emotions, adrenaline and grief colliding in an aggressive symphony. Regardless of the lack of rest she’d found, it was now time to get up. War waited for no one, and, while they had retaken Nasera, this war was far from over.

Reyes made her way to the shower, disrobing as she went. As the dust-caked clothes fell to the floor, it was like a warrior shirking her armor. She felt vulnerable as she stood there naked, the cold water washing away the dust, the dirt, and the blood. But no amount of soap and water would wash away what had happened.

As she dried off with a towel and put on a fresh new uniform, she thought about what lay ahead. Battle was hard, but the after was even worse. Based on Doctor Henderson’s latest update, there were 301 calls to be made to the families of her crew, notifying them that their loved one would not be coming home. And that number would still grow as more succumbed to their injuries. The Admiral dreaded those calls, but she would make as many as she could herself. These men and women had given their lives for noble purpose, and their parents and spouses deserved to hear it from her. But those calls would wait for a quieter moment, once they had some modicum of control over the situation. There was one call that could not wait though.

Last night, she had composed the briefest of updates to Fourth Fleet Command: “Mission accomplished. Nasera in Federation hands. More to follow.” It was hardly an update, but she could muster no more at the end of the long night. Now though, it was time to get them on the horn.

“Computer, get me Commodore Imya Jori, USS Verity.” Fleet Admiral Reyes took a seat at her desk as she waited for the connection to be established. “Oh, and lights, fifty percent,” she added, realizing she was still sitting in a dark room. The lighting rose, her eyes struggling to adjust, as she straightened her collar. Might as well look at least somewhat put together, especially given what she was about to lobby the Task Force Commanding Officer to give her.

Commodore Jori was sitting in her office aboard the USS Verity, which was stationed at Farpoint Station where she monitored the situation across the Deneb Sector. Jori was just taking a sip of her morning coffee when the computer beeped. The Commodore accepted the call to be greeted by the face of Fleet Admiral Allison Reyes.

Even if the Admiral was trying her best to hide it, Jori could not help but note that Reyes looked exhausted like she’d just been through hell. “I saw that you’ve successfully retaken Nasera,” she said in reference to a brief update from the Polaris late in the night, short and to the point but lacking any real substance.

“The scourge has been eradicated from Nasera,” Admiral Reyes replied, her choice of words very much alluding to her present state of mind. “The Dominion fleet has been defeated, the orbital platform has been destroyed, the planetary defense system is back under our control, and, as of 1910 hours last night, the streets of Nasera City were free of Jem’Hadar.” For the first time in over a month, the people of Nasera II had gone to bed as free citizens of the Federation, and Admiral Reyes was mighty proud of that fact.

While good news, it wasn’t much to go on for the head of Task Force 93. It was just a basic sitrep, the sort of thing that could have been deduced from her brief note in the middle of the night. Commodore Jori knew there had to be more to the story than that. “What is the status of the ships and Nasera itself? And how many did we lose?” she asked as she shifted in her seat, sensing what might come next.

“Victory did not come without cost,” Admiral Reyes cautioned before giving her colleague the readout. “We lost one ship, the Norway from Task Group 514, and the rest of our ships are pretty trashed. It will be weeks before the Polaris or the Diligent will be spaceworthy again, and I’m pretty sure the Steamrunner is going to end up in mothballs once we can get it moving.” Before the conflict began, Reyes had a tense exchange with Jori about what was coming. Now, the Commodore would have to face that reality. “We lost 889 souls across the squadron last night, and there are another hundred or so in critical condition that could go either way.” The numbers were staggering. She’d lost more than a sixth of the Polaris’ crew, and more than a fifth of the squadron’s entire  complement had perished. She paused to let the Commodore process.

Jori closed her eyes for a brief moment to process what she was just told. She said a silent prayer for those that lost their lives to save millions more.

“If it is any consolation Commodore,” Admiral Reyes offered, pain evident in her voice. “They rose to their duty, and they did what had to be done. Each and every one of them.” She thought back to Crewman Nam Jae-Sun’s final words before he and Ryssehl sacrificed themselves aboard the orbital station. ‘Tell my parents I love them, and that I did my duty,’ was what he asked. Crewman Nam wasn’t a day past thirty, and he’d given his life so his colleagues might live and so Nasera might be free. The same was true for every other officer and crewman that had breathed their last breath in the last twenty four hours. They died for greater purpose, for each other and for the citizens of Nasera.

The Admiral’s words lingered on the air, an uncomfortable silence settling over the link as the two worked through their thoughts. It was the hardest of responsibilities a flag officer faced, sending sailors to die. And on this blood red morning, they had to confront that at startling scale.

“Our fight does not end here though Commodore,” Admiral Reyes insisted, piercing the veil of their inner monologues. Her words were strong and biting. “The Dominion still runs rampant across the Deneb. There are dozens of worlds just like Nasera where our colonists still suffer. The relief efforts here are underway. The Polaris, the Ingenuity and the Diligent are in orbit here, and Captain Devreux, Captain Vox and Commander Lee are more than capable of overseeing it. So get me a new ship, and give me a new target.” She was not done with the Dominion. Not yet. Not until the only Jem’Hadar that still existed were in the Gamma Quadrant.

Snapping out of her thoughts, she looked at Reyes, trying to process what her counterpart had just said. “You’ve got to be joking right now,” Jori replied as she leaned in further. “There are other ships in the Fourth Fleet that are responding to other areas.” Reyes’ demeanor was clear. This was not a joke. All Jori could figure was that Allison Reyes had lost her mind. “No, absolutely not. You are to limp back to Farpoint Station for debriefing,” Jori ordered, looking at Reyes with a serious expression.

“I’m too old for this coddling Commodore,” Admiral Reyes countered, using her junior flag rank to remind the Commodore of her veteran status. Reyes was a woman who’d cut her teeth three decades prior during the Dominion War, and who had worked almost every major combat operation since then. “I do not need a debriefing, and Captain Devreux can provide you with whatever details you need. What I need is a ship and a target.”

Admiral Reyes pulled out a PADD and began scanning the Fourth Fleet’s manifest. She quickly found what she was looking for.

“I see here that you’ve got a Duderstadt class light cruiser, the USS Serenity, just fixed up at Farpoint Station after a run in with the Jem’Hadar. She’s down a captain, and I happen to still know how to be one,” Reyes pressed. She put aside the fact that she knew Serenity’s former CO, Captain Mark Gilliam, and that it was regrettable for the Fleet to have lost him. This was war, and that is how it went. “I know we have more targets than we have ships, so it’s a waste to have her sitting there. Give me the Serenity and whatever crew she’s got that are ready to get back in it, and get me back out there. I’ll pull a few of my officers, the ones that shoot rather than the ones that build, to fill any gaps.” The Admiral’s eyes narrowed on her colleague. She would not be taking no for an answer.

Commodore Jori looked at her with a shocked look on her face, although she should have expected it coming from a stubborn woman like Allison Reyes. “Just so you can damage another ship?” she spat back. “I think this has gotten more personal than it should be Allison! You are looking for vengeance,” Jori said with a concerned tone in her voice for her well being. “This time it might be you that doesn’t return.” Jori let out a heavy sigh.

“Each of us needs something to fight for,” Admiral Reyes replied firmly. “I know exactly what I’m fighting for. Do you?” Reyes looked out her window at the star that hung in the distance. “Our people, our way of life, our freedom, they hang in the balance so long as the Dominion remains in our space.” Drawing her focus back to the Commodore on the screen, she then drove the point home: “And so I answer the call, and I will keep answering that call, until that menace is no more.” Or until she was no more, Reyes thought to herself, but she didn’t say it aloud. She fully understood both outcomes were a very realistic possibility. “I just need a ship.”

Closing her eyes for a brief moment, Commodore Jori knew it was pointless in arguing further with someone who was clearly not going to take no for an answer. Admiral Reyes just sat there, staring at her with an ice cold expression. She was not going to back down.

Jori let out a deep breath and worked her jaw a bit. “Fine,” the Commodore conceded at last. “I will be dispatching the Serenity under your care, but I will be coming with the Verity as well. With the Polaris in the state that she’s in, she is in no shape to lead the humanitarian mission. My ship is designed for it. We will depart within the hour.”

Jori looked at Reyes with a clenched jaw for the second time in as many weeks.

“Thank you Commodore,” Admiral Reyes replied, and then she abruptly hung up the link before anything further could be said. The Commodore had relented. She would get her ship. Reyes picked the PADD back up and began skimming the latest intelligence reports. It was time to pick a target.