‘Pathfinder and Endeavour have got Triumph, Captain. Trust me.’ Even though Valance was just an image on the viewscreen, her eyes still bored into him, and Rourke could not summon a rebuttal.

He wanted to. He wanted to insist he stay with his ship, even if he was sat in Independence’s captain’s chair. He wanted to insist that he lead the fight against the thickest knot of enemy forces, with his far greater combat leadership experience than Valance or Harrian. A small, petty part of him wanted to be the one to rescue Jericho. But most of all, he wanted to rescue her.

Rourke’s fist curled atop the armrest of this unfamiliar command chair, and he looked at the tactical display showing Shepherd’s support wing forming up with the replenished allied forces of the Battle of Izar. Gul Malek had answered his call much sooner than expected, and the Cardassian had been eager to engage after the ambush Endeavour had rescued him from. Crossing the border for the fight of their lives had clearly been more tempting to the Third Order’s task group than standing guard and waiting. Their numbers had turned the tide of this fight, but that didn’t mean it was won. That didn’t mean he could afford to lose focus.

His eyes flickered up to meet Valance’s. ‘Go get them, Captain. We’ll finish this.’ Valance gave a curt nod before her image disappeared, and Rourke turned to Rosewood. ‘Ops, signal Commander Shepherd to ready her ships. We’re heading for Izar V. Helm – take us in.’

The young Vulcan, Lieutenant Sovak, brought Independence swerving around. Rourke felt the deck lurch, gripped the armrest tighter, and had to fight a small grin. Four years ago, he’d captained the Diligent-class USS Firebrand, a ship far leaner, faster, scrappier than the might of Endeavour – even than her Manticore-class predecessor. Independence was swifter still, but in him burned the memory of every engagement where wits and skill were far more prized than firepower and brute force.

But they’d never faced anything like this before.

‘Breen raiders breaking orbit on V. Setting an attack course,’ Lieutenant Hadrian reported crisply.

‘It looks,’ said Commander Ra-Talorei, ‘like the Breen ships had put in for repairs. There’s signs of damage on the hull, days old.’

‘That’ll be why we didn’t expect them as part of the defences,’ Rourke mused. ‘I can live with finishing someone else’s job. Let’s take them out.’

‘Matt.’ Rosewood had turned in his seat and was fixing him with a quizzical look. ‘I’m picking up another communication from Nighthawk.’

Rourke pursed his lips at the other man’s confusion. ‘Then put it on.’

‘People of Izar. My name is Sophia Hale…’

His grip on the armrests was iron tight as the pre-recorded message flooded through the bridge. By taking Independence away from the engagement around Triumph, he’d tried to put those feelings in a box, shove them away so he could focus on the here and now.

‘We’re fighting for you. And you are not alone.’

But here was her voice, almost as if she was right beside him. Rourke swallowed the quavering mouthful of emotions he couldn’t begin to process but knew had sunk into his bones as he fixed his gaze on the viewscreen. On the distant shape of Izar V, on the orbital complex from which the system defences were controlled, and on the Breen ships between them and their destination.

‘You heard the lady,’ Matt Rourke rumbled, chin up an inch. ‘Let’s finish this.’

‘Breen cruiser is listing. Our last volley breached the hull,’ Kharth reported with satisfaction.

‘Pathfinder has finished off that cruiser,’ Airex confirmed from across the bridge.

‘That’s… impressive shooting,’ Kharth said, unable to keep begrudging admiration out of her voice. ‘I know they were damaged, but she’s not a warship.’

Harrian did not share her consideration, already moving on to the next issue. He looked at Lindgren. ‘Triumph?’

‘Commander Cortez reports they’re restoring power to security systems. Jem’Hadar boarding parties are being locked down by forcefields.’

Kharth’s lips thinned. ‘That’s good, but they’re not going to rejoin the fight any time soon.’ Her eyes landed on the Jem’Hadar battleship. ‘That’s going to have to be our problem.’

Far twisted in her chair. ‘That – we’re not a warship either; don’t we really need an Inquiry for this?’

‘We have our allies,’ Harrian said, leaning back in the chair. ‘Signal Pathfinder to keep the raiders and fighters off the Triumph, Elsa, and ask the Third Order to join us. Nobody’s winning this alone.’

‘Maybe not,’ said Kharth, hands already flying across her controls. ‘But I bet they haven’t figured out that Triumph hammered their port manoeuvring thrusters in the fight. If we stay on their aft, they’ll have a hell of a time bringing their weapons to bear.’

But Harrian gave her a sad, thoughtful look. ‘Which means their weapons are on our allies instead.’

Kharth hesitated. ‘Are you saying we’re taking them down from in front of them, sir?’

‘Our metaphasic shields are far more resilient than anything the Cardassians have. And Endeavour is more manoeuvrable. So, yes.’ He turned to face the viewscreen. ‘We’re taking point on this. You’ve got to hit them hard, Commander, but also keep their interest. Mister Whitaker? Keep our weapons to bear as much as possible, but minimise taking direct fire.’

‘Break the ship in two and do the impossible,’ Whitaker drawled, before cracking his knuckles. ‘Nobody told me leaving a cockpit would be quite so sexy.’

‘Their defences on this section are failing; take us in!’ Shepherd’s voice rang out across the King Arthur’s cockpit, and she gripped her safety harness tight as Ensign Shiera took the runabout in a hard turn. Through fire and death they plunged, breaking from the chaos of the engagement in the skies above Izar V. Below them shone the barren surface and its scattered habitat domes, but before that came the station and their target.

She hit the comms and pressed her headset closer. ‘Independence, we’ve found an opening. We’re going.’

Rourke’s voice came back, and with the headset, it sounded all-encompassing. ‘I hear you, Shep. We’ve got your backs out here. Go save the day.’

The two had not yet seen eye to eye on any particular matter. Shepherd had watched for months with gentle discomfort at how easily he had seemed to command the respect of Endeavour’s veterans and how he hadn’t sought hers. At how she hadn’t felt whatever everyone else felt for this grumpy, implacable man who moved from belly laughs one moment to stern rage the next.

It was not that he won her over with those simple words in her ears. But for the first time, she thought she saw it. Thought she felt it. It was enough.

‘Point defences are locking on,’ Rhade warned. ‘Remodulating shields to compensate. We will take fire on this approach.’

‘Lieutenant, I must keep this docking manoeuvre steady,’ said Shiera with all the crisp coolness of a Vulcan facing death. ‘So our shields must hold.’

Adamant Rhade’s face was like granite as he watched his tactical readout. ‘They will hold.’

Shepherd closed her eyes.

Without docking permission, they were brute-forcing themselves into a landing bay. Away from the Dominion and Breen defenders they plunged, arrowing so close to the station the enemy craft had to break away lest they, too, be targeted by the point defences. Flak and phasers crashed against them as if they had surged into a storm deadlier than anything nature could unleash.

The King Arthur bucked. Jerked. Then passed through lightning, and with the precision of a sniper, Shiera threaded them into the station’s auxiliary shuttlebay.

The landing was less neat, but the moment the ship had set down, Shepherd was on her feet. ‘Alright, people, let’s move!’ She turned to the pilot, expression set. ‘Only wait for us so long as it’s safe. If the bay gets overrun, launch.’

Shiera turned back with a faint frown. ‘Then you will be cut off.’

‘If we can’t take the control centre, we’re all screwed. We’re coming back with our shields or on them.’ Shepherd marched into the rear compartment, Rhade half a step behind her, and regarded the security team double-checking their equipment. ‘Let’s make the Spartans look like little babies, people.’

It was a little more complicated than that. They deployed into the shuttlebay unassailed, but breaching into the corridors came with a volley of weapons fire, Jem’Hadar soldiers already rallied to resist them. Rhade stepped up to lead the assault while Shepherd fell behind cover, crouching with Athaka, who was rather desperately clutching his tricorder.

‘You’re sure it’s down this way?’

‘Positive!’ the young officer almost squealed as energy weapons blazed overhead. ‘Control centre, one hundred metres! It’s not far!’

Shepherd gave the Jem’Hadar soldiers blocking their way a dubious glance. They could make one hundred metres very far. She patted his shoulder. ‘Stay low!’

She’d seen her share of action aboard Triumph. Served during Operation: Gatecrasher as Klingon insurgents were driven from Federation space. Clashed with renegade Cardassian soldiers on the border. Fought hand-to-hand with Remans as the Romulan Star Empire collapsed.

Nothing was like fighting the Jem’Hadar. Starfleet had the element of surprise, and Rhade was a seasoned combat leader. She could tell he’d studied this enemy, pored through every record of every encounter he could get his hands on. Sweeping fire and grenades took care of shrouds, while he lured soldiers into approaching to apply overwhelming force only to reveal additional firepower once they were close enough to take down in a volley.

Section by section, they advanced. It was only one hundred metres, but the Jem’Hadar made them pay.

‘This is it!’ Athaka called as they reached the set of heavy double doors. ‘If you cover me…’

‘Griffin! You’re on the L-T!’ Shepherd called, ushering the young security officer forward. The crewman advanced with Athaka to the controls without hesitation, and she knew she didn’t have to elaborate on the orders. If he had to put his body in the way to keep Athaka safe, he’d do it.

‘Another six on the approach,’ Rhade reported in a low growl, spinning to unleash weapons fire down the next corridor. The doorway was in a junction, an unforgiving spot for protecting themselves. ‘Bravo Team, secure this passageway ten metres down. We need cover.’

Before the doors slid open, one shot had sizzled past Shepherd’s ear. Another security officer had not been so lucky. ‘In!’ she barked. ‘Move, move!’

Griffin took a Jem’Hadar soldier in the face the moment they were through; the next two were dropped by snapshots from Rhade, and only then did Shepherd soak in their surroundings. The orbital platform’s command centre. Gleaming lights of the Federation-built system that was, she believed, once meant to coordinate system-wide mining facilities as much as defences.

A Vorta in the middle of the room, hands raised.

‘Ah,’ he said. ‘You are inconveniently quick.’

Shepherd’s lip curled as the security team barrelled in behind her, and the doors closed. ‘Lieutenant Rhade, secure the prisoner. Athaka, you know what to do.’

Security officers grabbed the Vorta, patting him down before cuffing him at Rhade’s instructions. ‘More soldiers are coming,’ the Vorta warned. ‘You will be overrun here soon enough.’

‘Soon isn’t now. Athaka?’

‘I’m on it.’ The Coridanite was at the central control panel already, tricorder open. ‘It looks like they’ve forced someone to give them administrative control of the whole system rather than remove the Federation software or isolate the defence grid.’

‘Can you break it with the command codes Captain Jericho gave us?’

‘No. This will take some time,’ Athaka said with another wince.

The Vorta gave a happy smile. ‘Time you do not have.’

Shepherd rounded on him, hand on her phaser. ‘You can unlock this?’

‘I can. I won’t.’ As her hand tensed, he rolled his eyes. ‘Don’t waste anyone’s time by posturing, Commander. Even if you had the will to use that on an unarmed prisoner, in death, I am only reborn to serve the Founders’ will.’

‘Are you?’ Shepherd pushed. ‘This far out, twenty-five years later, on a mission the Dominion of this century never allowed? Don’t you think you’ve probably been replaced by now?’ She saw the hesitation in his eyes and drew her phaser. ‘Just how willing are you to face death?’

The Vorta’s gaze flickered. ‘You’re Starfleet. You won’t.’

‘The Starfleet you know has been through a lot the past quarter-century. You don’t know who we are.’ Behind the Vorta, Shepherd saw Rhade shift his weight. What would he do, she wondered, if she pushed it further? And even if he wanted to stop her, would he be quick enough?

Perhaps the Vorta saw that or sensed it. Perhaps he simply found a shred more courage. Either way, he straightened and looked her in the eye. ‘You’re right. I don’t know what Starfleet is this century. So show me, Commander.’

She should, a part of her thought, be more fascinated by this moment. Vorta were entities of myth, almost – as were the Jem’Hadar. Seen only in pictures and holograms, and yet here she was, blasting her way through these fortifications, staring one down and threatening his life. Try as she might, Shepherd could not summon anger or hate. However hard the fighting outside raged, however much she despised the occupation, the invasion, the violence, she could not find it in herself to hate this entity.

It was her first time meeting a Vorta. She had no qualms about defeating him. But nothing in her burned to be an executioner.

Shepherd holstered the phaser and turned to Athaka. ‘Let’s show him. How long is this going to take, Lieutenant?’

Athaka gave an unhelpful grimace. ‘Twenty minutes?’

‘We don’t have that.’ She tapped her combadge. ‘Shepherd to Independence. We’ve secured the control centre. This isn’t as easy as just dumping in our command codes; anyone got any bright ideas before Athaka has to hack our own systems?’

Rourke’s voice came back a few moments later. She suspected he’d been consulting the crew. ‘Stand by, Shep. We’ll try to cook something up – hang on. Pathfinder wants in.’

The new voice of Karana Valance came over the comms. ‘Shepherd, Pathfinder. Jericho had us working on this en route. My Chief of Operations has an unfinished piece of Trojan Horse software to access a Federation operations management system like this. Are you in a position to use it?’

‘How unfinished?’ Shepherd’s nose wrinkled at Athaka.

But the young man had sprung over, eyes bright. ‘It’s Lieutenant Athaka, Com- Captain! Tell Lieutenant Thawn to send it over! I know her coding, I can fill the gaps now I can see what the Dominion have done!’

‘Understood. Transmitting.’

Athaka’s tricorder lit up moments later, and with a gleeful grin he spun back around to the control panel. ‘Lieutenant Thawn’s a genius,’ he gushed as he worked. ‘This code; it’s so elegant and flexible. This will actually be easier for breaking into the whole system rather than just the defence controls…’

Shepherd turned to smirk at the Vorta. ‘Starfleet’s same as we ever were. We find another way.’

Rhade had straightened with a rather smug look. ‘Your work was never going to be a match for my wife.’

‘Commander!’ Griffin was at a panel near the door. ‘We’ve got Jem’Hadar heading for this section. There’s no way this door’s going to hold forever.’

Shepherd looked at Athaka. ‘Once you reset the defence system, can you make sure nobody else gets back into it?’

‘I…’ Athaka swallowed. ‘We could just frag the controls once we’re done. But you mean so we run, right?’

Shepherd shouldered her rifle. ‘Sure,’ she lied.

The Vorta clasped his hands, smile thin and superior. ‘You’ll be overrun. Do you want a heroic sacrifice in a battle you’ll lose anyway? Or a surrender?’

‘Oh, shut up, you bargain bin holo-drama villain,’ she snapped, approaching the door. ‘Whatever happens here, this battle will be won.’

There was a thunk at the door, the tell-tale sound of weapons fire on metal. The Vorta’s smirk widened. ‘Are you sure it’ll happen in time?’

‘Defensive positions!’ Shepherd called, bracing herself against a console. ‘Whatever comes through that door, we shoot it!’

The sizzling drumming did not stop. Thunk. Thunk. Thunkthunkthunkthunk –

Nothing.

She looked around. ‘…did they just get bored?’

‘Uh.’ Griffin ducked back up from behind his console and checked the feed. ‘Commander, they’re, uh. They’re all gone.’

‘Gone?’

‘Someone accessed the nearby airlock controls and, uh… spaced them.’

Just as Shepherd wondered if she could find hitherto unknown expressions of utter bafflement, the comm system crackled, and a new voice came in. ‘Starfleet – this is Craig Vadney, Mining Union, down on the bottom deck. Dominion couldn’t cut us out of every control on the station. We got your message. Seemed like now was the time to step up and lend a hand.’

Hale’s message. Now Shepherd found a whole new grin. ‘Mister Vadney! Welcome to the liberation. Two more minutes here, and it’s about to be a whole different light show.’

‘I think it’ll be a different light show everywhere,’ came Vadney’s reply. ‘Folks didn’t sit idly on Izar just waiting to be rescued. I think you’re going to find a lot of people everywhere were waiting for the right moment, and, well. This is it.’

‘Nix on that “two minutes,”’ chirped Athaka triumphantly. ‘I’m in, Commander.’

Shepherd couldn’t help herself. She turned to the Vorta and winked. ‘Another way. Told you so. Ath? Set our weapons on these sons of bitches.’

‘Taking heavy fire!’ Rosewood warned.

‘Keep us evading, Mister Sovak,’ called Rourke in a low, calm voice. ‘Don’t let them pin us down.’

‘We have a Breen raider on our aft,’ said Ra-Talorei. ‘They have been… persistent.’

‘I can’t reinforce aft shields while we’re targeted by the weapons platforms.’ Hadrian’s voice was low, clipped. ‘And I can’t get a firing solution.’

‘Bring us about,’ Rourke ordered. ‘We can’t leave them attached to us like this.’

‘Yes, sir.’ Sovak was the only person who sounded at all calm. ‘This will be difficult. They -’

Then the blip of the Breen raider disappeared from their tactical displays. There was a long pause, then Rosewood leaned back with a short fist-pump. ‘They’ve done it, Captain! Orbital weapon emplacements are targeting the Dominion and Breen!’

‘Ha!’ Rourke rose to his feet triumphantly. ‘Show me the system map!’

Once, it had been a sea of red blips for their ferocious enemy, with far too few blue and green of Starfleet and their allies. Now, not only had the weapon emplacements changed colour as the landing party’s gambit succeeded, but as Rourke watched, one by one, the dots of Breen and Dominion ships went dark.

‘I’m getting comms from other facilities, New Seattle, the moons, the habitat domes,’ Rosewood continued, his grin a mile wide. ‘Anyone who can do anything down there is messing with the Dominion. Cutting power, flooding comm lines, sealing doors and sections so they can’t move about. They say they got Ms Hale’s message.’

‘People of Izar, now is the time. Rise up,’ Rourke echoed. Something in his chest felt fit to burst, but they weren’t done. He eased back into the chair and gripped the armrests tight. ‘Let’s make sure they’re not alone. Direct the Third Order to form up on us, Commander. We’re heading to Izar III. It’s time to finish this.’