‘We went through the Nighthawk deck by deck.’ Cortez’s face was still smoke-stained. They had towed the battered Reliant-class across the system into orbit of Izar III, and the engineer had only beamed down to the central plaza of New Seattle ten minutes ago. Though the sun shone brightly down on a liberated city, her eyes were shrouded, hollow. ‘We found Commander Kosst’s body on deck eight.’

Shepherd watched as Lionel Jericho rested his elbows on the makeshift desk made of supply crates and buried his face in his hands. ‘She couldn’t get to an escape pod?’ he groaned.

‘Her helmsman reports Kosst chose to stay aboard to find and help trapped crewmembers,’ Cortez said with a grimace. ‘She had been dragging the injured out of an unstable section. The ceiling caved in when she went back for some of the last.’ She shifted her feet. ‘She saved four crewmembers in that section alone.’

‘Completed the mission, left out on their own, and still she kept fighting,’ Jericho sighed. ‘That’s heroic.’

‘They should never have been put in that position to begin with,’ came Rourke’s terse rebuke.

Shepherd’s eyes turned to the roof of the large canvas tent they had set up as an ad hoc command centre amid the relief work filling the heart of the city. With the defence platforms turned back to Starfleet’s side, the Dominion forces had been destroyed or routed with little difficulty. Those fleeing had diverted to try to evacuate soldiers, and Rourke had ordered the allied ships to let them do so – that it was better for them to take the Jem’Hadar somewhere else than be forced into pitched fighting on the surface. It also, Harrian had pointed out, meant the Lost Fleet probably didn’t have cloning facilities up and running if they weren’t prepared to throw their soldiers into a sacrificial furnace just to bloody their enemy. Over a matter of hours, Izar had transformed from a city under Dominion occupation to a liberated world.

But the scars remained. They had beamed to New Seattle to be greeted by a lieutenant-governor whose face was a mass of bruises and injuries and was barely able to assume leadership of the planet. But the governor had been murdered early into the occupation. While there had been little fighting on Izar itself, the signs of Dominion occupation had remained: barricades for checkpoints, defaced Federation insignia, and, rapidly dismantled from its place in the centre of the plaza, a gibbet. It had not been empty when Starfleet arrived. It was certainly not the only one.

The squadron had settled into orbit to offer assistance. In practice, it was as much so they could lick their own wounds. Some day there would be a full Federation relief effort, but today, it was just what remained of the crews of what could only generously be called five ships. Control of Triumph had not been fully restored until the Dominion’s rout, but Jericho had at once directed the various commanders of the squadron to see to their ships and then meet on the surface.

So now they stood, the respective commanders – and acting commanders – of the different facets of the battle: Shepherd from the support wing, Harrian from Endeavour, and Rourke from Independence, joining Valance from Pathfinder and Jericho himself, with Cortez only just arriving from her relief effort on Nighthawk.

Jericho was acting like he was still in command. But the look in Rourke’s eyes made it clear to Shepherd that the leadership crisis was not necessarily over. The fleet captain’s expression was cool as he looked over. ‘Tell me about Vornar.’

Rourke’s grimace shifted at that. ‘There’s no telling how long ago the Changeling got aboard. We assume he and the other one made the swap at at Vamuridian? The usual security protocols have begun across the ship, and so far, it’s an all-clear.’

‘I listened to him.’ Jericho slumped back on the stool, rubbing his brow. ‘Throughout this, I listened to him. And he was manipulating us all.’

Now Rourke’s expression softened. ‘I listened to him, as well. He voiced concerns about your judgement, and I took them seriously because I thought someone who knew you very well was questioning your choices.’

‘That would explain,’ Harrian mused, ‘the purpose of attacks such as Vamuridian. We assumed this was a matter of undermining Federation morale. But if they were luring in starships so they could plant Changelings aboard…’

Shepherd winced. ‘This means Ramius is dead, right?’

Jericho bit his lip. ‘Probably. We may never know. As well as at least one other officer. But after the battle, it’ll be very difficult to take stock of who went missing, when.’

‘I will begin containment protocols,’ Valance said in a clipped voice, ‘for Pathfinder. We can’t have been infiltrated.’

Jericho looked at her with a relieved glint. ‘Good thinking, Captain. I take it we have you to thank for securing the defence systems so quickly, too?’

She shrugged. ‘You gave the directive before we even arrived in the sector to work on what we knew of Izar’s systems. I have an excellent operations officer.’

‘Another reason,’ Rourke said roughly, ‘we shouldn’t have rushed this assault.’

Once, Shepherd would have expected Jericho to push back at that. Instead, he ignored Rourke and looked to Harrian. ‘Krish?’

Harrian made for a much less-combative mutineer. ‘Reported to Sickbay,’ he said gently. ‘He’s been thoroughly shaken by the whole affair. He wasn’t ready to be left with sole authority over the entire battle after your incapacity, sir.’ But the words were unaccusing, a statement of fact and a defence of the man who had almost left Izar and all who fought in her skies to burn and die.

‘Perhaps.’ Jericho fidgeted with a PADD stylus. ‘Have you notified the Fourth Fleet of our victory?’

‘I have.’ Harrian hesitated. ‘While we’re seeing victories like this across the sector, that appears to be rattling the Lost Fleet. Intel suspects they may be forming up for a final push on Farpoint.’

‘We should assist,’ Rourke said briskly.

Jericho looked at him like he’d sprouted a second head. ‘Nighthawk is incapacitated, Triumph is in a terrible condition, Independence isn’t fast enough, Pathfinder is a small science ship. What are you suggesting, Rourke?’

‘Endeavour,’ came the simple reply. ‘She’s fast and can fight and in repairable condition.’

Jericho got to his feet. Once, he would have been angry, but Shepherd had never seen him look so tired. ‘This battle was a mess,’ he said quietly. ‘We snatched victory from the jaws of defeat, and it shouldn’t have been so close. I recognise your skills, Captain Rourke. I acknowledge you helped to uproot our Changeling infiltrator, I acknowledge you brought in reinforcements from the Third Order, and I acknowledge you assumed command and lead the squadron to ultimate victory.’ He looked to Harrian. ‘And I acknowledge you, Commander, seized command in a legitimate crisis and salvaged the situation aboard Endeavour when total defeat was likely.’ Jericho then straightened and regarded them all. ‘And I acknowledge that I made decisions which pitched us into a battle under less than ideal circumstances, where we were vulnerable to sabotage because even one move by the enemy cast us into a total crisis. However. Once this meeting is over, Mister Rourke, Mister Harrian, you are both under arrest.’

Rourke’s shoulders sank. ‘Still?’

‘The safety of Izar remains our priority, and Commander Rosewood can continue in command of Independence. Your place is still the brig, Rourke.’ Jericho turned to Harrian. ‘I ask you, Mister Harrian, to remain on license, continuing as Strategic Operations Officer while on duty and also reporting to the brig when your shifts end.’

Harrian’s expression didn’t shift as he inclined his head. ‘Absolutely, sir.’

Rourke shook his head. ‘I hoped we had moved past this.’

‘Perhaps we were all just innocents manipulated by the evil Changeling,’ said Jericho. ‘But I don’t think we can let ourselves off that lightly. And once this is over, once we’re done in Deneb, I will report to Fourth Fleet Command for a full inquiry of my actions. Because I sure as hell know a whole mess of this is my fault. Perhaps they’ll exonerate you both. Perhaps they’ll exonerate us all. But that’s not my decision, it’s sure as hell not yours, and so until then, I am the commander of this squadron. Let’s worry about the people.’

In the silence that followed, Cortez wiped her face, merely streaking smoke stains further. ‘Captain Rourke’s right about one thing, sir. Endeavour is still in feasibly fit fighting condition. She could proceed to Farpoint.’

But Jericho’s eyes turned to Shepherd, and her heart ached at the glint there. ‘She could. But I want you to stay at Izar, Shep.’

The indignation was exhausting. ‘I… you took me off my ship to lead the support wing, you put Krish over me…’

He raised a hand, not the implacable leader she’d known for a decade, but an exhausted and worn man. ‘And I was wrong to do that, you hear?’ He hesitated, then looked at the command staff around him, the people he was supposed to lead. Shepherd watched him wrestle with how much to say in public, then he sighed, and his shoulders sagged. ‘I’m asking you to stay, Shep. It’s your choice. But I’m asking.’

Only in the last few weeks of their decade of serving together had she learnt how to say “no” to him. She still wasn’t very good at it. Still, she hesitated. ‘Someone should take Endeavour.’

‘Well.’ Jericho clicked his tongue. ‘There’s one person left who’s got the experience and isn’t about to be arrested.’ His eyes rose to one of the officers around him. ‘I know we’re playing a goddamn game of musical chairs, but how’s your XO for taking on your ship while you ride in on Endeavour to Farpoint like she’s a white horse, Commander Valance?’

Valance’s expression shifted to a flicker of a frown. ‘Commander Dashell is more than qualified to lead Pathfinder in my absence, especially on the duties of long-range surveillance. But the squadron’s operations staff is gutted, and Endeavour’s Commander Far has been taking point in resource management on Izar…’

‘Take your Lieutenant Thawn. If you didn’t all know each other, I’d call it a needless disruption, but…’ Jericho’s voice trailed off, and he shook his head. ‘I know this is a damn mess. Triumph, Pathfinder, and Independence will help Izar. Gul Malek’s Third Order forces are pushing outward to chase off nearby Dominion forces, so we have an early warning system. If Farpoint falls, this is all for nothing, though.’

This is a fucking mess, Shepherd thought, and couldn’t quite swallow the resentment coiling in her as Valance gave a crisp nod, now returned to the central chairs of a ship she’d left behind. Shepherd’s boots, still planted on Izar’s surface, felt very, very heavy.

‘I think it’s safe to say,’ Jericho pressed on, straightening as he regarded them, ‘this will be the last time we all work together. One way or another. I will accept the judgement of Fourth Fleet Command, whatever it may be. But we have prevailed on Izar. I won’t take credit for it. You all should be proud of yourselves. Against all odds, against our greater demons, the battle was won. And whatever I say to JAG will include the bad and the good. So in the meantime – Endeavour to Farpoint. The rest of the squadron to secure Izar. And we help these people get back on their feet. You’re all dismissed.’ But his eyes landed on Shepherd. ‘If you could stay a moment?’

Beyond the heavy canvas of the field command tent was the blazing sunshine of New Seattle, a sea of grief and suffering amid a backdrop of exuberant victory celebrations mere heartbeats away. But Shepherd stayed in the darkness just a moment longer as Rourke, Harrian, Cortez, and Valance left.

Once the flap had fallen shut, she set her hands on her hips. ‘You’re benching me again?’ She wished she was angry. Wished she could rail at him. Instead, she just felt exhausted, betrayed. Like she’d failed.

Jericho raised a hand, expression crumpling. ‘I asked –’

‘Do I ever say “no” to you?’

‘Yes.’ His shoulders sank. ‘You did. Before the battle. You have the past few weeks. Months. I know this has been screwed, Shep. I know they’ll probably take my pips for this. My ship for this. But Rourke is a mutineer, and the chain of command has to stay together for just… days more, Shep. If something goes wrong, I can’t have people looking between us, not sure who they should follow.’

‘So you want me to back you up?’

‘I want you to call me the hell out when I need it.’ Jericho scrubbed his face with his hand. ‘We have to get through the next few days with this fractured, battered squadron, and then we can play the blame game, then Command can beat the crap out of all of us who deserve it. But we have to get there. So I need someone who can challenge me, disagree with me, fight me without someone thinking it’s time for yet another fuckin’ mutiny. And it won’t be Tiarith, will it?’

Tiarith Ranicus, XO of the Triumph, loyal to a fault. Shepherd bit her lip hard enough to taste blood and shook her head.

‘I trust you, Shep,’ Jericho pressed on. ‘Because I raised you, trained you – and you surpassed me, you hear me? You’ve been the one, all along, who didn’t get bogged down in the politics. Who kept her eye on doing the right thing. Let Valance have one more battle; you’re already a hero for the Battle of Izar. If you don’t get covered in glory I will blow every single last shred of capital I have left and burn the skies for you. But I need you to help me through this one last step.’

Shepherd’s shoulders had sunk. Once, it would have broken her heart to see the man she’d looked up to for so long be so shattered. She shook her head. ‘What happened to you, Captain?’

Jericho lowered his head. ‘I guess… if you don’t see to your soul scars, then someday they catch up. The Lost Fleet made that day come fast.’

‘How bad was it?’ she ventured. ‘On Triumph?’

His eyes fixed on a spot a thousand yards away. ‘Bad,’ he rumbled. ‘And not so bad. Because a part of me thought it’d be better for us to all die… together.’ He straightened. ‘I’ve been holding on to you all too tight. Let all of the losses in my past twist me up so hard I couldn’t dare risk losing you. So instead, I pushed Krish before he was ready. So instead, I kept you somewhere you… wouldn’t slip through my grasp. So instead, I nearly doomed us all. And I’d have let us all die on Triumph if it hadn’t been for Cortez. For Hale.’ Now he looked her in the eye. ‘I’m not kidding myself, Shep. Once this is over, I’m not fit for command. So I’m asking you to stay. Get me through these final steps. And then we’ll see where the gavel falls.’

He extended his hand, and she could feel the plea for help barely shrouded in a dutiful offer. When she stepped forward to clasp him tight, it was as much of a grip to hold onto one last shred of stability as a handshake to seal the deal.

‘I’ll stay,’ said Shepherd, then drew a quavering step. ‘And then, Lionel? I’m gone.’

‘I’m sorry, Captain, Commander.’ Livia Hadrian, likely designated the ranking security officer with the least personal bias, looked genuinely apologetic as she met the team of command officers at the edge of the New Seattle central plaza. ‘But you’ve got to come with me.’

Behind them were the shelters and workstations of the relief team, the squadron’s officers mingling with the people of Izar with the skills and wits to help the populace in the immediate aftermath. Down a long street leading into the sunshine, the crowd was different. Rourke could hear cheering, see flags waving, people embracing and dancing. The line between grief and celebration was thin. Likely, people crossed it in a trice. But they needed both.

‘You have to do your duty,’ Rourke told Hadrian with a sigh. ‘I wish it hadn’t come to this.’

‘We knew the consequences,’ said Harrian with the same annoyingly level, contrite look in his eyes. ‘JAG will decide whether we did our duty or served our egos.’

‘I already know which I did. I’ll let them decide what happens, not what I think,’ Rourke said simply. He turned to the other two, and his eyes landed on Valance. ‘I leave Endeavour in your care, Karana.’

Valance rolled her shoulders, expression troubled. ‘I should have been here.’

‘You had your own ship. Your own duties. As it should be.’

She shook her head. ‘I was too far out.’

‘Then this time,’ he said, extending a hand, ‘you’ll be right where you need to be. Take care of her. I might not be back.’

‘If there’s any justice,’ she said, ‘you will be.’ She shook his hand and stepped back. Then her eyes fell on the greasy, smoke-stained figure of Cortez. ‘Isa…’

‘Oh, hell are we doing this here,’ said Cortez, grimacing. ‘You’ve got T’Varel. She’s alright. I’ve got ships to fix and a city to rebuild. All in a day’s work for a Starfleet engineer.’ But the corner of her lip curled, despite the obvious effort to fight it. ‘Go be the cavalry. Again.’

As the two women left, Lieutenant Hadrian again looked between Rourke and Harrian. ‘Sirs?’

But a figure had emerged from one of the relief tents, and Rourke gave her a suddenly anxious look. ‘Lieutenant, could you… please… give me just one moment?’ Barely waiting for her begrudging nod, he turned away from the pair and took four quick steps back towards the plaza.

Then the eyes of Sophia Hale, bathed in sunlight in the plaza of New Seattle, landed on him. His feet were at once too wooden to move.

He’d seen her like this on Vamuridian, when they had both been snarling and snapping at each other, both coiled too tight for various reasons. But they had not exchanged so much as a look since he had left her on Triumph, days that felt like lifetimes ago. He’d heard her voice, though. Heard her voice as it had piped across the system, inspired the people to rise up and begin their resistance, fighting back in actions which had only urged the Dominion foot soldiers to fall back quicker. Harried their operations so thoroughly they could not even begin to think of fortifying for a ground defence.

But all of that was done. And now they were here, in the sun, in a moment of victory, with just their words and memories.

And as his feet refused to move, she came towards him. ‘You came back.’

Rourke swallowed, the blazing sunlight suddenly drying his mouth. ‘You stayed alive.’

Hale gave a soft, fraught smile he wasn’t sure he’d seen on her before. Wasn’t sure he’d ever before seen slip past her poise. She glanced to Lieutenant Hadrian, still waiting with Commander Harrian some metres away. ‘What did Jericho say?’

‘Still under arrest,’ Rourke grunted. ‘But he’ll pay the price for bad judgement too, and he knows it.’

She nodded. ‘I’ll say what I can to any tribunal and inquiry.’

‘I know. That’s not…’ He hesitated. ‘I don’t know what I’m saying here.’

‘I do.’ Despite those words, Hale still faltered as she half-raised a hand. Then something seemed to steel in her. She took a step forward. Grabbed him by the wrist. And kissed him.

It could not last. And yet it made the distant cheering of victory all the louder in his ears, in his heart.

When she pulled back, forehead resting against his, her breath was quivering. ‘Whatever happens. We’ll talk when it’s over.’

He could have defeated a Dominion fleet by spitting at them at that moment. A tribunal seemed like nothing. Rourke beamed. ‘I’ll see you soon.’

When he returned to the other two, Lieutenant Hadrian was studiously looking elsewhere. Commander Harrian, on the other hand, wore a tight, amused smile.

‘Trust you,’ said his old comrade, ‘to save the day and get the girl.’

Rourke gave a short bark of laughter as behind him, Hadrian tapped her combadge to instruct Triumph to beam them up. His eyes flickered to the bright blue sky, to the crowds of liberated Izar – to Hale, watching from a distance.

He grinned. ‘Not bad for a day’s work,’ mused Matt Rourke. ‘Even if this is my last.’