The tension in the dim red light of the bridge aboard the Lafayette was almost tangible. With the Borg Sphere getting closer and closer every moment and a dangerous maneuver ahead of them, the entire crew was feeling the weight of the moment. Cromwell sat in the center chair, working his jaw. This was exactly how he’d hoped this mission would not go, but there was nothing he could do about that now. 

The chronometer at the bottom corner of the view screen ticked down, closer and closer to 0. Only a handful of seconds remained now, “All hands… brace for impact,” Cromwell called, knowing damn well that hitting those subspace eddies was going to feel like slamming into a wall. 

Rawles hands hung motionless above the maneuvering controls, ready to start working as soon as they dropped out of hyperspace. He was mentally going over every possibility in his brain. The only one that didn’t seem likely was success. 

“Shield harmonics are ready, Captain,” DeMont called from where he was huddled over the Ops console with Dr. Rodriguez. 

Cromwell watched as the last seconds flicked away, “Here we go…” 

The strung out star lines vanished, replaced with a roiling miasma of green methane clouds suspended in space. The Lafayette shook like she was trying to tear herself apart. The bridge became a din of screams and shouted status reports as plasma coils blew and EPS manifolds sent shrapnel from console screens shooting through the air. Several folks found themselves back against the hand rails, and the CO had found a new spot on the floor, “Report!” He barked as he scrambled back up into his seat.

“I’ve lost helm control, our navigation system is dead in the eddies!” Rawles called from the helm. 

“We’re working on it, sir! Our arrival into the nebula threw off the wave pattern of the eddies. We’re trying to compensate for that now,” DeMont replied. “Won’t take too long.” 

“Where’s that Sphere?” 

“Just came out of warp behind us. It’s drifting too, so they’re definitely still having the same issues, but inertia is still carrying it toward us,” The Bajoran man at the Tactical station called out. 

“How long until they’re within weapons range?” 

“Three minutes, sir.” 

Cromwell jammed a finger at DeMont, “You’ve got two to get those harmonics fixed.”

“Aye, Commodore!” 

“What’s the status on our transporters?” 

“Online, sir.” 

“That’s at least a bit of good news. As soon as we have navigational controls again, I want us headed out of this nebula and I want the Borg cube chunked beamed out between us and the Sphere in the biggest pocket of methane you can find, understood?” 

“Yessir!” 

Cromwell took his seat and stared out the window at the Nebula beyond. Every second ticked by like an eternity knowing that Sphere was slowly closing and if they weren’t careful they were sitting ducks. He was trying to not think about any further worst case scenarios. 

Dumouchel, who had managed to maintain her seating during the jump out of warp space, finally spoke up, “Mon Capitaine, the Borg Sphere has reoriented itself and it’s moving toward us at a considerably increased pace!” 

“Dammit! Tac!” 

“Confirmed sir, looks like they’ve adapted. They’re charging weapons. They’ll be in range in thirty seconds!”

“Mister DeMont!” 

“Almost there!”

“Get there now!“

“Just another second!” 

“Nick!” 

“Go! GO NOW!” 

“On it!” Rawles’ hands were already on the controls, kicking the impulse engines to high and swinging the ship around against the eddies. The shield harmonics were a vast improvement, but moving the Lafayette through the subspace eddies felt oddly akin to hydroplaning in a car. Still, to his credit, after a moment of fiddling with the controls, he had it figured out. “We’re heading toward the edge of the nebula. Thirty seconds till we’re out.” 

“Beam that shit off of my ship!” Cromwell yelled. 

“Transport complete!” 

“Tactical… Fire!” 

The familiar noise of a photon torpedo launch filled the bridge as DeMont swapped the view screen to an aft view. The Sphere was closing in on the chunk, but so was the photon torpedo. It hit the cube wreckage and detonated, followed by a magnificent secondary explosion as the methane cloud around it ignited. The Sphere was completely caught off guard and took the brunt of the damage with out even flinching, causing cascading explosions across is black, green lit exterior. 

Cromwell watched with half a smile as the Sphere slowed and stopped, finally shrinking in their rear view instead of relentlessly pursuing. He’d hoped for a final glorious destruction, but he wasn’t granted one, just left with a wonderful memory of a Borg Sphere hobbled, sparking and smoking in a merciless nebula deep in space. 

There was a silence on the bridge as he stood there, watching, as the rest of his crew all tried to absorb that they’d survived. They had another run in with the Borg and they’d all made it this time. 

Finally, Cromwell turned back to the Ops station, “Status report?” 

“We’ve got power failures and system outages across six decks, but… other than that sir? No major damage, no hull breaches, no fatalities… We came out okay! Everything is okay!” 

That was all it took the break the silence on the bridge as a fury of cheers broke out into the room. Cromwell got a few hugs, but he had no idea from who as he watched the sphere get further and further away. Even Rawles had a smile on his normally stoic face as everyone celebrated. 

Cromwell finally spoke over the noise, “DeMont, Rodriguez, Rawles? Good job! Hell of a plan!” 

“I thought it wasn’t going to work there for a minute,” Rawles admitted. 

Cromwell laughed, “Well, the only thing that really matters is that it did.” 

“Alright, alright! Everyone, to your stations!” Cromwell called, smiling at everyone as they hurried past, ready to get back to work. “Mister Rawles, maximum warp out of here, yeah? And scramble our warp signature so our lovely friends here don’t come looking for us when they get out,” He said, retaking the center chair. 

Dumouchel grabbed is harm and squeezed it gently as he sat down, giving him a bright grin, “One hell of a first mission together, non?” 

“You’re telling me,” Cromwell replied with a laugh. 

As Jason rolled the Lafayette and set them back into warp, the young woman sitting at the comms station spoke up, “Sir, urgent message from Candera Prime. It’s a mayday distress beacon.”

Cromwell looked at Dumouchel and frowned, “Mr. Rawles, back to Candera Prime, maximum warp.” Something had been sticking in his mind since they’d left and he had a sinking feeling he’d figured out what it was now…