“We’re just glad we were able to help, captain.”  Wren stood on the bridge of her new command, speaking to the civilian ship captain.  The distress call had been sudden, and without the quick action of her crew, things would have been far worse.  The captain repeated his thanks, and the channel closed.  The bridge crew watched as the aging ship slid away and jumped to warp.  The CO turned to the bridge, “Let’s get those reports filled out and submitted.  I’ll…”

The communications officer spoke up, “Captain, we’re getting a priority message for your eyes only.”

Walton motioned to the XO, “We’ll take it to my ready room.  Mr. Kondo, you have the CONN.”  The two of them departed, and De La Fontaine shifted from his station to the center chair.

“Helm, keep us on course to our current destination.”  He felt the eyes of his fellow crewman and looked around at each of them, “Yes?”

Castillo at helm control spoke first, “I’ve heard the Breen is making noise again.”  She swallowed, “Priority messages aren’t for mission changes, sir.”

Reede whispered, “I heard it was a space monster.  Something’s eating up worlds and coming for us next.”

Kondo turned in the center chair, “Cadet Reede, you will keep those kinds of ideas confined to your quarters and far away from the bridge.”  He spoke to the chief helm officer, “As for the Breen – we don’t know what it is.  Whatever it ends up being…we’ll face it like we’ve faced everything else – together.”  The whispers and nervous conversation faded as Kondo gave each bridge officer a long look.  “Now, let’s get to work on what we have in front of us.”

Fifteen minutes later, the senior staff sat around the briefing room table as the Mackenzie flew madly towards Starbase 72.  Walton had finished the detailed briefing with, “What questions do we have?”

Kiazas Vol, the Trill operations chief, wondered, “Do we have any indication why news reports and the local task group seem to be less than…interested in the situation?”

Park answered, “It is odd.  There’s been some talk among Fourth Fleet captains about it – nobody’s sure what it means or if it’s best case accidental or worst case intentional.  We’ve been told to keep our eyes and ears out as a measure…and to be mindful of who and what we take care with how our trust is spread around.”

Okada sat up, “That sounds downright weird, commander.”

Wren agreed, “We’re still sifting through everything they’ve sent us, and most of this is very unclear…and to borrow your word – weird.  This is where you all come into the mix.  Fourth Fleet is going to be the big boys and girls on the line, and anything we can get our eyes, ears, and hands on to help sort out what is going on will be helpful.  The Mackenzie’s got it where it counts.”  She turned her attention to their new chief counselor, Mo Guowei.  “We’ve got some new crew in our ranks, Lieutenant.”

He tapped at his PADD, “I’ve got several lists going – we’re setting up social and activity groups according to their length of service on the ship.  We’ve had an uptick in requests to speak with someone just today – some before your announcement but many more since.”

Walton understood. The Dominion and the threats they brought to bear were unsettling, but nobody had seen them in a fight for twenty-five years.  “Keep me in the loop.  Each of you needs to meet with your departments with this briefing. Once we get to 72 – our speed won’t drop below warp for a long time.  Do what you need to do to prepare for an extended assignment.”  She looked around the table, “I trust each of you to do what needs to be done.  Dismissed.”

The room emptied, leaving the CO and the XO.  Park  looked at the door, “You really trust them, Wren?”

Walton replied, “Do you?”  She held eye contact with her friend, “We get one chance at this, Commander.  The fight ahead is gonna take all of us.”

Park pursed her lips, “I’ll get there, Wren.”

Her CO picked up her PADD and headed for the door, “You’re going need to move faster, Park.” 

“Five minutes from arrival, captain.”  Castillo kept her eyes on the console as she announced their updated timeline.  The last few days in transit had been spent working with her department on training and scenarios with the added holodeck training for shuttle pilots to round it all out.  Their new captain had been direct in her demands – they were headed into the unknown.  Every department head had been challenged to put their crews to the test in anticipation of whatever awaited them.

Wren remained in her chair.  A small Cardassian fleet was supposed to be awaiting them, but that brought its own host of problems.  The planet and its people had a dim view of them, given their previous experience at the hands of the Cardassians.  The Mack’s job was to stand in the breach in an attempt to entertain an uneasy alliance.  She had nearly laughed out loud when she first read the briefing in her ready room.  The words were both true to reality and understated in many ways.  “XO, what do we see?”

Park tapped at the console, her brows drawing closer together.  “I’m not detecting much of a Cardassian presence.  She reran the scans, flummoxed.  “Briefing said we could expect twelve or so ships…I’m detecting six.”

Walton gently gripped the arms of the command chair.  She hadn’t expected things to go as planned.  It was telling that half of the ships they’d expected had likely met an end in fire, debris, and death. She asked, “Mr. Kondo?”

De La Fontaine had made the unusual decision to remain aboard the Mack and had spent the last few days wondering if he’d made the wrong choice.  He had imagined it would be a good and refreshing change to throw himself into getting to know new members of the senior staff and the new captain.  What he had imagined had been very different – they had immediately been pressed into service, leaving little time to engage in small talk.  He took over the scan of the sector ahead and sent it through the tactical system.  He reported, “The ships on-site look like they’ve been through something.  Long-distance sensors confirm that six Galor class ships are in the system, some distance from the planet.  With relations as low as they’ve been in the past, they might be waiting for us to get there and…well, smooth things over.”

Wren chuckled, “Smooth is doing a lot of heavy lifting in that sentence, Mr. Kondo.  You call it smoothing over; I call it trying to hold things together.  Tactical evaluation of the sector?”

Kondo answered, “We’re showing no hostile activity nearby…but there are corners I can’t see yet.  Olympic and her sensors may be helpful in that regard.”

The CO leaned forward in her chair, “Pass on the message and have them go to yellow alert along with us.  I’m not a fan of surprises.  Mr. Kondo – be ready if things have deteriorated between the planet and our friendly neighborhood Cardassian fleet.”

Park spoke up from science, “Should we have Gul Hasara on the bridge?”

Walton thought momentarily, “He is a Cardassian and assigned as a liaison.  Have him on standby in the bridge lounge.  When we talk to the colony, I’d hate for him to offend them.”  Her XO nodded and made the call.  The countdown clock to arrival continued to tick.

“They took a helluva beating.”  Park was scrolling through the damage reports from the Cardassian fleet. It was ugly from her background as a science officer turned XO.  “There’s a lot of data to sort through…they’re lucky they made it here.”

Wren stood behind her, scanning the reports, “Lucky and alive…which is more than we can say for the rest of their group.”  They had attempted to hail the other ships but had been unsuccessful.  The communications team had recently undergone a change, with Chief Atega and much of her crew transferring to the Olympic.  In her place, Starfleet had assigned a cadet crew led by Cadet Senior Grade Oscar Reede. The team was working to trace any residual signals or even communications buoys that would reveal some clue as to the fate of the outstanding members of the Cardassian fleet. The Olympic had been diverted to the damaged ships to triage the crews and better understand the situation.  “Ms. Castillo, standard orbit, please.”  She turned to her new communications chief, “See if anyone’s home, Mr. Reede.”  

Oscar Reede had accepted the assignment and believed that having a group of senior communications cadets he had gone through the academy with since the start was the only way he’d have accepted the assignment.  He nervously went to work on the console and managed to open a channel, to his relief.

A moment later, the screen filled with an annoyed Governor Gideon Rosser scowling at the bridge crew.  Only now did Wren stand and step forward, “I’m Captain Wren Walton of the Federation Starship Mackenzie.  We’ve been assigned to assist in liaising with the…,”

Rosser exploded, “The Cardassians!  You must no doubt be aware of our history with their people.  This is downright unacceptable, Captain.  We will not accept their help or allow them near our planet.  We remember the last time the Cardassians were here.”  He spat at the ground and contemptuously closed the channel in a huff.

Park turned in her chair, “That…was….”

Walton finished it, “Unhelpful at best and insane at worst.  He didn’t mention the Dominion threat.  The briefing suggested their defenses were not up to the task alone.  Mr. Kondo?”

The tactical chief had reached the same conclusion with the tactical reports he was perusing on his console, “It’s an older system – no planetary shield with an array of surface-to-air torpedo launchers and some large but older phaser banks.  I estimate they’re probably the original systems from before the Dominion War…who knows how much work they’ve done on them since.”  He shook his head, “We’d have a lot of work ahead of us to bring these systems up to a standard capable of running an actual defense, captain.  And we’d need the help from the Cardassians.  It’s a big planet and multiple colonies.”

She remained in the center of the bridge, “They didn’t tell us to go play in space traffic, so that’s a positive. The Federation wasn’t built in a day, anyway.  Let’s try this again with a different approach.  Mr. Reede, if you please.”

Reede felt a small smile tug at his lips.  For a first assignment, this was turning out to be an exciting first few minutes of actual duty. His hands found the command, and he did as ordered. The screen flickered again, and Rosser growled, “What?”

Wren regarded him with a stoic stare, “Governer Rosser, let’s leave talk of the Cardassians to a later time.  Let’s talk about you.”  She raised her eyebrows, waiting for his response.

“What about me?”  He was cautious and curious about this new line of conversation.

“We’ve taken a gander at your defenses.  They’re shit.”  She watched his face grow red and resisted the urge to smile with serene satisfaction at pissing him off.  “You’re operating on old systems from twenty-five years ago, and my tactical chief isn’t sure if they’ll short out first or simply crash when you try and start them up.”

He sputtered, “How dare you call our defenses…”

She jumped in, “Shit?  Because they are Governor.  Your people endured plenty 25 years ago – reading the reports only tells so much of the story.  I can’t begin to imagine what the reality was for you all.  We want to prevent that from happening again.”  Wren waited for a beat and then asked nonchalantly, “One more question…you haven’t mentioned the renewed Dominion threat once.”

Rosser pursed his lips and relented after several uncomfortable seconds of silence, “The Task Group 514 doesn’t put much stock in the rumors, captain. We haven’t seen or heard of the Dominion in 25 years…and the task group has been very helpful over those years.  We trust their word over…some ship with the Fourth Fleet who is carrying the dilithium for the Cardassians.”

Wren rolled her eyes at his mixed metaphor, “A tad dramatic, don’t you think, governor?” His shrug was her answer.  She tried again, “Look, they wouldn’t send an Excelsior II class with an Olympic class out here for the hell of it.  Real threat or not, your defenses need checking and some serious work to get it up to any kind of ready positioning.”

He muted the channel and was speaking with several others out of sight of the camera.  Wren nodded to Reede to do the same and turned away from the screen, “I need answers on what the hell 514 is up to and why they’re bound and determined to make this seem like it’s not happening.  The daily ops and intelligence reports from Fourth Fleet aren’t pulling any punches.”  

“I’ll see what I can find, captain.” Park stood from her station and shifted over to sit beside Atega.

The CO returned her attention to the rest of the crew, “I think they’ll let us down there to do the work needed….but we’ve got a bigger problem.”

Kondo spoke up, “The Cardassians.  Those ten ships can still pack a punch. When the Dominion rolls towards us, we’re going to need their support to keep this place from having a repeat.”  He mused and glanced towards Gul Hasara, sitting off to the side, just out of view of the viewscreen camera, “Gul?”

He inclined his head in thought, “I’ve been looking at the lists of the captains of each ship…most of them are newer to the position.  Not many of the surviving ships have crews that served in the war…whatever chances we had at a strong crew were lost in the ships that went missing.”  He tapped at his device, “I can try and work with them…but as you know, my connection to the Union is tenuous at best and suspect at worst.”

Kondo replied with a quiet grin, “It’s still a connection.”  He had come to respect the Gul and maybe even like the cantankerous Cardassian.  He was older, wiser, and less given to settling his disagreements with violence.  He’d also taken some time in Kondo’s gym on the recreation deck.

Wren gave the Cardassian a pointed look.  She had inherited him from Captain Harris and found him needlessly annoying but helpful in the most curious ways.  “Gul, work with ops to establish contact and open the lines of communication.”  He gave a slow nod, still annoyed.

The governor’s voice returned as he unmuted the channel, “We agree to have a strictly Starfleet crew be escorted to the various sites for inspection and possible upgrade work.  Our leadership team will need to evaluate each recommendation.”

Walton held back a grimace.  While something she had long practiced in her previous position, she did not enjoy exhibiting diplomacy in situations where the threat was as immediate as the next orbit around the sun. Long-winded conversations and bureaucracy slowed work down.  In the face of an impending Dominion attack, she was anxious to do as much as they could to get the planet ready for an attack.  “I’ll get a team together.  My XO will take the lead with you on the planet.  Looking forward to working with….”  A huff from the governor, and the channel slammed shut before she was finished speaking.  “At least he’s consistently abrupt.  Park, assemble the team with Chief Okada’s help.  Take our diplomatic affairs officer with you – we’ll need a softer touch in the mix.”

Her XO stood, “You don’t think I can do soft touch?”  She smiled in response to the glare from her captain, “In all fairness, I’m learning.”

Wren waved her to the turbolift, “We’ve both got some work to do with our hands – we need these people open to us…and eventually the Cardassians.”  The door closed on a half-hearted thumbs up from Park.

Okada wiped the sweat from her face, the grime smearing across her skin.  “Goddamn it.”  She waved a spanner at one of the sullen mechanics, “Did you never think to rework the EPS conduits on these things?”  He shrugged, and she shook the spanner at him again, “I don’t want to think about what you all have been doing to these poor things over the last twenty years.  You try and power this up, and it’s probably going to blow up in your face…or just do nothing.  Never mind the crisscross mess of your tactical sensors!”

Park watched, amused.  She’d read Okada’s file and spent a little time getting to know her.  She liked the chief engineer more and more. She asked, “Chief, what would be an approximate timeline?”

Katsumi growled, “If we go by the book as it should be, we’re talking a month.”  She swallowed her anger for a moment, “If we go to a 24-hour duty schedule and get creative with some of this…I think we can get it done faster.  I’ll need to see the rest of the sites.”  

Park turned to their diplomatic officer, “Charlie, can you see about moving the governor’s secretary on this? We’re going to need to divide and conquer if we have any chance of getting a complete picture of the defense grid.”  Hargraves nodded and called out to the secretary, and headed her way. The woman spoke into her communications device and walked away with Charlie at her side.  

Kondo approached the XO, “Commander Park?  I’ve been doing a review of the handheld defense operations…and it’s not much better.  Old phase pistols, one or two hand phasers, and a whole lot of ancient projectile-based weapons.”

Seoyeon snorted with disgust, “Someone needs to tell Task Group 514 they need to step up their game.”  She gave him a look, “You think it a little odd that Fourth Fleet got punted into their backyard?

De La Fontaine stared forward but acknowledged, “Senior staff’s been unofficially asking the same, commander.  Especially since they’ve been less than helpful…it feels like there’s a sense of denial of the reality going on.”

Park spotted Hargraves coming back, “Keep an eye and ear out, Mr. Kondo.  Something doesn’t feel right.”  He gave her a nod and pretended to walk off, scanning something or another.  The XO eyed the diplomatic officer, who was sans the assistant, “And?”  

“We had to make a few promises on supplies…but she confirmed they could spread out but that someone from the colony would need to accompany each team.  Best I could do.”

The XO smiled, “I’ll take a compromise.  Let’s get to work, folks.” Pulling up the map on her PADD, she began to make assignments.

Okada peered into the internal computer core on the third torpedo launcher that day.  There were a total of ten of them on the planet, but so far, only one was functional.  She found the data port and hooked up her PADD, frowning more and more as she went.  There was something in the code on this unit that wasn’t like the others.  The other two engineers were working on the power couplings, quietly grousing as they went.  Janoor III hadn’t seen a competent engineer since the occupation, she’d decided.  As much praise as the governor had given the 514, she was starting to wonder how trustworthy the task group actually was given the significant needs she was seeing.  The chief engineer worked to isolate the offending code.

“Chief?”  The crewman called her over, a worried look on his face.  Katsumi put her PADD on pause and ambled over, glancing at the couplings and gasping in shock as the crewman Bartoli shook his head in disbelief, “We think either the Dominion sabotaged these things before they left the planet twenty-five years ago…or….”

She knelt and scanned the unit, “…or there have been some cowboys down here after the fact…and recently.  As bad as their work has been, they’ve been doing work on these things.  They’re shoddy, but this isn’t shoddy.”  She pointed to the crude modifications on the couplings, “If this thing gets powered up, it’s going critical in…what, like 30 seconds?”

Bartoli grimaced, “We thought maybe fifteen given how many feedback loops they built…see there, and there.  We took a look at the code for the system.  I think they played with that too.”

Okada went back and retrieved her PADD and showed him what she’d found.  She was starting to understand there was something greater at work here than just ignorance or indifference on the part of the Janoor III people.  “They did.  You can see they adjusted the power inputs, outputs, and directional conduits…damn.  Someone knew what they were doing here.  We’re going to have to dissemble this thing just to get rid of whatever bugs they planted.  Greg, you better get the rest of your team down here.”  Bartoli nodded and walked off to hail the Mackenzie.

Patrick Kurtz tapped at his tricorder and asked, “Chief…you don’t think someone here did this?”

Okada felt her heart pick up speed as she turned to listen.  Kurtz was a senior cadet on assignment to the Mack and had been studying engineering and intelligence operations.  He’d come to Starfleet later in life and, at the age of 40, was someone she’d grown to count on when she needed a mature perspective.  She wasn’t surprised at the question, but it unsettled her all the same.  “I can’t imagine…given everything we’ve read and heard about what happened here…that someone would try and lower their chances at a good defense.”

The cadet shook his head, “That wasn’t my theory, Chief.  What if somehow…a member of the occupation managed to escape when the planet was liberated…found a way to hide somewhere and hold on for twenty-five years.”  She raised her eyebrows and asked him to continue, “There are plenty of stories in history where the war ended…but it didn’t end for everybody everywhere.  Soldiers stayed hidden, living on to fight for the grand idea of whatever ideology…years later they are found, still fighting their war on their island or mountain…or planet.”

Okada felt a chill walk down her spine, pounding its boots on each vertebrae.  “That would mean we’ve got someone…or someones out there watching us…and ready to take us out.  Oly and Mack both have scanned the planet…nothing unusual.”

Kurtz shrugged, “Plenty of caves around here…and old abandoned ruins that could hide from most scans.  I don’t like thinking about stuff like this much, but it’s hard to ignore what we’re seeing with this site.”

The Chief sighed as Bartoli returned to report, “Team is gathering equipment and on their way.”  He stopped, looking at each of them, “You two look like someone kicked your dog and landed a shuttlecraft on it.” Okada explained what Kurtz had proposed.  Bartoli whistled low in response, “Holy crap.  That’s…not crazy.  I’d start to wonder if we find more sites like this.  Someone could have just snuck down here and done their bit of sabotage and then headed back to the fleet.  I mean…yea, that doesn’t sound like The Dominion.  Victory is life and all that jazz.  Maybe we should get some security folks disguised as engineers to do some perimeter scanning with us as we work?”

Katsumi grumbled, “I’ll make the call.  All I wanted was a peaceful time repairing defense weapons.  Goddamn Dominion.”

“The Cardassians are the devils.  They have done unspeakable things to our people.” Governor Gideon Rosser sat at the head of the table in the Hall of Liberty, surrounded by his staff.  “Their very presence is an offense to us and those that died at their hands.  You can promise us all you want, but the last time Starfleet made promises, we suffered a genocidal occupation.”  Those around him nodded and muttered to each other, reflecting on the suffering endured by the people.

Captain Wren Walton sat at the other end of the table, her XO standing behind her.  They’d asked to meet with Rosser and his people to attempt a negotiation at cooperation with the remaining Cardassian ships.  She had known it would be a challenge convincing the people of Janoor III to accept the offer of assistance from their former occupiers.  Wren tried again, “We’re working on reviewing the records of the captains and crews….”

Rosser stood, pounding emphatically on the table, “To what end?  To make sure none of them were allied with The Dominion?” His words echoed in the large meeting room.  “You cannot be certain of the feelings of each Cardassian officer.  We’ve heard of sympathizers that still infest the Union government and military.  Twenty-five years isn’t long enough for our memories to fade, Captain.  It isn’t long enough for the darkness in the hearts and minds to be cleansed.”

Wren felt her anger bubbling from her heart to her throat.  Her diplomatic officer, Hargraves, stepped out from the background, “Governer Rosser, I understand you don’t believe this Dominion threat is real.”

Gideon didn’t sit down and pointed his finger back at the man, “Task Group 514 hasn’t seen anything to suggest this is more than just a Breen border action.  Your Federation News is sayings the same thing!  The lies from the outsiders have made it harder to swallow whatever is fed to us.”

Charlie offered a PADD, “Task Group 514 has reported several starships have been lost in the last few days.  Several larger class ships.  I’ve read their past performance reviews – they have competent and strong crews.  Their track record up to now has been sterling – very few losses.”  He walked the PADD down the long table and placed it on the table in front of Rosser, “This section of space has been notoriously devoid of significant open combat.”

The governor read through the various reports Hargraves had highlighted, “What are you trying to get me to see?”

Charlie left the PADD and returned to his place in the rear of the room, speaking as he went, “514 has suffered losses against something powerful and motivated.  There are scattered reports of encroaching engagements with increasing regularity.  Something is out there, Governor, and it is pushing its way here.  You cannot deny that.”

Gideon glanced around at his staff, looking back at him with renewed worry.  The diplomatic officer argued logically, and the governor’s tried and true retorts failed him.  He sighed in resignation, “I’ll take the PADD.  We’ll discuss it as a group.”

He stood as his staff followed suit, as did the Starfleet officers.  Wren, Park, and Hargraves waited until the large doors to the council chambers thundered shut.  The CO turned to the group, her face shifting from placid to frustrated, “We’re not making good progress here.”

Charlie disagreed, “It’s our first sit down, captain.  They needed to get out their feelings towards the Cardassians in the open.  Do you remember the studies on the war?”  Wren glared at him, and he shrugged, “Give me that look all day, captain, but the truth is we’re dealing with a colony that has seen the horrors of a brutal occupation up close.  We’re maybe a generation removed – those memories are still very fresh.  They teach it in schools.  Some students have parents with scars still healing – the literal and the metaphorical.”

Park said, “Given what they’ve seen…you’d think they’d be willing to fight.”

The diplomatic officer shrugged, “The 514 has been telling them all is well.  Federation News has been telling them all is well.  Hell, Starfleet Command is nearly outright denying the Dominion is back.”

Wren contemplated while the two of them went back and forth.  The oddness of the situation was slowly becoming concerning, and she wasn’t sure how to feel about it.  The Fourth Fleet seemed to be the only ones taking the situation seriously, and the pushback from everyone else was no longer a novelty – it was painting a picture of what she would have called a conspiracy fever dream in the past.  Now?  She was starting to feel the usually even floor under her feet starting to tilt. Walton had usually been the one working with others to stabilize the metaphorical floor.  Control of the floor now felt like it was being slowly pulled out of her hands. She didn’t like it.  “We’ll have to wait on their deliberations.”  She checked her chrono, “Park, head back to Mackezie and see what progress our Gul has made with our Cardassians.”  Once she vanished in the light of the transporter, Wren warned Hargraves, “If we can’t find a way to help them see the benefits of Cardassian help, there’s not much else to do but blunt force the solution.”  She nodded at his grimace, “I know, I know.  Let’s take a walk outside…see if we can talk to some people.  Might give us a better picture of what we’re up against.”  He agreed, and they walked out into the sunshine.

“They’re refusing to talk to me.”  Gul Hasara sat at the briefing table with a sour look.  He’d reached out to the captains of the remaining five ships, and they’d turned down his invite to meet.  They’d stoutly refused to allow him to visit and cut the channel dismissively.

Seoyeon slid into the chair across from the Cardassian, “Is it a choice or an order?”

Hasara considered her question.  He had long wondered what had transpired in the Union to put him on his heels.  He was starting to wonder if there was a connection to the sudden appearance of The Lost Fleet.  The political motivations within the twisted web of the military had long lost his interest. He mentally kicked himself for not keeping up with his people’s happenings.  This moment would have been a perfect opportunity to exploit connections he’d exploited.  “I do not know, commander.  They are young officers who have been regaled of the tales of the battles, the rebellion, and the victory against the Dominion.”

She was floored.  Five ships remained from an original dispatch of twelve.  “How can they believe that after they just got pasted by what is probably Dominion forces?”

The Gul knew, “They may feel as if they’ve proven they can fight them…and yes, even with their heavy losses.  The pride and hubris of a young Cardassian captain and crew cannot be ignored, commander.  They see me as a…the human term is ‘old dog who can’t be taught new tricks’ or something like that.”  He leaned back in the chair, “We have a swagger-filled Cardassian fleet licking their wounds on one side…and a group of Federation colonists who want nothing to do with them.”

The XO shook her head in dismay, “All the while, the Dominion is probably plotting our destruction just out of view of sensors.”  She thought of something, “What if we got evidence?”

Hasara chuckled, “They’d say you’d manipulated the video or photos…or faked sensor readings.”  He shrugged at her glare, “What?  I would have said it if you brought such things to me.”

She rubbed her face as she continued to think.  She stopped and stared at him, “What if we brought one or two of them with us?  You can’t fake what someone sees with their own eyes.”

The Cardassian blinked.  Twice.  “You’ve impressed me, Commander Seoyeon.  That’s one way around their resistance.  Will Captain Walton approve?”

Park pushed herself out of the chair, “It’s something she would do, so I think we’ll get her signature.”

“They murdered my daughter.”  The middle-aged Bajoran woman’s eyes blazed with rage.  Walton and Hargraves had been making their rounds through the town square and into the arterial streets, asking the citizens about their feelings when it came to the Cardassians.  The stories had been visceral in every sense of the word.  Stories of torture, murder, brutality, abuse, and careless violence had filled their PADDs as they’d taken notes.  The woman they stood before had tears in her eyes as she related the murder of her 13-year-old only child.  The Cardassians suspected her of counterintelligence and had been threatening her daughter’s well-being most of the prior to get her to confess.  “I was no dissident.  I followed the martial law, the new laws, the extra laws.  We were model citizens of the occupation.”  She spat at the ground, “But they believed I was running some kind of operation.  So they kept after her and me…until one day there was a bombing in the town square – a bunch of Cardassian soldiers killed.”

Wren whispered, “So they came for you.”

The woman stared at the ground, her eyes filling with sadness, “They were so angry.  They didn’t listen.  All they wanted to hear was that it was me, that I had planned it…that I had made it happen.  I didn’t do what they wanted.  I thought they’d throw me in prison…or something.”  She glanced up at each of them, “They didn’t believe anything I told them.  They murdered her in front of me…and walked away.”  She wiped the tears away, “Two more months of attacks…and they never found who had done it.  You ask why we hate them…why we don’t want them here…I’m just one of thousands with memories of them and what they did to us.”

They thanked her and walked her as she wandered away, lost in her emotional fog.  Wren growled, “This mission doesn’t just feel challenging anymore…it feels like this is damned near impossible.”

Charlie was starting to agree with her.  He’d signed up for the diplomatic officer position as a way to expand his experience in the fleet.  That he was going to have to navigate the massive canyon between the Cardassians and a world they had occupied had not been something he had expected.  He was about to speak when Walton’s badge chirped.  It was the XO, and she had a plan.

Wren listened as Park explained the plan she and the Gul had framed out.  She replied. “I like it.  Charlie and I will work with the Governor to get them on board.  Give Hasara my thanks.”  The channel closed, and she grinned maniacally, “I love it when a plan comes together.”

“You can’t be serious.”

Wren felt her eyes widen, and Charlie spoke before her urge to backhand the man kicked in.  “Governor…we’re offering you a chance to have your people get an honest and transparent look at the situation from the safety of a runabout.  If there’s any danger, which you have said there isn’t, we’ll bring them right back.”

Rosser chewed on his bottom lip.  He could have just told them to leave out of frustration and to take their ugly Starfleet uniforms with them.  He suspected they would have pressed the issue, and plenty of yelling would have resulted.  He knew what had happened the last time he’d tried to push the captain of the Mackenzie around.  “Very well.  As for the request you made….”  He looked to his staff and then back to Walton and her group, “We will need to interview each Cardassian you propose to put on this planet.  If they are approved, each of them will be escorted around the planet by two armed marshals.”

Wren clenched her jaw, counting to ten in her head. “I’ll discuss your proposal with my senior staff and the Cardassians.  Get me the names of your people for the mission.  We need to move on this.  Good day, governor.”  She stood at attention and stalked out, Charlie on her heels.

“You really don’t understand the word ‘diplomatic,’ do you, captain?”

She spun on him, “I don’t like being pushed around and manipulated into corners I have to fight my way out of, Charlie.”  Walton put her hands up in apology, regretting the outburst as soon as it had happened, “I shouldn’t have said it that way.”

He gave her a harder look as he tapped his badge, “I’m here to help you watch your words.  You’ll have to learn that on your own eventually, captain. Hargraves to Mackenzie, two to beam up.”  She resisted the urge to strangle him mid-transport. 

“Dropping from warp speed.  Switching to impulse and activating passive operations.”  William Prentice was at the controls of the New Atlantic runabout with his old friend Kondo at his side, holding down the tactical and operations console.  Behind them sat Oleg Hertz and Paula Judon from Janoor III, who had been selected to witness whatever it was that would be found.  Oleg was the Secretary of Staff to the irascible governor, and Judon was the Secretary of Planet Security.  While the first was open to the possibility of the Dominion’s return, the second had voiced her skepticism since boarding the runabout.  Kondo had had to gently, then forcefully tell her to keep her thoughts to herself for the remainder of the trip.  She’d taken to staring sullenly out the window, her arms tightly crossed over her chest.

De La Fontaine kept one eye on the space ahead of them and the other on the sensor readings filtering through the tactical picture.  “Passive sensors are picking up multiple signals ahead – up to forty.”  He activated the screens they had installed in the passenger cabin, “Sensor readings will be on the right screen, and video feed will be on the left.”  He turned to Prentice, “Let’s slip in behind that gas giant.  No indication they’ve picked us up.”

Will slowly pushed the New York towards the planet, keeping his eyes on the distance part of space where the signals from Fowler’s scan had originated.  They’d studied the Dominion War at the academy and spent much of their flight control lessons on how they fought differently.  Watching the videos of the attacks and the interviews with survivors had left an indelible impact on them as cadets.  He felt the unease that he had experienced over those days in the classroom returning.  The Dominion wasn’t just the boogyman those outside of the Fourth Fleet were making them out to be – they were the reason the boogyman had been invented.  He slowed them as they took refuge behind the planet.  Kondo went to work, “There are a few short-range sensor buoys in the area.  Attempting to connect…” he worked the console and clicked his tongue, “One’s been damaged…but the other one…there we go.”

The screens filled with the sensor data from the buoy, detailing the number of contacts closer to fifty Jem’Hadar Fighters.  Hertz and Judon sat forward in their seats, eyes now glued to the two screens as Kondo narrated what he was finding, “You see the number of fighters there – computer is 95% sure those are Dominion forces.  Looking to see what else we can see here…” The sensor buoy continued to feed back information. The runabout’s computer beeped as it updated its interpretation, and De La Fontaine reported, “Looks like a Jem’Hadar Battlecruiser at the far end.”  He tapped at his console, “She’s had a few upgrades since she landed here.  Her power readings are a little higher than we’ve seen in a ship from that time.”  Another glance at the readouts, “I think the Breen’s been helping them…which isn’t great news.”

Judon stood up, frustrated.  “These are just sensor reports!  I need to see them to verify these lies you’re spreading.  These mean nothing!”  She hustled up to the archway to the cockpit, “You can either get us close enough to see them, or you can take us back to Janoor III.  I will not be fooled by Fourth Fleet Propaganda.”

Kondo quietly stood and pointed her back to the cabin as Charlie, the diplomatic officer, came up from the back, exasperated, “Secretary Judon, it is very dangerous to get close to Dominion forces.  They are…”

She snapped as she stomped back to her seat, “…are a myth!  A ghost to scare us into the arms of the Fourth Fleet and surrender our rights, our planet…and our people.”  Judon sat down in a huff and crossed her arms, staring at the diplomatic officer, fuming.

Hargraves blinked twice and stepped into the cockpit, “You’re not going to like my suggestion.”  He didn’t like it himself if he was honest.  “They have to see it.”  He cringed as he said it.  Getting closer to the Dominion forces was a dangerous game, especially in a runabout.

Prentice shook his head, “You’d made this suggestion a year ago, I’d have said hell yes, let’s get after it.”  He glanced at Kondo, “I’m more interested in living to see tomorrow these days.”  There was an unsettling tension in the cockpit, and it was the reality that he spoke about next that was causing it, “But…I think Charlie’s right.  We’re going to spin our warp drives up over and over without them giving us the OK to get help from the Cardassians.”  He accepted the annoyed look from the chief tactical officer, “I know, I know…but other options do we have?  We’ve got the Oly and the Mack, but we still need the Galor fleet and their people.”

Kondo didn’t like it.  He hated it, really.  The problem was he didn’t have an answer to Will’s question.  They needed proof, and Janoor III wouldn’t take a scan or even a photo for an answer.  “Damn it.  Will, get me a course that skirts the fleet as much as possible but gets us our visual.  Charlie, get everyone secured back there – if they see us, we’re going to be making a bumpy exit.”  The diplomatic officer vanished into the back, barking orders.  Prentice confirmed he had a course plotted.  De Le Fontaine complained, “I hate it, but here we go.”

The New York kicked on it’s impulse engines and swung around the gas giant, steaming in the direction of the fighters.  Kondo tuned the cameras toward the grouping and attempted to zoom in. They would need to get closer.  “They haven’t seen us yet…Prentice, let’s get closer for a better picture.”  Will made a face as he adjusted their course, slowly growing closer to the Dominion forces.  A second later and the video cleared up, “Secretaries, you can see on your video screens the fifty or so Jem’Hadar Fighters.”

There was an argument and then a shout, and then Judon stormed into the cockpit for the second time that day, “Where are they?  That video is not convincing.”  She gestured to the cockpit window ahead, “I want to see them there.”

Kondo wished he had been born a Vulcan.  That way, he’d have enough patience and control not to restrain the secretary and bind her mouth shut. He turned to her, “Madam Secretary, I don’t think…”

She jumped ahead and mashed her hands over Prentice’s console.  He was too shocked to react, and suddenly the New York went to full impulse and careening towards the fleet of fighters which grew bigger in the window, until Judon stepped back in shock.  Prentice got back control of his console and plotted a retreat course as the fighters suddenly took notice of the runabout and moved to intercept, firing weapons as they went.  Kondo spoke firmly, “I hope you are happy, Secretary Judon.  They know we’re here, thanks to you.  Charlie, secure her. Now.”  The klaxons began to ring as the shields were impacted by the polaron beams.  Kondo tapped the mediocre weapons controls on the New Atlantic while his friend careened the runabout towards open space.

Hargraves slammed Judon in her seat, strapping her in, “You’ve got your evidence, secretary.  Now pray we live through this to tell everyone about it.”  Her face had gone ashen white, and her hands shook under the restraints.  She appeared as if she was a fish, desperately asphyxiating out of the water she was used to swimming in.  Judon couldn’t find the words as the images of the fighters turning towards the runabout, weapons glowing and then firing with a vengeance.  The diplomatic officer stood over her, unmoving.  She realized she wasn’t going to be getting back home alone.

In the cockpit, Will growled, furious.  The shots from the fighters were growing more contentious as he evaded the shots and the runabout was taking her fair share of the abuse.  “Shields are at 75%. I’ve signaled the Mackenzie we’ve made a mess of things.  Getting us out of here…now.”  He dodged another blast, and the ship shook from a torpedo impact before the warp engines kicked in and carried them home.

The red alert klaxons sounded on the Mackenzie’s bridge as the crew responded to the ‘battlestations’ call from Captain Wren Walton.  Her face was steely as she stood before her chair, hands balled in ever-tightening fists of fury.  What little Reede had been able to parse infuriated her.  She was counting to ten, and she was breathing in and out, and she was still seeing red.  A foolproof plan to spy on the Dominion now had the potential to blow up into a full-on battle.

Her XO sat at the tactical station.  She could feel the heat from Wren, as could most of the bridge crew.  She tracked the shuttle, “Shuttle has departed the area – reporting shields at 60% with mild damage to systems.  They’re transmitting data, video, and signed affidavits from the two secretaries.”

Walton chewed on her bottom lip before she asked, “Are they being followed?”  At this moment, she felt the true weight of the responsibility of command – not only was she responsible for the Janoor III people, but the Olympic was a prime target for the Jem’Hadar.  She’d done her research – there were very few scruples among the Dominion, and war crimes were just an average Tuesday for them.  If the enemy was two hours away, Crawford would need to get as many from the planet as he could…and run.

Park played with the science and tactical sensors at the same time, searching the space around the runabout.  She sat up, startled, and checked again.  There was nothing in the area.  No signals like the Olympic crew had detected.  Just the patterns of fighters on patrol on the far edge of the map.  She reported this to her captain, and Wren stared at her momentarily in disbelief.  The XO checked again.  Nothing.

“That is…damned peculiar.  What is their game?  ‘Victory is life’ seems like they’d want to run right over us.  Reede, get me, Captain Crawford.”  Oscar spun in his chair and went to work. A moment later, he confirmed he had the CO of the Olympic.  He was feeling useful at comms.  He hoped that continued.

Crawford’s worried visage filled the screen, “Talk to me, Wren.”  She explained what they were seeing, and he sat back in his chair, thinking.  “Well, this is the Lost Fleet…so that fact that they’re not following is weird.  Let’s see…” he looked at his PADD, “The New York’s report had fifty fighters and a Battlecruiser…that’s not much of an invasion force.  That’s more of a ‘hold the system’ force.  I don’t think we’ve seen the ships and soldiers they’ve got planned for Janoor III.  That might just be part of the invasion fleet.  I’d recommend staying at red alert until we’re sure.”

Wren couldn’t argue with his logic.  She’d been wondering how much would eventually avalanche down the mountain of the Lost Fleet towards them.  She had part of her answer. “We’ll keep an eye out, Pete.  Mackenzie out.”  The channel closed, and she turned to her XO, “Tell me we’re still in the clear.”

Park had been studying the sensors while the conversation continued, “Nothing on long-range sensors…something interesting, captain.”  She worked the console, and the screen displayed a feed from the sensor buoy that the New York had gotten their initial intelligence.  “They’re holding the connection and will drop an additional transmitter or two on their way back.”

Walton smiled for the first time in an hour, “We just got some serious luck tossed our way.”  They both watched the screen as the ships’ movement returned to the normal cycle the Olympic had originally identified.  “That’s really good.”  She returned to her chair, but before she sat down, she spoke to Reede, “Send a message to the governor.  Inform him we’ll have his evidence along with his people…and this time…he’s coming to us.  Work with the diplomatic team to make what I just said less…,” she struggled for the word.

Reede offered meekly, “Threatening, captain?”

She laughed, startling him but earning a smile after the fact, “That’s the one.  I’ve got a Gul to harass.  Park, you have the CONN.”

The XO stood and moved to the center chair, “I have the CONN.”  The door closed behind her CO, and she wondered if there was a slim chance they’d complete their mission without too much trouble.  She amended that in her head.  Just enough trouble, perhaps. 

“I get the distinct impression you don’t like me very much, Captain Walton.”  Gul Hasara stood at the conference room’s windows, his grey eyes searching the blackness of space.

Wren plopped down in the chair at the head of the table. “I think that’s just a default for most of the older Starfleet officers – you can’t deny the Cardassians have given us plenty of reasons for distrust.”

He turned to her, a look of genuine hurt in his eyes.  “You wound me, captain.  You’ve read Captain Harris’s reports?”  She nodded.  She had.  “Then you must know my motivations are less aligned with the Union and more with the Federation.”

She scoffed, “Gul, I’d much prefer if they were completely aligned with the Federation.  We’re working overtime to repair five Galor class starships with the clock ticking on a Dominion invasion force.  The people of Janoor III will eventually have to accept Cardassian help…and the best you’ve got is to whine about the Union and how these young officers are not friendly?”  She threw up her hands, “You sold yourself to me as a resource.  The reports from Captain Harris agreed.  And yet, here we are…waiting for someone to step up.  You should be slapping the young captains sideways and back in line.”

The air between them was tense, and he stared at her, mute.  He turned to the window and remained in thought for a few minutes before moving to sit next to her, “Captain Walton…I was not on that colony by accident when then Commander Harris found me.  I had grown tired and indifferent to the ways of the Cardassian military.”

She rolled her eyes, “You’re telling me you’ve lost the will to be the Cardassian we need?  A pacifist passive Gul is what we’re going to get?”

He played with his hands, “You don’t know….”

She slammed her fist on the table, startling him, “I know, Gul.  I’ve known people who were on the other end of it.  Hell, you can ask Peter Crawford about his experience during the Dominion War.  He saw and knows plenty. We all have to be in touch with our darker sides in war.”

Hasara shook his head morosely, “It is not who I am anymore.”  He leaned back in the chair, “I told Captain Harris once that he had never seen me at war…he had only seen me at peace.  We were fighting a terrible enemy, so I returned to my old ways and feelings…and after he was murdered…I began to question my identity.”

Wren resisted the urge to groan out loud.  Hasara wasn’t wrong in his struggle.  He’d seen a friend die at the hands of someone who had let their darkness run wild.  “You are not like the Devore.”

The Gul chuckled dryly, “That is part of the why, Captain Wren.  We aren’t that much different in our methodologies or means.  Janoor III is a prime example of what happens when we leave …I think the phrase is from one of your ancient politicians, ‘the better angels of our nature’ behind in pursuing our goal.”

She disagreed.  “You’ve done some terrible things, Gul, I’m sure.  Hell, my service jacket is far from perfect.  But what makes the difference is the ‘why.’”  She gestured to the room around them, “You’re on a Federation starship, Hasara.  There’s a standard that we hold ourselves to every day we step into this uniform.  No matter what we do, we follow the better angels of our nature in everything we do.”  She leaned in, “You taking on the five Galor ship captains and putting them in line…opening that door to your harder side…it gets us the protection and cooperation we need from them.”  She hoped her argument convinced him and finished with, “For the first time in your life, you’ll be doing the right thing with that intense side of you, Gul.”

He regarded her for a moment, her words resonating most unusually.  “You told me your job before this was to work with officers and commands to get them to improve and better themselves.”  She nodded.  “You were very good at it, weren’t you?”  Walton returned his question with a sly smile, and he found a new appreciation for this wily Federation captain.  “You can be diplomatic and thoughtful when pressed, Captain Walton.”

Wren shrugged, “I have my days, Gul Hasara.  Don’t tell my diplomatic officer.  Does that mean you’ll help me with the Galor captains?”

Hasara stood and extended his hand.  She did the same and shook it firmly.  He stepped back and glanced at the window, “It means I’m going to, as you humans say, ‘take the bull by the horns’ and get them to listen.  I may even slap them.”  He laughed at her grimace, “I know you were not terribly serious about that, Captain…but I may have to find external motivations.”

She watched him leave the conference room and felt a smile tug at her lips.  A Cardassian complimented her?  She was going to carry that with her for a while.

Wren loved mornings.  She gave a nod and a greeting to each crew member she passed as she ran the corridors just after 5 am.  It had long been her tradition on the ships and stations she’d served.  It felt important to her for this part of her life to continue.  The running helped clear her head and heart.  Her unusual habit had initially struck the crew of the Mackenzie.  It had become normal to see the pony-tailed captain running deck to deck.  Greetings were less stiff, and she followed up on the conversations she’d had previously.  A slow drift of crew morale had started to shift her way.  Her badged beeped, and she slowed to a walk just outside her quarters.

“Park to Walton.”  She gave her the go-ahead. “The governor and his team have signaled they’ll be ready to transport aboard within the hour.  Operations and DIplomatic teams are putting the final touches on the meeting hall.”  Wren checked her chrono.  She had just enough time to shower and slip on a fresh uniform.  She told the XO she’d meet the group in the transporter room.  She closed the channel and headed into her quarters, ready to clean off the sweat and face the day.

The transporter beams coalesced and revealed the figures of Governor Gideon Rosser, Secretary of Staff Oleg Hertz, Secretary of Planet Security Paula Judon, and three additional dignitaries.

Wren stepped forward, “Welcome aboard the Federation Starship Mackenzie, Governor.”  She extended the same greeting with the same slightly warm smile to Hertz, Judon, and the others.  Rosser sighed, “Let’s get this over with, Captain.”  The others mirrored his tone with bored looks as she nodded and led them down out the door and into the corridors.  She gave a passing history of the Excelsior II class starships and the overall background of the Mackenzie, pointing out different parts of the ship as they walked.  The Janoor III delegation didn’t notice the two seemingly indifferent security officers wandering behind the group making small talk while keeping a sly eye.  The group entered a turbolift, and the two security officers waved off the offer.  They’d catch the next one, they said.

Walton led them out of the turbolift and around the corner to the meeting hall.  Two new security officers picked up their trail, followed them to the doors, and then nonchalantly walked past them as the group entered, now under the watchful eye of security and diplomatic teams.  She pointed out the tables, “Diplomatic Officer Hargraves will escort you to the tables and give you instructions on the summit.”  The captain knew none of the group would admit it out loud, but their wide eyes and the attempts to tamp down their impressions of the beauty and modernity of the Mackenzie were amusing to her.  She left them in the care of Charlie as she accepted a nod from the XO and slipped over to her side, “It’s been 12 hours.  Hasara made any progress?”

Park handed her CO a PADD, “He’s got three of the five onboard.”  She pointed at several points on the PADD, “The remaining two…Sovalev and Mase – reached out to me and said they refused to work with a known traitor.  I asked them for details, and they told me it wasn’t their story to tell.’

Wren muttered, “Goddamn Cardassians.  Annoying as hell and combative as a teenager in her prime.”  She sighed, “We’re going to need the other two if we can get the delegation’s cooperation.”

Her XO pointed at the PADD, “There are a few options.  We can offer some inducements to add additional repairs to their ships.  Chief Okada thinks she can work a miracle or two.  Trouble is they might not care about it since they think it won’t make much of a difference…and listening to Okada… it won’t be more than 5% difference.”  Wren asked what the second option was.  The grimace from Park didn’t help her worries, but the XO explained, “We stage a coup on the two ships – take the two captains into custody and replace them with the XOs from the other three ships.  This was mostly a Hasara plan, but the captains and crews he talked to weren’t opposed to it – they want to beat the Dominion as much as we do…and there is a sense of responsibility among them to make up for what happened before on the colony.”

Walton asked the obvious, “We think the rest of the crew on those two ships will go along with this?”  There was enough political intrigue to go around with just the Janoor III delegation.  She wasn’t convinced adding additional spinning plates to their already wildly spinning plate would work out.

Park considered, “Hasara’s three seem to think so.  The two holdouts are much younger, more belligerent…and not the greatest commanding officers. There has been discontent growing under their command.”

Wren rocked back and forth on her heels, “I suppose I’m the one to give the order, then?”  A nod from her XO.

“You do have the four rank pips, Captain.” Park ignored her CO’s tongue being stuck out in response.

Walton deliberated in her head.  The Dominion was two hours away, waiting and watching.  Being down two Galor Class ships wasn’t just a bad idea; it tipped the tactical scales.  “We can’t afford to let this get in the way.  Have Hasara put it in motion.”  Park walked out of the meeting hall, and the CO took a deep breath as she headed for the front of the room.

Governor Gideon Rosser spoke from his table, “I now accept the report from the secretaries that they witnessed a significant force of Dominion fighters and a battleship.  I also will hesitantly accept further reports from the Fourth Fleet regarding Dominion and Fleet movements.”  Standing, he looked at the group around his table and the others, “It is…not easy to admit when one is wrong.  I stand here before you to admit this.”  He turned his gaze to Wren, “We’ve moved to accept the assistance of your squadron in full faith.  However…”

Wren acknowledged the Borg Cube in the room, “Your concerns remain with the Cardassian element.” Rosser nodded, and the entire delegation reflected a nervous energy.  “We’ve had some…developments on that front.” She explained part of the results of Hasara’s discussions.  She finished with, “There is the feeling that they wish to make up for those who had committed the atrocities…that they feel this is their chance to make something right out of the unconscionable wrong.”  She knew she was stretching the truth slightly, and Charlie’s warning look was enough to keep more to the reality.

Rosser frowned as he listened to her and turned to the group at his table to discuss once she’d finished.  Wren stepped away to give them some sense of privacy as Park strode in, smiling quietly.  “I’m always worried when you’ve got that kind of a smile on your face.”

The XO widened her smile as she reported, “It went smoother than anybody expected.  Hasara sent a message to each ship demanding their commanding officers surrender and be transported to the Mackenzie…Wren, it took fifteen seconds for the bridge crews to remove them.”

“That’s…impressive.  They must have hated the bastards.”

Park nodded emphatically, “The Cardassian crews used other words…but yes.  We have a fleet of five Galor ships with crews willing to help the people of Janoor III.” Both exchanged thankful but weary smiles.

“We will initially allow Cardassian crews to work on the outlying defense systems outside the cities and towns.  They will be escorted and assisted by Starfleet engineers and security members with additional supervisory roles by Janoor III Marshals.”  Rosser tapped at his pad device and continued reading what had been decided and noted, “Once the outer planetary defense systems have been completed and inspections verifying repairs are whole…we will begin the process of allowing Cardassian crew into the cities and towns on a limited basis with the conditions outlined earlier in place.  We will also agree to the Galor Class ships entering a defensive orbit of Janoor III predicated on Starfleet’s oversight and agreement to respond if an attack or acts of aggression occur.”

He sat and looked expectantly at Wren, who took her place at the podium, “We’ve agreed to the conditions on our part as Starfleet, but we still need agreement from the Cardassians.”  She had warned the group that this was necessary as she spoke, “Gul Hasara has been granted field command of the Cardassian fleet from the Galor captains.”  The door to the meeting room opened, and the imposing Gul stepped slowly into the room and walked steadfastly to where Wren stood.  The Janoor III delegation blanched noticeably – they had warned her in return that they hadn’t seen a Cardassian alive and upright in twenty-five years.

Hasara cleared his throat and spoke into the microphone, “The Cardassian Fleet has accepted the conditions laid out by the honorable Janoor III delegation.  We will honor the conditions as they’ve been set.”  He said the words while knowing the reality would be much different.  Those gathered around the tables from Janoor III were a small representation of the larger planetary colony population.  As word would spread, the mission would become complicated and possibly compromised.  He signed his portion of the agreement on the PADD and stepped away and to the side as the various dignitaries signed their names to the agreement.  No handshakes were exchanged, and the Janoor III group left without saying much else, their faces a mixture of relief and nerves.

Soon it was just Wren and the Gul as the diplomatic and food services team finished resetting the room.  She turned to him, “Traitor to the cause?  That wasn’t in Captain Harris’s reports.”

He grimaced, “I had wondered what the fools  would say.”  He motioned at the table before them, and they both sat.  Wren waited.  She had suspicions about what was about to be revealed, yet she had learned that you could never assume anything about anyone.  Hasara put his hands together, “The two officers I had deposed were suspected of having Dominion sympathies.”  He kept his eyes in contact with hers, “In the Dominion War…I had a part to play when we became allied with them.  I went along for a time.  I was in my late twenties and was convinced we were doing the right thing.”  Hasara shook his head as scattered memories of a lifetime muttered to him from the depths of his mind.  “In the middle of the war, I began to question what we were doing…why we were doing it.”

Wren muttered, “I’m guessing that went well.”  She raised her eyebrows at his dry chuckle, and he waved her concern away.

“It began my journey to my colony and to meeting Commander Harris.  They tried to get me to believe again…but something broke in me, Captain Walton.  I couldn’t…what is a good human metaphor…slow dance in a burning room anymore…I wished to…as you humans would say, dance like no one is watching.”  Her sloppy grin amused him as he spoke, “Did I not use them correctly?”

She put up her hands, “No, you used them right as rain, Gul.  Cardassians and dancing are not things I would put together.”  Wren sighed, “So the two fools were referring to your falling away from the war machine.”  

He nodded, an unusual sadness filling his face.  Regret had haunted him in many corners of his mind and the universe for so long.  He hadn’t been able to unburden himself.  He felt the sweet cool wash of relief embrace him.  “You know the rest.  Dozaria Prime was my place of exile, and they forcefully forgot about me.”

She leaned back in her chair, a new picture of Hasara forming.  He would probably be annoying for as long as she was stuck with him, and she’d have to practice her coping strategies when his cup of frustration overflowed.  She acknowledged, “Harris was right about you  – you’re honest to a fault and loyal to whoever sits in the chair.”

They remained quietly observing the other as each contemplated what they would say next.  Wren wanted to ask so many questions.  Hasara had one, “You trust me now, Captain Walton?

What a question, she thought.  How could she qualify and quantify the last few days’ events into measurements equal to the challenge of calculating trust?  She settled on, “I trust you more than I did before, Gul Hasara.  Let’s be happy with that and do what we can to protect and save the people of Janoor III.  We’ll keep an open tally on the trust question.”

He stood to attention, “I find this suggested compromise acceptable.”  

She pushed out of her chair and moved towards the door but stopped.  She returned and put out her hand, “To making this work.”  

He frowned at the gesture and wondered what she was up to with two handshakes in two days but forcefully dismissed his paranoia.  It had served him well with Cardassians and Humans alike in the past…but Harris and now Walton were shattering the mold he’d long become accustomed to handling from time to time.  They were a new thing.  He put his hand in hers and shook it, “To making this work.” 

The work continued throughout the day.  Okada wiped the sweat from her face as she listened to the senior Cardassian weapons officer rattle off the specifications of the unit they’d been assigned.  She was impressed with his knowledge and understanding of the systems in play.  That they were the original weapons used by the Cardassians to defend the occupation was the Galaxy-class starship in the room that nobody wanted to talk about or mention.  The Dominion’s first invasion had secured Janoor III as a bulwark, and the weapons they had upgraded and used had been able to keep Starfleet at bay for most of the war.  She imagined them as pristine as they had been 25 years ago and how effective they had been against the rescue attempts.

“They were beautiful once.”  Laurek stepped back from his work; the usual thick and armored Cardassian uniform stripped away to a light armor more equal to digging in and around.  “They were the prize of their day.”  He checked his monitoring device and shouted at the workers down the way before climbing back inside the superstructure.

Okada mused as she leaned in through the porthole entrance, “They can be beautiful again.”  She watched him wrench the wiring free and toss it to her; his determined face focused on bringing them back to life.

Luarek stripped the connectors clean carefully as if they were his child.  He still held pride in Cardassian-produced systems even if they came from a darker time and place.  He had born during the war to a family who had kept to the sides of the conflict.  He tapped open the chip cabinets and scanned them, “That they would defend against the darkness and not serve it is something.”  He pulled out the warped chips and smashed them on the ground.

She chuckled, “You’re a real philosopher, Luarek .”  She handed him the box containing the new chips and then set the fresh connectors down.

“I was going to be a teacher of history and arts before the military came calling.”  He inspected the new chips and slipped them into the slots individually, “I’ve read the classics – Cardassia, Klingon, Romulan…even the Human ones.”  He double-checked the drawer before sliding it back, hearing it lock with a click.  “There are similarities in our old stories.  I always thought the shared themes were a feature of a shared consciousness in the greater universe.”  He moved to the next cabinet and continued his work.

Okada appreciated Laurek’s words.  It was a break from the strict engineering content diet she had been on for the last few days.  “Every culture has stories, I suppose.  Makes you wonder what stories the Breen grew up on…or even the Borg.”  She thought further, “I suppose if we could read some of them, we’d have an insight into the ‘why’ of some of our enemies.”

Luarek closed the last cabinet, and the sound of whirring electronics grumbled and slowly became a low purr.  He smiled widely and came to the opening, “It lives.”  He stepped through, “As to understanding others…there are times where that can be a viable manner of intelligence.”  He accepted a tablet from one of his crew and read through the report, scoffing as he finished and handed it back, “Clean the launcher tubes – that’ll clear the sensors.  Check them for stability and replace them as needed.”  The Cardassian officer stood at attention and moved off with his orders.  Luarek dusted off his clothes, annoyed at the mess he had created.  “There are other times, Chief Okada, where there is no understanding of an enemy.  They want blood for blood’s sake… you can’t reason them out of their inherent darkness.”

Suddenly the sound of an explosion echoed, startling them both.  The security escort quickly bounded into position as the other Cardassian officers climbed and slid down to gather as another distant boom echoed over the hills.  The Janoor III escort was on his radio, speaking quickly while Okada tapped her badge, “Chief to Mackenzie, report.”  Her eyes searched the surroundings, her heart racing for answers.

On the bridge, Park was standing at her science station, worry creasing her brow as worry bubbled in her stomach, “Two explosions three clicks from you.  We’re also reading limited weapons fire of an unknown type.  Identifying the site now.”

In the center chair, Wren followed along on her console, “Chief – we’re also checking with our other teams.  Standby.”

Okada glanced at Luarek, who was wide-eyed and nervously glancing around.  The others were huddling close under the protective guard of the security officers.  Standby wasn’t her favorite word, and it wasn’t doing anything to allay the fears that were coursing through the group.  The sounds of explosions continued every few seconds.

Park’s voice broke through, “Looks like someone is attacking a small military base just east of you – we’re receiving word from the Janoor III government that a separatist group has claimed the attack.  They’ve gathered that the group is against the Cardassian assistance agreement.”  Those words set the Cardassian members on further edge as they glanced fearfully around them and nervously eyed the Starfleet officers charged with protecting them.

Wren confirmed over the channel, “We’re sending the teams additional security and operational support.  You’re dangerously close to the site, Commander.”  

The intonation was clear – stay or go?  The captain was leaving it up to Okada to decide.  She turned to Luarek, who grimaced, “We came here to do the right thing.  We can’t run from the danger…it will give the Domionion an edge when they come for us.  I wish to deny them any advantage.”  He turned to the gathered officers from his ship.  

They whispered to each other briefly, and one replied, “We will go where Luarek goes.”  

He grinned at the response and gestured to the installation, “Let us stand together against the darkness, Commander.”  

Okada couldn’t help but smile and felt relief as additional security personnel appeared in transporter beams.  She briefed them and followed Luarek back inside the unit.  They had work to do and the Dominion to deny. 

“The base was overrun and is currently in the hands of the ‘Janoor Justice” group.  Initial reports on what they got their hands on are limited, and the base doesn’t control any of the planetary defense weapons.  We’re getting scattered reports of unease and protests in two other townships.”  Kondo continued as he stood at the head of the briefing room table, “We’ve completed work on three of the weapons installations, but some of them are nearer to residential areas.  The Janoor III government has expressed concerns about the safety of those operations if they included Cardassian officers.”  He mused, “We knew it was going to be tough implementing this…but we did not expect something so quickly organized.”

Captain Walton spoke at the far end, “I’ll ask it – do we suspect coordination with government members?”  She had been reading up on the history of Janoor III.  The political system was not without its imperfections and infections.

Charlie Hargraves sat back in his chair in the middle of the group, “You’d asked me day one of this thing, I woulda said hell no.  A few days in…and I’m not going to try and defend them from that kind of accusation.  We’ve been working on a deep dive into the governmental and political operations…and it is messy.  Beyond messy. They’ve grown in the last twenty-five years from one big city and a few homesteads to three cities and two townships…not to mention a growing military operation.  It won’t stand against much of anything, but they’ve been putting in the work and gathering support.  Some of this may have come from there.”

Wren asked, “They ran when they should have walked?”  She’d seen it before with colonial operations, which worried her in this case.  Janoor III was a defensible position against the Dominion.  “If we end up having to fight this battle on two fronts, I’m not sure we will have the people to close a breach that big.  Charlie, can you start poking around a little more…see what you can find out?”  He gave a nod and left the room with his team.

Crawford was on the screen, his busy bridge behind him, “I agree.  We’ve got the additional problem of Palak.  We have to notify them we have him.  What trust we’ve gained would be quantum torpedoed if we tried to hide this.  Your engineering teams and our folks have made good progress on the Galor cruisers…but we’re balancing the needs of the planetary defenses with the ships in orbit.”

Park held up a PADD, “Together with all of this is how much time we have until they strike.  Our sensors and the chain of transmitters to the original buoy are showing additional fighters arriving, and an additional battlecruiser was observed moving into the sector this afternoon.”

Peter nodded as he read the reports on his bridge, “Commander Park is reading the trends correctly.  They’ll staff up what they think they need and dive in when their Vorta gives the signal.  That they haven’t moved yet is interesting.”  He leaned back in his chair when the red alert klaxons suddenly rang on his ship and the Mackenzie, “Looks like we have Jem’Hadar fighters coming our way.  Ten are on their way.”  The red lights reflected off his face as he frowned and glanced back at the Mackenzie briefing room, “Interesting has now become odd, Wren.”

Walton returned the frown, “A test?”  She’d studied her share of Jem’Hadar tactics.

Crawford shook his head slowly, deep in thought.  ‘Victory is Life’ was the mainstay of the Dominion.  The suicide attack on the USS Odyssey had been a stark reminder of how they valued their own lives to score a victory against the enemy.  Peter sighed as the memories of the Dominion War, having flitted at the edge of his consciousness for years…now occupied the very front of his mind.  “They haven’t fought us.  At least, 2401 Starfleet.  This might be them figuring out if we’ve improved our tactics, weapons, shields…everything.  Victory is Life isn’t about the big wins…it’s about chipping away at the base until it all falls down.”  He grimaced, “Apologies for the imagery…but let’s treat this as the real thing.”

Wren stood from her chair, and her crew dutifully did the same as she ordered, “The real thing it is.  Peter, pull your crew from the planet.  Activate evacuation protocols for the senior government and head for safer ground.”  He gave a solemn nod and closed his side of the channel.  She faced her crew, new and old.  “We’ve got less than two hours to get those Galor class ships in fighting shape.  Kondo, signal battlestations.”  She turned to leave but stopped and looked back at her crew, “It doesn’t matter if it’s ten Jem’Hadar fighters or fifty – don’t get cocky.  Remember the Odyssey.”  She let those words hang in the air and settle on each member of her crew in the room.  Walton ordered,  “Let’s get to work. Dismissed.” 

“They say you never truly know your character until the threat of death is at your throat, ready to spill all of your blood.”  Longfellow sat in his office, his officer’s log open and recording.  “Pause log.”  He glanced over at his charge nurse, “Too dramatic?”

Asato was working at a console across the room.  They’d received word that ten fighters were coming their way, and preparations were underway.  She was fine-tuning the nursing roster while her staff completed a final inventory check.  She turned to him, “Dying is dramatic, sensei.”

He leaned back in his chair, “I was 13 years old when the Dominion war kicked off.  I spent a lot of time watching the news and reading about the battles.  It felt like the galaxy was genuinely threatened by something bigger than anything we had seen.”

Hiro thought about his words.  There was always something bigger out there.  In the days of Kirk, it had been the Romulans or the Klingons.  Then it was the Borg.  Then the Romulans, Klingons, and now the Dominion again.  It felt like something was always coming from out there to threaten them here.  “The losses hurt.”  She recalled the stories of the Odyssey, of Betezed, and others.  “You cannot forget the scars so deep and so recent.”

Henry tapped his log back on, “They say that scars run deep…and that pain remains a reminder of the past…and a warning of the future.  We’re to face the Dominion.  We’re all feeling…something.  Lots of worries, lots of fears, and lots of confusion.  ‘Victory is Life’ is ringing in our ears while the stories of the last war remind us of the lengths the enemy will go to prove that motto true.  It’s challenging to stay focused in the midst of the threat that’s coming…but we won the last war.  And we can win this one.  End log.”  He looked up and found Hiro nodding approvingly.  “Less dramatic, I think.”

“I would have preferred the space monster,” muttered Oscar Reede as he settled into the console in the communications center with his fellow senior-level cadets.  They were working to transmit reports to Fourth Fleet Command.  The other challenge that had been issued was to work on a plan to jam the Jem’Hadar communications so they couldn’t transmit their reports back to the leading battle group.

Lauren Franks agreed with him as she set her coffee on her console, “I’ve read every report on the Dominion.  They are not to be messed with.  We barely beat them once…and that was because the Prophets did some jiggery-pokery.” Reede turned, his eyebrows raised, and she laughed quietly, “Mam always said it when things were pushed to the extremes.”  She shrugged, “Feels like we’re there.”

Across the room, Lisa James was doing her level best to ignore the conversation.  She’d hesitantly taken the Mackenzie assignment because it was a chance to learn something beyond the boring classwork at the Academy.  She’d gone from boring to imminent death in a few short days.  Her stomach had been in knots most of the day, and she’d downed her share of calming tea through it all.  The shift was nearly over when Reede called them together for the last assignment of the night.  Her hands trembled, and her eyes searched the screens before her for something to hold onto amid the chaos.  Her family insisted on joining Starfleet to find her strength and courage.  The first two years had been a welcome respite from the stress and anxiety of her family.  Now she’d barely survived her junior year and was seriously concerned she’d die by Dominion without graduating.  She pushed her hands to the console and slowly began working on her part in the project.  James quietly wished for some good sleep tonight without nightmares, but her hope was diminishing.

“You’ve seen a lot, haven’t you?”  Gabriela Castillo sat in the crew mess, Master Chief Henry Wyatt sitting across from her.  Both had synthaholic drinks that they were nursing slowly.  She’d wandered into the mess an hour ago, her mind needing a place to stop spinning.  Wyatt had motioned her over to his table.

He swirled his Moscow Mule slowly, “More than I ever cared to see, to be honest.  Nobody’s meant to see so much of history.  For whatever reason, it is our curse.”  He took a sip, “You’re worried about this?”  He could see the worry lines forming on her face every so often as she thought through what was just hours away.

“Who wouldn’t be, Master Chief?  I mean…this is some existential crisis crap.”  She winced and apologized for her outburst.  She felt her face grow warm in embarrassment.

He waved her off, “Don’t apologize for having feelings.  That crap is for the Vulcans.”  He chuckled at his joke before continuing, “You’re right – I’ve seen a lot.  I’ve seen the darkness of the galaxy…and I’ve seen the shining goodness of it.”  Another sip.  “The arc of history bends towards the good, the brave, and the free.”

She rolled her eyes, “But if someone bends it back towards the other side?  What if they’re stronger?”  Castillo motioned towards the massive windows, “Out here…we’re alone.  It feels like it’s Fourth Fleet versus the rest.  What if we’re not strong enough to bend history?” She fell back in her chair, having defeated herself.

Wyatt leaned forward, “I can’t tell you if we’ll win or not, Ensign.  I can tell you that good is a harder fighter than evil.  We don’t run from the fight…we run straight into it.  Believe me or dismiss me – that’s your decision…but it’s like you said – I’ve seen a lot.  History bears out the goodness of the galaxy.”

“You’re worried.”  Captain Walton chided Gul Hasara in the bridge lounge.  It was empty save for the two.  She felt the crew was taking a deep breath before the plunge into the depths of conflict.  She had found Hasara pacing in front of the windows, his eyes staring into the blackness of space and the planet that hung before them.

His stare remained focused on the stars as he replied, “It’s been quite some time since I fought a true enemy, Captain. The Arretans were…an unusual challenge.  But they were not the Dominion.  Are you not worried?”  

She accepted the hard cider synthetic alcohol from the bar and stood beside the Gul.  “I’m worried for a crew that’s part new and old.  The group that served under Harris…this is going to be a knockdown drag-out fight.  It’ll test their resolve.  I worry about their emotional wounds opening up again.”  She sipped and felt the warmth soothe, “The new crew and the cadets…I remember my first assignment as a senior cadet.  I was scared when we ran up against something that wasn’t strictly in my training.  I had to adapt what I learned to what I had to do at the moment.  I learned the hard way that you’re never really ready to do the hard work.  You just have to…learn as you go.  It sucks.”

Hasara accepted the white wine from the bartender and earned a scornful glance from Walton.  “I believe you humans have a term – from the phaser firing range to a phaser fight?”  He sipped at it the drink and relished the taste, “I worry about what comes after the ten fighters.”

They stood in silence, watching the planet and the stars.  Both privately wondering if they would survive this new war.  Wren down the rest of her drink and set the cup on a nearby table, “There will come a moment before they arrive where each of us will have to accept what is about to happen.  Are the Cardassian crews ready for that?”

The Gul drained the dregs from his glass and turned to her, “We can never be sure of each other’s capacity or abilities until they are tested.  I wish we had a guarantee of victory, captain.”

She nodded as he walked past her and through the doors to deck 1.  She whispered to herself, “I wish that too, Gul.”

“We should never have accepted this station,” Vol growled from the depths of her mind, and she agreed with him.  Kiazas sat in her quarters with PADDs all around her.  Duty rosters, last-minute process changes, and rewrites of job assignments filled her mind as she worked on the final preparations for what was coming.  Vol had been with her since she was old enough to join.  He was a wizened veteran of war and battle.  He’d had his share of the Dominion in his past host, a male engineer in Starfleet.  “I’d rather live out my life in the hills of some warm planet,”

“Yea, I know.  You’re old enough for that to work.  I’m not.”  It had been an imperfect pairing  – the old with the new.  They had fought each other early in the joining to a point where there was considerable concern it would fail.  After a particularly long night of fever dreams and long conversations in her mind, they’d made a tentative truce that had blossomed into total peace.  “You think we got a chance?”  She asked partially for the small talk to distract her from the visceral fears at the edge of her psyche.  She also asked because she trusted Vol.

“If I thought there wasn’t a chance, I’d have convinced you to find a way out of this mess.  Self-preservation is a thing.”  He huffed at her, subconsciously pushing for an answer. “We have a chance.  There is always a chance.  Fool’s chance, wild chance, lucky chance, chance in hell…take your pick, kid.  Always a chance.”

Kiazas let out a long sigh, “I’ll take those chances, Vol.  Thank you.”  She returned to her pile of PADDs as the countdown clock on her chrono clicked closer to zero. 

“I’ve visited with each department head.”  Park accepted the hot tea from her friend and captain, “Everyone is at station keeping and as ready as possible.  Kondo has his people resting after a pretty grueling simulator run.”

Wren sat on the couch roughly, “How’d they do?”

The XO handed her a PADD, “Remarkably well.  De La Fontaine doesn’t mess around.  He put them through some of the heavier drills.  None came out crying, so that’s a good thing.”

Walton spat out her tea and groaned as she found her uniform ruined, “Please tell me that’s not your unit of measurement of their success.”  She made sure the ready room door was locked and rustled through her closet for a fresh uniform.

Seoyeon cackled at the spit-take and the comment, “I mean…tactical is a tough gig, Wren.”  Her friend stripped out of her clothes and glared at her as she threw the soaked clothing in a bin, “OK, OK.  Not an official measurement of success.  I’ve seen tactical officers…and at least one assistant chief shed tears in the middle and end of training.”

Wren slipped on the fresh uniform and picked up her tea, “Shall we talk about the times you cried with me?”  She said it with raised eyebrows as she then sipped lightly from her tea, earning rolled eyes from her XO.

“That was because you yelled at me.  Several times.”  Park had learned her lesson several times over in the past with Wren.  When Walton yelled, the decks moved under you.  And not in a good way.

Another sip, “You deserved it. Every single time.”  Seoyeon sighed and threw her hands in defeat as Walton moved on, “Given what you’ve seen – are we ready?”

The XO didn’t respond right away.  Her mind slipped down the list of each department head and those underneath them.  The reports she’d reviewed with each of them had been detailed and exhaustive.  There were bright spots in each, but there were worries there, too, as she’d read and talked with them.  “I think we’ve got a good command staff who will lead by example.  The crew looks to the department heads.  They’ll carry the day.”

“And us?  Are we ready?”  Walton put her tea down on the end table and sat back.  “Are you ready?”

Park sat down on the other side of the couch.  The first question was coming from her captain,.  The second was coming from her friend.  “You’re Wren Walton…you’re always ready.”  She toasted her with her cup, “I follow your example, captain.”

A beat passed, and Wren pressed, “Are you ready?”

The XO blew her breath out and met Walton’s stare, “I wasn’t sure until I did my meetings.  The confidence, courage, and strength of this crew…it’s something to behold, Wren.  I walked out of each conversation more confident than before.  This crew isn’t perfect, but they desperately want to be.”

Wren nodded, “I’m glad to hear it, Park.  I’d hate to have to start kicking your ass again.”  She took a sip, “My foot was getting sore.”  The two broke up into laughter as the clock on the wall continued to click down.  The hours and minutes had passed.  The time was nearly upon them. 

“Shields at 90%!” Kondo reported from his station at the front of the bridge while at the helm, Castillo moved the large Excelsior II class ship through the attack.  De La Fontaine had found her easy to work with, if only a bit skittish and nervous.  The ten Jem’Hadar fighters were proving a challenge.  The five Galor class ships were running point with Gul Hasara’s help at a rear station on the bridge.  The Olympic had left an hour ago for safer sectors, so the battle field was clear.

Wren sat in her command chair, watching the battle play out on the screen.  They had unloaded security officers from Olympic and Mackenzie to various cities on the off chance the Dominion forces went planetside.  She had given Kondo the ‘weapons free’ command early, and the ten phaser arrays were doing the bulk of the work.  She gripped the arms of the chair as the bridge shook.  Kondo reported, “Shields at 80%.”  Two officers who sat at two rear stations behind the command chairs assisted the tactical chief.  The Mackenzie’s eight torpedo launchers hadn’t been activated.  Walton knew this was partly a test by the Dominion forces.

A sudden report came from Park at the science station, “Captain, two fighters are breaking loose and heading for the planet!”

Wren tapped the communication channel button on her chair console, “Lieutenant Vol, you have two targets coming your way.”  The operations chief had volunteered to coordinate the planet’s defenses.  Walton had her theories for the officer’s request.  Vol had been a new addition looking to make a name for herself and trying to impress the CO.  This was an opportunity for the operation chief to show something outside of working on the projects on board the Mack and Janoor III.  Kondo reported two fighters had been destroyed.  That left six in the air. 

“Shoot the bastards down.” The voice of Vol spoke quietly as Kiazas tapped at the console in the command center on Janoor III.  They had found a setup in an old missile silo just outside of the main city and quickly adapted the existing electrics to connect to the three operating weapons platforms. They’d managed to get two phaser banks and one torpedo launcher operational. “Morrison – start the search vector!”  She tapped nervously at the console as the underpowered sensors sputtered online, searching the skies.  

Ensign Kelly Morrison kept his eyes on his flickering screen, his palms sweating.  He had put in his time on the simulators and the holodeck. He’d run the drills.  Did the tests.  Now he was sitting at a console, ready to activate the recently repaired and refurbished planetary defense weapons.  He wiped the bead of sweat from his brow.  Morrison searched the screen, and suddenly a beeping sounded as two icons were identified and circled with emphasis, “Targets acquired, Lietuenant.  They’re heading on an attack vector.”

Kiazas looked up, “Get a lock, Morrison.”  The young ensign had the highest consistent score in the tactical simulations they’d run and had performed well enough in the stress tests.  ‘The Bull’ was worried now that the kid was in the fight, he’d collapse and fold.  “I hope you’re wrong.  He fails; whole lotta people are gonna die.” Vol encouraged her to be positive, and she replied, “I’m positive he’s going to fold.”  Her symbiote chuckled darkly in her mind.

“Shields at 75% – we’re down to four fighters.  One Galor cruiser is disabled and drifting.  Another is losing shields.”  Kondo tapped quickly at his console.  The beam weapons packed a punch, but improving shield technology had long ago negated their ability to cut through shields.  

Wren leaned forward, “Can we finish them off without torpedoes?”  She was hoping they could keep their larger arsenal closer to the chest.

Kondo swayed as the deck rocked, “Shields at 70%.  Four fighters remain.”  He tapped at the console, “We can, but the risk of further damage to the shields and the emitters….”  De La Fontaine understood where his captain was coming from.  He knew there was a finite amount of torpedoes onboard.  Yet…

Park shook her head from the science station, “The remaining fighters are registering an unusual power signature in both shield harmonics and weapons frequency.”  A creeping sense of worry was climbing her back. She had a bad feeling about this.  

Wren soon stood beside her, reading the results.  “Compare to the previous readings during the war.”  She traced the signal on the screen and grumbled, “Goddamn, Dominion.  Either the Breen helped them, or the Breen helped them.  They didn’t get that on their own 25 years ago…or now.”  The bridge shuddered as Kondo reported shields were at 70% and holding.

Park pointed out, “Whatever they’re using as a power source is more resilient and competitive with ours.  It’s preventing our phasers from having more of an effect.  I think we’re going to have to add torpedoes to the mix, Wren.”

Walton agreed begrudgingly, “Mr. Kondo, you are cleared to engage all weapons now.  Fire at will.”  She returned to her chair.  

The sudden burst of torpedoes startled the Jem’Hadar fighters.  Kondo smiled as he watched the fighters stumble in their navigation and signaled Castillo at the helm to get more aggressive.  Two fighters exploded after multiple torpedo impacts, and the other two turned to flee.  Kondo didn’t even have to ask his captain.  “Castillo, intercept the hell out of those fighters.”  The Mackenzie pressed on.

“One fighter down, Lieutenant.”  Morrison felt jubilant but held it to himself.  He had learned early on with his chief what she would and wouldn’t tolerate.  Celebrating victory before the job was done was on the list of not tolerating.

Vol kept an eye on the entire planet’s defense monitors, “Good work.  Where’s that second one going…oh hell.”  She tapped at her console, “Alert Polaris Control – you have a fighter on its way.”  She shouted at the ensign, “Switch to the nearest phaser battery – take her down!”

Kelly snapped out his jubilee and quickly tabbed over to the unit and moved quickly to target the fighter as it swung towards the capitol.  His hands trembled as he locked and fired.  The fighter tried to dodge the blast at the last minute, and the phaser fire winged it, obliterating the engines and sending the fighter careening toward the city.  He desperately tried to reacquire the target but watched in horror as the targeting system shorted out and the screen blinked.

Kiazas swore and slammed her fist on the console, shouting into the open channel with Polaris, “You have a damaged fighter incoming – why haven’t you sounded the alarms!  SOUND THEM, DAMNIT!”  They watched as the fighter arced across the sky and dropped into a crowded residential area, exploding in a fireball.  The operations chief reported the situation to the Mackenzie and fell into her chair.  Morrison wasn’t sure what to say.  He looked to his commanding officer, who waved his impending apology off, “You did the best you could, ensign.  The damn system needs some serious work before we can do anything more than just throw rocks at the Dominion.”

Longfellow ran.  Hiro ran.  The entirety of the Mackenzie medical staff ran.  They ran for the lives of those they were sworn to protect, save, and recover.  They ran towards the billowing smoke and raging fire as shuttles swarmed the sky, dumping fire retardant in showers of red and orange.  Angry sirens and blaring klaxons shouted from what felt like every corner.  It was a mad scramble as officers, crewmen, cadets, and anyone with medical training had been pressed into service.  The Olympic was an hour away.  The people of Polaris needed their help.

Park blinked as the transporter beam faded, and she took command of the ground response.  Three crewmen followed with a console and generator.  She pointed to an area off to the side, and the setup began.  The smoke burned black and billowed into the sky, a stark comparison against the bright blue splayed across the sky.  It took them ten minutes, but she was soon at the center of communications and triage reports as survivors were brought to her station, where an operations team quickly filled out the triage role.  An hour later, relief came in the form of hundreds of replacement officers and crewmen from the Olympic. Two hours later, the numbers were in the hands of the captains of the Mackenzie Squadron.  One hundred dead.  Two hundred were injured.

Crawford sat on the couch in Wren’s ready room, the report on his PADD.  “We’re going to have to step up our game.  Despite your best efforts to jam the signals, a few errant signals made it out of the sector.”

Walton sat at her desk.  She was annoyed.  She was frustrated.  She was angry.  She felt so many emotions she wasn’t sure where to start.  Scowling at her XO, who sat in the seat across from her, wasn’t helping.  For her part, Park scowled back, “It sucks no matter how many ways you phaser cut it, Wren.  Glaring at me isn’t going to change the fact that we failed the test.”

Peter raised a point. “Our orbital operations worked pretty well.  Chief Okada and Greer report the damaged Galor cruisers will be back in action by tomorrow afternoon.” Seoyeon gave him a look, and he returned the favor, “What, commander?”

She replied, “Orbital operations?”  She felt a warning look from her CO in her peripheral vision, and she fell back into the chair, “Sorry, Captain Crawford.  Been a day from hell.”  She felt her face burning.

Peter looked at her carefully.  She had been the first to take command of the search and rescue operations after the fighter crashed and had run an effective operation for the hour it had taken his ship to rush back.  Crawford could have formally disciplined or upbraided her in front of her CO.  He decided to try a different tact, “First time?”

She rubbed her face with her hands, the exhaustion setting in, “Yea.  I can still smell…all of it.”  The truth was it felt as if all of it had seeped and soaked into her uniform.  Park took a long breath and turned to face Crawford, “How do you do it, sir?  How does your crew…do it?”

The Olympic CO signed the report on the PADD and stood, feeling all of his years.  “You don’t get used to it if that’s what your asking.  I take comfort in knowing that with everything I see, hear, or smell…that I’m going to help someone in there survive, recover…or live.”  He went to the door and turned to give her one last bit of advice, “Don’t hold those feelings in, Commander Seoyeon. What we saw today…doesn’t come out in the first or second wash.  It takes a few runs through the water before we can find the comfort we ultimately need.”  He gave a nod to Wren and departed.

Park was quiet before she sat up the chair, “He’s kinda cute.”  She smiled manically at her CO’s groan.  “Seriously though, I know he’s right.  I’ve spent a lot of my career trying to hide and find comfort on my own.”

Wren sighed, “You were never very good at askin’ for help, Park.”  She signed the report and tossed the PADD onto her desk, “I’ll take on organizing the overnight and morning repair schedule for the planetary operations.  You take your shower…take the time to wash the day away.  Find me when you’re ready…and only when you’re ready, commander.”

Seoyeon gave a smile of thanks and stood muttering, “But seriously…he’s kinda cute.”  Wren playfully shoved her out the door. 

“The fighter group is growing…but they’re still staying put.  Reports are that they’re taking additional ground.”  Kondo De La Fontaine walked Captain Walton and the XO through the morning report.  Not much had changed overnight, and he was left wondering what the Jem’Hadar were planning.  “We’ve had additional traffic of Fourth Fleet ships passing through the sector and system.  Their reports are attached.”  Wren glanced through the details quickly before the tactical chief finished with his last item, “The Thomas Jefferson reached out earlier – they’re passing through on their way to an assignment.  Wanted to ask about getting some medical assistance.”

Park glanced at her PADD, “Task Force 514 finally decided to show up.”  A tap of the screen, “Intrepid class who recently had a refit expanded sickbay.”  She glanced at her captain, “Seems an odd request, Wren.”  Another tap, “Her CO is Captain Laurence Basta.”

Walton chewed on her bottom lip.  The name rang a bell or two.  Her PADD was out, and she dug through her files from her previous position.  It took a few minutes before she scoffed, “Oh, hell. Basta, the Bastard.”  She skimmed through the reports and commentary she had recorded ten years previous and handed it to Park, “Ten years ago, I worked with him as an Operations Chief.  He wasn’t great at his job…and it took me a full year to get him to see the light.  He’d washed out of two programs before I got a hold of him.”

Seoyeon whistled low as she read, “You were his last chance.  It looks like he turned it around.  What the official record shows, he’s earned that center chair.  You ever talk to him since?”  This appearance from the past of her CO was suddenly interesting.  Park had been through Walton’s program herself, and her success was still to be decided.

Wren shook her head, “Nothing.  Ten years is a long time.”

Kondo suggested, “It could just be a coincidence that he’s coming our way.”  He chuckled at Park and Wren’s look of disbelief and surrendered, “Yea, yea.  It’s a little weird he’s coming out this far.  As they get closer, I’ll work up a tactical scan and sensor report.  We’ve got about two hours before they arrive.”  

Wren thanked him as he left and turned back to Park, “Let’s stay on our toes.”

Basta stood in the empty meeting room.  An escort group of security officers had met him in the transporter room and walked him silently down a corridor, around a corner, and straight into a random conference room.  He had walked around the room twice, wondering.  He soon gave up and sat in one of the chairs.  A few minutes later, the door opened, and Wren Walton walked in, carrying a PADD with a commander at her heels.  He stood to greet her.  “Captain Walton.  It’s good to see you.”  She gave a curt nod and slid into the seat across from him, joined by the still-nameless commander.  “Your XO?”  He nodded to the placid-faced woman.

Wren set her PADD on the table, “Commander Park Seoyeon.  She’s also my chief science officer.”  A pause, “You asked for this meeting in a random conference room.  That was a helluva list of scanning requirements for the room and confirmed sensor reports about our status.  What is going on, captain?”

He shifted in his seat, “What were the nicknames you gave me?”

She frowned, “I’m not sure why….”

He interrupted, “Captain Walton, I’m on a limited schedule, and I need to make sure you are who you say you are.  What were the nicknames you gave me?”

The frown remained, but she recited them all, “The Bastard, The Butcher, The Butt, The Burr, The Brand…and The Bugger.”  She leaned in, “What is the point of all this, Basta?  I haven’t seen you in ten years, and suddenly…here you are.”

A sigh from him, “You trust your XO?  She seem like she’s the real thing?”  He turned his stare to Park, waiting for an answer.

Seoyeon asked Walton and Basta, “What the hell does that mean?”  She moved to stand, “Wren, I’m done with this idiot.”  Walton gently held her arm, and the XO sunk back into the chair.

“She is who she says she is.”  She was trying to figure out what emotional state Basta was in, and she watched him for a moment before realizing, “You’re worried…or scared.  What’s got you shaken up?”

A long sigh, “We found a changeling aboard our ship late last night.  Impersonating an engineering crewman.  Our warp core had been having issues with integrity – it was slowing us down on our patrol route.  The chief had been saying it was sabotage long before I turned the corner on the idea…and well, we found him.  Took five phasers and a shipwide search to take him down.”  He tossed a PADD onto the table, “We did a full workup…but you’ve got the Mack and the Oly…and there’s a lot better technology to do an investigation than we have on the Jeff.” Wren sat back, shocked.  A Changeling?  On a Starfleet vessel.  Basta answered the question she had on her face, “And yes, we scan and check for them normally.  As you’ll see in our report – this is a very different kind of Changeling.  I’ve told nobody about this outside of my senior staff.  We’re all a little too freaked out at the moment.”

Park read through the report, “Simulated organs?  Goddamn Dominion.”

Wren took the PADD from her and shook her head, “I don’t know if this is Dominion.  I’ve read Peter’s prep work and the historical data he pulled for us.  This isn’t anywhere near the Changelings of the Dominion War.  Not even the Breen could pull off something like this without some kind of massive shift in their scientific community.”  She turned to Basta, “How long can you stay here?”

He calculated, “The Task Group command team will start to ask if I’m here for longer than a day or maybe two.  Our reports to them indicated we needed additional medical assistance due to an attack from Dominion forces.  There was an attack, but it was pirates.”

Wren chuckled, “You lied!  Damn, Basta.”

Laurence shrugged, “I’ve come a long way in ten years, captain.  I know when to bend the rules this time around.”  It felt good to be sitting across from his old mentor.  She’d worked incredibly hard to get him back on a path all those years ago.  He felt like he was reaching the potential she’d seen him back then.

She stood from the table, and he did the same as she warned, “Captain Crawford is our Dominion War Veteran.  I’m going to have to read him into this.”  She wasn’t sure of anything at the moment, but Crawford was as reliable as anyone.

Basta nodded, “You do what you think is right, captain.  I’m just trying to find answers.  One changeling is a thing….”

She finished it for him, “But if you or we find more…this suddenly gets bigger.”  He nodded, and she sighed, “Goddamn Changelings.”

Charlie Hargraves sat in his office, trying to make headway with Starfleet Diplomatic Services.  It had taken on most of last night and had occupied most of his morning so that as the lunch hour inched closer, he was in no better position at making headway at resolving his overall concern – Junoor III was going to need additional support beyond the Mackenzie Squadron.  His hails had gone unanswered, and the replies to his inquiries via text had initially been puzzling.  ‘Carry on as best as you can’ had been replaced by ‘You have your orders.’  He was entering frustration territory.  He had sent out messages to his Fourth Fleet colleagues in hopes of getting some answers.  It would take them some time to reply.  He sat back in his chair.  And jumped up when Captain Wren Walton strolled into the lobby and stalked straight for him.  “Captain Wal…”

She silenced him, “Clear the office.  I need to speak to you privately.”  He reflexively frowned but did as she asked.  There was something in the look she’d given him.  It was something he hadn’t seen before with her.  Was it fear?  Or was it something else?  He gave his small group of officers an early lunch and gestured to the elongated couch that served as one of his meeting areas for his staff.

She leaned forward in her seat, “We’ve made a discovery on the Thomas Jefferson.  What I’m about to share will be classified within our squadron as top secret.  I’m reading you into this because you’re my only link to Starfleet that may have some swing.”  He scoffed and earned a frown of her own.  He explained what had been happening over the last twenty-four hours and his last-ditch attempt to reach ships in their fleet.  A new wrinkle in her frown appeared, “That’s another piece of the puzzle that doesn’t quite fit.”  

He was confused when she stood, pulled out a hypospray, and stabbed him in the arm before pulling it away.  He was infuriated, “What the hell Wren?”  She ignored him and slipped the blood sample into a waiting tricorder, where it beeped and whirred.  He stared at the device as if seeing Walton for the first time, “What are you looking for?  There are not many tests you can run like that that aren’t…holy shit.”  Charlie fell back into the couch, his hands to his head where a headache was starting, “You can’t be serious.”

Wren checked the reading and slipped both hypospray and tricorder away while she sat back down, “Captain Basta found and killed a Changeling.” She explained the further details to him, his eyes growing wider with each revelation, “Doctor Dread is working on examining it further to see what else we can find.  For now, only a tissue sample can give us the answer.  If you’re not getting good answers from Diplo, that’s a worrying sign.”

He put his hands up as he desperately tried to process the Galaxy Class-sized information that had just been thrown at him, “It’s not unusual for them not to respond right away.  I mean, I’m pretty low on the deck numbers when it comes to priority.”  He shook his head, “But…it’s not been this…confusing.”  Charlie leaned forward, matching the captain’s stance, “This is a lot of shit to take in, Wren.”

She let a dry chuckle escape before her face returned to the stone front she’d walked in with, “I think the amount of shit is only going to get bigger, Charlie.  It could just be the one on the Jefferson…but the Founders are a ballsy bunch – they like to go big with whatever they do.”

Hargraves grumbled, “Even if they don’t actually have balls.”  He stood and looked around his office, “I’ll keep this confidential, captain.  We’re going to need to keep our eyes and ears open to anything odd, peculiar, or even slightly off.  Changelings are a tough bunch to spot.”

She also stood, “I’m putting you on that job, commander.  Partner with our chief counselor,  Juliet. I read her in a half hour ago.  We need to run as silently as possible,”  She used his rank for the first time, and he realized the antagonistic relationship they had enjoyed had shifted aside momentarily. “Good luck, commander.”  She shook his hand, another first, and left.  Charlie slowly sat down on the couch.  The Dominion.  Changelings.  The universe couldn’t sit still for just one minute, could it? 

Okada lay on the rough grass, the sun slowly arcing towards the late afternoon.  They’d been working tirelessly for a week with twenty-four-hour shifts.  The engineering and operations teams were nearing a breaking point.  The work had its reward – in seven days, they’d repaired, reworked, and remodeled all ten planetary phaser banks.  The tactical sensors had been replaced and reoriented.  The testing was underway as she rested her worn and torn body as she heard the successive and successful tests one after the other. The thrumming and concussive blasts held an unusual rhythm that had her imagining a symphony of weapons fire.

The torpedo launchers had been a larger struggle.  They had been harder to repair and adapt to 2401 standards.  They’d had to harken back to the days of manufacturing parts on ship and planetside.  The Janoor III industrial complex had hesitated initially to assist the war effort. It changed its tune when the long-term benefits of shifting production to more defensive tools and systems were revealed.  They’d fully refurbished and replenished all five of them.  Her badge chirped, and she lazily tapped it.

“Kondo to Chief – we’re starting to install the new hybrid launchers.”

She sighed under her breath.  The Cardassians had been increasingly helpful, and the Janoor III colonists had been slowly accepting their presence.  A week ago, when the first attack wave had come, the Galor cruisers’ defense had been one thing.  The other had been Gul Hasara’s role in quelling a daring rescue of the former Cardassian Supreme Commander who had held Janoor III in a brutal and bloodsoaked grip during the occupation.  It hadn’t meant everyone felt completely safe and at home.  Captain Walton continued the order to protect each team with a security escort.  Justice for Janoor may have melted back into the general population, but they were still out there, somewhere.  She sat up slowly, “I’m on my way.”

The early mornings were Charlie’s favorite part of the day.  He’d designed the duty roster so his five officers and crewmen support staff came in an hour later than he did.  It gave him time to think in an empty office and walk around pondering over a steaming cup of coffee.  It had been just under a week since he’d been put on the mission to find Changelings in the ranks on the Oly and the Mack.  So far…nothing.  The monthly check-ups were proceeding slowly but surely with no flagged results.  Woodward had shifted over to the Mack, with her staff coordinating with Chief Counselor Mo Guowei.  The interviews and observational work had returned nothing of interest.

“Goddamn Dominion.”  It had become a frequently muttered phrase among the Oly and Mack crew as the long days and nights had plagued them with threats, worries, and discoveries.  He rubbed his face in frustration.  The Thomas Jefferson had departed on orders from their task group a few days ago.  He’d read the report on the discovery of the Changeling and the ensuing shipwide search and eventual destruction of the creature.  He pulled out his PADD and returned to how the Chief Engineer had stumbled onto the interloper.  “Was supposed to be off shift, but felt like checking on the latest repairs.  Didn’t usually do that…hmm.”  He tapped at the PADD more and continued to read, “Found the act in progress and was able to prevent further damage and call out to the bridge before he was killed.  A security officer heard shouting and pulled a fellow officer to investigate.  The hunt was one.”  He looped back to his office, where he sat working through his theory while he stared at the ceiling.  Suddenly he realized, “It wasn’t sabotage…they were going to destroy the Thomas Jefferson.”  He shifted to his console and began a search for ships in Task Group 514 and recent reports.  Two other older ships had been reported missing after a few days of no communication.  He tapped his badge, “Commander Hargraves to Captain Walton….”

Wren nearly threw the PADD with his report on the floor but chose to toss it onto the desk of her ready room with a groan as she redlined the sarcasm sensors, “This is the best news of the day, Charlie.”  She sank back in her chair, “We lost contact with Basta this morning.  He was updating us regularly…and then nothing.  It’s been three hours.”

The Diplomatic Officer reasoned, “Maybe his task group ordered him to go silent?”  It was a weak argument, he knew.  He had hoped against hope that he was wrong.  He grumbled, “Not that my anxiety needed any help this morning, but what about the Oly and us?”

Walton bit her bottom lip.  He wasn’t wrong in his worries, “It’s not lost on me what this means for the rest of us.  I’ve ordered Okada to run every level of diagnostic on a rotating clock.  She will also do a head-to-toe visual inspection of engineering with the help of Lieutenant Vol.  Goddamn Dominion.”

Charlie leaned forward, “I’ve got multiple theories about why we haven’t been hit.  One, we don’t have one.  Two…they’re waiting for the right moment for it.”  He didn’t like the idea he was going to suggest, and Wren did it for him.

“Shit.  When the second attack wave comes.”  A deep breath, “That puts the delayed second wave into perspective…are they waiting on our alleged Changeling passengers to signal?”  She pulled forward and leaned on her desk, “Or is it just luck that the Dominion forces are taking their sweet damn time…which they are not known for…add that weirdness to the pile of confusion.”  Her mind spun at the pieces of the puzzle she’d been juggling.  What was the truth in all this?

Hargraves groused, “I’m starting to wish the Prophets had taken them apart piece by piece instead of…doing whatever they did.  We still don’t know how they got here in the first place…and is there more coming?  What’s to keep the Gamma Quadrant family from dusting off their ‘Victory is Life’ motto and stomping around like mad drug-addicted toddlers.”  He threw his hands up in surrender, “Goddamn…everything.”

Wren stared at him, amused.  She couldn’t blame him.  This old yet new threat was a harsh reminder of the state of the universe.  Despite the idealism of the Federation and others, there seemed to be the requisite darkness creeping and sometimes running out of the darkest corners.  Was it to balance out the goodness offered by the ideals of the Federation and the safety of Starfleet?  She’d studied her share of history. From the early infancy of the rag-tag group of believers in the future to the sprawling organization of planets, colonies, and starships – there was a fair, and at times, an unfair share of blood spilled and lives lost.  She asked him quietly, nearly a whisper, “Do you still believe?”  He gave her a curious look, and she replied, “The Federation, Starfleet…this whole…thing.” She gestured to the ready room and the ship around them.

He thought about the question.  He’d had his share of questioning over the years.  “I’ve wondered if it was all worth it a few times in my career…but every time I start to question or wonder…something shows me why we do what we do…and why the Federation matters.”  He sat up, “As tough as this has been…as hard as it has hit…this is the why, Wren.  Our ‘better angels’ and all that.”  He stood, feeling his courage slowly returning, “Besides…what kind of Diplo officer would I be if I gave up on hope?”

She stood in turn and gave him a nod, “A good one…because you always seem to find it, Charlie.”  She watched him leave and sat as the door closed.  She was thankful for him, despite his aggravating nature.

“We’ve been able to deploy Cardassian and Starfleet combination teams to every city aside from the capitol without too much trouble.  Tests on the planetary defense weapons are complete, and they are also crewed with a mix of Cardassian and Starfleet.”  Kondo stood in the Mackenzie’s briefing room, running down the last of the reports.  He pointed at the map where Polaris was highlighted, “The capitol, however…is our problem.  The Justice for Janoor group has come out of hiding as a protest group holding sit-ins across the city…and they are gaining members.  Most of the crowd is a part of the upper middle class, but some of the latest activity has been traced to the lower socioeconomic population.”  He tapped at his PADD, and the image on the screen shifted to a map of Polaris and areas of protests over the last few days.  “We’re keeping an eye on it, and the Janoor security forces seem to be handling it well enough.”

Wren picked up on his wording, “Mr. Kondo, you’re not quite confident they can manage it?”  She wasn’t entirely sure herself.  The updates from Charlie hadn’t been optimistic, even with the handheld weapon upgrades they had facilitated.

De La Fontaine considered the question and didn’t immediately reply, garnering a curious look from the captain.  “They haven’t been at war for twenty-five years.  There’s not any real opposition out here to fight.  They’ve been put through every training we have available to us, but a week’s worth isn’t going to make a long-term difference.  As easy as it’s been getting every other town onboard, the possibility of Polaris following along is a near impossibility.  Their refusal to allow Cardassian guards in the city is going to stretch our security teams as it is.  If they have to fight colonists in the middle of this…confidence isn’t going to be the issue…the safety and protection of the city is a basic need.  Take that away, and the Dominion will have the run of the capitol.”

Walton understood.  “They don’t have to capture it…they just have to kick the shit out of it, phaser it on fire, rinse with liquid antimatter and repeat.” She frowned, “Victory is life can mean a lotta different things when you’re trying to spread the pain anyway you can.”

Gul Hasara had been silently listening from the far end of the table, “I might have an idea.” He smiled at the heads swiveling on to stare at him, wondering just what kind of plan the Cardassian was going to propose.  He explained, “The people in the capitol view me as a kind of…hero.  I’ve been working with their security forces, and the respect they have for me is…unusual.”

Wren cracked, “Some of ‘em might be flirting with you, Gul.  Grey fox and all.”

Hasara laughed, giving the crew some relief.  Walton was still a wildcard – she was more of a shoot from the hip than Harris ever was…and it could lead to amusement or an interspecies incident at the top of Starfleet’s list.  He blinked his eyes as if admiring his beauty, “It is entirely possible.  There are humanoids who find the Cardassian physique attractive.”  The Gul moved on but made note of the growing smiles among the crew.  “I think I could use my status as a hero to work with them to accept Cardassian assistance.  I cannot help you with the colonists.  The Union’s methods would violate several layers of protection.”

Hargraves shook his head, “I can’t believe I’m agreeing with the Gul, but it’s about the only leverage we have.”  Hasara gave him a nod of thanks.  “We’ll need to mix in some security officers from Olympic as well.”

Wren stood, and the crew followed suit.  “Make it so.  We’re monitoring the Dominion fleet – we’re estimating at this point we have four or so hours before they start coming our way.  That’s six hours until arrival.  Olympic will disembark as much support staff as she can and then depart for safety.  You have your orders, and you have your final briefings to complete.  Then it’s a waiting game.  Dismissed.” 

The bridge of the Mackenzie was quiet as the ambient thrumming of the ship beat a rhythm along with the beeps and chirps from the various stations.  The countdown clock on the screen had started four hours ago, and as each minute had been shed, the awareness of what was coming increased.  Each department had run its final checks, simulations, and meetings in the intervening hours.  The clock showed the five minutes left, and everyone alternated between working on their consoles and glancing at the clock.  

Damage Control teams had been assigned.  The engineering and operations teams had finished the enhancements of the power system.  Quick repair packs with replacement equipment lay secured in corridors, engineering, and the bridge.  Sickbay had been restocked, checked, and rechecked.  All available hands were at their stations.  

Waiting.  

Watching.

Hoping.

Captain Wren Walton sat in her command chair, reviewing the preparation list on her PADD.  The clock ticked over to two minutes.  She sighed and handed the PADD to the ensign who had been patiently waiting.  Waiting was the hardest part, especially when it was something you didn’t want to wait for.  She would rather have fought anyone up to and including the Borg.  She’d been thankful she’d avoided this fight the first time around.  “Give me a Klingon or a Romulan any day,” she muttered under her breath.  Turning her attention back to the bridge, she made the call, “Red alert.  Sound battlestations.”  The klaxons rang out in kind as the officers shifted to their muster stations.  Some left the bridge while others entered and took their seats, thankful for the movement to dispel some of the nervous energy that had been building.  The lights dimmed and faded to a deep ruby red.  

The klaxon faded to a lower volume as Calog reported from OPS, “All departments report ready.  Cardassian fleet confirms they are at battle stations.”  He glanced at the clock.  Thirty seconds remained.

Gul Hasara watched the countdown on his chrono, the restlessness of the moment stirring from his feet to his shoulders.  The mixed group of Cardassian, Starfleet, and Janoor III security was stationed in the capital of Polaris.  The chrono beeped as it reached zero.  The Gul announced, “They’ve arrived.”  He led the group down the street to the main square, and they quickly took cover.  Thirty seconds later, he smiled with pride. They were hidden so well; he couldn’t spot them from where he stood.  Hasara slipped into his own hiding space and waited.  His earpiece held the secure communications from the operations center on the Mackenzie.  They’d converted one of the larger cargo bay spaces into an operational center to route the Cardassian Fleet, the Mackenzie, and the Janoor III defense operations into one location. Commander Park had been tasked with coordinating the efforts with a senior team of operations, engineering, and security.  Her voice was the one in his ear as she worked to organize the massive response.  She was giving orders to Lieutenant Vol with the phaser and torpedo banks.

Operations Chief Vol appreciated the work they’d done to improve the Janoor III command center.  They’d upgraded her chair in the center of the room while the consoles around her had been given a brush-up with their chairs and displays.

Ensign Kelly Morrison sat at one of those consoles, his heart still beating quickly.  He could see the markings of the fighters and battlecruiser above the planet as they danced with the Mackenzie and the Cardassians.  They’d put three more ensigns with him, and each of them was responsible for grouping the defensive weapons.  They all touched their ears as the voice of Commander Seoyeon reported the engagement had begun.  The sensor feed from the ships in orbit filled their screens, and Vol took a deep breath as Park ordered them to focus their fire on the fighters.  The battle cruisers remained maddingly out of range..

“Shields holding at 85%!” Kondo reported as he worked his console at the front of the bridge while the two auxiliary tactical officers sat at their consoles on either side of the bridge.  He gripped his console, thankful that the captain had ordered restraints activated for all stations.  ‘Victory is Life” was the Jem’Hadar way.  To his right, Ensign Gabriela Castillo followed his requests for maneuvers to assist him in lining up the best phaser blast or launched torpedo.  The bridge shuddered as the fighters increased their attacks.  He read from his tactical report, “One Galor class ship has been disabled – they’re abandoning ship and transporting to the planet to provide additional support.”  He sighed as one of his auxiliaries sent him a note, “Five fighters are breaking off for Janoor III.”

Wren gripped the arms of her chair, watching her console as the battle unfolded.  There was so much going on and so few of them to fight the tide.  She set her jaw.  They were going to win this fight – push, pull, or drag.  Walton tapped the arm of her chair, “Park, you’ve got five incoming.”

Ten decks below, the lieutenant at tactical control confirmed, “They’re entering our view.  Transmitting lock coordinates to Janoor Actual.”  Seoyeon stood in the makeshift command center, unwilling to sit.  There was too much nervous energy bouncing around her body to consider taking a chance at the chair.  She’d been fighting the urge to pace around the room, knowing that she’d go flying if the ship took a tumble.  Park had placed herself in front of a banister and gripped the wood to keep upright when the ship shook.  Another shudder and a further report, “Janoor Actual is activating phaser defenses.”  

The commander turned her attention to the ensign in charge of the Galor fleet, now down to four, “Report?”  The woman at the console turned to her, worry filling her face.  A mass of fighters was separating two ships, and communications were getting harder as the fire intensified.  “They are asking for permission to abandon ship for the planet.”  The XO didn’t hesitate.  ‘Victory is Life’ meant those ships wouldn’t last much longer.  The crews were far more valuable armed, and on the planet.  “Get them going, ensign.  Our other two?”  That was some of the better news.  Whoever had taken the center chairs hadn’t given up and was working with the Mackenzie’s tactical chief to help clear out the glut of fighters filling the space around them.

On the bridge, Wren grimaced as her ship shook.  Her eyes searched the screen, wondering what the two battlecruisers were up to.  “Fowler, get me a reading on the two big boys.”  She turned in her chair as the science chief tapped at her console, a frown forming.

“They’re…just sitting there, captain.  I’m reading nominal power levels.”  She faced her captain, curiosity turning to worry, “Those two ships have 5,000 Jem’Hadar combined.  What are they…oh…”  She spun in her chair, “We’ve got five more fighters peeling off towards the planet.”

Kondo nodded from his station, “Fowler’s correct.  I think they’re trying to take out the planet’s defenses so they can move them closer and transport them down.”  He winced at the sparks from his station, “Shields at 70%…and holding.”

Walton grumbled, “Godddamn Dominion.  Park,” she tapped her chair again, “We’re thinking they’re trying to make a path for our two big players.”

Seoyeon muttered, “Goddamn Dominion.  Get Janoor Actual and confirm if they can hit the battlecruisers from here.”  A moment later and the ensign gave a hesitant nod.  It was possible, but they needed to be closer.  Park glanced at the tactical map and wondered aloud, “What if we pull them ‘em?”  She walked around the holographic table display for another second, “If Mackenzie starts hitting them, they’ll have to come to us…gets ‘em closer.”  She tapped her badge, “Park to Walton.”

Wren listened as the bridge shook.  It wasn’t the worst plan she’d heard.  “Kondo?”

The tactical chief nodded as he worked, “Victory is Life is both a motto and a motivator.  We start pinching and poking…they’re likely to punch back…but they’re going to want to get close”  He paused and turned to her, “You could…help motivate them.”

The CO blinked blankly.  “What do you mean…oh…some old-fashioned bar fight talk?”  She felt a smile tug at the edge of her lips, “I do have a history of pissing off the wrong people…and a Vorta is as wrong as they can be.”  She considered it for but a moment before motioning to the communications senior cadet, “Open a channel to the two battlecruisers.”  She deftly disconnected her restraints and stood, balancing as the deck shook again.  Reede signaled the channel was open, and she focused her energy, “This is Captain Wren Walton of the Federation Starship Mackenzie.  You’ve proven nothing today, Vorta commanders.  You’ve shown your lack of courage and your fear of the Federation.  The longer you stay out there…, the less victory you will gain, I assure you.  As long as we live and breathe…your victory will be denied.  Walton out.”  The channel closed, and she returned to her chair and restraints, “Let’s see those shitheads ignore that.”

In the refurbished missile silo, Vol reported to Park, “Confirmed Squadron Actual.  We’ve taken out five of the ten.  Sensors tracked the remaining five to landing sites, and we transmitted those locations to the ground commanders.  As for the battle cruisers, we’ll need them within this range, “ she transmitted the coordinates, “…so that we can make an impact.”  Park confirmed and ordered her to focus on the fighters in space above.  They were down to fifty.  The operations chief gave her orders, “Concentrate all phasers on the remaining fighters – fire at will.”

The bridge shook, and Kondo felt the jolt burn the restraints into his skin.  The two Jem’Hadar Battlecruisers had responded to Captain Walton’s aggressive taunting and were now testing the Mackenzie’s shields.  His hands flew across the console as he and the other two tactical offices did their best to keep up with the new incoming fire.  He gripped his console and reported through gritted teeth, “Shields at 60%.  We’re down to thirty fighters.”  Several conduits sparked, the deck rumbled, and a fire exploded in the corner of the bridge from an EPS conduit.  They were asking a lot of the Mackenzie and her shields, Kondo knew.  He willed her silently to hold together and felt some hope return as the Dominion ships drifted into range of the planetary defense weapons. The intensity of fire exploded, the darkness of space around them now very bright with phasers and torpedo fire.

Wren braced herself as the intensity of the attack crescendoed.  The planet’s defenses were giving the larger ships something to think about, but the fighters were able to cause more trouble, with the larger ships taking much of the attention off of them.  One of the battlecruisers looked to be moving towards the planet, “Kondo, intensify all fire on that targ….”  The bridge went nearly sideways as the other battle cruiser poured weapons fire into the Mackenzie.  Several consoles exploded, and screams were heard as the sparks and fire burned at the officers’ skin. The lights above flickered as smoke gathered above them all.  Walton coughed out a “Report!”

Kondo wiped the blood from his face, “Shields are at 40%.  Weapons still firing.”  He coughed, “We have a battle cruiser headed for the planet – impulse engines…” he looked at Castillo, who wasn’t moving, “…functional – I’ll see if I can get us going.”

Walton tapped at her badge, “Bridge to sickbay – we need medics.”  She unstrapped and moved shakily to the side of her new chief helm officer.  A gaping wound in her neck was oozing blood, and her eyes were slow to respond.  Wren returned to the command area, slapped an emergency kit open from behind her chair, and stumbled back to Gabriela.  With shaking hands, the captain haltingly tended to the wounds.  

The eyes of the young helmswoman cleared as the loss of blood was slowed, “Ca…ptain?”  Her eyes looked around wildly as the bridge shook again, and she winced in pain.  “We’re not going to make it are we?” Another impact and the ceiling sparked.

Wren secured the bandages, “We’re going to fight like hell, Castillo.  I don’t intend to go out with a whimper.  Can you work?”  Gabriela blinked and gave a slow nod as she moved her hands back to her console.  As the ship took another barrage, Walton nearly fell, and Kondo reported shields were at 35%.

Fowler turned in her chair, alarmed, “Captain!  New contact…coming into the system…approaching fast!”  She tapped at her console furiously, terrified that the Dominion had sent more to wipe them from the sector.  She found the reality much more confusing.  “Captain…it’s the Thomas Jefferson.”

Walton fell roughly to her chair and wrestled with the restraints, “Hail them.  I swear if it’s someone else wanting to kill us….”

Basta’s bruised and bloodied face filled the screen.  He was slumped in the helm station, his eyes dim but alive.  Wren met his gaze, and he chuckled, “I had…hoped it would be Dread.  Goddamn Changelings…had three more on my ship.  Killed most of my crew by attrition before we figured it out.  It’s just me and the engineering chief now.”  He gestured to his wounds, “I’m not going to make it, Captain…but I came to help.”  He tapped at the helm console, “I’m going to even the score…I wish I could have done more.  This will have to do.  Give Captain Dread my regards…and let her know she was right.  She’s always right.”  He stared at the screen once more, “Goddamn Dominion.”  The channel blinked out, and the Intrepid Class surged toward the ship, slowly closing in on the planet.

Wren’s mouth was open in shock.  She shook herself loose a moment later and ordered, “Cover them as best we can!”  She stared at the ship.  What had happened on the Jefferson to put the captain near death, destined for ramming speed?  How dark had been the creeping reality of death stalking his corridors before the truth revealed itself?  She shook loose her fears.

Fowler reported somberly, “Auto destruct sequence has been activated on the Thomas Jefferson.  It looks like they’re cooking the warp core to critical….”  She shuddered at imagining standing in the engine room as the warp core neared critical status.  What that room would feel like…or even smell like?  Glancing over the damage reports, she could see, the ship had been torn apart from the inside out.  Entire decks were missing, open to the vacuum of space.

The battle came to a lull as the Mackenzie and the two remaining Galor cruisers ran interference for the last journey of the Thomas Jefferson.  It took but half a minute for the Intrepid Class to slam into the top of the battered battle cruiser.  It took less for the self-destruct to activate.  And just a little longer for the warp core to go critical.  The forces at work burst upon the hull with a ferocity, leading to gasps from the Mackenzie bridge crew as they limped away from the resulting explosion.  

The self-destruct left a gaping and flaming hole in the battlecruiser’s hull.  The warp core ripped apart the ship’s superstructure as if peeling it by hand and then by the handfuls as it cracked and snapped into fiery pieces.  Decks crumbled into each other, smashing the bodies of the Jem’Hadar into bloodied dust.  Breaches slid from one side to another, ejecting bodies into the ether as debris fell free at speed, colliding with the already dead and soon-to-be dead.  The remnants of the once mighty ship floated free, no longer a threat to the planet below.

Walton turned her attention to the remaining battle cruiser, “Kondo, let’s make our final stand.  Coordinate with our Galor friends.  Let’s make them pay for Captain Basta.” 

Hasara and his team were on the move.  The command center on the Mackenzie had transferred authority to the Janoor III center, given the damage they had endured.  Now Kiazas Vol was ‘Command Actual,’ her steady voice directed the various strike and response teams to locations where the Jem’Hadar soldiers had landed or been transported.  One ship had been blown apart.  Vol reported that before its destruction, there had been one hundred or so transporter signals engaged around the city of Polaris.  The Cardassian Gul listened carefully as she directed him down an empty street, around two corners, and into cover overlooking an overgrown field.  He clicked his channel open, “I count fifteen.  No Vorta in sight.”  He motioned his team to slowly spread out along the embankment they’d claimed.

Vol clicked back, “We’ve got two more transport sites in the city confirmed. Dread and Crawford are taking one – clear this one, and the second one is yours.”

The Gul grinned and tapped signaled to the team.  They stood and fired all at once, phaser rifles set to the highest setting.  The Jem’Hadar spun to return fire, but it was too late.  The Starfleet team of fifteen sent the fifteen enemy bodies to the round, smoking from the intensity of fire.  None of them glanced at the downed bodies as Hasara signaled to the group – they were on to the next location.

“Move, move, move.”  Crawford pulled a sputtering ensign as the blasts from the Jem’Hadar rifles scorched the air around them.  They’d been sent to a business district just off the city center and run into fifty Jem’Hadar restlessly looking for people to shoot.  Pete’s fifteen crew were secured with him, while Dread’s fifteen were shifting directions to meet up with him.  They’d run up against a smaller group of Dominion soldiers, and it had taken them some time to dislodge the attackers.  He tapped at his ear, “Command Actual, we’re thirty for fifty…can you give me some backup?”

There was a pause, and the voice of the Mackenzie Ops Chief replied, “Read you, Crawford.  Working on getting you Cards in the mix – they jumped ship before home blew.  Advise they’re five out and hungry.”

Pete smiled and closed the channel.  The Cardassians they’d been assigned had performed beyond any expectation.  They were not the soldiers of the first Dominion War.  These were the sons and grandsons of the warriors that had fought for the Dominion.  It gave the Olympic captain some hope for the situation on Janoor IIII.  He tapped at his PADD, watching the arrangement of the Jem’Hadar.  They were moving up.  He gave a nod as Captain Dread’s team hustled into the alive and gave her a high five as she moved to the front, glaring at him.

“I am not built for leading strike teams, Pete.”  Her group watched on, amused.

Crawford pointed out her team, “They seem to disagree, Helena.  You seem perfectly suited to kicking ass, taking names, and kicking more ass.”  He ignored the roll of her eyes, “Your team is back up and cover fire for us as we move to push them back.”  He nodded, and she sighed, walking back to her team to discuss the plan.  She would never admit it, but the intensity and reputation of Dr. Dread were easily transferred into the world they were in at the moment.  He turned his attention to his team, “We’re going to leapfrog our way – you four take the right, you four take the left, and you two are with me.  We’re going to push and push hard.  Set your weapons to the highest setting.  Don’t think about them or their lives…Jem’Hadar don’t have any other purpose other than killing you and me.  Shoot first, and don’t ask questions.”  They all nodded, and he gave them the go order.  The two officers with him tensed up as he leaned out and was rewarded by a blast, “They’re still there.  Phaser grenades.”  Each of them handed him one, and he quickly pulled the pin, throwing them deftly up the street with a grunt.  There were some shouts, and the resounding explosions shook the ground.  Crawford pushed out and was rewarded by the cover fire by his team as they pushed forward through the alley taking cover in alleys and behind vehicles.  Two bodies of Jem’Hadar lay sprawled ahead.  The grenades had done their work.  Crawford and his group hustled forward.

Dread ran with her team as they took a different alley path, cleaning as they went.  She led from the middle of the pack, and they moved effortlessly, taking note of Jem’Hadar scouts with a resounding blast following each call out.  She kept them moving with her commands, and they paused at each intersection, following her direction to clear the space before moving on.  It took them five minutes, but they’d circled the leading Dominion group and started moving forward on the street, keeping silent aside from Helena’s crisp one to two-word commands.  They halted at a burnt-out fountain, glancing back to Dread.  She tapped her ear, “Crawford, we’re ready to run when you are.”  There was a burst of cacophony as blaster and phaser fire filled the air.  Helena didn’t wait for a signal, “Forward and weapons-free, move, move, move!”  She felt the silent dread as her fifteen hurried forward, firing as they moved, dodged, and slipped down the path, the air thick with the burns of flesh and fauna. Dread dodged several blasts as two of hers went down, unmoving.  She knew the Jem’Hadar way – they were dead before they hit the ground.  It took all her strength to push back her instinctual medical training as she rushed forward, letting loose covering fire as she went.

Kiazas watched as the last fighters broke free and fled for the planet.  All that was left was the battlecruiser.  She softly slammed her fist down on the arm of her chair.  The Mackenzie was at 30% shields and falling.  One Galor class cruiser remained.  And she was running out of torpedoes.  There was only so much they could do, and they were pouring on the phaser fire.  Suddenly  Ensign Morrison shouted, “Five fighters, coming our way!”

Vol snapped her fingers, “Retask the closest phasers and engage!”  She stood from her chair.  The refit missile silo had been a good choice with a depth of one hundred feet.  The daring decision had been made to focus efforts elsewhere and not put a shielding system in place.  Kiaszas wished they’d had more time, more people, or just more of everything to prepare for every eventuality.  Her symbiote gave her gentle advice as she worked, doing his best to soothe her nerves as the world unwound around her.

The bunker shook as Morrison screamed in utter fear and promptly apologized after a stare from the Ops Chief, “Report.” She stared at the flickering viewscreen.

Kelly found a semblance of emotional control as his shaking hands worked the console, “Two fighters are down, and three are coming back for an attack run.  Phasers are actively firing, but they’re dodging them pretty well.”

The Mackenzie’s Ops Chief grumbled, “Godddamn Dominion.  Transfer control of the phaser banks to local teams.  They have their orders. Activate our hybrid towers and set them to auto-fire until exhausted.”  Okada and her team had installed five weapons platforms that were hybrid emergency systems designed to auto-fire phasers and a small number of torpedoes until they were either destroyed or the power cabling had burned out.  It was to be a last-ditch attempt.  Vol was frustrated and furious they had been pushed to this point.  

Kelly tersely warned, “Incoming!”  They all braced and were showered in sparks as the first hits came, consoles exploded on the second hits, the ground shook with the third, and support beams started to fail.  Morrison shook his head, reading from the only functional console left.  It’s display was in its death throes, “Still two fighters left.”    The room was soaked in smoke as the fires grew and spread.

Lieutenant Vol kicked one of the consoles, “Damn it.  Not much use to us now.  Let’s get the hell out of here!”  The others picked up their emergency response kits and marched after their commanding officer into the escape tunnel a mile away from the site.  Moments later, the fighters returned and leveled the silo as it collapsed into itself and erupted in a blazing explosion that rattled everyone within a hundred miles.

In the tunnel, the crew didn’t pause.  They were still alive, and victory was life. They kept running until they burst out of the escape tunnel door.  Only then did they take a breath.  Vol tapped her badge, “Polaris Actual, get us to you.”  They vanished seconds later in the bright beams of the transporter.

“Shields at 20%!  Battlecruiser is at 30%.  They’re turning towards the planet, captain!”  Kondo brushed at the bandage around his head.  Longfellow worked his way around the bridge with a trauma response team as the attack continued.  They’d made it to the bridge minute before, reporting that sickbay was nearly overrun.  The Mackenzie and her crew were fighting as hard as they could.

Wren coughed, her lungs burning with the smoke that lay silently above the bridge.  The fans had been another casualty in the attack.  Engineering was working to restore warp power.  Everything else was a secondary concern.  “Can we get in her way?”

Castillo tapped at her console with her left hand while the Chief Medical Officer worked on her right.  It had been burned by an explosion of fire from above and hanging loosely at her side while she gritted her teeth, ignoring the surging pain.  “We have impulse.  I can get us close…or closer?”  She didn’t turn around but caught the frustrated click of the doctor’s tongue as he worked.  The Chief Helm officer sighed, “I don’t think we have a choice, Doc.”

Longfellow pushed a hypo spray as the deck shook violently, and he grabbed onto her chair, staying upright.  “We always have a choice, ensign.  We can live to fight another day or die in a vain attempt to restore our battered pride.”  He glanced at Wren, who stared at him.  He’d seen to her wounds first and felt his worry rise at the sight of blood from her side injury pushing through the emergency gauze he had shoved and strapped to her.  He wordlessly moved to her side and went to work as the deck heaved again.

Kondo shouted, “Shields at 15% – I’m running out of places to pull the power to keep the lights on, captain.”  He was exasperated.  They had given it their best shot.  He’d been in the ring when he knew it was too late to win the fight.  He’d kept on fighting, but it had done nothing but threaten his life and career as the gloves pounded his face and body.

Fowler alerted them, “They’re moving towards the atmosphere!  Readings show a good portion of their Jem’Hadar are dead or injured.”  She tapped at her console as it flickered, “Janoor Actual reports they’re out of torpedoes and are focusing their phasers on the battlecruiser…but it’s not going to be enough.”  Another annoyed tap, “Sensors showing 300 Jem’Hadar are left…and they’ve begun transport.  Another furious shake of the bridge, and this time the lights blinked out as the ceiling exploded from the final barrage of the dying battle cruiser.  Silence fell across the bridge as bodies and debris crashed and fell.  

A moment later, the emergency lights clicked on, revealing a chaotic bridge.  Longfellow had strapped into a chair at the last moment and was picking his way across the bridge, nudging bodies awake as he want.  Wren rustled out from beneath a pile of debris and gasped in pain.  Her leg had been impaled, and she set her jaw with a deep grimace.  Kondo’s breaths came long and hard as he tapped at a flickering console, “Shields at ten percent.”  He glanced at his side, and the blood flow alarmed his usual calm and steady demeanor, “Doctor Longfellow….I need you.”

Henry made his way over to the chief tactical officer and went to work.  He slowed the blood at first and then staunched it, “We’re going to need to get you all to sickbay as soon as possible – battlefield medicine can only do so much.”

Wren accepted the hypospray from one of the medical team, and they went to work on her leg.  Two of them knelt and prepared her for the removal.  It would hurt like hell, and they’d quickly seal the impact site and stem the bleeding.  They would move quickly, but it was….

She interrupted them, “Cut the shit and do it.”  They gave her a count of three.  And pulled.  She screamed into her arm as the pain slapped her brain and kicked her heart.  The two were able to get the bleeding under control after a few anguishing minutes.  They didn’t advise standing for the moment, to which she said, “Get me the hell up and get me something to lean on.”  They glanced at Longfellow as he worked on an officer on the ground, and he nodded quietly.  Wren accepted a makeshift cane in the form of a metal rod and leaned on it, “Report.”

Kondo stabbed at the console, “The Jem’Hadar battle cruiser entered the atmosphere two minutes ago.  They’re transporting everyone onto the planet…and the ship will hit Polaris in three minutes.”

Even Longfellow paused in his work and asked, “How bad?”  He felt his heartache growing.

De La Fontaine slammed his console in frustration and anguish, “It’s going to take out half the city…if not more.  I’ve sent warnings to everyone on Janoor III as to what’s coming.”  He turned in his chair, the helplessness eating at him.  There was nothing to do but watch.  Tractor beams had been disabled in the attack.  Weapons would do nothing to the wreckage as it fell into the planet below.  Transporters had been burned out.  Shuttles would take too long to launch.  He could do nothing but watch.

Walton inched her way to her chair and slowly lowered herself down, “Long-range sensors?”  Kondo reported they were offline, as were most ship’s systems.  The last sensor sweep showed nothing Dominion related in the system or as far as they could see.  Wren wrapped her hands around the long metal pipe.  How she wished she could take the makeshift cane to the genocidal Dominion, one hit at a time like a pinata until their blood burst in a shower of justice.  She leaned back, and the pain brought a fresh grimace to her face, “Start the damage control and sickbay reports.  And get the Olympic back here.”  She watched the flickering viewscreen as the Jem’Hadar ship fell into the planet.  The hell they had gone through would be nothing compared to what was coming for those on the planet. She muttered, “Goddamn Dominion.” 

Kiazas ran, scrambled, and threw herself down the path and through the doors to the transporter platform control, “Start transporting everyone you can to the other cities!”  The hapless Janoor III officer was still in shock about what was three minutes away and the impending destruction.  The ops chief swore, “Shit, I’ll do it myself.”  She bumped him aside and quickly went to work, pointing the officers with her to the other consoles, “Get as many of them as you can away!”  The klaxons and alarms had been ringing outside since the message from the Mackenzie had come through, and people had begun to fill the streets in panic.  Vol’s hands flew across the console, activating the transporter on any Janoor life signs she could find and transporting them to the other cities far enough away they’d be safe. The rumbling sound of the massive battle cruiser falling through the atmosphere began to thunder through the clouds, and the ground started to shake slightly.  

Morrison’s hands were unsteady, but he kept working, grabbing up whatever life signs he could and sending them halfway across the planet.  Each bunch of signals was another batch of colonists saved.  The thunder was slowly becoming a roar.  Kelly focused on the console and the numbers he was saving, ignoring the screaming that echoed off the streets just outside.  A swarm of people swept into the room and stormed the massive transporter pad, and he didn’t say anything to them as they stepped on and held each other.  He tapped a location and sent them through the air in a blaze of light, their eyes full of thanks.  More and more filled the room, and he worked as fast as he could.  The line began to stretch out into the streets, yet they still worked, furiously fighting to save as many as possible.  The bright lights of the transporter thrummed over and over as more and more were saved.

Vol could hear the falling ship break through the lower atmosphere, the resulting sonic boom shattering windows across the city and sending shards of glass into the transporter room.  Her team flinched and dodged the sharp debris but kept transporting panicked colonists handfuls at a time.  The line to the pad continued to grow, and she knew they had maybe thirty seconds before impact.  She thought momentarily about running to the pad for safety, but her symbiont dismissed it.  They needed to save as many as possible.  For the good of the many, he gently reminded her.  And so she pressed on with her defense crew, hands working the transporters until the end.  There was a guttural cry as the walls suddenly shattered.  Everything slammed into the ground.  Then….nothing.

The battlecruisers swan song was one of genocide.  Thousands of colonists took one last look to the heavens as the massive fiery wreckage growled one last sneer as it plunged into the city.  Some shouted at the rank unfairness.  Some screamed their last, afraid of what came next as the fire and debris slammed into them.  Others tried to run, their legs burning in terror at their life coming to a close this way.  Few stood unmoving, holding tightly onto their loved ones and facing the immensity of the final seconds of life.  And still, others scrambled into basements and shelters, hoping they would get lucky in the face of the deep and destructive violence of the Dominion.

The battle cruiser enveloped the city of Polaris in a rageful fire that swarmed through the streets and the alleys, hungry for fuel as it consumed bodies and buildings with a guttural groan.  Buildings flung themselves apart under the weight of the sprawling vessel.  The explosion from the initial impact took a deep breath before it galloped into the remainder of the capital city.  It ripped everything from the foundation, flinging once-strong structures through the air, and slamming into neighborhoods, homes, and groups gathered in panicked huddles.  That began more fires and more destruction as the impact spread in all directions from the city center.  Like an unhinged orange demon, the fires crawled and then charged through the city as flaming debris fell from the sky where it had separated from the Jem’Hadar ship.  Colonists imagined themselves safe only to have a whistling oversized lump of metal crash into their world, setting everything alight.  The screams began anew.

Crawford opened his eyes and coughed, feeling pain all over.  Sunlight filtered through the shattered ceiling above him.  He sighed, “Goddamn Dominion.”  They’d been rallying on the 50 Jem’Hadar soldiers with Dread’s team when the message had come – they had three minutes before hell came to the city of Polaris.  They finished what they could with the enemy and, as a group, began to run for shelter.  They had passed an old shelter from the first war and scrambled to find it again.  They’d made it just inside the door and scrambled down the stairs when the impact came.  The inhuman growl had been the last thing they’d heard before being swept into darkness.  He worked at the debris that covered him.  It took him fifteen minutes to get loose, and he took stock of the world around him. The shelter had been leveled, and he could hear the roar of fires outside.  He pushed himself up and screamed through gritted teeth – one of his arms was broken.  It took another five minutes for Crawford to push himself up with one arm and stand shakily.  “Dread?  Does anybody hear my voice?”  The silence was his answer.  He began the haphazard process of climbing through the wreckage toward the light.

Dread awoke with a start, darkness all around her.  She pushed at the wood and metal debris that weighed heavily on her body until rays of smoky sunlight reached her eyes.  Helena kicked and pushed more until her hands reached clear air.  “Help!”  She coughed and felt sharp pains stabbing from her ribs, and her breathing became ragged.  The doctor estimated she had broken most of her ribs and possibly a leg.  She shouted for help again. The captain worked to level her breathing as the pain throbbed upwards.  She hadn’t reached the door when she was flung into darkness.  She wasn’t sure where she was, but she was alive.  “Help!”  She kicked at the debris covering her.  It made little progress.  Suddenly a hand grasped hers and pulled as she screamed and shouted, “That hurts like hell!”

The bloodied and bruised face of Peter Crawford appeared through the gaps in the debris, “That means you’re alive, Dread.  Give me a moment.”  She heard him shuffling around and then his departing footsteps.  She waited in silence, worried at the emptiness of the world.  There should be shouts, screams, or even cries.  There was nothing.  The stillness was what plucked at her nerves.  What would be left to save?  Soon Pete was back and joined by another body who worked to clear the layer of heavy debris from her.  Fifteen minutes and, she blinked into the sun, finding the human face of Crawford and the Cardassian face of Gul Hasara.

The Gul knelt beside her, “You are a welcome sight, Captain Dread. I was worried we had lost you and Captain Crawford.”  She told them her guesstimate diagnosis, and Hasara glanced around, “I will find something for us to carry you, captain.”  Without waiting for her to protest, he was off searching.

Dread looked Crawford over, “Your arm…!”  He shrugged, wincing at the pain.

“We’re both broken.  I can’t reach the Mackenzie – she’s there but unable to respond.  Olympic was two hours away, so we should have some relief soon.”  

They lapsed into staring at the ground before she asked, “How bad?”  The look on her fellow captain’s face was enough.  Her heart had been heavy before…but threatened to fall to the ground as reality revealed itself.

Pete replied, “I looked around before I found Hasara…most of what I can see is leveled.  Lots of bodies.”  He swallowed hard, “I was able to use my tricorder before it died…there’s nobody alive around us.” Crawford fought to hold his emotions in check as his eyes filled with sadness, “From what I could see, most of the city is gone.”  He shifted, trying to redirect his feelings, “We’re going to have to be on the lookout for Jem’Hadar…I tracked a load of transporters.”

She whispered, “Damn.”  They turned at the sound of feet as Hasara appeared with a long board of wood.  Dread groaned but didn’t protest as the Cardassian shifted her to the board and strapped her gently to the surface.  She stared at his focused eyes as he worked to secure her safely, “You really do care, Gul.”

He smiled gamely at her accusation, “I gave up trying to go home, captain.  My home is here with you all now.  This mission convinced me even more.  You are the better angels of the galaxy…and I can learn a lot from you all.”  He tested the straps and nodded approvingly, “Now, I need to go search for survivors to help us carry you.”  He hefted his dusty phaser rifle and stood, “We’re all going to get home, captains.  Anything less, and I will have failed Captain Harris.”  A look of grief washed over his face before he lumbered off.  The two Starfleet officers remained, staring at the ground.  They hoped Hasara was right.  They each desperately wished for the safety of home and the warmth of their quarters on the Olympic.

Morning had come.  Bleary-eyed, Walton pushed herself up from the biobed, groaning at the residual pain and soreness.  Doctor Longfellow watched her struggle and moved to her bedside, hands beside his back.  She was furiously stubborn and independent.  Wren gritted her teeth, “I haven’t hurt like this in a long time, Longfellow.”  

He tapped at his PADD, “Your leg was broken in multiple places from the impalement.  The other leg was pretty roughly bruised.  As for the rest of you…,” He handed her the device, and she read through the report, “…you were lucky there were no long-term effects, Captain.”

She handed him the PADD, “All thanks to you and your sickbay, Doctor.”  She took a deep breath and inched her feet down until they touched the deck below, and she put weight on them slowly, wincing as she went.  It took her five minutes, but she was standing on two feet, grimacing through the dull pain that throbbed.  “You have a report about the rest of my ship?”  

Henry led her to his office and waited until the door closed, gesturing to a chair which she refused.  He threw his hands up and moved to his desk, activating the separate report on the console, “After a full night of search and rescue on the Mackenzie and Janoor III, we’re up to 35 dead.  Our wounded are at 250.”

She gasped, “That’s half our crew, Longfellow!”  Her heart beat fast within her chest.  They had taken a pummeling, and paid for it in gallons of blood.

Henry replied, “It’s rough, Captain.”  He clicked through the numbers, “100 are in critical condition, 50 in intensive care.  Many of our damage control teams and engineer officers took the brunt during the battle.  The remaining 100 are in various stages, from serious to overnight observation to probably getting released today.  Sent the report to you.”

She listened to each chilling detail.  Half of her crew had suffered at the hands of the Dominion in a no-win scenario that had nearly taken their lives.  She shuffled to the chair before his desk and looked him straight in the eyes.  “What’s the butcher’s bill, Doc?”

Henry pursed his lips.  This was the least favorite part of his job.  The cataloging of the dead.  They would never see the faces of those lost.  They would never meet for coffee or run into them in the corridors.  A space now sat achingly open, the silence of absence filling the air.  “Lieutenant Mo Guowei was lost when the damaged deck he attempted to evacuate buckled…and then breached.  Shields snapped into place too late.  His body was recovered.”  He swallowed hard as he continued, “Lieutenant Kiazas Vol.  Her body was located in the ruins of the transporter complex along with two of her defense operations teams.”

Walton wiped her eyes.  Both were new to the Mackenzie and had started to connect with their fellow officers and crew.  “Fuck.”  She practiced breathing as the reality of two senior staff losses began to filter from her head to her heart in a flash flood of emotion.  

Longfellow felt her pain.  “They were good officers, captain.” Wren waved him on. And so he continued.

Five Engineers.  

Five Operations Officers – two onboard Mack and three on Janoor III.  

Two shuttle operations officers had been caught in a catastrophic failure of the hull and docking doors in the shuttle bay.  

He paused as his eyes lingered on the next statistic.  He took a deep breath. “Six medical officers and crew.”  He forced his emotions deep and regained some control as his eyes shined with the dew of grief as he continued.  He had known them.  He had worked with them.  Each of them had given their lives to save another.  

Three cadets had been lost in the buckling of a deck.  

Two tactical officers had been killed on Janoor III by the enemy, along with eight security officers who had been lost in the fighting and the resulting impact of the battle cruiser on the city of Polaris.  

Longfellow leaned back in his chair, his eyes red, “Goddamn Dominion.”  He tossed the PADD roughly on his desk and stared at the ceiling for what felt like an eternity before focusing on his captain, who sat crumpled in her chair.  “I wish I had better words…or news.”

Wren acknowledged his apology with a half-hearted wave as she sank into her chair, “I read the mission reports about when Captain Harris lost fifty crew on the Edinburgh.  I couldn’t get over how hard that loss had hit…and wondered how he carried it.  How he dealt with it.”  She looked to her Chief Medical Officer, “You never got a chance to talk to him, did you?”

Henry leaned over his desk, “Jordan Reid recruited me…and he was dead before I had a real chance to…get to know him.  Reid left, and I haven’t heard anything from her since.”  He grasped his hands together, “We all carry it with us – all our failures, our losses…it’s never really gone, captain.”  He sighed the long sigh of memories and age, “I ended up here because I didn’t have a home…and I just kept wandering from place to place…hoping to find the answer to loss.  The why did this happen to me, and why does it keep happening to me….”  Longfellow looked at her, silently appreciating her as a CO even more with this conversation, “The hardest part is accepting that we will never know the why.  It’s one of the remaining great mysteries of the universe.  Why do the good ones die so young… no bandaid can lessen that trauma.”

The captain pulled herself out of the chair and groaned as she forced her body into a place of posture.  She wondered, “What if the answer to the why is simple?”  He frowned, and she explained, “What if the good die young as a reminder of what it means to live?  That we don’t have any time to waste…our time may just be around the corner.”  Wren reflected, “I watched an old Earth movie in my Academy days…and this line stuck with me ever since….’Nobody chooses when’.  We don’t get to choose how or when we go.”  She wiped the still-flowing tears, “Still doesn’t take away the sadness, even as much as I repeat it in my head.”

Longfellow understood, “It sucks no matter what we do, captain.”

Her lips twisted in a half smile, “That an official diagnosis, Longfellow?”

Henry returned the half smile, “Official – sucks to suck.”

Wren pushed herself out of the chair, “Well, I better get to work sucking.”  She paused and asked, “Has Park made it out of her coma?”  She had been getting hourly updates on her XO.  The command center ten decks below the bridge had taken a nasty punch and torn the cargo bay apart.

Longfellow shook his head, “I’ve got a consult with Olympic staff in ten on her. I should know more by this afternoon.”  He encouraged her, “We’re going to do the best we can for her, Captain Walton.”

She stopped at the door, her eyes full of feeling.  “I know you will, Doc.  It’s just hard.”  She pursed her lips and left his office, limping as she went.  

The door closed.  Longfellow took several deep breaths, his heartbreak for the Mackenzie crew and the Janoor people threatening to overwhelm him.  He counted to ten, and he was able to focus on his control.  SIckbay needed him.  And he needed sickbay.

“Park…Park…what are you doing?”  Park Seoyeon opened her eyes and startled at the sight of her parents looking at her with concern.  “There we go, sleepy head.  We were wondering what you were doing.  It’s time.”  

She looked around her and felt a chill run down her back.  Her old room in her parent’s home in California.  Everything was as it had been.  Every detail. Every poster.  “What is going on?  I was on the Mack…and then…why are you here?  Why am I here?”

Her mother tutted with her tongue, “Whatever are you talking about, Park Laura Seoyeon?  It’s time for you to get ready to travel to the Fourth Fleet Academy.  Shuttle leaves in four hours, and we don’t want to be….”

Park exploded, “Get the hell out of here.  You’re not my mother.  She’s dead…and it’s just dad now.”  The woman moved to speak, and Park shouted, “Get out!  GET OUT!”  Her mom’s eyes went wide, and her eyes began to fill with tears, and she fled her daughter’s room, crying down the stairs.  Seoyeon felt her heart ache with guilt at that moment.  What was going on?  Her mother had been dead for five years.  What was she doing in her room again?  She had been on the Mack in the command center in the cargo bay during the battle…

“Shields are…”

“Commander, take cov…”

The sounds of fire roared at the edges of her consciousness as the images of consoles exploding and sharp debris flying everywhere at once.  Support beams crashing into the deck.  The world going sideways.  Then…

Darkness.  She opened her eyes and was still in her childhood room, but it was fading in the evening light.  She asked, “Am I dead?”  The light above her flickered out, and the air grew cool against her skin.

“You are not dead, my Park Laura.” The older face of her mother came out of the mists, her old clothes replaced with a resplendent robe.  “You came close.  Even now…” She stroked her daughter’s face, “They’re working to save you.  They love you…and care for you.” She leaned in and kissed the startled and confused face of Park, “It is hopeful for me to see my daughter with such…good people.”

“Mom…what the hell is going on?” The room had grown dark until it was just her and her mother on the bed, a faint light emanating between them.

Grace Seoyeon spoke as if she wasn’t listening, “You were my love.  I wish I had said it more, my dear.  We ended on such…bad terms.”

Park’s eyes remained wide.  Was she really talking to her mother?  She decided to play along.  Her mother’s presence brought warmth to the cold and dark room.  “We argued about your nearly sending me to a boot camp.”  She remembered the words somberly, “I told you I hated you.”

Grace’s face, or whoever she was, flashed at the memory, “It wasn’t our strongest moment, daughter.”  She stroked Park’s hair, “I wish I had told you I loved you more, dearest.”

The younger of the two felt her tears welling up as she confessed, “I wish I had too, mother.”  They embraced, and Park felt the warmth of her mother spread to her and fill her with a burst of joy and love that brought on more tears and sobs as the two remained tightly bound.  The lights began to brighten around them.  Park asked, “What is happening?” The world became like the sun and blinded her.  She could hear Grace Seoyeon whispering in the wind as she felt warm air swirl around her.

“You will live.  You..will…live.”

“Shock her again!  Come on, Park.”  Henry Longfellow stood over the operating table as his patient’s flatline screeched on and on.  They’d come close to securing the damage to her heart and brain, but something had gone sideways with the most significant muscle in the body…it had simply stopped working.  He felt the slow seep of panic chewing at his outer layer of nerves.  He wasn’t in the mood to lose anyone anytime soon…and his XO threatened to spoil that mood.

Nurse Asato Hiro frantically upped the change and shouted, “Clear!”  The body of their XO arched and hit the bed.  The entire operating room staff stared at the EKG.  And waited. You could hear the breathing of each person, Hiro would remember later.  There was a sense that time stood still as each of them willed for the EKG readings to rise from the dead like Frankenstein.

Beep.  Beep.  Beep.  Longfellow shouted relief and returned to Seoyeon, “Let’s close her up and get her to recovery.  Cranial pressure is relieved, and the heart is operating back where it’s supposed to be.  Let’s bring our girl home.”

The light slowly faded as the words whistled through her memory.

“You will live….you…will….live.”

Her eyes flitted open, and the first face she saw was Wren.  She gasped out, “Reporting…for duty…Captain Walton.”

The smile from her friend and CO was the second brightest thing she’d seen today. 

Gabriela Castillo slowly entered the bridge lounge, her heart and soul heavy.  She spotted Jack at the bar cleaning some glasses and pulled herself up on a stool, “Moscow Mule.”  He finished his glasswork, giving her a few side looks while he went to work on her drink. The Chief Helm Officer put her hands up, “I know, I know…not my normal.”

Rockwell mused, “What’s normal these days?  We’re still getting this place cleaned up.”  She stopped and glanced around.  The tables were mostly destroyed, and the carpet was ragged and burned.  She’d been so focused on getting to the bar she’d barely noticed the state of the lounge.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t even….”

“Don’t worry about it, Ensign.  The Mackanzie’s in rough shape all over.  The main crew mess will need a complete remodel – we’ve had to use a cargo bay for food and beverage service.”  He set her drink down before her, “You remember the first time you walked in here?”

She took a sip and felt the warmth of a Synthehol wash down her throat and into her stomach.  She did.  “Yea.  Catari ended up on the Oly and Mo…well…”  She felt the sadness of his loss and mourning of what might have been if he had survived.  What conversations would they have had?  What connections would he have formed?  What kind of fellow officer would he have become?  She pushed her feelings down for the moment, “They warn you serving in Starfleet is hard.  They weren’t lying.”

Jack nodded and leaned back on the expansive cabinet of choices.  “I don’t know if it’s ever been easy…you think back the history we learned in the Academy about the NX-01 and the first days of the Federation…Kirk’s ships, Sulu’s journey…Spock, Scotty…Garret, Picard, Janeway, Sisko…those captains and crews never had it easy.  And that’s just the A-Teams.  I haven’t even dug into the B-teams or the C-teams.  A lot of names on both lists that suffered and struggled in service to the Federation.”

Castillo took a deep drink from her cup, “What team are we on, Jack?”  She smiled slyly, “I think we’re a B+ team myself.”  She swirled the ice, thinking of the 35 officers they would never see again.  The letters would be sent home, and the caskets would be draped in Federation flags.  She changed subjects, deflecting her feelings, “You hear anything about this on the FNN?”

The bartender scoffed, “That’ll be the day.  Been catching the daily broadcasts.  Not enough synthehol in the world to wash away whatever sins are being committed at that level.”  He accepted her empty cup, “Up for another?”  She shrugged, and he went to work.

“Ensign Gabriela Castillo, may I sit next to you?”  The voice startled her, and Master Chief Henry Wyatt looked at her expectantly, and she nodded, shifting in her seat.  He gave a wave to Rockwell, “Hard cider, please.”  He sat for a moment, examining the offerings on the shelf.

“I heard you were here once.”  Gabriela turned to hear his answer.

“It’s those years that I don’t really enjoy talking about…but everyone else likes to, it seems.”  He cocked his head to the side and stared back at her.  Rockwell placed her drink down and set a topped bottle in front of the El-Aurian, who took a swig and gave an appreciative sigh, “At least the hard cider is right.”  He admired the bottle before returning to the question, “Screw it.  Let’s have it.  It was a long time ago.  The colony was in its infancy…there was no threat of Dominion or much of anything.  It was an innocent corner of colonial operations.  When I went down before the attack, I didn’t recognize much…they grew in leaps and bounds.”  Another swig and a quiet smile, “You should try this, Ensign.  It’s some of the best.”

Gabriela accepted a bottle from Jack and peered down the gullet of the bottle, “It smells…sweet.”  She took a nip, her eyes wide in surprise, “That’s…not half bad, Master Chief!”  The Ensign took a deeper pull and clinked her bottle against his, “You’re not half bad, either.”

Wyatt chuckled, “I’ve been called many things in my life…I’ll take it.”  He accepted a second bottle and wrested the top off barehanded, earning a surprised look from the helm chief.  He shifted the conversation, “You going to stay on the Mack when we return to Starbase 72?  A lot of talk about people leaving for safer sectors.”  He gave her a knowing look when she frowned, “I’m the Quartermaster – I hear it all.”

She had given it some thought, but she kept coming back to why she was out here in the first place.  “It’s hard not to want to discover.”  Setting her bottle down, she gestured to the windows, “They called it a lot of things…The Final Frontier…the Undiscovered Country…the Vastness…the Expanse…as far as we have gone…there’s still so much out there.” She tapped her fingers on the bar top, “My family lived off the land since as far back as any of us can remember.  Our farm was our life…our future.  My mother told me one day she was tired of seeing me all muddy and dirty.  Shipped me off to space camp.”  A moment of silence spread between them as Gabriela recalled her mother.  After a few minutes of reflection, she continued in a pool of memories, “I always wondered why she just up and sent me.  I asked her in the days leading up to the Academy…and she told me our family had been tied to the mud and the muck for too long… that it was time to free ourselves from the deep muddy waters…and fly.”  She chuckled as Wyatt gave her a look, “Yes, she really said that.  Mom could be poetic when she wanted.”

Henry felt her eyes shift with the conversation.  He leaned into her shoulder, “You miss her.”  Family was universal in the universe.

Gabriela sniffled a little, tears holding at the corner of her eyes, “She is the heart of our family.  Dad’s the quiet one – tends his gardens.  That’s his language…the plants and the trees.  I spent hours out there with him, learning and watering and sharing time.”  She dabbed a napkin at her eyes, “Sorry, it’s been a year away from home…you think you’re ready to be separated…and…then you start to remember them.”

Wyatt placed his hand on her shoulder, “No need to apologize, Ensign.  Being on a starship can be a lonely enterprise the first time around.  Making friends and securing our mooring lines to people who care…that’s not easy.”  He chuckled as he took a swig, “Somehow, most of us make it through that first year…and then we keep coming back until they don’t dare get rid of us.  You are coming back, right?”

The Chief Helm Officer cackled, covered her mouth in shock at the sound, and then laughed at her embarrassment, finishing with, “And miss these delightful conversations, Master Chief?  You couldn’t get rid of me if you tried.”

He gave her a devious wink, “Is that a challenge?”  Her bright laughter was his answer.

Oscar Reede sat in the communications center, working on the final repairs to the consoles.  It had survived without too much damage aside from every console being shattered.  Half the day had gotten away from him before he’d finally managed to get the last one fixed. The door opened, and he stood at attention as Commander Charles Hargraves stepped in, followed by Gul Hasara.  The cadet asked, “Good afternoon, sirs.  What can I do for you?”  His voice nearly squeaked, and he felt his face grow red with embarrassment.

Charlie was first, “Gul Hasara needs to submit his resignation from the Union formally.”  Reede blinked.  That was news.  The Diplomatic Officer continued, “He can explain the details.”  With that, he left, and Reede gestured to the desk console as the Cardassian followed him. They sat down.

“Commander Hargraves is being very kind.  It was to be my choice to resign, but I received a communication early this morning that the Union is requesting my resignation.”

Oscar asked, “So…they’re firing you?  That seems unfair.”  He knew a little of the Gul’s story, but it seemed not enough.

Hasara laughed deeply, “Accusing the Cardassian Union of unfair practices is just another day at the office, Cadet Reede.  Your sentiment is appreciated even though I could give, as you humans would say, two shits about them.”

Reede felt a smile spring to his lips and nodded in understanding, “I understand that reference, sir.  Do you have wording in mind?”

“Oh, Mr. Reede.  I have wording in mind.  Do I ever.  I hope your ears won’t be offended…it is going to be quite a vulgar message.”  His smile was sly, and his eyes bright with anticipation.  He had been waiting for this moment for a long time.

Oscar waved his concerns away, “Vulgarity was a specialty in my family.”

The Gul cocked his head, “Of the Cardassian variety?”

Reede was given pause at that. “Uh, no.”

Hasara’s grin went from sly to maniacal upon hearing the cadet’s reply, “Then I am going to be teaching you a great deal, Mr. Reede.  Shall we begin?”  Reede put his hands on the console.  He was ready to learn. 

“You got the chair right, Chief.”  Wren sat in the center chair.  The carpet had been ripped up, and the damage to the walls scraped away.  The ceiling was pockmarked with missing pieces.  Most of the consoles were working, and the chairs had been repaired.  The bridge was a bare skeleton, her wounds gaping.

Okada smiled proudly, “We’ve got warp up through eight.  We’ll do a little more work on the way, see if we can get our girl a little faster.”  Walton clapped her on the shoulder, and the commander left for the turbolift.  Wren sighed as she looked around the bridge.  It had been beaten and bruised…but she still worked.

“Sensors reporting we’re all clear.  Ops confirms all Mack crew is back onboard. Our Janoor III guests are happy to be here.”  The XO turned in her seat, an uneasy smile crossing her lips.  The bruises and some bandages remained on Park Seoyeon.  Despite it, she had requested to be cleared for full duty that morning.  She had lived.

Wren gave her an assuring smile back, “I’m just glad they all fit.  We’ve got a long list of colonies to transfer them to, so we best get moving.  Castillo, let’s set some courses while we’re at it.”

Reede spoke up, “Olympic is calling, Captain.” Walton still wasn’t sure what had happened between her and Captain Crawford in his quarters a few days ago.  She wasn’t sure he was sure either.  They hadn’t talked about it since.  She motioned for the channel to open.

Crawford sat in the center chair, surrounded by his crew.  Smiles were exchanged between the old Mackenzie crew before he spoke, “Captain Walton, we wanted to thank you and your crew for their efforts in saving Janoor III.”  

His smile was genuine, at least.  She wondered what that meant…if anything.  She replied, “We paid for it, Captain…but it was the right thing to do.  These people called…and we answered.”  She allowed her own smile, “We’ll see you at Starbase 72 once we complete our drops.”

Pete replied, “We’ll be waiting for you all to come home safely.  Take care, Captain Walton.”

She replied, “You too, Captain Crawford.”  The channel closed, and she leaned back in her chair.  She ignored the stare from her XO until she could ignore it no more.  “Helm, let’s get moving.  Let me know when we get to our first destination.  Park, join me, won’t you?”  She stood and stalked into her Ready Room as the Mackenzie jumped to warp.

The door closed behind Park Seoyeon, and she raised her hands, “I admit I stared a little too….”

Wren waved her hands, “That’s fine.  I mean, it’s not fine…but…whatever.”  She smoothed her uniform in an effort to calm her nerves, “He said ‘take care.’  I half expected him to wink!”

Park gently grabbed her friend around the shoulders and moved her to the couch, setting her down, “You’re kinda funny when you get twitterpated.”  Her CO stared daggers at her, causing Seoyeon to laugh aloud, “You like this guy!”

Wren sat back in the couch, grumbling, “He’s my deputy commander of the squadron.  We can’t be flirty while debating operational theatre choices.”  She crossed her arms and pouted.

Her friend cackled and didn’t apologize, “You could be flirty.  That MSD table in operations would be a great place to….”  Walton smacked Park playfully over and over with a pillow from the couch, and they dissolved into laughter.

The captain regained her composure, “We haven’t had many reasons to laugh like that in a while, Park.”  She wiped the tears away from her eyes, “You can’t be seriously suggesting I start up a relationship with Peter Crawford.  He’s seven years older than me for crying out loud.”

The XO shrugged, “It didn’t stop you before.  You gotta admit your string of successful relationships isn’t much of a standard.to measure anything by.”

Wren fired back, “You haven’t done much better.”

Park smiled deviously, “I’m still young; I’ve got years and years….”  Walton smacked her again with the pillow, and they rolled their eyes at each other.  She offered, “Seriously…there’s nothing wrong with dinner with a fellow captain.  Give it a few…dates and see if things still have that spark from that…hug.”  

Park emphasized ‘hug,’ and Wren groaned, “I regret telling you about it in the first place.”  She chewed at her fingernails and sighed, “You might be right.”  She ignored the silent victory dance her XO performed before crashing back on the couch with Walton.  “What am I going to do?”

Seoyeon gently hugged her friend, “We’ll figure it out.  First, let’s get these people homes they can live safely in, and then put this poor girl into the repair house…then we can plot and plan on seducing Captain Crawford.”

Walton groaned again, but it was still heavy with sarcasm, “Why am I friends with you?”

Her XO booped her on the nose, “Because I’m helpful.”

“Or annoying.”

A final chuckle from Park, “Or both. Both is good.”  She stood and straightened out her uniform, “I’m glad you found me, Wren.”  

She left the ready room, and Walton begrudgingly admitted in a whisper, “Me, too.” 

The USS Mackenzie lay in the lower levels of Starbase 72.  Spotlights focused on the exterior damage, and repairs were ongoing.  Wren sat in the viewing lounge that looked on the bay her ship was laid up in.  Reports had been coming in of success in the Deneb sector.  That hope had been jarringly spoiled by the alert that had come through secure channels.  Farpoint was the final target of the Dominion, and every able ship was in motion to make a final stand.  Wren tapped at her PADD nervously.  The report from Commander Vane had been plain – the Mackenzie wouldn’t be ready for any duty for several weeks.  Walton muttered, “Goddamn Dominion.”  They’d taken thirty-five of her crew from her.  The worst part was the losses felt pointless.  That the Dominion’s need for war wasn’t rooted in an ancient cause or historical contention with those in the Alpha Quadrant.  It was the Founder ordained hunger for domination fed through the dogma of the Changelings as gods.

“Captain?”  She turned and shifted over to give Commander Okada Katsumi room, which she took.  “She took a beating.”  Katsumi had worked hard as they’d made the long run to 72 to keep the Mackenzie together.  Wren had ordered her to take a few days off and leave her station.

“We all did, Okada.”  The Chief Engineer looked less worn than the last time.  “Your off time was helpful?”

Katsumi answered, “It helped…but I don’t know if it was enough.”  She struggled with her words, “I lost five engineers, Wren.  I finished their letters this morning…and goddamn, does it hurt.”  She wiped at her eyes, “I’ve cried enough about this…it hurts to cry now.  They were five of us…we’re a family down in that engine room, captain…and we’ve just lost brothers and sisters…and for what?”  She accepted a tissue from Walton and cried into it, “Some genocidal maniacs who don’t dare about anything but their kingdom in the universe.  Goddamn Dominion.”

Wren pulled her chief engineer into her shoulder.  They sat together in silence for fifteen minutes, watching the ongoing repairs to the Excelsior II class ship.  The captain spoke quietly, “What can we do to for it to be…enough?”  She wasn’t sure what the answer would be, but it needed asking.  Okada was the next best thing to an XO.  She had been instrumental in bridging the gap between the new officers and the old guard.

Katsumi wasn’t sure.  Her eyes remained focused on the Mackenzie.  “I need time back home.  I need to…reconnect with my family. I need to visit the families of the engineers I lost.”  She gently sat back up, “I need to find myself again, captain.”  She straightened her uniform, “I don’t know how long it will take. Grief isn’t easy.”  She stood up, at attention.

Walton understood.  “You have my permission for leave, Okada.  I’ll be in touch.”  Katsumi gave a reserved nod and slowly walked away, emotions trailing in her wake.

“When will the nightmares end, sensei?”  Asata Hiro sat at the living room table in Henry Longfellow’s quarters, her fingers working on a challenging puzzle.  She was dressed casually and sat comfortably.  Longfellow was helping but also listening to his Chief Charge Nurse.

“I don’t know that they ever fully go away, Hiro-san.”  He was in casual wear too.  “We find ways to reconcile the trials of battlefield medicine.  It’s not perfect…but when we travel on that road together, we have a better chance of surviving it.”  He snapped a few pieces in, smiling in satisfaction.  “There are moments when I am transported back to my younger days.  A smell or a sound might throw me back to that time…or it just might be something I’m thinking about…and suddenly I’m connecting to an old case or memory.”

Hiro rounded a few pieces to snap in place and smiled at her small victory.  It was a 5,000-piece puzzle.  They had been at it a few days.  She had found comfort in these down moments.  “Are those memories painful, sensei?”

He stood and placed a cup underneath the replicator.  It was filled with a hard cider.  Henry answered as he returned to the table, “If we’re being philosophical…yes.  All memories have at least some pain associated with them. Physical, emotional, psychological pain…or just the pain of the experience.  Someone once told me early in my career on Earth, ‘Life is pain…anybody who tells you otherwise is lying.’  I laughed at him…but I think I’m coming around to the idea.”

Asata wasn’t sure she agreed with the sentiment.  Was life truly pain?  The more she thought about it, the more she wasn’t sure what she thought.  She answered, “That…seems a very…pessimistic view of the world, sensei.”

Henry chuckled, “You’re not wrong, Hiro-san…but everybody looks at the world differently.  You’re the most optimistic of the two of us.  Our paths in life were similar…but still varied.  I’d like to think I’ve earned the right to pessimism.”

Hiro cracked, “I believe there is no such right in the Federation Charter.”

Longfellow cackled.  It was a rare moment of humor, and he gave her a broad smile in return, “This comes from the Longfellow Charter, Hiro-san.”  

She rolled her eyes with a faint smile, returning to work on the puzzle.  “Puzzles are hard.  Much like people.”

“Commander, we’re here to evaluate your performance on the USS Mackenzie.”  The ten officers around the table held PADDs and stared at him.  “Please state your name, rank, and position for the record.”

He took a sip of water, feeling as if things were about to go very badly.  He answered, “Commander Charles Hargraves, Diplomatic Officer…USS Mackenzie.”

A voice from the left spoke, “You made several requests that were deemed inappropriate during this mission.  You then circumvented the guidelines that were given to you.  Against recommendations, you changed the mission of the Mackenzie’s response to Janoor III.”

Hargraves wanted to sigh and push away from the table.  Walk out.  Return to Earth.  And leave this world behind.  Instead, he answered the non-question with an attempt at his question, “I accept the record of events.  The narrative isn’t informed on the local decisions we had to….”

“You’ve accepted the record of events.  That’s all we….”

It was Charlie’s time to interrupt, “Respectfully, I’m not sure of the point of this Diplomatic Department review.  Every report I submitted has been heavily redacted or classified.  Or both.  I’ve signed several secrecy clauses and non-disclosure documents.  I do not feel this review session will be accurate or fair.”

Silence fell among the gathered diplomatic officers.  There were a few shared glances until the woman at the head of the table spoke, “Your feelings on the matter have been noted and recorded, Commander Hargraves.  Are you stating you don’t wish to participate in this review?”  

He could see her shadow in the lights.  He knew they would make their judgment without his side of the story if he decided not to take part.  He would be accountable for whatever they decided.  He was tired and growing tired of running up against a wall every time he needed something from his department.  He sighed long, “Yes, that is what I am saying.”

There were a few visible looks of shock, but most remained impassive.  The woman’s voice returned, “Then we will proceed with our ruling.  Commander Charles Hargraves, you are hereby demoted in rank and responsibility to Lieutenant.  You are removed as Chief Diplomatic Officer, USS Mackenzie, with a successor to be named later.  You will remain on the Mackenzie.”  She tapped at her PADD, “This decision is final.  You are dismissed, Lieutenant Hargraves.”

He stood, stunned.  A yeoman approached and held out her hand.  He looked at the hand, not understanding.  She lost patience with him and removed his rank pips, jarring him to realize what had just occurred.  He stood dumbly until his mind caught up, and he walked listlessly out of the room and into the corridor.   He found a bench to sit at.  He reached up and touched the remaining gold at his neck.  What was he going to do now?

“You haven’t asked me about my mother.” Commander Seoyeon sat back on the couch, smiling at Juliet Woodward.  They were sitting in the chief counselor’s temporary office on Starbase 72.  Wren had requested her to return as Chief Counselor on the Mackenzie.

Woodward scoffed, “You’re the one who had a fever dream about her, Park…I was waiting for you to bring her up.”  She kept track of their discussion on her PADD.  “Do you think it was real?”

The executive officer wasn’t sure, yet she was also very sure.  The things her mother said to her…the things she had felt…had been so real.  Things her mother had said to her she had never heard her say before…and her voice was clear as if she…had been there.  “Is it weird if I say yes?”

Juliet shrugged, “Science explains a great deal in this modern age.  The Bajoran Faith remains a mystery at times. Some say that Captain Sisko is there, here, and everywhere..and others are convinced he’s dead.  But do we know how it all works?”  She shrugged again, “The Blood Dilithium was a mystery…and some of that mystery remains so, even with scientists studying it every day.  And let’s not get started on the Lost Fleet.”  She made a note, “What if it was real?  What does that mean to you?”

Seoyeon felt stymied by the question.  “It would mean my mother found a way to reach me on my death bed…that she found a way to reconcile with me from wherever in the great beyond she is.” Woodward cocked her head to the side, and the XO could only shrug, “I don’t know, Juliet.  It means that my mother loves me…and that I love her…and that maybe us finally being able to say that to each other connected us in that moment of near death…and brought us together one last time.”  Park felt her eyes burning and dabbed at them, “There’s been too much death and loss in my life recently.  Mom, our crew…it feels impossible to keep my footing sometimes.”

Juliet understood, “Trauma and loss are like solid ice under our feet that thickens the more we experience…and the less we tackle, the more we fall and struggle to get up.”  She sipped her tea, “We can feel like there’s no way for us to get back up on our feet…and that we never want to get up because it’s too hard…or too much.”

The XO nodded, “Every bit of that.  I’m glad we got you back, Juliet.”

Woodward raised her mug of tea, “I’m glad you all asked for me back.”  A deep silence fell over them before Juliet mourned, “Mo was a good counselor…I wish he had been given a chance to shine here.”  She’d worked with a pool of officers to replace her.  Mo Guowei had risen to the top consistently.  His attention to detail and drive had stood out to her.  “What do you need to keep your footing?”

Seoyeon sighed because she knew the question was coming.  She knew the answer.  It didn’t make the process to come any easier.  “I need to go home to see my father.  The last time we talked, we talked around my mother’s absence…I don’t know if he knows how to keep his footing…I’m worried I will find him on the floor…metaphorically and literally.”  She shook the emotions away, “I’m not sure I can handle losing Dad so soon after Mom, you know?”

Juliet felt the pain from her friend and colleague as it radiated from her face and eyes.  She sometimes wished there was a magical hypospray that she could use to help heal everyone’s hurts.  That maybe she chose the wrong blue uniform.  That maybe she could heal broken hearts in a sickbay better than in an office with a chair and sofa.  It was a lot of ‘maybes’ for her to keep circling in her mind.  It took her a moment to confront her feelings before she could return to Seoyeon’s.  “You think of bringing someone along?  Sometimes it’s helpful to have someone to lean on when confronting something heavy with emotion.”

Park’s eyes brightened at the suggestion.  She hadn’t thought of it before.  Just the idea seemed to lift much of the weight off her shoulders.  “I…that would be helpful.  I don’t know if Wre…Captain Walton will be able to get away…would it be weird to ask you?”

Juliet smiled, “No, it wouldn’t.  Most of the crew have appointments with Starbase 72 counseling staff.  I’ve been told to take some time off as it is.  It’d be an honor to accompany you, Park.”

Seoyeon gave her a warning look, “You need to know…my father is notoriously hard to get along with.”

Woodward cackled, “Ma’am, you haven’t seen Papa Woodward on a good day.” 

Starbase 72 was a wonder.  Wren had spent much time walking the various decks, hallways, and more as the Mackenzie was under repair.  She stood at the back of the Memorial Amphitheater in Quadrant A, remembering why it was there.  The loss of life in the Dominion War had left a deep wound in Starfleet, the Federation, and the Universe.  Ten thousand two hundred fifteen lives alone had been lost in the Minos Korva sector.  The complete casualty reports from the war were still hard to read.  It had been the most challenging thing anyone in Starfleet had faced.

A few people were walking around, and a few had taken seats on the benches facing the stage.  She found an isolated seat towards the front.  It was a quiet place.  United Federation of Planets flags hanging between the columns fluttered in the artificial breeze.  Walton wondered how they would memorialize this war.  Would Starfleet eventually recognize the sacrifices of the officers of the Fourth Fleet?  Would the dead be given the honor owed to them?  Would they be laid to sacred rest?

She sat back on the bench.  The reports from other Fourth Fleet captains had been hard to read.  The losses were striking.  From officers to crewmen to cadets to civilians…the numbers had become harder to accept week after week.  How would any of them be able to sit in the center chair with the weight of responsibility on their shoulders?  That fourth-rank pip was beautiful, but it was also heavy. She absentmindedly ran her fingers over her own.

They would get the Mackenzie back, eventually.  The crew would return to her and set out into the stars again.  Yet, she reflected, they would be different now.  The war had changed Peter Crawford and his generation.  This war had changed her and left its mark on her crew.  They would need to get to know each other again and share the scars they’d endured.

Walton walked around the Memorial Amphitheater, reading through the engraved names and quotes inscribed in remembrance.  The war had cost them. The payment remained a cruel price for the freedom of the universe.  A price they had willingly paid.  She stood at the entrance, taking one last look.  More people filtered in, looking for hope, reason, or anything to help in the face of the rebirth of the Dominion.  Others walked the corridors, ignorant of the reality.

Wren took a deep breath.  Duty called.  The future was uncertain, but it lay ahead expectantly.  She joined the masses and pushed forward.  She resolved to do just that. Walton whispered to herself, “Forward, Ever Forward.”  She pushed on and into the crowd, the future ahead.