Captain Renora Day floated in darkness. All was silent, she could no longer feel her own body or hear her own thoughts. There was no time in this place… just darkness…

Then, a sharp sensation… a prick at her neck… and a rush of warmth that bloomed inside her.

Day’s eyes fluttered open, the harsh white lights of sickbay blinding her as she gasped for breath. Her chest ached, and her limbs felt heavy, as though they were made of stone.

“Welcome back, Captain,” Pell grumbled, the hypospray held in her thick-fingered Tellarite hand. “Stay still and rest, or I’ll put you back to sleep.” She turned and went to work on Rax in the biobed beside them.

Day tried to move, her body rebelling with every attempt. Weak, shaky, disoriented… she could barely lift her head. A groan escaped her lips, and then, with a slow, deliberate effort, she pushed herself upright.

Pain shot through her like wildfire. Her vision swam, and she collapsed back against the bio-bed, gasping for air.

“Easy there, Captain.” Mehta’s steady voice came from beside her. He gently placed a hand on her shoulder, helping her sit up. “You’ve been through hell.”

Day winced but tried to find her bearings. Her head felt too heavy, and every breath was a labor. She forced herself to look at him, her vision still fuzzy. “Status,” she croaked, her voice weak and raspy.

Mehta glanced down at the data padd in his hands, his eyes betraying the weight of the situation. “Seventeen dead… Dozens more injured. Lieutenant Jorath remains in critical condition, Lieutenant Commander Rax isn’t much better off. We are currently maintaining warp 1.12, but Valis is barely holding the ship together. DS47 is still eight days away at maximum speed. The good news is help is on the way. We were able to get a signal out, reinforcements are on the way. No sign of pursuing vessels, at least for now.”

Day’s heart sank at the mention of the dead. Seventeen lives were lost. Too many. She struggled to steady herself, clenching her jaw to keep the wave of emotion at bay. She couldn’t afford to show weakness now. Her crew needed her.

Pell’s voice cut through the air, sharp as ever. “Don’t push yourself, Captain. You’re in no condition to be doing anything right now.”

Day forced her gaze to the doctor, her eyes narrowing. “I need to be on the bridge.”

Pell scowled, stepping closer with a hypospray still in hand. “Not until I say so. You’re a wreck. You’re staying right here, Captain, whether you like it or not.”

“Can’t afford to stay down, Doctor,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “My crew needs me.”

Mehta glanced at her; his expression unreadable but understanding. “And they’ll get you, Captain. Just not today.”

Day wanted to protest, to get up, to take command, but her body refused to cooperate. Instead, she let out a soft sigh, too weak to argue any further. Her team had it in hand.

_______________________________________

In Engineering, Valis and Vex worked tirelessly to keep the Vallejo moving. The ship had already been in the process of Cardassian-initiated repairs before their escape, and the destruction of the base had only compounded their problems. Structural reinforcements had been left half-finished, conduits were being rerouted when the station exploded, and some of the fixes the Cardassians had begun were now liabilities instead of improvements. With only one functioning nacelle, their warp drive was unreliable, forcing constant recalibrations. The ship’s systems groaned under the strain, power surges flickering through decks like restless ghosts. Vex wiped the sweat from her brow, muttering a string of Orion curses. “If we drop out of warp now, we’re stuck until a tow arrives.”

Valis remained calm, adjusting the control panel with precise movements. “Then we must not drop out of warp.”

Vex let out a dry chuckle. “Thanks, Lieutenant, hadn’t thought of that.”

_______________________________________

The following day

Day finally stepped onto the bridge, leaning slightly on the railing as she surveyed the damage reports displayed across the consoles. The bridge crew was a mix of exhaustion and quiet determination. Ryan was still at tactical, his back straight, but his eyes were shadowed with fatigue.

Mehta stood near the command chair, his brow furrowed as he addressed the ongoing damage control efforts. Amir was at the helm, filling in for Renn, who was still recovering in sickbay. His usual smirk was nowhere to be found as he carefully managed their trajectory, compensating for the failing inertial dampeners and unstable warp field. Every minor course correction required manual input to keep them from drifting into disaster.

Ryan stood at the tactical station, his hands resting on the console, though there were no weapons left to control. The phasers and torpedo launchers had been destroyed in the battle, but he remained there anyway, his eyes scanning damage reports and watching sensors for any signs of pursuit.

Kellan worked at OPS, her usual sharp efficiency subdued.

“Captain!” Ryan looked up, his face filled with relief. “You’re awake.”

Day’s gaze swept across the bridge, noting the fatigue in the crew’s posture, and she felt a pang of guilt. Seventeen dead. Dozens wounded. Her crew had held together through it all, but they were all in mourning.

“How long until reinforcements arrive?” Her voice was hoarse but clear, cutting through the quiet.

Kellan turned toward her, “Starfleet has sent three vessels to assist us, Captain. Their approximate ETA is 14.5 hours, assuming no delays.”

Day nodded, letting the news settle in. The cavalry was on its way.

_______________________________________

Jorath lay in sickbay, looking worse than most of the wounded. The brutal treatment from the Cardassians had left deep marks on him, but it was the overwhelming emotional toll that truly ravaged him. His empathic senses had been battered by the sheer weight of the suffering around him… pain, loss, and the lingering fear that clung to every survivor like a physical presence. Each pulse of anguish threatened to drown him, making it harder to hold onto his sense of self.

The magnitude of the loss weighed heavily on the ship, pressing down on every corner of the vessel. Seventeen lives had been lost, and each of those deaths echoed through the ship’s battered corridors like a hollow reminder of their failure to protect their own. Faces of the fallen flashed before the eyes of every crew member… those they had fought beside, laughed with, and shared meals with. Now they were gone.

Nurse Torel sat quietly beside Jorath, her gaze soft but steady as she monitored his vitals. Though he was barely responsive, the calm presence of his friend seemed to anchor him, offering a small solace amidst the chaos of his own mind. He wasn’t alone in the battle to regain his sense of balance, even if he couldn’t respond in kind.

Rax and Loran had been released to their quarters with strict instructions to rest, their conditions no longer critical enough to require constant monitoring. Dr. Pell had deemed them stable enough, freeing up space to treat the remaining crew members with more minor injuries. But the relief was bittersweet. There was no real recovery from the emotional toll they’d all endured. The scars of this battle would last far longer than the physical wounds.

______________________________________

Day was seated at the head of the table in the briefing room. She had called for Mehta, Amir, Ryan, Anari, and Vex to meet her there at 16:30. In front of her sat a small dark wood box. She was surprised that Valis had agreed to route power to her ready room for a few minutes so she could replicate it, but she saw no reason to wait for reinforcements or repairs for this.

Eventually, her crew arrived and took their seats around her. Just looking at them made her heart swell with pride. Her entire crew had endured a horrific ordeal… but they survived and found a way out. She only regretted that they couldn’t save everyone…

Her hands were folded in front of her as she met their eyes, the weight of what they had just survived hanging in the air.

“Words cannot express how proud I am of this crew. I have recommended the entire crew be awarded commendations for bravery. But you went above and beyond,” she said, her voice steady despite the exhaustion that clung to them all. “What you did in those moments was nothing short of incredible. Therefore, I have nominated all five of you for the Karagite Order of Heroism.”

Day stood looking around at the assembled officers. She struggled to keep tears from welling up in her eyes. “Unfortunately, Cadet Ryan, I was informed Academy students are ineligible for the award.”

She let the words settle before turning to Ryan. “Jeremy, if not for you, I would be dead.” She exhaled. “Thirty minutes ago, I spoke with Commodore Ison Bale at the Academy campus on Mellstoxx III. He was in full support of your promotion.” She held up the wooden box and pulled out a small silver pip. “Effective immediately, you are field-promoted to the rank of Ensign. Don’t worry you’ll still have a graduation in a few months.”

The others assembled stood and clapped and cheered for Ryan as Captain Day handed him the box. The applause wasn’t just for Ryan’s promotion… it was for the entire crew. For what they’d been through. For how they had come together when it mattered most. And for how they would keep going, no matter the cost.

Ryan stood, his face flushed with a mixture of gratitude and humility, as the crew clapped, their tired expressions now filled with a renewed sense of pride.

Day stood tall, her chest heavy with emotion, as she let the applause wash over them. It was their moment… a moment of recognition for all they had endured and sacrificed. When the applause finally died down, Day met their eyes, her voice barely above a whisper. “Thank you, all of you. Together, we’ll carry on.”

_______________________________________

The stars outside the ready room viewport seemed to flicker and pulse in the distance, an endless sea of cold light. Captain Renora Day sat at her desk, staring into the void. The past hours had been a blur, but reinforcements would intercept them within an hour. Then she would be able to breathe, as her crew would finally get the rest they desperately needed.

Her comm terminal beeped, she turned and answered it without hesitation.

On the display was a sharp-edged design, unmistakable to anyone who had encountered the Obsidian Order. Day looked at the symbol in disgust. The comm screen flickered and the display changed to a simple message, “The Obsidian Order does not forget.”

She exhaled sharply, her breath shaking just a little as the comm terminal flickered off. She looked at the empty room around her, thinking of the crew that had survived the hell they’d just endured. They had made it through, but now they were being watched, and hunted by a force that knew no mercy.

“The Obsidian Order may not forget,” she murmured to herself, her voice low and determined. “But neither do we.”