3 Hours After Zero Hour

Prad wiped blood from her cheek with the back of her sleeve. Eos was unrecognizable. However, Prad couldn’t focus on that; she had a job to do. Her team, what was left of them, crouched behind an overturned console on Deck 7. Three officers. Between them, they had one phaser and a handful of makeshift weapons. There wasn’t much left.

In the distance, she could hear the sound of a Vaadwaur communication device, “Deck Four…cleared.”

Prad gritted her teeth as she tapped her badge again. “Command, this is Lieutenant Prad. Do you read? Ops? Anyone?”

No answer.

Beside her, Ensign “Milio” Henderson worked frantically to bypass a damaged terminal. “It’s not just interference,” he said. “Something’s cutting through the software, and it’s not us. Whatever it is,” he paused, glancing up at Prad, “it’s punching holes all over our security network, not just communications.”

Prad nodded as she stood up. Pointing down the corridor, “We get to Auxiliary Command. We lock the doors and get comms restored. If they want a fight, we give them one.”

Meanwhile, the Galileo and the Ambassador traveled as fast as impulse could carry them. On the Galileo’s bridge, Commander Santiago and Elena watched the display. The interference wasn’t just bad, it was surgical. They had been cut off.

“Where’s our Romulan friends?” Elena asked.

“Right behind us,” came a reply.

“Anything from the station?” Santiago asked.

“No, Commander,” the officer replied. “Eos is dead, we’re not getting anything.”

Santiago stepped closer to the display. She pointed to the center of the image, “What about this signal near the aperture?”

The science officer frowned. “It’s not Vaadwaur tech from what little we can make out, it almost looks Cardassian… but different.”

“Long-range communications are still down, Ma’am. We’ve heard nothing.” He added.

She didn’t reply. Instead, she stared at the moving symbols of Starfleet vessels and wondered how long Eos could hold.

Back on Eos

In the corridors of Deck 9, phaser fire lit the area in bursts of red. Prad’s unit moved in a staggered formation, stepping over debris and bodies, both Vaadwaur and Starfleet. Ensign Telan, barely out of the Academy, dropped to one knee beside a vent shaft and fired blind. The blast almost knocked her over, but her aim was dead on. A Vaadwaur trooper collapsed with a grunt, holding his chest.

“We’re clear!” someone shouted, but no one believed it.

Prad dropped beside a medic tending to a wounded Vaadwaur. Nearby, another soldier was slumped over, his breathing shallow. His skin was pale. Blood had started to pool under him.

As the medic sedated the prisoner, the Vaadwaur grabbed her wrist. It happened so fast that the medic wasn’t sure what the Vaadwaur soldier had said. One thing was clear: he didn’t want her help.

Outside the Station

The escape pod tumbled through space, its guidance system barely functional. Inside, AJ drifted in and out of consciousness, blood caked on his cheek. The dim emergency lights cast an odd glow over the surviving crew, most still strapped into seats. Others were clutching wounds or simply staring out the window.

Without warning, a soft hum could be heard as the pod suddenly stopped moving. A shadow passed over the viewport, growing larger. It was a Romulan warbird.

The pod jolted slightly as a tractor beam locked on. Soon, the pod hissed as the hatch opened to reveal armed Romulan officers. They motioned for the crew to step forward.

“Identify yourselves,” one ordered.

“USS Yeager, Commander AJ Tindal,” AJ said.

They were escorted out of the pod, one by one. Someone grabbed AJ’s arm. “We shouldn’t be alive,” she said. “Thank you, Commander.”

Tindal didn’t answer. He stared back at the window, “Where’s the Yeager?”