“Hull breaches on decks three, seven, nine, twelve and fourteen. Emergency forcefields aren’t available, we’re venting atmosphere,� called Lieutenant Jachim over the klaxons. “We’ve got a rupture in the coolant system; the air is becoming toxic on deck eight.�

“Structural integrity in both pylons has been severely compromised—even if we could go to warp the nacelles would be ripped from the hull,� added Lieutenant Commander DuMont.

Reihyn, Captain of the U.S.S. Orion, took in all the information being relayed to him as he clutched his right arm tight to his body, his shoulder dislocated when the first disruptor blast had thrown him into the railing around the bridge well. He was more focused on the battle his ship now faced than his own pain—otherwise he’d have been howling in agony.

“Where are the Breen?� he asked through gritted teeth.

“Coming around for another pass,� Ensign Mecell spoke up from the conn, fervidly trying to get anything more out of their already overtaxed impulse engines and thrusters. “Weapons range in thirteen seconds.�

Reihyn nodded, momentarily feeling a burst of pride for the young Bajoran who’d come so far from the timid, hesitant rookie Reihyn had met on his first day. As quickly as the thought formed, he pushed it to the side, looking at Lieutenant j.g. D’Kehra.

“Dee, fire all available phaser banks,� he ordered, not noticing he’d used the name he only called her in private.

“Targeting sensors are out, but I’ll keep shooting until I hit something.�

Her confidence and self-assuredness brought a small smirk to his lips. “Torpedo status.�

“Dorsal launchers are still unresponsive, ventral are online.�

“Ready a full spread.�

“Aye,� she replied as she hit the phaser controls.

On the viewscreen he watched multiple crimson beams lance out from across the Orion’s hull. Only a handful shot into the black nothingness, most struck the ugly, misshapen warship that was barrelling towards them. It didn’t slow them down though. They opened fire with a salvo of their own, more powerful, energy weapons.

The Constellation-Class ship buckled under the new assault, the already strained hull groaning, struggling to remain intact. Reihyn looked up at the domed ceiling, willing the old girl to keep it together a little longer. When he’d first seen the Orion he’d scoffed at her, but she’d been his only chance to retain his rank and position, and now after months onboard he’d come to have a deep appreciation for the ship, which gave all she had and then some—just like her so-called ‘maverick’ crew.

As the Breen warship passed over the top of their hull, it kept firing. Their last hit striking one of their dorsal nacelles, which caused a new rumble to rattle the deck plates.

“Engineering to bridge,� came the tight voice of Lieutenant j.g. Lanali. When she sounded tense, he knew it was bad. “That last hit has ignited the plasma in the dorsal port nacelle. We’ve got it sealed off and are trying to vent it, but the circuit lines have been damaged. If I can’t get it under control it could backwash through the PTC until it hits the core. The ship would be destroyed in a matter of seconds.�

“Can you jettison the nacelle?�

“Negative, nacelle ejection systems are off-line.�

“Captain, temperature in the damaged nacelle is already twenty percent above critical and rising steadily,� interjected DuMont.

Reihyn considered his options for a moment. The Orion was already in need of major repair and refit work before the attack; the brief battle had taken everything out of her and stressed systems that were barely working at the best of times. As good as Lanali was, and she was definitely the best engineer he’d known, there was every probability that she couldn’t miraculously fix this problem. With the nacelle connected to the ship, overheating with every passing second, the likelihood of a catastrophic feedback increased exponentially.

“Dump the core.�

“Sir?� DuMont questioned, looking over at him.

He shot her a look, one that told her they had no other options. With the warp core gone, so too was the chance of an explosion that would destroy the ship and kill all ninety-three people onboard, though it also meant that they would lose main power to the shields and weapons.

“Do it, Lieutenant.�

“Aye sir.� There was a pause as Lanali set to work, prepping the reactor core and engineering compartment for the ejection process. “Ready down here, Captain.�

“Standby for my order,� he instructed, leaving the channel open as he leaned closer to Mecell. “Ensign, course zero-zero-five-mark-one-eighty, best possible speed. D’Kehra, fire torpedoes! I want those helmeted frakers chasing us.�

“Aye sir,� they replied in unison.

“Torpedoes away.�

“Engaging maximum impulse.�

From ops Jachim called out, “Direct hit. We’ve done some damage, but they’re moving to pursue.�

“D’Kehra fire on the core once we’re one thousand kilometres away.� He didn’t wait for her to confirm his order, already seeing her working on it. “Lanali, jettison now!�

The lights flickered as the warp core shot out from the rear of the starship, projected by explosive bolts intended to fire it as far away from the ship, as fast as possible, so as to safeguard those onboard. He saw his Orion security chief hit the phaser control.

Behind them, the phaser beams connected with the core, burned through the outer casing in seconds and hit the dilithium crystals within. The explosion was brief but brilliant; sending out a shockwave the Orion felt the edge of. The Breen weren’t so lucky, being much closer.

“Report!�

“Showing massive damage to the warship, multiple hull breaches, minimal power and life-support. They’re dead in the water, sir,� stated Jachim with a relieved grin.

Though he shared the younger man’s relief at the battle being over and their success, it had come at a cost—they too were essentially dead in the water. But he needed to know just how bad it was. He turned to DuMont on the portside.

“Status, Commander.�

“We are on secondary or auxiliary power for all key systems. Life-support holding steady in sections without any damage, though shields are at twenty-five percent. The plasma flow to the nacelles has been cut and temperature in our damaged engine is dropping, we may still need a DC crew up there—�

Every functioning sensor relay on the bridge cried out. D’Kehra got to it first.

“Vessel decloaking to port. Breen striker!�

His head whipped to the viewscreen in time to see the trimaran-shaped attack ship open fire as she appeared. Strikers were smaller and faster than the warship they had just faced, not as well armed but equipped with cloaks making them hard to track. Even with her lesser weapons capability, it was still too much for the Orion in her weakened state.

“Evasive—� he began but never got to finish his order as a burst of heat sent him flying backwards.

* * * * *

Clarissa DuMont felt the explosion from behind her, turning just in time to see the Captain flung from his chair and slam into the MSD on the aft bulkhead, before slumping to the deck. She shielded her eyes as flames leapt from the joint conn-tactical station, the source of the blast. As smoke billowed, the environmental system strained to clear it, but as it did she saw the prone forms of D’Kehra and Mecell sprawled on the deck.

For a split-second, she was frozen in place, unable to think let alone move. In that brief instant, everything seemed to slow down, and all she could do was watch as the bridge crew scrambled to see to their fallen comrades and tackle the blaze.

Jachim snapped her out of it. “Commander, shields at eleven percent! We’ve lost weapons and secondary power is failing throughout the ship.�

She spun back to her station and ran an emergency patch, rerouting helm controls, and slapped the intercom. “All hands, to the lifeboats. Abandon ship!�

Over her shoulder, she called out to Jachim. “Get them to the evac point. I’ll try to keep the Breen off our tail.�

“Sir,� the Polish lieutenant began.

“Now!�

Even before the striker had decloaked, they were on the verge of needing to evacuate the ship, the second attack had cemented that need. The hull was punctured, overall integrity severely compromised, no forcefields, sections where the air was toxic, without a warp core and barely any shields it was doubtful they’d ever get the ship to dry-dock for repairs. As she worked, from the corner of her eye she saw Jachim and the remains of the bridge crew carry Reihyn, D’Kehra and Mecell into the turbolift—she didn’t even know if any of them were still alive—before they headed down, leaving her alone.

DuMont’s first time as XO may not have been a roaring success, but if there was one thing she could at least do, it was ensure that as many of the crew made it out as possible. As she did her best to keep the Orion moving, avoiding as much of the incoming disruptor fire as she could, she had the computer shut down everything else and divert it to their shields, leaving just enough for what was left of their impulse drive, as well as the ejection systems needed to launch the escape pods, whatever else the old girl had would be use for her defences.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t a lot. A blast from the striker tore into the ventral hull, taking out the sensor dome, whilst another slammed their already weakened ventral pylon. Every indicator on the impulse system was in the red, screaming for emergency shutdown, but she pushed on. She hammered the ship to starboard, making the substructure groan and crack.

Come on, come on, she willed the rest of the crew below deck.

The striker’s next volley obliterated the port aft cargo bays and blew out the sublight engine, cutting their speed and overloading the fusion reactors. Just when she thought all hope was lost, the computer registered the first escape pods had launched. With not even one hundred onboard, there were lifeboats to spare. It also meant that the whole evac wouldn’t take long. She just had to buy them a few more minutes. The impulse reactors were rapidly approaching critical—though not as intense as a warp core breach, they would certainly be enough to take out the wounded Orion.

“Jachim to DuMont. All the other lifeboats are away.�

“Launch Lieutenant, I’m heading down now.�

“The pods on deck three are still in place, sir.�

She found herself smiling. There were two smaller escape pods two decks below, intended to be used by the bridge crew—should any of them be doing what she was trying too. Seconds later, the computer chirped as the last manned lifeboat was ejected. The crew were out, she’d managed to get them clear—as achievements went in a fairly unimpressive career, it was definitely at the top.

With nothing more she could do from the bridge, she stumbled for the exit on the opposite side, stepping into the short corridor she got to the Jefferies tube hatch and pushed it open. Gripping each rung tightly, she started to climb down, knowing that her chances of getting out were slim, but knowing that she needed to try anyway. Acrid smoke stung her eyes and making them water as her boot set on deck three; deep within her she felt a faint glimmer of hope. The fleeting thought that she would make it.

The Orion lurched as the striker carved into her hull once again, throwing DuMont onto the deck grating, winding her. She managed to push herself onto her hands and knees and reach for the door panel, just as the impulse drive reactors on deck eight exploded, taking out their fuel tanks and power lines, followed by a cascade of explosions throughout the engineering section, until they reached the antimatter pods.

Lieutenant Commander Clarissa DuMont managed to get to her feet and stagger into the corridor as their stores of antimatter detonated, taking the Orion with them.

* * * * *

The explosion that consumed the Orion was brilliant. Enan Lanali looked at it for as long as she could, before having to close her eyes, the image burned into her memory, the death of a great ship—her ship. Her eyes still closed, she felt tears run down her cheeks. She had done everything she could, but in the end it just wasn’t enough. They had been no match for the Breen and nothing she could’ve done would’ve changed that—unless of course she’d refitted the old girl with Galaxy-Class shield emitters and a bank of quantum torpedo launchers.

The Breen hadn’t realised the extent of the damage they’d caused and were right on top of the Orion when the antimatter pods had exploded, the force of which, as well as debris from the ship itself, had torn the hostile vessel to pieces. Following the destruction of the starship, the twelve lifeboats that had launched had come together on the outer edge of her remains—little more than chunks of metal and dust, nothing larger than a runabout, though it all dwarfed the small craft the crew were huddled in.

There was a lot of chatter in the beginning, as they tried to co-ordinate themselves, whilst others were panicking. It had quickly become clear that something had happened to Captain Reihyn and Commander DuMont, as it was Aleksander Jachim who was making decisions and trying to get everyone on track. Hearing his voice over the comm had made her heart pound all the harder, relief flooded her just knowing that he was alive. It was short lived as she started to think about what might’ve happened to the Captain and DuMont. Had they been injured? Or killed? Had one, or both, remained behind?

At a time when they needed the Captain the most, the man who’d brought together the disparate collection of rookies, retirees and reprobates—whom many others would’ve turned their backs on—and turned them into a united crew, he was nowhere to be found. Part of her wanted to ask him what had happened on the bridge, but they had an important role to play. They needed to keep the crew together and keep them working towards the ultimate goal, being rescued. Among their little flotilla, men, women and others would be feeling scared, defeated, angry, or in shock about what had happened, until they were recovered then they would have to rely on one another in order to get through.

From her place at the small control console, she looked around at the seven others in the pod. Though it was designed to hold ten people, a torrid of exploding power conduits had forced them to jettison before they could take a full load. As they’d run from main engineering to the evac point, the cascade of overloads had taken their toll on her group, with Crewman Enesh-Naij being badly burnt by a plasma fire and Doren being impaled in the side by an airborne shard of metal—both the wounded lay on the deck of the escape pod, sedated and stabilised as best they could. Petty Officer Navix hadn’t been so lucky. He’d been caught in the full force of the explosion that’d scorched Enesh-Naij, though his last act had been to push the Grazerite ahead of him, ultimately saving her life.

Tears ran unabashedly down her cheeks. How many others had they lost? Though she had access to the lifeboats limited sensor array and could easily check how many life-forms were in each pod, she couldn’t bring herself to do it.

“What if no one comes?� asked Crewman Torlin, his voice empty with hopelessness.

“Someone will,� she told him. “Starfleet doesn’t leave its people behind. As bleak as things may look, you have to hold onto that.�

“But…we’re just a support ship…would they bother sending someone for us?�

She wiped the tears from her face and fixed him with a determined look. “We’ve spent the last eighteen months doing just that, Crewman, so you better believe that someone will do that for us.�

The young Tiburonian still didn’t look convinced; fortunately he had the sense to keep his mouth shut and his fears to himself. The last thing the others needed was his despair adding to their own. Lanali looked forward again, closing her eyes for a second and silently praying. They will come. They have to come.

* * * * *

“Chief?� called out Ensign Fitzgerald, rousing Chief Petty Officer Diego Ramirez from his doze—the cramped confines of the lifeboat didn’t lend itself to getting any proper sleep.

He stepped over to the forward controls stations, whilst the alarm in the ensign’s tone had woken the other four in the pod. Technically, due to being a commissioned officer, Fitzgerald was in charge but she was only eighteen months out the Academy and had never been through a starship evacuation or had to spend six days in an escape pod—granted neither had he, but he did have almost twenty years’ service under his belt to draw upon, so she deferred a lot to his experience.

“What is it?�

“I’ve picked up a ship dropping out of warp, closing at full impulse.�

Quickly, he took the co-pilot station and took note of her findings. Since the loss of the Orion, the twelve pods had been dispersed around the debris that remained of the old Constellation-Class ship, each one keeping watch for rescue or for other hostile ships in the area. Given how vulnerable they were, it made sense, rather than having them all clustered in one place, as well as increasing the coverage of their limited sensors.

“See if you can identify them, I’ll standby on thrusters.� If they did detect any hostiles, the plan was to move into the debris and cut power, so they would look just like the rest of the chunks of metal.

The junior ops officer tapped fervidly on her control panel, whilst the others behind them waited, breath held, for an answer—were they saved or were they in even more trouble. Ramirez himself could feel his heart pounding as he waited for the young woman to finish her analysis.

“It…its Starfleet,� she gasped, her voice a mixture of relief and disbelief. “Two ships, a Defiant- and a Miranda-Class!�

“YES!� cried out Crewman Dol, his exuberance far too loud for the small lifeboat.

Ears ringing, he opened the communications system just as a channel was opened. “Orion survivors,� came a familiar Texan drawl, “this is Captain Burbank of the Ariel. Please activate your locator beacons and we will begin recovery operations, you’re safe now.�

Before he could return the signal, he checked the security code transmitted on their frequency and matched it, confirming that it was genuine. He switched to a secure channel. “Ramirez to Jachim.�

“Go ahead, Chief.�

“Sir, the Ariel has made contact with us. They’re here on rescue and recovery operations. They’re requesting all pods to activate locator beacons.�

There was a moment’s pause, in which he could hear the excited chatter from the other pod. “Tell them we’ll have all pods with injured onboard to activate first, they are to take priority then once they’ve been recovered the others will signal their location—also, tell them they have our gratitude.�

“Aye sir,� he replied, feeling the right corner of his lips curve upwards.

He toggled from one channel to the other. “Ariel, this is Chief Ramirez of the Orion. Are we glad to see you.�

“It’s good to hear your voice, Chief. For a second there we were worried none of you folks had made it.�

“Our lifeboats with injured onboard will activate their beacons first. After they’ve been recovered then the others will begin transmitting,�

“Acknowledged, I’ve got my best operators handling the transporters and every crewman who knows how to use a dermal regenerator on standby.�

“Captain, you have our deepest thanks. We were beginning to wonder if anyone would be coming.�

“Turnabout is fair play, Chief. You’ve rescued more than your fair share, so we’re glad to return the favour,� the Captain of the supply ship paused. “What word on Captain Reihyn?�

Ramirez hesitated. All five pairs of eyes were on him in that moment. “He…he’ll be among the first group.�

“Understood,� was the simple reply, one that spoke volumes.

On his sensor board five emergency transponders, dotted throughout the debris field, came to life. On those five lifeboats were thirty-eight survivors, half of whom were injured, with nine in critical condition. Everyone in the flotilla of escape pods knew just what the condition of the Captain was, as well as the fact that Lieutenant Commander DuMont hadn’t made it off the ship—her last act as their First Officer had bought them the time they’d needed to get to safety, at the cost of her own life.

The Orion was gone along with several of her crew as others fought for their lives. Soon they would be safely onboard the old Miranda-Class (which had also been dragged out of mothballs) and heading for the nearest station, which was when the unlikely crew would find themselves scattered into the wind. Without a strong hand like Captain Reihyn’s at the rudder, there was no telling just what might happen to them all, or where they might end up.

* * * * *

From the moment Doctor Yeema Ad’u had materialised in the emergency transporter room of the Ariel, she had taken charge of caring for her new shipmates. Despite only having been onboard for three months, she had been through so much with them, from Chin’toka to Alpha 441 to the Argolis Cluster, had witnessed some of the darkest days of this whole damned war together, that the least she could do was try to save each and every one of those who were injured.

The supply ship’s CMO, Lieutenant j.g. Tenu, was a nurse practitioner; a very smart, switched-on officer but who was quickly overwhelmed by the state of those being beamed aboard. As soon as she’d come into sickbay, he had deferred to her, offering up his services and taking orders without hesitation. As the solitary surgical suite was already prepped, she needed to determine who she would see to first, but it was almost too hard to decide. Three of the injured only had hours left—it was amazing they’d lasted as long as they had.

“Doctor!� cried out Corpsman McGuire.

She darted over, her large oval eyes quickly studying the bio-monitor at the head of the bed. All of the indicators were plummeting. She looked down at the blackened face of Lieutenant D’Kehra, who’d taken a serious plasma burst to the chest, neck and face. Her lungs were burnt, collar bone shattered and five ribs with multiple fractures and two cracked vertebrae, but is the subdermal haematoma that she was most concerned with.

Ad’u could save her, but the time it took her could see the other two most severe patients die, though they both had an even less chance of survival than the Orion security chief. She needed to act, now.

“Joplin,� she called to the nearest medtech, “help McGuire get her to the O.R., then I want you both to prep for surgery. Nurse Tenu, keep on top of the other injured—pay very close attention to the vitals for Captain Reihyn and Petty Officer Wang. As soon as I’m finished with D’Kehra, whichever of them is the most critical get them in next.�

“Yes Doctor,� the towering Pandrilite assured her, effortlessly lifting Lieutenant Yorthau onto a biobed.

Saying a silent prayer to the Goddess, Ad’u grabbed her tricorder and headed for the operating room, determined to do everything in her power to save each life in that sickbay—starting with the woman who had saved hers just two weeks earlier.

* * * * *

As the medical staff worked flat out, seeing to the injured and trying to save the lives of those seriously injured in sickbay, the other survivors were left with nothing else to do but wait. Wait for news of friends and colleagues, wait for the supply ship to reach Starbase 360, wait for the events of the last week to properly sink in.

Of the ninety-three officers and crew who had been onboard the Orion, fifty-two had been injured, most of which were minor and didn’t require immediate attention, whilst nineteen of those were serious—nine of which, including Captain Reihyn and Lieutenant D’Kehra, were all in critical condition and whose prognosis wasn’t good. But they were still living. During the battle, which hadn’t even lasted ten minutes, they had suffered nine fatalities. Good people killed in the line of duty.

Counsellor Myza read over the list again, at least the thirtieth time since it had been compiled. It was arranged alphabetically, but every time she studied it she came to a grinding halt at the fifth name: Mecell Koen, Ensign.

The sweet baby-faced Bajoran, the kid who’d known more trauma before he was a teenager than she would ever face in her adult life, the young man who was finally starting to come out of his shell, the officer whose career had had such a rocky start but who was beginning to show some true potential. He was just simply gone.

Myza wiped her eyes. It wouldn’t do for others to see her come apart, not when they would need her to be strong, to help them through their losses and grief. She would mourn him, and the others, in her own way and in her own time. At least that was what she would tell herself, in reality it was her own form of denial, burying herself in work that she didn’t give herself time to think about what the loss meant for her personally. Since coming onto the Orion, she’d counselled more than enough people through their own stages of denial to know them when she saw them—even in herself. But if prolonging it within herself could help someone else deal with their own, then it was a sacrifice she was willing to make.

Sitting by a viewport in the mess hall, she set her PADD down again, unable to read the other names. Though she had known each of the crew in their own way, some had become closer to her than others, those who she saw on a regular basis, whose damaged psyches needed a little extra help, who she’d come to know on a more intimate level, would always be the ones she would have the hardest time getting over. Of all of them, Mecell Koen would be the most difficult—not because of all the horrors and hardship he’d gone through, but for all the possibilities and hope he showed for all that was ahead of him.

She turned her back on the room, facing the viewport but not seeing the stars streak by as she quietly sobbed. In that moment of weakness, she let herself experience four of the five stages simultaneously, unable to get near acceptance. Benzite, a species known for being practical and pragmatic, had long since given up believing in any sort of deity, benevolent or otherwise, which was good for them, otherwise Myza wouldn’t have stopped questioning why someone like Mecell had been robbed on his life before it’d even had a chance to start.

“Counsellor,� whimpered a soft voice from behind her.

Drying her eyes once more and composing her demeanour in a few hard-fought seconds, she spun away from the window and found Ensign Josephine “Fitz� Fitzgerald standing by her table. The young operations officer had been a classmate of Mecell’s, which meant this would be the first time she would’ve truly thought about her own mortality.

Myza gestured to the empty seat opposite her and Fitz gratefully took it. Nothing was said for a long moment.

“How can I help you, Ensign?�

* * * * *

As tough as things had been on the Orion, with a crew of ninety-three having to carry out the sheer variety of work that was dumped onto her, the Ariel only had thirty-two onboard to ship key supplies and cargo to the front. Though they had worked with the Miranda-Class ship before on search-and-rescue and salvage operations, it was her enormous cargo holds (which now accounted for seventy-five percent of the ships volume) that were of considerable benefit.

With over a week until they reached the nearest starbase, Aleksander Jachim had volunteered his services to Captain Burbank, wanting to keep himself busy and help out wherever he could. He hadn’t expected being given a shift on the bridge. Unfortunately, seeing as how they were just travelling from one place to another, there wasn’t nearly enough to keep him distracted. Their escort, the U.S.S. Spectre, had been recalled to another assignment and departed a few hours earlier, though the Ariel was heading further from the front, back to more relative safety. Even his paranoid monitoring of the sensors wasn’t enough to keep him from thinking over everything.

Had it not been for Enan he wasn’t sure just what he would’ve done. Never would he have thought that an assignment to the Orion would have led to such a huge development in his life, finding someone truly special.

His pod had been among the first recovered, since they had been carrying the critically wounded Captain and D’Kehra, but after they’d been taken to sickbay he’d waited in the transporter room, helping the others as they’d materialised. Though the occupants of Lanali’s lifeboat had been beamed aboard only minutes later, going days without seeing or even speaking to her had been too much. In the middle of the emergency transporter room, amongst the other survivors, he had wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly as she’d cried. He had stroked her head and spoken softly to her, hoping to ease the torrid of emotions she had managed to keep pent up.

In that moment, giving comfort to her, he had whispered in her ear, “I love you.� It had come out of him without even thinking, spoken so softly he had thought she hadn’t heard him. But the words had penetrated the emotional haze she was in and he’d felt her grip around him tighten. He would’ve given her every ounce of strength he had within himself to help her through. However, as much as she wore her heart on her sleeve, she was stronger than most gave her credit for. All she had needed was the chance to release the burden, to get it off her chest, before she was able to stand on her own two feet again, wipe the tears from her face and look at him, once again ready for what was needed of her.

She’d taken a moment extra to cup his face with her hands and tell him, “I love you.�

As elation filled him, Counsellor Myza had materialised on the dais and he once again needed to refocus on what was expected of him. He was the ranking officer, so he’d quickly started to co-ordinate with the rescue ship’s crew, having Lanali and Myza helping their own people—even though they were both having a tough time of it, but helping the others gave them something greater to work towards.

Since then, as he took up whatever shifts he could, Myza was hard to keep track of as she went through the crew, offering support and help where she could, and Lanali had taken up residence in the engine room to pitch in where she was needed. Others of the crew had followed their example, some because they’d long-since become unaccustomed to being idle and others because they couldn’t face the truth of their situation at that moment.

The sensors chirped and his eyes locked onto them, heart pounding, ready to call out an enemy contact and prep the ship for eminent combat. A seven percent increase in gamma emissions. He checked the surrounding area but found nothing else registering. Slowly he let out a breath.

Given time, the sense of ever-present dread would pass. He just needed to get the crew to safety.

* * * * *

Following surgery to repair most of her internal injuries and thanks to her Orion physiology, D’Kehra was recovering faster than most patients would, considering the long list of injuries she’d sustained. When she’d regained consciousness, Doctor Ad’u had taken the time to tell her everything they’d gone through since her console exploded in her face. The Arcadians porcelain smooth face didn’t lend itself well to expressions, but her large grey eyes hid nothing. As soon as she’d seen the look they conveyed, she knew it was bad. She just hadn’t thought it would be this bad.

The loss of the Orion was sad, though far from shocking, the old ship had been outgunned and nothing she, or anyone, could’ve done would have changed that outcome—even if the ship had miraculously survived the battle the damage she’d taken would’ve seen her decommissioned once again. No, it was the people who’d been injured or killed that hurt the most. With the passing of Petty Officer Wang, whose injuries had been too severe, their death toll stood at ten, including two of her people, Lieutenant j.g. sh’Aathra and Crewman Garcia, as well as DuMont and Mecell. He had been right next to her when the conn/tactical station had overloaded, sitting not one meter away, but somehow he hadn’t survived. Where was the fairness in that?

She let the tears come, just as they had when Ad’u had told her. Part of her wanted to rip the ward apart with her bare hands, to vent her grief in a very physical manifestation, despite the fact she could barely stand on her own two feet at the moment. It was the same feeling she’d had after the Deimos mission, even though the circumstances and outcome were vastly different, it riled her up that it sparked the ‘Orion Animal Woman’ in her. Clenching her teeth, she managed to stop herself short of grinding them. She would need to wait until she was a little more able to vent her frustration and anger in her more typical ways. Though as much as she wanted to break something, she also needed to feel and savour being alive as well.

Such a desire made her turn and look at Reihyn, who she simply called ‘Rey’ when they were alone together. Their physical relationship had started just before Minos Korva and had continued on throughout, being just what they both needed to release the pent up stresses and strains. She was never one to much a lot of emphasis on sex, it was something the body needed, an itch that had to be scratched every so often—which was just what she’d gotten from Reihyn, even though he was her Captain and such fraternisation was frowned upon. But they had both agreed it was a no-strings-attached arrangement, both getting the same satisfaction (and there was a lot of that) from it and not looking to turn it into anything more than what it was.

However, when she’d come round and found out the condition he was in and that it was touch and go, she’d found herself suddenly having to deal with the thought of losing him. It had affected her more than she had wanted to admit, but she quickly tried to tell herself it was because she respected him as a Captain not an occasional lover. It hadn’t helped though.

Looking at his handsome, youthful face, which looked peaceful as he slept, she found herself smiling. She’d never seen him asleep; as they would always go their separate ways after their animal instincts had been satiated. She hadn’t allowed herself to open up to anyone since Keller and just how messy that had gotten, never wanting another serious relationship, but in that moment she had to wonder if such a thing would really be so bad.

A glance around sickbay told her none of the staff were near her, so she peeled back the covers, swung her legs off the bed and eased down onto her unsteady feet. She took a moment to find her balance and took the six shuffling steps to the biobed beside hers. Once she made it, she leant against it for support, the simple effort tiring her out more than she would’ve liked.

Reihyn’s bare arm was outside the covers, lying beside him, so she gently took his hand and watched the steady rise and fall of his chest. Doctor Ad’u was worried for him, unsure what nerve damage he may have sustained and still a little tentative about the spinal injuries he’d suffered—which would’ve killed a human.

She didn’t know just how long she stood by his bed, watching over him, but it came to an abrupt end with the stern voice of the Arcadian physician. “Lieutenant!�

D’Kehra looked back at the office, from which she was emerging, her unblinking eyes locked onto her better than any targeting sensor could. Just as she tried to remove her hand from his, she felt is squeeze gently. Her head snapped back to him, looking at her green hand in his yellow one, seeing the ligaments and tendons flex as he gripped held onto her.

Ad’u reached his bedside, ready to throw D’Kehra over her shoulder and put her back in bed, just as his eyes slowly opened. For a moment they were unfocused, flinching against the brightness, before he blinked a few times and glanced up at her. As the smallest of smiles tugged at the corners of his lips she felt tears run down her cheeks.

“Dee?� he croaked softly as Doctor Ad’u doubled back to get a medical tricorder, giving the two of them a moment alone.

“Hi Rey,� she replied quietly, squeezing his hand.

* * * * *

When Reihyn had been thrown into the master systems display on the bridge, he’d suffered massive spinal and cranial trauma, which was made worse by been jostled about as he’d been carried to the lifeboats. Fortunately, despite swelling along his spinal cord, five cracked vertebrae and several torn muscles in his back, Doctor Ad’u had managed to repair the damage without any lasting effects for his mobility—there was some nerve damage down his left arm, but she would monitor that over the two days it would take them to reach Starbase 360—where a decision would need to be made regarding further treatment.

He would still a few additional treatments and time to heal, so he was confined to a hoverchair for the time being (one fitted with a medical monitor that would alert sickbay if he got out of it, which resulted in the mountainous Pandrilite nurse checking up on him). Though it wasn’t his preferred method of getting about, it did allow him to get out of sickbay for a few hours each day—though whenever he wasn’t on the ward he was in the small office space that had been freed up for him, catching up with the administrative duties he needed to see too following the loss of a starship.

Jachim had admirably taken on a lot of the responsibilities, with Reihyn incapacitated and the loss of DuMont. The thought of Clarissa’s death was a hard one to wrap his head around, when they’d first met he’d been far from impressed by her, her performance was adequate though for a First Officer that was hardly a ringing endorsement. She had shown reluctance when it came to command, hesitated whenever she had to make a judgement call, but in amongst all that there had been glimpses of something more, something that could’ve been far greater than herself—if she’d only tried a little harder. It was in the last four months, since the DeVier that he’d noticed more of those moments. That fateful mission had pushed her unlike any before and, at fifty-eight, she had started to come into her own.

Eighteen months ago, had he been asked if he would’ve seen her give her life in such a manner, he would’ve been dubious, but the change in her had changed that. She had given her all for those she had served with. She had made a difference.

He could only hope that his final log entry, for a ship that was no longer, would do her justice. Taking a breath, he tapped the record control on the desktop terminal he faced.

Captain’s log, stardate: 52793.6.

Though the U.S.S. Orion was destroyed seven days ago, I have spent most of that time in a coma, so have been remiss in my duties following the loss of my ship. During the battle, over half of the crew were injured in some manner though nineteen, including myself, were in serious condition. Were it not for the tireless work of Doctor Ad’u, Nurse Tenu of the Ariel, and the rest of our medical staff then things could’ve been far worse. As it stands...

Reihyn’s voice began to waver, so he paused the recording and took a moment to compose himself once more. He had made it fourteen months without having to notify any family members of their loss, then he’d to face telling the loved ones of Doctor Baxx and Crewman Ytog which had been harder than he’d remembered from the Kukri. Now, he had to find the strength to pass on his condolences to next of kin of ten people. His crew.

He resumed the recording.

As it stands, there were ten fatalities:

- Lieutenant j.g. Chanrasili sh'Aathra, Assistant Chief Security / Tactical Officer,
- Crewman Evelyn Donnelly, Engineer,
- Lieutenant Commander Clarissa DuMont, First Officer,
- Crewman Ignacio Garcia, Security,
- Ensign Mecell Koen, Chief Flight Control Officer,
- Petty Officer First Class Navix Na Vehr, Propulsion Systems Specialist,
- Crewman Carol Richardson, Engineer,
- Crewman T’Ven, Operations Technician,
- Petty Officer Second Class Amelia Wang, Flight Controller,
- Petty Officer Second Class Nathan Willis, Computer and Sensor Management Specialist.

I am submitting the following posthumous commendations. Kragite Order of Heroism: Lieutenant Commander DuMont, who nobly sacrificed her life to ensure the safety of the rest of the crew as they abandoned ship, without which the ship would’ve been lost with all hands. Starfleet Citation for Conspicuous Gallantry: Lieutenant j.g. sh’Aathra, who stayed behind to seal off a damaged compartment and saved the lives of five others; and Petty Officer Navix, who gave his life to save that of Crewman Enesh-Naij.

I am also submitting the Starfleet Award of Valour: Lieutenant Aleksander Jachim, for his actions taken during and following the evacuation of the Orion; and the Starfleet Surgeons Decoration: Lieutenant Yeema Ad’u, for her exemplary service in the treatment of the wounded. It is because of both of their actions that the death toll was not higher.

He paused again, glancing down at the PADD next to the terminal on the desk, on which was displayed the speech he would give at the service. However he’d only managed to get the first sentence written, and even that he wasn’t happy with. The memorial was a moment for them to be united once more, though for the most sombre of occasions, saying farewell to the men and women who were shipmates, colleagues, superiors/subordinates/peers, and friends. He had only a few moments to bind them together, to say goodbye to those taken too soon, before trying to inspire some sense of hope or optimism for their own future.

A memorial will be held for the deceased once we reach Starbase 360, in the Trevelyan Garden. As of yet Starfleet are remaining tight-lipped about what will happen with the crew, what assignments they’ll move onto next. I would like to state, for the official record, that these people, despite whatever flaws or problems they may have had in the past, have been a damn fine crew. One I am proud to have been in command of.

End log.

He sat back, feeling deflated. The log would be heard by the board who would investigate the loss of the Orion, after which a decision would be made as to his fate. The old starship had been his one chance to retain his rank and position, and in the beginning he’d thought he’d been set up to fail. The ship was barely holding together whilst the crew were rejects from elsewhere in the fleet, but in that there was common ground—after all there wouldn’t be many out there willing to follow a thirty-one year old Captain with less than two months experience in the rank (which resulted in the loss of his first command).

But as he’d gotten to know the officers and non-coms under his command, seen just what they could do and where they needed support, he had changed his perspective. For however others may have seen the Orion—as a joke, a punishment, or whatever else—he had come to see it as an opportunity. It would never be a cutting-edge warship or grand command cruiser, the war was filled with ships like that, instead she was one that would pick up the pieces, which would sift through the wreckage and help those who had lost everything. Whilst others waged war, she would help those most in need of it. Whilst those onboard; the inexperienced, the troubled, the misfits, the people others had washed their hands of, he would give them the chance to be more. He would help, guide, or mould them into better versions of who they were, who they could be if given a little more support instead of being shunned.

For all of that, the last eighteen months, despite the sheer amount of hard work and losses along the way, had been the best of his life, a time he was better for and one he wouldn’t overlook or forget.

* * * * *

END