Star Trek: USS Samaritan

“We’re still in Dominion space. We’re at warp but I’m not sure where we’re going,” Mazik said as he operated the console. “The good news is that this ship has the Samaritan in tow.”

“What ship are we on?,” Burns asked him.

“It’s odd, sir. This ship doesn’t seem to have a name or even a registry number.”

“How can a Federation starship not have a registry number?,” Burns wondered to himself. “What about the Samaritan? Is there any way that we can get aboard her?”

“I can isolate one of the ship’s transporters, shut down the dampening field, and beam a few people over,” Mazik answered,” but it’s an extremely dangerous operation at high warp.”

Burns nodded. “Then beam me over, and I’ll see what I can do.”

“Sir, we just dropped out of warp.”

“Where are we? Where did we stop?”

“Nowhere, sir. They’ve just stopped, like they didn’t want to go in that direction any more.”

“Then beam me over,” Burns ordered.

“Wait,” Major Powell interrupted,” I’ll go too. You have command, Lieutenant, but you don’t have to go alone.”

Burns nodded to the major, glad to have some company. The JG turned back to Mazik. “Beam us directly to Sickbay. Energize.”


* * * *


“Get down!,” Ra-Gorvalei yelled as the blue bolts of energy impacted all around them. The Jem’Hadar had come out of nowhere. They had already downed one of them, but they were still slowly and methodically fighting their way down the corridor.

Jared and Eskol fired back furiously with their weapons while the rest of the group tried to find any stitch of cover in the empty corridor. The ensign caught one soldier squarely in the chest with a bolt from his rifle. The other was dispatched by Eskol’s pistol after the Nelvian had used his shifting skin color to move unnoticed towards their assailants.

“Is everyone all right?,” Kingsley asked, coming out from a slight indentation in the bulkhead that he had used for cover.

“Krissy!,” Jared yelled. He dropped his rifle on the deck and ran to the young woman’s side. Blood was slowly being absorbed by the fabrics of her clothes from the wound in her shoulder.

“Jared,” Krissy gasped, leaning back into his arms,” somehow, I thought it would hurt more.” Her knees buckled beneath her and he eased her to the ground, resting her head in his lap.

Jared could feel the warm blood soaking through his pant leg, making it sticky against his skin. He saw Krissy’s chest rising and falling in shallow breaths. He felt himself being jostled from the right and then the left as Doctor Kingsley and Doctor Sovek went to work. He heard the sound of tearing fabric as Kingsley exposed the wound. His gaze locked with Krissy’s, her eyes wide and glistening with forming tears.

“I’m here,” is all that he could manage to squeak out of his tightening throat as he gently caressed her cheek.

With her good arm, Krissy found the hand stroking her cheek and grasped it with her own. She held Jared’s hand with all of the strength that she had in her.

“I’m glad,” she said, and even though two of her colleagues were treating her shoulder, Krissy felt as if she was alone with Jared. She looked up into his concerned gaze and huddled in his eyes for warmth.

“There's a lot of bleeding,” Kingsley said to Sovek. He was using the fabric that he had torn from Flores’ sleeve to wipe away the blood. The skin was only clearly visible for a moment before more of the wound covered itself in blood again, but a moment was all that it took for him to take note of something very strange.

“We don’t have the means to treat the internal damage that the shot has caused. The best that we can do is dress the wound, and hopefully slow the bleeding.” Sovek had already torn his own sleeves off to dress the wound. The Vulcan knew that slowing the bleeding was the best that they could do. He had seen enough wounds on MN-1375 caused by Jem’Hadar disruptors to know that the energy had an anticoagulant effect.

Kingsley wiped the blood away from the wound again. “Does this look right to you?,” he asked Sovek.

“The wound does not resemble the blast pattern of a Jem’Hadar disruptor,” replied the Vulcan.

“Very strange. Dress the wound before she loses any more blood.”

A few feet away, Ra-Gorvalei picked up the rifle that Jared had dropped. He checked the charge, put the stock against his shoulder, and leveled the weapon into Eskol’s face. “No more lies, Nelvian,” he said. “You will tell us what this is all about.”

“You’re mad,” Eskol said, his eyes widening and his skin paling in color a bit.

“You bet I’m mad,” Ra-Gorvalei replied coolly. “You’ve endangered my ship, its crew, and someone that I hold in higher regard than you is bleeding to death because of it. Tell me why I shouldn’t present you to the Dominion myself. Tell them of your cure, or where it is, or where it isn’t. Tell me why your life is worth more than the life of Doctor Flores.”

Eskol looked at Flores, the three men covered in her pooling blood, and he remembered the first time that he had met her, the time that she had saved his life.

“You’re right,” he said. “I am truly sorry for all of the suffering that I have caused. But I wouldn’t go telling Dominion agents about the cure or the disease.”

“Why?”

“They know nothing about it.”

“Then what was in the canister? What is the Dominion after?”

Eskol breathed deeply. He looked at Flores again, whose skin had paled even behind her dark tan. “Are you familiar with the Founders, Mister Ra-Gorvalei?”

“The race that rules the Dominion? The shapeshifters?”

Eskol nodded. “They have a unique way of exploring space. They sent a number of their young out to all different parts of the Galaxy. The young ones develop, and return to the Founders with a lifetime of experiences from living among other cultures. However, sometimes, before the infant Changelings even realize what they are, they’re found by someone who realizes their significance.”

Ra-Gorvalei was caught between awe and disbelief. “Not a disease, not a cure, a Changeling… That’s what was in the canister.”

“There is a disease that will destroy the Federation,” the Nelvian explained. “The Changeling is part of the cure.”

“Lieutenant!,” Bulloch yelled. All heads snapped towards the engineer to see him pointing down to the other end of the corridor. Standing opposite his pointing finger was a familiar Vorta who was flanked by a group of four Jem’Hadar soldiers.

“Don’t mind me. Please continue with your interrogation, Lieutenant Ra-Gorvalei. If you could ask Eskol where the Changeling is now,” Yelgrun said in his usual monotonous tone. “Oh, and drop your weapons.”


* * * *


The hiss of a nearby door caused Lieutenant Junior Grade Carson Burns to look up from the console in Samaritan’s Sickbay.

“The ship looks clear. I checked all of the operations spaces and a few of the patient and crew quarters. It looks like the only ones aboard are you, me, and the rest of the patients,” Major Powell reported,” but they’re under sedation.”

“The internal sensors agree,” Burns said. “I’m bringing the transporters back online. You might want to stand over here. This room is about to get a little crowded.”

As he energized the transporter beam, Sickbay was bathed in blue shimmering light. The signature whine echoed in the large space as the liberated prisoners materialized. When the lights subsided, the whine was replaced with murmurs that soon erupted into cheers.

“Now for the tractor beam,” Burns said, reminding himself that it wasn’t over yet.


* * * *


“I killed you!,” Jared exclaimed. “I saw you die!”

“Honestly, Ensign Parker, we already went through this with the Jem’Hadar,” Yelgrun answered. “I am a clone of the man that you murdered. Unlike the Jem’Hadar, only one Vorta per genome is activated at a time.”

“Awfully quick activation. From your banter with the ensign, it seems that your downloaded memories have been updated as early as this morning. That is credibly efficient by Starfleet Intelligence’s estimates,” Eskol said.

“We are at war. Efficiency is a top priority. Tell me, Eskol, do they actually believe that you work for Starfleet Intelligence?”

While no one moved from where they stood, Eskol could feel the growing distance between him and Samaritan’s crew members. And while no one spoke, the air grew thick with tension.

Yelgrun continued. “The Nelvian race is native to the Gamma Quadrant. They were one of the first species that the Founders encountered. Eskol is no Federation loyalist. His loyalties are to no one but himself.”

“The Founders have nearly exterminated my people!,” Eskol hollered at the Vorta before turning back to the Samaritan crew. “The Dominion is our common enemy. I will not let my race’s fate befall another.”

“Then tell them what you’re doing with the Changeling,” Yelgrun urged him.

Eskol opened his mouth to speak but he stopped himself. He looked back towards Yelgrun with a sort of horror across his face, his skin turning to a pasty grayish white.

“Curious,” Sovek said to Kingsley. “The entire exchange since, even before Doctor Flores was shot, seems strikingly to be like some of the alternate interrogation techniques that Eskol mentioned earlier.”

“And Eskol had volunteered more information in the past few minutes than he has since we’ve known him,” Kingsley agreed.

The quiet exchange between both doctors might have gone unheard by others if the corridor hadn’t been so silent. In the silence, their words carried and Eskol heard the entire conversation.

“Doctor Kingsley, what was it that you found odd about Doctor Flores’ wound?”

“It’s unlike any wound that I’ve ever seen from a Jem’Hadar disruptor,” answered Kingsley.

“Concentrate on the question in front of you, Eskol, or are you too much of a coward to tell them what you’ve done?,” Yelgrun asked.

“Our escapes were too convenient. The timing of the attack that injured Doctor Flores and your appearance here were too convenient. The Vulcan says that Ensign Parker shot you shortly before you spoke with Doctor Kingsley. He says that Doctor Flores’ wound isn’t from a Jem’Hadar weapon. And there’s no way that a Vorta would know what my plans are for the Changeling.”

As Eskol spoke, his posture straightened and his skin turned to a dark steely gray.

“End this charade. Take off your mask, Sloan.”


* * * *


“You did a fine job, sir. I just thought that you should know.” With a little help from one of the technicians, Chief Shaw had navigated his way through the crowd to find Burns.

“I appreciate it, Chief, but we’re not finished yet,” he replied. “We can disable the tractor beam with a phaser blast, but then the ship could still chase us.”

“Then we have a simple choice. After we take out the tractor beam, we target their engines or their weapons. Knocking out either of those systems will make it impossible for them to stop us,” the Chief offered.

“Let’s see which one is more vulnerable.” Burns turned Samaritan’s sensors onto the other ship. “You know, it doesn’t even seem like they’re aware that we’ve escaped. The ship is just sitting there.” The console beeped, indicating that the full scan was complete.

“They shouldn’t have known that I wasn’t taken by the Dominion,” Shaw muttered. “If they didn’t know whether I was alive or not or tell the difference between the major and me, they shouldn’t have known that I wasn’t taken by the Dominion.”

“What are you talking about, Chief?”

“We need to clear out this bay and arm some of our people.”

“Chief?”

“Sir, we need to beam all of those people over here. All of them.” Shaw was certain of it.


* * * *


Yelgrun’s calm demeanor was gone. He was laughing out loud. “I was wondering if you would put it all together, Eskol.”

The Vorta pressed a control on a bracelet that he was wearing. When he did, the skin and clothes of the Vorta dissolved to reveal a Human with neatly combed brown hair and a self-assured smirk on his face. Likewise, the facades of the Jem’Hadar soldiers dissolved to reveal four men holding Federation phaser rifles. The corridor that they were standing in vanished and the group was left in a huge empty room. The walls, floor, and ceiling were all covered with the same grid pattern electronics.

“A holodeck,” Bulloch gasped.

“Let me introduce you all to the Devil himself. This man is Sloan,” Eskol said,” the deputy director of my intelligence section.”

“This is a Federation ship?,” Kingsley asked. “I demand access to your medical facilities. This woman needs treatment.”

“Doctor Flores still has time, Commander Kingsley. If Eskol cooperates, this will all be over shortly,” Sloan said, his tone hinting at the delight that he took in the power that he currently wielded in the situation.

Suddenly the room shuttered violently, and the light flickered. “What’s happening?!,” Sloan demanded.


* * * *


The scan had indicated that four of the twelve men were armed. At Burns’ request, Major Powell had found eight of his people among the patients and armed them with the Jem’Hadar weapons that the Samaritan had recently acquired. Powell and his squad now formed a perimeter in Sickbay and waited.

Burns fired the first phaser volley from the Sickbay console before energizing the transporter. Moments later, the Samaritan’s missing crew members appeared along with five other men. The group was surrounded and covered by the major’s squad.

“Your weapons have been disabled during transport,” Powell commanded. “Drop them now!”

“Our weapons are shielded from such things,” Sloan said.

One of Sloan’s men lowered the barrel of his phaser rifle momentarily and fired a brilliant orange beam into the deck. He rejoined his comrades in leveling the barrel of his rifle at the Samaritan crew members.

“We’re only here for the criminal Eskol,” Sloan said. “Commander Kingsley, please do what you need to help Doctor Flores.”

Krissy was barely conscious, and her blood had thoroughly soaked through the dressing. Kingsley directed Sovek and Parker to move her onto a biobed where they went to work.

“What crime did Eskol commit?,” Ra-Gorvalei demanded to know, but not in defense of the Nelvian. He didn’t trust this Sloan either.

“Attempted genocide,” Sloan said. “Eskol never did tell you why his people were all but wiped out by the shapeshifters. You see, when the Nelvians made First Contact with the Founders, they were suspicious and distrustful of a species able to change its appearance at will. Ironic, when you think about it, considering the way that Nelvians can change their skin.”

“You cannot hold a man responsible for the sins of his ancestors,” Ra-Gorvalei retorted.

“I was merely attempting to provide you with some perspective, Lieutenant Ra-Gorvalei. Eskol is attempting to succeed where his ancestors failed. He had engineered a disease to destroy the Founders.” Sloan smiled. “Ask him if he denies it.”

All attention in the room shifted towards Eskol. “I do not deny it,” he said meekly.

“Now do you see why it was necessary to go to such great lengths to capture this man? I must find the Changeling that he is experimenting on before he can commit genocide.”

“I created the disease at Sloan’s instruction. I worked on Earth, and I learned about your Federation,” Eskol pleaded. “I grew to love your Federation and its goal to unite races and have them coexist in peace. It was something that I had never known living under Dominion rule. Unfortunately, it wasn’t until after completing the disease that I realized in wiping out a race, even one as malevolent at the Founders, it would destroy the very principles that the Federation stood for. What would the Galaxy think when they realized that the Federation was responsible? How could any species trust the Federation again? Not even Starfleet could protect the soul of the Federation from crumbling if such an atrocity were committed. I am trying to do the right thing now. I am very close to a cure, a cure that Sloan wishes to destroy.”

“Do you expect them to believe that, Eskol? That the Dominion nearly destroyed this ship when it was carrying a cure that would save their Founders?,” Sloan asked. “Except responsibility for what you have done. Surrender yourself and the Changeling.”

“I must complete my mission. I must finish the cure. It’s the right thing to do.”

Ra-Gorvalei didn’t know who to believe, but he cared little for who was being truthful right now. He only wished to protect his crew from further deceit. “Sloan, you, your men, and Eskol will surrender to me. When Samaritan returns to Federation space, we will turn the lot of you over to the proper authorities and let them sort this out.”

Sloan laughed. “I am the proper authority, Lieutenant.”

“The proper authorities wouldn’t shoot an innocent Federation citizen!,” Ra-Gorvalei yelled.

“I am sorry about Doctor Flores but…” Sloan’s voice trailed off for a moment and he stared at the woman on the biobed being attended to by two doctors and saw a young ensign glaring back at him. His self-assured smirk turned into a broad smile. “But I’m sure that she’ll be fine.” He took a few leisurely steps toward Eskol, casually grasping one of his wrists as he did so.

“Stay where you are!,” commanded Major Powell.

Sloan ignored him. “It’s a shame that Doctor Flores was dragged into this, isn’t it, Eskol? I understand that she saved your life, and you’ve become good friends. You would even eat together sometimes.”

The movement was so swift that it took a moment before anyone but Sloan and Eskol were aware of it. It didn’t take long to realize that he had pulled the knife sticking in Eskol’s stomach from his sleeve.

“She told me that you ate wood,” Sloan whispered into his ear. “I remember you telling me once that your race only used your third stomach in a survival situation, like long winters when food was scarce. You also told me, during such times, that you could hoard food in another stomach.”

“Back away, Sloan!,” Powell yelled.

Sloan twisted the blade, making Eskol’s wound larger. “I wonder if you could hoard anything else in your stomach.”

Eskol dropped to his knees but Sloan grabbed him to keep him from falling to the ground.

Powell fired and the rest of his squad followed suit. There was a symphony of loud cracks but no energy bolts were fired.

“I took the liberty of activating a small energy dispersion field around me and my men,” Sloan explained,” but I assure you the weapons that my men carry are still operational.” He gestured to one of his men who grabbed an empty beaker from a nearby table. A thick viscous liquid flowed out of Eskol’s wound and into the beaker. Not a single drop was lost as the liquid clung stubbornly to itself until its full volume was in the beaker.

“I deserve this fate, Sloan,” Eskol said, forcing his words out,” but you are condemning the Federation.”

Sloan looked at the infuriated Ra-Gorvalei. “Don’t look so grim, Lieutenant. Justice is done. It’s a good day for the Federation.” He stepped aside and one of his men fired on Eskol, completely disintegrating the Nelvian.

Afterwards, Sloan and his men beamed away.

“Parker, Burns, Bridge now!,” Ra-Gorvalei hollered, taking off in a dead sprint. Burns followed close on the XO’s heels.

Jared hesitated, not able to pull himself away from Flores’ side until Kingsley slapped him on the shoulder. “Go, son. You’ll be helping her more up there.”

Jared was off in an instant.


* * * *


“Their tractor beam should be disabled,” Burns said as he took the left station. “I also got some good shots in on their weapons systems.”

“Shields up. Fire at will, Lieutenant,” Ra-Gorvalei ordered. “Get us in there close, Ensign.”

Jared jumped into his chair behind the helm. “Aye, sir.”

“Sir, I can’t get a weapons lock,” Burns reported. The three men stared at the ship on the viewscreen. The outline of the vessel became blurry before the entire image faded from view.

“It’s cloaked,” Ra-Gorvalei said.

“Federation ships aren’t supposed to have cloaking devices,” Jared said.


* * * *


Nearby in the space that surrounded the Samaritan, a ship sat hiding behind its cloaking device. On the Bridge, Sloan sat in the command chair. “Did we retrieve the idiot that let the prisoners out of their holding cell?”

“He is aboard, Director,” his second-in-command answered. “Orders?”

“Make sure that the standard counter-intelligence is broadcast. Dominion ships masquerading as Federation ships and the like,” Sloan said. “We were exposed today, far more than I anticipated. Rumors of a rogue section of Starfleet Intelligence can only be dismissed so many times.”

“Section Thirty-One’s survival depended on the deniability of its existence,” agreed the other man.

Sloak nodded his head. “And the Federation depends on us doing whatever is necessary to ensure its survival. Eskol’s vision became clouded. He dwelled for far too long on inconsequential laws and principles.”

“Eskol is a great loss. His talents were quite valuable.”

“Quite valuable,” Sloan granted,” but replaceable. Call up our files on Doctor Julian Bashir. Perhaps he’ll have the stomach for our work.”


* * * *


“Here is Mister Burns’ report on his captivity. He had the pleasure of a one-on-one chat with Sloan,” Ra-Gorvalei said, placing the PADD on Kingsley’s desk.

“How did this happen? Are we really that vulnerable?,” Kingsley asked. He was seated in his chair, staring out the window.

“The sensor logs have been erased. There’s no record of how we were captured. Even the scans from when Sloan was on the ship are gone, probably thanks to his dispersion field. Ensign Bulloch believes, initially, that the command prefix code was used to seize control of ship functions. And we have detected trace amounts of an anesthetic gas in the ventilation system,” the Efrosian reported. “We estimate a loss of less than forty hours to the ordeal. It could have been much worse.”

“A man is dead.” Kingsley sighed. “But what kind of man? Who do we believe? Eskol or Sloan? Who do you think was telling the truth?”

“I wouldn’t trust either of them. I think that the real question is, after going through this violation and after hearing this ever-changing story about diseases, cures, and Changelings, where do we go from here?”

Kingsley stood and turned towards Ra-Gorvalei. “The only place that we can go, Lieutenant. Home.”


* * * *

 

Nice twisty little mystery you've built around Eskol and Ra-Gorvalei continues to be a fun and capable character. I'm really liking the ongoing growth of Kingsley into a command level officer.

Quite a surprising jolt into captivity for the Samaritan's crew. Not entirely unexpected - but a good, quick transition.

Thanks!! rbs

 

Thank you, RBS. I will admit that I am approaching the home stretch of this rewrite. Sorry for the spoiler.

 

Chapter Nine: The Long Road Home


Lieutenant Commander Dominic Kingsley entered the Bridge and walked towards the command chair, his chair. Lieutenant Ra-Gorvalei rose without a word and he sat down. In front of him, Ensign Parker was at the helm and to his left, Lieutenant Junior Grade Carson Burns was manning the port station. The seats for both junior officers were lower than the command and placed in pits at the points of the diamond-shaped Bridge. For the first time, he realized the subtle subliminal message in having the command chair positioned physically higher than the other chairs.

“Status,” he said, and the response was immediate.

“All systems are nominal. EMCOM is in effect,” Burns reported. “Only passive sensors and communications are active.”

“On course for Starbase Three-Seven-Five at Warp Five-point-Three,” Jared reported from the helm. “Our ETA is twenty-eight hours.”

Kingsley spoke quietly to his XO. “Mister Ra-Gorvalei, remind me, what is EMCOM?”

“Emission Control, sir. We’ve limited any type of energy emission that could give away our position to the enemy,” the Efrosian explained in an equally hushed tone.

“Hopefully we’ll slip by,” Kingsley said before smiling and addressing the whole Bridge. “Just over a day and we’ll be home. I’m hesitant to celebrate too early, given our propensity to find trouble in recent days. However, the manner in which this crew has reacted to these challenges, I’m optimistic that we’ll be home tomorrow.”


* * * *


“Are you feeling any discomfort?,” Sovek asked as he scanned Flores with a medical tricorder.

“My shoulder is still a little tender, but there’s no pain,” Krissy said, lying on the biobed. “And it feels kind of odd, being the one on the table.”

“Your wound is healing properly. As for your odd feeling, I am sure that it will pass once we are through,” the Vulcan assured her.

“Sovek, it was a joke.”

Sovek raised an eyebrow. “Then I am certain that a more emotional species would have responded to your witticism with laughter.”

Krissy chuckled and wondered if the Vulcan realized that he had just made a witticism of his own. Her smile faded when her thoughts wondered to more serious matters. “Sovek,” she asked,” what happened with Eskol?”

“He was vaporized,” he said matter-of-factly.

“I mean, was he a good man? Was he really trying to cure a disease?”

Sovek reflected on the question before answering. “I don’t know.”


* * * *


“Lights,” Shane Bulloch said as he entered the darkened cabin.

“Who’s there?,” Chief Shaw barked from his desk.

“It’s Ensign Bulloch, Chief.” The engineer laid the plate and mug that he was carrying on the desk in front of the Chief. “I thought you might be hungry.”

“Shouldn’t you be putting this bucket of bolts back together, sir?”

“I was. Since we’re at EMCOM, I was looking for places where I could cut power so that our energy signature would be smaller. I noticed energy use from your quarters but no lights,” Bulloch explained. “And I figured that you’d be getting hungry.”

“And how did you figure that?,” Shaw asked.

“You’re supposed to be in Sickbay. I doubted that you would venture to the galley, risking recapture once you’ve made your escape.”

“With my pretty little Doc gettin’ shot, I didn’t think that I’d be missed.” Shaw gently probed the plate and mug with his fingers. “So, what did you bring me?”

“A roast beef sandwich and black coffee,” Bulloch answered. “According to the computer, this is what you order the most from the replicator.”

“I probably couldn’t even find my way to the galley anymore.” Shaw sighed. “Not like this.

“I doubt that, Chief. You know this ship like the back of your hand. You could’ve found your way around, blindfolded before your accident. Hell, you found your way back to your quarters.”

“Stop trying to cheer me up, sir. Maybe I can get around the ship, big whoop. I still can’t do my job. I’m useless. I’m nothing but ballast.”

“You figured out how to get me and everyone else stranded on that kelbonite planet back to the Samaritan. Burns said that you realized that the Skipper, the XO, and the rest of us were aboard Sloan’s ship. You’re still a valued member of this crew, can’t you see that?”

“I can’t see anything!,” Shaw snapped back at him. “But I can help you with your power systems. Computer, shut off the damn lights.”


* * * *


Burns checked the signal for a second time. It didn’t make sense, and he didn’t want to report a communications glitch as something more serious. The signal repeated, and it was undeniable. “Lieutenant Commander Kingsley, we’re receiving a distress signal.”

“From who?” Kingsley was as surprised as he was.

“It’s pretty garbled, but it’s definitely Federation,” Burns reported. “I might be able to clean it up a bit.”

“Can you put it on the viewer?,” Ra-Gorvalei asked.

Burns tapped a few controls on his console and a static-filled image of a battle-torn Bridge appeared on the viewscreen. At first, the audio pickups were unintelligible, but the image, fading in and out, revealed a woman sitting at the center of the Bridge. In front of her sat the ship’s operations and helm officers at their respective positions. Even though the static, she was obviously a Starfleet Captain.

Jared was stunned. He couldn’t describe the feeling that overcame him. It was hope and disappointment all at once, a stifled optimism and surreal malaise.

“This is Captain… of the USS… Dominion battle… could use some help…” Words began to break through the static as Burns refined the filter.

“What ship?,” Kingsley asked.

“I can’t make it out, sir,” Ra-Gorvalei answered.

“It’s the Pegasus.” Jared was sure of it as he was sure that Jacob Muller was manning the ship’s helm.

“The Pegasus was destroyed,” Kingsley said. “It said so in the message that Bregath intercepted.”

“We were also on that list,” Ra-Gorvalei reminded him. “The Pegasus must have been caught behind the likes like we were.”

“I have the full message now,” Burns reported.

The image reappeared. It was in a tighter focus and the female Captain spoke again. “This is Captain Blaine of the USS Pegasus. We’ve been ambushed by a Dominion battleship. If anyone’s out there, we could use some help.” The message ended and the viewscreen reverted back to the image of stars streaking by the ship at warp speed.

The Bridge officers turned towards their Commanding Officer. Kingsley leaned back in his chair uneasily. His mind was blank. What could he do?

“Mister Ra-Gorvalei?,” he finally said.

“The Pegasus is a Galaxy-class starship and very powerful. If all things were equal, she might have a fighting chance, one-on-one with a Dominion battleship, but she has been behind the lines, at least, as long as we have.” Ra-Gorvalei thought for a moment before adding,” I doubt she’s in a winning battle.”

“What difference could we make?,” Kingsley asked him, almost under his breath.

“We’re not a combat vessel, sir.”

“Could we warn someone else?” Kingsley was searching for options.

Burns switched to long-range sensors. “There’s no one else in range, sir.”

Kingsley nodded, standing up to pace the back of the Bridge. “We’re only a day away from home.” He turned and paced in the other direction. “We’re only a hospital ship.” He stopped when he was standing behind his chair again, running his hand across the headrest. The other chairs on the Bridge were lower than his. The Captain’s chair was set apart to be isolated and alone.

“This ship’s mission is one of life.” He sighed, looking up at the faces that were waiting for his decision. “And we’re not going to let those people die.”


* * * *


Jared walked down the corridor, staring at the bare metal deck. At Starfleet Academy, he had read the final logs of Starship Captains that had recorded them before they charged off into some desperate battle that they couldn’t win. Almost all of them walked the corridors of their doomed vessels, contemplating what was to come. His thoughts didn’t dwell on how he would fare in the impending battle with the Dominion ship. They were focused on a much greater struggle, a conflict that was not his own.

“Jared!”

“Hey, Bull,” Jared said softly.

Bulloch patted his friend on the back as he caught up with him. “I thought you’d be on the Bridge.”

“Burns told me to get some rest. He said he got some sleep pretty recently, and he wanted me to be sharp. That’s pretty decent of him, really.”

“I just talked to Ra-Gorvalei. We came up with a plan. It’s a little wild, but I don’t think it’s nearly as crazy as what we’ve done in the past week and a half.”

“Funny. It seems longer.”

“Worried about the battle?,” Bulloch asked with concern.

“It’s not that,” Jared replied. “The ship that we’re going to help is the Pegasus. It’s Krissy’s fiance’s ship.”

“He’s alive? Jared, I’m…” Bulloch searched for the right words. “I don’t know what I am. I mean… that’s a messed-up situation.”

Jared nodded. “What if somehow we survive this and Jacob doesn’t? She’s already lost him once, Bull. I don’t know if she could stand losing him again.”

“We’ll worry about that afterwards. You should get some rest.”

“Yeah.” Jared sighed. “But I have something to do first.”


* * * *


“How long?,” Kingsley asked upon hearing the door to his quarters swoosh open. He didn’t even turn to greet his visitor. He just stood in front of his window, staring at the stars streaking by.

“Twenty-five minutes,” Ra-Gorvalei reported. “The patient volunteers are being medically cleared in Sickbay.”

“Are there enough?”

“Major Powell said that he wanted fourteen people, including himself. We had to turn some of them away. Every soldier that could walk volunteered, even a few who couldn’t.”

“I feel that I might breach the hull with my gaze if I stare out this window any harder,” Kingsley said, finally turning to face his Executive Officer. “Besides, I’m not finding any answers there.”

“The window gives you answers, sir?” The Efrosian was perplexed.

“No, not the window. The stars beyond the window,” Kingsley explained. “There’s an old superstition on Earth that the stars hold all the answers. At one time, it was thought that they could even predict the future. But being here among them, I’ve found more questions than answers.”

“What answers are you looking for?”

“We could all be destroyed before the day is out. With us, the knowledge of Eskol, Sloan and the rumored bio-weapon could also be destroyed. And no one would ever know how heroically this crew had performed under the most adverse of conditions. Would the Federation be better served if I ordered this ship to turn back towards Starbase 375? Are we doing the right thing?”

“I’m not a doctor, but being aboard this ship, I have learned a thing or two about medicine. One lesson in particular is that it’s impossible to cure a widespread disease all at once. It had to start with saving just one individual. For all of the fame and glory that comes with curing an epidemic, in the end, it all comes down to one life. One stand in which victory or defeat determines all that is to follow.”

“But is this risk necessary? Is this a battle that needs to be fought?”

“Have you ever walked away from saving a life?”

“Thank you, Mister Ra-Gorvalei, for helping me justify my decision.”

“With all due respect, sir, there was never a decision.”


* * * *


The battle had begun.

Jared Parker knew what he wanted but he also knew what he had to do. When it came down to it, he was a creature of duty like all good Starfleet officers. While his inexperience and naivety sometimes delayed him from finding the correct course of action, he always found it in the end. When fighting the ship, from a helm officer’s perspective, it wasn’t nearly enough to know how to put your vessel exactly where you wanted it to be. Anticipating how other ships will respond to your movements was just as important. He slowed down and maneuvered into position, bracing himself for the first volley.

“Jared, I was hoping I’d see you.” Krissy gave him a sheepish smile. “I wanted to wish you luck.”

“You’ve heard?,” Jared asked her.

“I’m not sure if we can save the ship.”

“I know that you’ve gotten me through some tough situations. Whoever is on that ship is lucky to have you helping them.” Her old sense of optimism was creeping back into her voice.

“You don’t know?”

“Know what, Jared?”

“The ship that we’re going to help is the Pegasus. Jacob is alive.”

Krissy’s jaw dropped open and her eyes grew wide. She blinked and a single tear rolled down one cheek. Without warning, she threw her arms around his neck.

When they finally broke their embrace, Jared saw Flores was smiling with pure bliss, wiping tears of joy from her eyes. “I’m happy for you,” he said, hoping that one day he could be.


* * * *


“I don’t need any more scans or time to recover or any of your medical opinions!” The patient was becoming increasingly agitated. “I’m going on this mission, Vulcan!”

Doctor Sovek ignored the man’s protest and continued his examination. “The ligaments in your shoulder still haven’t fully healed. If they tear, you’ll be in excruciating pain.”

“I’ll take that chance,” the man said as Sovek grabbed him by the arm. “Hey! What are you doing?!”

The Vulcan physician pressed a hypospray into his patient’s injured shoulder. “This should last for the next twelve hours. If the ligaments do tear, you’ll be quite aware of it, but you shall still be able to fight.”

“You’re no sidelining me?,” the patient asked him, caught off guard by his actions.

“If this mission does not succeed, torn ligaments will be the least of your concerns,” Sovek replied as he picked up a PADD and designated the patient to be medically cleared for duty.

Both the patient and the doctor looked up when they heard,” May I have your attention, please?,” echo throughout Sickbay over the communications system. The speaker was Ensign Bulloch, who was standing at the forward end of the bay. He held up a small rod between his thumb and index finger, raising it over his head so that it could be seen clearly by everyone. “This is a viridium rod. They’re being passed around to everyone on the away team. Don’t lose them. If the Jem’Hadar scramble our communications signals, these rods will be the only way to get a transporter lock to bring us back.”

Major Powell stepped forward. “Everyone that I assigned to Alpha Team will be with Ensign Bulloch and I. Bravo Team will be led by First Lieutenant Shay who will be escorting Crewman Mazik to their objective. Form up in your teams, and the engineers will brief the mission.”

There was a quiet murmur floating around Sickbay as the soldiers from MN-1375 that had been medically cleared collected their viridium rods and found their team leaders. A gray-haired man with a blue collar peeking out from beneath his Starfleet uniform stood watching from the door. He walked over to Ensign Bulloch and tapped him on the shoulder.

“Ensign, could you open up that channel again and broadcast it to the rest of the ship?”

“Yes, sir, Commander Kingsley,” Bulloch replied, and hit a few controls on Sickbay’s main panel.

Kingsley turned towards the crowd and cleared his throat. He was slightly surprised as his cough echoed over the speakers. “All hands, this is Lieutenant Commander Dominic Kingsley. As of now, we’re a day’s travel from Federation space, but that’s not where we’re heading. We are responding to a distress signal from a fellow Starfleet vessel trapped behind the lines. The Samaritan isn’t a combat vessel, but she does excel in the saving of lives. As a doctor, I have pledged to do no harm. It’s not enough to simply avoid inflicting damage. If we are presented with the opportunity to assist those in need, we must take it. Ironically, today, the patients will save the doctors as well as our compatriots in distress. Patient volunteers from MN-1375 will be carrying out a mission that will save lives where my medical staff’s skills cannot. I wish luck to all of you, and I thank you for following me into harm’s way. I never imagined that I would hear myself uttering these words. Red Alert, all hands to Battle Stations.”


* * * *


“Are we inside communications range?,” Kingsley asked as he entered the Bridge.

“Yes, sir,” Ra-Gorvalei said, standing up from the command chair. “We’ve set up a narrow band line-of-sight subspace channel. It should allow us to hail the Pegasus without alerting the Dominion battleship to our approach.”

Kingsley sat down in his chair. “Open channel.”

“Open, sir,” Burns reported from the starboard station.

“USS Pegasus, this is Lieutenant Commander Dominic Kingsley, commanding officer of the USS Samaritan.”

A moment passed by before the woman from the earlier distress signal appeared on the viewscreen. “Samaritan, I’m Captain Blaine. It’s good to hear a friendly voice again.” Her Bridge shook as she said this. She quickly gave out orders to return fire and to perform evasive maneuvers before she turned back to the viewscreen. “My helmsman tells me that you’re a hospital ship. We need combat assistance, not medical care. I must recommend that you withdraw.”

“Noted,” Kingsley said. “We’re approximately five minutes from your position. We have a plan, but we’ll need you to disrupt the battleship’s shields.”

Captain Blaine listened intently as Kingsley quickly laid out the plan. She nodded and smiled before turning to her operations officer. “A tachyon burst from the main deflector?”

“The deflector dish is cross-circuited up the wazoo. If we jury-rig it, it could fail completely,” replied a Commander sitting forward and to the left of her. “The science lab has some portable tachyon emitters for research. We could fit them to a couple of torpedoes.”

“You’ve got five minutes, Mister Ellering,” Captain Blaine commanded. “Get it done.”

“Roger, ma’am.” Ellering was already halfway to the turbolift.

“Kingsley, you’re either the most brilliant or the most foolish commanding officer that I’ve ever met. I’m banking on being brilliant, but if I’m wrong, at least no one will be around to say I told you so,” Blaine chuckled, although she seemed half-serious.

“I have a fine crew. They won’t disappoint,” Kingsley said. “We’ll see you in fine minutes.”

“Pegasus will be ready,” Blaine assured him.

“Lieutenant Muller,” Jared interrupted,” I just wanted you to know that Flores is doing fine.”

Even as the rest of the Bridge crew grimaced at the tremors sent through the Pegasus by another volley of fire from the battleship, Blaine’s helm officer smiled broadly. “Thanks,” Jacob Muller said. “That means a lot.”


* * * *


Commander Ellering was in a dead sprint for the torpedo magazine. Behind him were two science officers that he had found on the way to the research labs. They strained to keep up with him. Each of the three officers hugged a barely portable tachyon generator to their chests.

As Ellering shuffled around the last corner to the magazine, he heard a crash followed by a curse from one of the science officers. He turned to see one of them sprawled out on the deck. The woman had tripped and sent his generator tumbling as she fell. The controls on the awkward box were blinking erratically.

“Leave it!,” Ellering commanded and took off again.

He entered the magazine, huffing each breath and sweaty. He put the generator on the floor, gesturing towards one of the weapons on the loading rack.

“Get the panel off of that torpedo. We have to remove the warhead,” he said, ordering a stunned crewman who jumped into action, despite his surprise. The science officers burst into the room with the other generator.

“Computer, time?,” Ellering barked.

“Two minutes and fifty-seven seconds have elapsed since activation of this time,” reported the not-quite feminine voice of the ship’s computer.

Ellering heaved up the generator that he had been carrying, and positioned it over the cavity in the torpedo that had held the recently removed warhead.

“Time’s a-wasting, people.”


* * * *


The picture that appeared on the viewscreen as the Samaritan dropped out of warp was one that Jared recognized. While the image of a Galaxy-class starship and a Dominion battleship locked in combat wasn’t one that he had physically witnessed with his own eyes, he had seen it, many times before, in his dreams. The dreams that he had as a cadet before he was assigned to a hospital ship. The dreams that he had before that ship had been trapped behind enemy lines.

In those dreams, Parker was piloting the mighty Galaxy-class starship and his natural ability as a pilot led the ship to heroics and victory. Loss was always on the Dominion’s side. A Federation defeat was unfathomable.

“Sitting behind the helm of the Samaritan, plunging towards the fiery red phaser beams from the Pegasus, and the bursts of brilliant blue energy from the battleship’s disruptors, Jared didn’t feel as he thought that he would in his dreams. He didn’t feel fear. At least, not the kind that one would expect when joining the losing side of a battle. He felt in control and surprisingly calm as he always did behind the helm. However, he didn’t feel the lust for combat that had haunted his childish dreams. He knew now that loss was inevitable. That defeat on some level would be experienced on both sides of the conflict, and that victory was the only thing that could elude both the Federation and the Dominion.

“Time to target?,” Ra-Gorvalei asked.

“Twenty seconds,” Jared replied.

Kingsley looked towards Burns. “The battleship’s shields?”

“Seventy percent and holding,” the operations officer reported. “Sensor readings confirmed. The battleship is the same one that we faced after escaping from the Badlands.”

“The Pegasus had better do something fast,” Kingsley muttered.


* * * *


“Where are those torpedoes, Mister Ellering?,” Captain Blaine’s question came over the intercom.

“No, no, no!,” Ellering snapped at one of the science officers. “You have to connect this lead here.”

He huffed and tapped his combadge. “Almost there, Captain.”

“Almost doesn’t cut it. We need those torpedoes now!”


* * * *


“Ten seconds to transporter range,” Parker reported.

“Pegasus, if you’re planning on doing something, now would be the time,” Kingsley said nervously over the intercom.

“They’re not ready. We’re not going to make it. We’re going to run into their shields,” Burns said.

“Five seconds,” Jared said as he trimmed up the impulse thrust. They were about to get hammered with disruptor fire which was unavoidable. However, he could minimize their exposure by a second or two with the right flight path. None of that would matter if the battleship’s shields weren’t interrupted.

“If we do run into their shields?,” Kingsley asked Ra-Gorvalei quietly.

“It’s like running into a wall,” was the Efrosian’s response.


* * * *


“Ellering!,” Blaine cried.

The commander shut the access panel and hit the loading control. “Lock and load, Captain!”


* * * *


Undaunted by the appearance of the small hospital ship, the Dominion battleship turned to face the Samaritan head one. The gall of their apparent collision course caused an unofficial armistice. The main hull of the battleship looked like the head of a spear. The sweep of the struts that held its warp nacelles made the massive ship look like a predator cat that was ready to pounce.

The ceasefire was broken as two photon torpedoes were fired from the Pegasus. When they found their target, the usual eruption created by the antimatter warheads didn’t occur. Instead, each torpedo released a puff of blue energy. The wisps of tachyons spread out across the battleship’s shields, causing them to flicker on and off.


* * * *


As the Samaritan reached the battleship’s shield barrier, the Bridge rumbled and shook. “The battleship is trying to reestablish its shields,” Ra-Gorvalei explained as he looked over Burns’ shoulder. “We should be fine.”

“Ensign Bulloch,” Kingsley called out as he opened an internal communications channel to Sickbay,” transport when ready.”

The ship pitched violently. “Their shields again?,” Kingsley asked.

“It’s disruptor fire, sir,” Burns said.

“Transport complete,” Ra-Gorvalei reported.

“Get us out of here with all due haste, Ensign Parker,” Kingsley commanded.


* * * *

 

“You up?,” Powell asked First Lieutenant Shay after arranging his own squad in a defensive position. The passageway that they were in was well-lit, but its deep gray color that bordered on black made it appear to be much darker than it was. The major wondered if the Dominion had chosen the color to protect against just what they were trying to do. The color matched the uniform of the Jem’Hadar perfectly. Maybe, but he knew that the Jem’Hadar didn’t need painted walls to improve their camouflage.

After double-checking his count, Shay nodded and gave a thumbs-up with his free hand. The other hand kept his rifle pointed down his field of fire.

“Which way?,” Powell asked Bulloch.

“One second.” The engineer had his tricorder out and he was accessing a wall console. “I should be able to bring up a corridor schematic.”

“‘Should be able to’? What happens if you can’t? Do we go knocking door-to-door?,” asked Shay.

“Quiet!,” Powell snapped. He raised his rifle and moved the barrel in deliberate movements, a little to the right, and a little to the left. It seemed like he was trying to zero in on specific points of the bulkhead across from him.

“Found it,” Bulloch said, pleased with how easy it had been.

“Quiet!,” Powell commanded again. His rifle barrel froze in a single direction. He fired, and the blue energy bolt didn’t make it halfway across the corridor before it impacted. A Jem’HAdar soldier seemed to materialize out of thin air as his shroud lost power. The lifeless body fell to the ground.

Five more soldiers appeared before them, dropping their personal cloaking devices so they could fire their weapons, but they never got the chance. Powell’s men opened fire and killed the soldiers as quickly as they had appeared.

Powell looked towards the stunned Bulloch. “The Jem’Hadar should redesign their genetically-engineering noses. They breathe too loudly.”

“Right,” Bulloch said, still in awe of what just happened. He shook his head and focused on the mission. “Mazik, link your tricorder with mine. I’ll upload the directions to Ventral Shield Control.” As he was working, he looked at Shay. “The explosive that I gave you contains trilithium resin, a highly volatile waste product of our warp core. The containment unit should keep it stable enough, but don’t give it any bumps.”


* * * *


“They’re ignoring the Pegasus completely,” Ra-Gorvalei hollered as the Samaritan’s Bridge lurched again.

“Our shields are down to forty-two percent!,” Burns cried out.

“More speed, Mister Parker,” Kingsley ordered, a bead of sweat breaking out on his brow. He feared the battleship, but even more, he feared that his decision was going to mean the end of his ship and its crew.

“Engines are already at flank speed, sir,” Jared replied.

“Ra-Gorvalei to Engineering. We need more power to the impulse engines.”

The scared voice of an engineering technician came back over a static-filled intercom. “We’re trying, sir, but our shield generators and impulse drives are the only things that they’re shooting at. Once we get an ounce more power out of them, they take away a quart.”

Ra-Gorvalei turned to Kingsley. “They’re trying to disable us, not destroy us. They might think that we still have Eskol.”

The hard impact from another volley of disruptor fire made the ship buck. It was followed by a shuttering vibration that rumbled from somewhere within the Samaritan.

“What was that?,” Kingsley asked, once it had passed.

“We’re losing speed,” Jared reported. “Impulse speed is limited to one-third.”

“Engineering, what’s going on?!,” Ra-Gorvalei demanded.


* * * *


Unbeknownst to the Samaritan’s Bridge crew, their every word was being intercepted over the intercom. As were all communications that were made to the Bridge.

“Engineering, what’s going on?,” the observer heard Ra-Gorvalei say.

“They’re still targeting our impulse engines, sir. The last hit somehow caused the antimatter cutoff valve to close,” the engineer replied.

“Open it!,” Ra-Gorvalei commanded.

“The actuating servo is fused,” the technician said helplessly.

“Do it manually!,” Ra-Gorvalei barked. “We need more speed!”

The technician sighed in frustration. “We tried, sir, but the Jefferies tube is filled with smoke. We can’t even see the valve.”

“Damn,” the observer to the conversation muttered,” it’s freaking amateur hour.”

Chief Shaw shut over the communications link and left his cabin.


* * * *

Burns was frantic. “They’re closing fast! Shields are down to twenty-eight percent!”

Kingsley opened a communications channel. “Pegasus, we’re taking quite a beating.”

Captain Blaine’s voice came back immediately. “We’re trying to position ourselves between you and the battleship, but they’re not making it easy to get around.”

Jared checked his navigation. The battleship was nearly on top of them. The Pegasus trailed closely behind. He could see the Galaxy-class ship shifting to port, and then to starboard, trying to find a seam around the Dominion vessel but it matched their every maneuver.

“Tell Pegasus to come to course 080, mark 4, and to slow to two-thirds impulse.”

“Pardon me?,” Kingsley asked, unsure of why orders seemed to be flowing the wrong way.

“I can get us behind the Pegasus, but we need their help,” Jared assured him.

Kingsley nodded and repeated the instructions to Captain Blaine. As soon as she acknowledged the transmission, Jared disengaged the safety interlocks and fired the Samaritan’s thrusters. This maneuver allowed him to achieve maximum acceleration that even overcame Samaritan’s own inertial dampeners.

Kingsley felt himself rising out of his chair. He grabbed the armrests to hold himself down.


* * * *


While the crew in the bow sections of the ship were being pulled towards the overhead, the crew members in the stern sections were yanked down. Chief Shaw was walking down a corridor, dragging his hand along a bulkhead for reference. When the Samaritan lurched into its turn, he tumbled forward in the corridor and found himself face-to-face with the deck plating. Rising to his knees, the ship was struck again by Dominion disruptors. The Chief slipped and he was on the deck again.


* * * *


Jared Parker came out of his turn and the artificial gravity quickly stabilized. He set the impulse engines to flank speed, which was barely at one-third of their normal output. The battleship had come to a full stop and it was turning towards Samaritan at a much more controlled rate.

Relative to the hospital ship, the Pegasus was now diving towards her from above. Jared hadn’t the time to do exact calculations. The course and speed that he had told Lieutenant Commander Kingsley just felt right. Jacob Muller was piloting the Pegasus along the exact course and at the precise speed that he had demanded. He hoped that he hadn’t been too overzealous.

Jordan’s own course was right where he wanted it and his speed was maxed out. The disastrous consequences of an error on his part were overwhelming his thoughts. With no corrections to input into the helm console, he could only sit, wait, and hope that the two Federation starships wouldn’t collide.

As the Pegasus approached, the Bridge crew drew in a collective breath and held it. The larger vessel threw its thrusters into hard reverse, coming to a stop with the Samaritan below it, and the battleship above it at point-blank range.


* * * *


Chief Shaw was on his feet and feeling his way around the corridor. Both bulkheads felt the same. He took a moment to regain his bearings. The moment passed and he still wasn’t sure which way to go.

“Hello?,” he hollered.

No answer.

“Computer?,” he asked.

The only response was a disconcerting beep. He turned one way and then another.

“Son of a …,” he muttered. “I’m lost.”


* * * *


Staring at his tricorder, Ensign Shane Bulloch led his team through the corridors of the battleship. He held up his free hand and stopped the squad. His fingers moved over the tricorder’s controls, changing the sensor setting in the handheld device. He un-holstered his phaser, raised it, and fired.

A shrouded Jem’Hadar dropped to the ground out of nothingness.

Powell looked at him questioningly.

Bulloch shrugged. “I programmed it to listen for breathing.”

Powell cracked a half-smile. “Good shot,” he said. “Are we getting close?”

“Closer,” Bulloch said,” but there are still more of them ahead than behind.”


* * * *


The battleship was backing off. Its engines were in full reverse, trying to open some distance between itself and the Pegasus. Crimson streams of phaser fire flowed out of every weapons bank that the Galaxy-class starship had pointed at the enemy vessel. However, it didn’t answer a shot while it continued its slow retreat.

A Dominion battleship was as singularly-minded as the Jem’Hadar who ran it. When an obstacle foolishly placed itself in front of an objective, it was merciless.

The hammering that the battleship had given to the Samaritan hadn’t been done at full power. The goal was to disable the hospital ship and capture the Nelvian aboard it. That goal was limping away and the Pegasus insisted on interfering.

When it had backed away to optimal firing range, the battleship came to a stop. The weapons were recalibrated to full power when it opened fire. The torrent of disruptor fire and torpedoes were overwhelming. The Pegasus’ shields strained to absorb the energy of the unrelenting rain of fire.

Samaritan saw none of this. The huge frame of the Galaxy-class starship obscured the exchange completely. It wasn’t until Lieutenant JG Burns noticed an odd radiation spike on his sensor readout that the seriousness of the Pegasus’ situation became apparent. On the visual scanners, it appeared that a blinking light had been placed just off-center on the ventral side of the Pegasus’ saucer section. After blinking twice, the light erupted, sending chucks of the ship’s hull outward, followed by a plume of blue energy.

“Great Bird of the Galaxy,” Burns gasped as he watched several disruptor bolts pass through the gaping hole and impact against the Pegasus’ ventral shields from the interior. “Sir, the Pegasus… it’s…”

Ra-Gorvalei looked back over Burns’ shoulder. “They’ve blown a hole right through her.”

“Kingsley to Pegasus.” The doctor waited uneasily for a reply that didn’t come.. “Kingsley to Captain Blaine.” Again, he was met with no reply.

Ra-Gorvalei shook his head. “Their Bridge has been obliterated. They’re dead in space.”

And for the first time since entering the battle, Jared felt unnerved and let out a quiet sigh. “Krissy.”


* * * *


“Uh-oh,” Bulloch muttered, coming to a stop.

Powell stepped up next to him. “What is it?”

Bulloch tilted the tricorder screen towards him so the major could see the screen. The tricorder displayed a map of the battleship’s corridors. A small green symbol in the middle of it indicated their present position. Surrounding that positions from every corridor were small red symbols and they were getting closer. The major didn’t know much about the engineer’s tool, but Bulloch didn’t need to explain what the small red dots were.

Powell turned to his men. “Incoming,” he whispered, giving several hand motions to his squad. They nodded and silently formed a perimeter. He took Bulloch by the arm and pushed him down against the wall.

“We won’t be able to hold them off for long, not that many of them,” he told the engineer. “Start looking for another way to achieve the objective.”


* * * *


“The battleship has resumed pursuit,” Ra-Gorvalei reported.

“They’re only going to disable us, right?,” Burns asked. “They must still think that we have Eskol aboard.”

“And when they discover that he’s not among us, Lieutenant? At one-third impulse power, they’ll catch us. If we were able to go to warp, they would catch us. With no quasars, nebulas or planets to hide behind, and nothing to bargain with, we’re out of cards to play.” Kingsley ran his hand through his gray hair. His decisions had led them to this point, and he prayed that he had not led them to the end. “Is there anything? Any spatial anomaly, pocket of gas, or anything besides empty space that we could take advantage of?”

“There’s nothing, sir,” Burns replied dejectedly,” except for a few clouds of neutrinos ahead of us.”

“Neutrinos?”

“Leptons, sir,” Ra-Gorvalei explained to him. “Electrically neutral subatomic particles.”

“I know what they are, Mister Ra-Gorvalei. I’m trying to remember…” He stroked his chin absently. “I read about them or talked about them. Something recent…” Kingsley snapped his fingers and shot a knowing glance at his XO.

“Sir?”

“Ensign Parker, alter course towards the neutrinos,” Kingsley ordered.

“Sir,” Jared said,” they’re moving towards us.”


* * * *


The patient was understandably fearful. She had heard the Commanding Officer’s address earlier, and she knew that the ship was heading into battle. She had seen the lights in her room flicker and felt the ship shutter as it was fired upon. And now there was a man with a very disturbing look in his eyes standing in the doorway. He had burst into her room and yelled something at her, but she was so scared that she couldn’t make out what he was saying.

“I know that somebody’s in here. I can hear you breathing!,” Chief Shaw hollered in frustration. “Is there a window in this room?”

“What?,” she asked, instinctively pulling her sheet over her body and up to her neck.

“A window, woman! Is there a window in this room? I’m blind, so I can’t tell and I have to find out if I’m on the inboard or outboard side of this corridor.”

“Y-yes,” she stammered. “There’s a window.”

“Finally.” Shaw huffed and left the room as quickly as he had come.


* * * *


“How long until we reach the neutrino clouds?,” Kingsley asked.

“Eighty seconds,” was Jared’s response.

“And when will the battleship be within weapons range?” As soon as he had finished asking the question, the all too familiar vibrations of weapons impacts struck the Samaritan.

“Shields are down to fifteen percent!,” Burns reported.

“Will they last for another forty seconds?,” Kingsley asked.

Burns shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

Ra-Gorvalei tapped his combadge. “Engineering, we need more power to the impulse engines or more power to the shields. I don’t care which, but we need it now!”


* * * *


“See what you can do about those shields!,” Shaw barked as he entered Engineering. “And someone point me towards the Jefferies tube.”

“Chief, we can’t see a thing in there,” a crewman protested as he led the Chief to the access hatch.

“If we get out of this, I want you to think about how stupid that sounds to me,” Shaw retorted as he heaved himself into the Jefferies tube. “And after that, I’m going to give all of you a systems knowledge review. You don’t have to see the damned thing with your eyes if you can see it with your head!”


* * * *


“Forty-seven seconds to intercept,” Jared reported.

“Shields are at fifteen percent,” Burns added.

“Can we set up the transporter scattering field that Mister Bulloch devised?,” Lieutenant Commander Kingsley asked Lieutenant Ra-Gorvalei.

“Only if we could power down the shields and engines,” the Efrosian explained. Without the shields, they could knock out the transporter system with a single shot.”

“We were close.” Kingsley sighed.

“It might not even be them. The neutrinos could be natural.”

“Sir! We just got full impulse power back!,” Jared elated. “New time to intercept, ten seconds!”

“Engineering, well done!,” the CO exclaimed.

“A pleasure being of use, Skipper,” Chief Shaw’s voice replied over the speakers.

“Three seconds to the neutrino clouds,” Jared reported. A hush fell over the Bridge as if making the slightest sound would prevent it from being what they hoped that it was. “We’ve passed them,” he finally added.

“I was wrong,” Kingsley muttered, slumping back into his chair.

“Something is happening,” Burns said, scrutinizing his sensor readouts. “Three ships decloaking!”

“They’re Klingon!,” Ra-Gorvalei shouted, allowing relief to overcome his usually calm tone.

The face of Captain Bregath appeared on the viewscreen. “Samaritan, standby to drop your shields. We’ll get you out of here.”

Kingsley straightened up in his chair. “Not this time, Captain Bregath,” he replied. “We need you to keep the battleship busy while we assist the Pegasus.”

Bregath erupted with laughter. “You are outgunned, outpowered, outmanned, but you do not yield! Check your medical scanners, Doctor, for you may find yourself to be Klingon!”


* * * *

 

Bulloch wiped the sweat from his brow. The temperature of the corridor had increased drastically once the firefight had begun. The bolts of energy spouting from the rifles on both sides made the air acrid. And the fact that the Jem’Hadar were coming even closer from both ends of the passageway would have him sweating, regardless of the temperature. They couldn’t go forward and they had been cut off from behind. The tricorder showed only one option.

“There,” he said, pointing.

“Don’t be an idiot. That’s a bulkhead,” Powell replied.

“There’s a service tunnel directly behind it.”

Powell contemplated the information for a moment before adjusting the power setting on his rifle. There was an audible sound as the rifle overloaded its chamber. He fired. There was an eruption of dust and debris, but left in its place, there was a substantial hole.

“Everybody inside!,” he commanded.


* * * *


“Still no response,” Burns said.

“Lifesigns indicate that most of the crew is still alive.”

“Perhaps their communications system is out,” Kingsley speculated.

“That or their command structure has been totally obliterated. It’s probably complete chaos over there,” replied Ra-Gorvalei.

“Continue to hail them,” the CO ordered, standing up and moving towards the door.

“Going somewhere, sir?,” Ra-Gorvalei asked him.

“Over to the Pegasus,” Kingsley explained. “Doctor Sovek should have the medical away team assembled. I’m leading it.”

Ra-Gorvalei stepped close to his superior officer and spoke softly. “Sir, your place is on the Bridge of your ship.”

Kingsley responded in equally quiet tones. “I’m a doctor, Mister Ra-Gorvalei. You belong here. My place is where injured people need my help. You have the Bridge.”

Before he could object, Kingsley walked out the door.

“Sir, someone is responding to our hails,” Burns informed the disappointed Efrosian.

Ra-Gorvalei moved over to the command chair before responding. “On screen.”

“Samaritan, this is Commander Ellering. As far as I can tell, I’m in charge over here,” the man on the viewscreen said.

“We’re sending a medical team over to assist your injured. Is there anything else that you need?”

“Thank you. We’ve regained most of our command functions through the Battle Bridge. Weapons and shields should be online soon. We’ve got all that we could ask for, considering,” Ellering replied before adding with a chuckle. “Unless you have to have a spare helm officer lying around over there?”

“I’ll send him over with the medical team.” Ra-Gorvalei turned towards the starboard station. “Mister Burns…”

“Me, sir?,” Burns cut him off. Jared sighed in frustration.

“Relieve Ensign Parker,” Ra-Gorvalei finished.


* * * *


Since they had transported over to the battleship, Major Powell and his men had constantly been pushing Bulloch to move faster towards the objective. As they crawled through the Jefferies tube, it was the self-proclaimed ‘ground pounders’ that needed to be urged along. The major had the point and made no complaints about the cramped space, concentrating on a vain attempt to outpace the engineer behind him as he followed Bulloch’s navigation through the service conduits. However, he did complain regularly to the men who were following him. He complained that they had become soft, slow, and that it was a miracle that they had made it this far against the Jem’Hadar with such a weak company. The most offensive insult of all was that one of the ten-pound heads from the engineering division was in better physical condition than them.

“Keep up with the engineer if you can, boys,” Powell hollered back at his men.

Lagging a little behind Bulloch, a soldier shifted the container of trilithium that he had slung over his back and tried to quicken the speed of his crawl. He was conscious of his shoulder. It didn’t hurt. He could thank the Vulcan doctor for that, but it wasn’t as strong as he remembered.


* * * *


The battle was won. One of them, at least.

Jared Parker was handed the dream that he had been denied, being at the helm of a mighty starship in battle. Captain Bregath would have called it a glorious battle worthy of song. He felt like he should be happy or excited, and maybe part of him was. But the circumstances that had delivered his goal to him, the cost, not to himself but to others, wrenched at another part of him. He pushed it aside as best as he could as he walked down the corridor towards Sickbay.

He knew that once he was sitting behind the helm again, the troubles on his mind would evaporate and all consciousness would be bent towards the objects in space, all in motion, and how maneuvering his ship would influence the behavior of the others. Behind the helm, it would be easy to ignore unpleasant thoughts, but that helm was still a walk down the corridor and a transport across the void away.

Parker had been staring at the deck plates as he walked, trying to make his mind as blank as the gray surface that clanked quietly beneath his feet. When the soft clank, clank, clank, clank was joined by a similar but syncopated rhythm coming in the other direction, he looked up.

“Krissy.”

The surprised word escaped from his mouth.

“Jared.” She greeted him with a small smile. “Have you seen Doctor Sovek or Doctor Kingsley?,” she asked him.

Jared opened his mouth to speak but he couldn’t. He shook his head negatively, looking at her with a gaping mouth and mournful eyes.

“They left me off of the away team for some reason,” she huffed. Her brow furrowed in concern as she noticed the pained expression on his face. “Are you okay?”

It took all of his will for Jared to force himself to speak, but when he did,” Krissy, I…,” was all that he could manage.

“Why aren’t you on the Bridge?” Flores’ look of concern for her friend turned his expression of confusion.

“They need me on the away team.” He shifted his eyes back to the deck when he spoke, unable to look her in the eye. When he glanced up, he saw a tear rolling down her cheek.

“Why?,” she asked, her voice shaking a little.

“I…” He couldn’t continue. Right now, she needed a friend, and he couldn’t find the strength to be that friend. He wasn’t behind the helm, and he wasn’t in control so he retreated. “I have to go to Sickbay.” He stepped by her.

“Jared,” she called out, turned, her voice a sob,” what’s happening?”

He continued to walk, wiping away the tears welling up in his eyes, and he didn’t dare to turn around.


* * * *


“I’m going on that away team.”

Kingsley and Sovek turned, both of them surprised to see Krissy. Her face was striped with the wet trails of her tears.

Sovek spoke first. “Doctor Flores, I left your name off of the away team roster because a skilled doctor will need to remain behind to tend to any injuries that are sustained by our own crew.”

“Then pick someone else to stay behind. I need to be on that away team.”

The Vulcan opened his mouth to give a rebuttal, but Kingsley silenced him with a gesture. “Sovek, please.” He looked at the scared and desperate woman in front of him. “Flores, your fiance isn’t over there. There’s no body. There’s no chance of saving him. I don’t want to send a doctor over there that may have her priorities out of order. I need people who will do their duty.”

“Skipper?,” a confused voice asked.

Kingsley saw it came from an engineering technician that happened to be passing by. “Yes, Crewman?”

“Is everything all right, sir?”

“Why do you ask?” Kingsley was now slightly puzzled.

“Well…,” the crewman stammered,” I thought you’d be on the Bridge.”

“Everything is fine,” the CO assured him. “Carry on.”

“Aye, sir.” The crewman resumed his hurried pace down the corridor.

Kingsley turned back to Flores. “I need people who will do their duty. Can I count on you?”

“I just want to help,” she replied. “I want to do my job.”

“Very well,” Kingsley said. “Doctor Sovek, Flores will be taking my place on the away team.”

“You wish to remain behind?,” asked Sovek.

Kingsley gazed back in the direction of the crewman. “My duty is on the Bridge.”


* * * *


“Just a little further,” Bulloch said, scrutinizing the map on his tricorder. “We have to cross a large shaft, and then it’s about fifty meters to Engineering.”

“I found the shaft,” Major Powell said. Just in front of him was a large circular hole, running as far up and as far down as he could see. A small metal bridge extended across the hol to another service crawlspace on the other side. The bridge was smooth with no sides or guardrails, and it was only wide enough for them to cross it in single file. “Don’t look down,” he muttered and started across it.

Powell made it across with ease. The lack of any guardrails slowed Bulloch’s pace down a bit but he made it across. He and Powell moved back in the Jefferies tube to make room for the rest of the squad. They turned and saw a pulsing light accompanied by a high pitched whine.

It was a transporter beam.

The light coalesced into three Jem’Hadar soldiers who were scattered between the Starfleet Marines on the bridge. They wasted no time, and the Starfleet soldiers screamed as they were shot or kicked off of the bridge. Some of them grabbed at the legs of their attackers and tried to pull them down as they fell.

The chaos relented for a moment and Bulloch saw one Jem’Hadar was left standing on the bridge. The Starfleet soldiers were either dead or fallen except for one man dangling from the side of the bridge. The man held onto the bridge with one hand, and in the other, he held onto a swinging container of trilithium resin.

“How much of a knock can that explosive take?,” Powell asked.

“Uh, not too much.”

“Move!,” Powell commanded. When Bulloch didn’t respond immediately, the major grabbed him by the shoulder and started dragging the engineer down the Jefferies tube and around a corner.

Under the bridge, the Starfleet soldier knew that he couldn’t pull himself up, even if a Jem’Hadar wasn’t there. His arm was too weak. Even as the sneering Jem’Hadar began to step on his fingers, the pain that he felt was as far away as the pain in his shoulder. The Vulcan had done his job, he thought, and now there was one last chance to do his own. With his good arm, the man swung the container that he held up onto the bridge as hard as he could.

A blast of heat thundered past Bulloch and Powell. It hadn’t been a large amount of trilithium, but it wasn’t a substance that required great quantities to make it deadly. However, as Major Power often told the people that he led, it’s not how big your weapon is. It’s where you aim that critical shot. If your aim is true, it takes little force to defeat your enemy. If it isn’t, you just piss them off. With the explosion in the Jefferies tube, the Starfleet personnel had succeeded in pissing the Dominion off.

“Can you still blow the core?,” Powell asked.

Bulloch pushed himself up to his knees and found his dropped tricorder. He looked at the map and then at the major. “I’ve got to,” he said before turning and beginning to crawl. “This way.”


* * * *

 

“Sir, there’s just been a large energy surge aboard the battleship,” Burns reported. “It looks like an internal explosion.”

“The dorsal shield generator?,” asked Ra-Gorvalei.

Burns shook his head. “All of their shields are holding.”

“Their power core?”

“I don’t think so,” Burns replied. “I’m not reading any power fluctuations. Just a radiation spike.”

“Is that bad?,” someone asked from behind them. Startled, Burns and Ra-Gorvalei looked towards the back of the Bridge.

Ra-Gorvalei spoke first, standing while he did. “It means that one of our teams has detonated their trilithium resin unsuccessfully.”

Kingsley stared at the Dominion ship on the main viewscreen and he walked towards his chair. A moment passed before he realized that the Efrosian was still looking at him with an expression that he would call contentment if he didn’t know his XO better.

“Is there a problem, Lieutenant?”

“Not anymore, sir,” Ra-Gorvalei replied in his normal all business manner. He turned and assumed a place at the port station. “The battleship has outflanked the Klingons and they’re closing on our position.”

“Well,” Kingsley said, sitting down in his chair,” the Pegasus still needs time to recover. Let’s hope that the battleship maintains its interest in us. Mister Burns, move us away from the Pegasus, best speed.”


* * * *


As Federation starships went, the Samaritan and the Pegasus shared a distinct aesthetic. The interiors had similar paneling on the bulkheads. The doors and hatches looked the same. Even the strips of alert lights running down the corridor, flashing red looked alike.

Standing in a corridor aboard the Pegasus, Jared Parker noted the main difference, and the size. He had been aboard plenty of Federation ships. He knew that the width of the corridor that comfortably fit around himself and the medical team was the norm, and the cramped narrow corridors of the Samaritan were the exception.

“Which one of you is the pilot?,” someone hollered. Jared and the medical team turned towards the voice. A Commander with a couple of crewmen in tow headed towards the Samaritan’s away team with a purpose.

“I am,” Jared said, shuffling to the front of the group.

“I’m Commander Ellering. You’re with me,” the Acting Captain said, pointing at Parker. “The rest of you follow my men here. They’ll take you to Engineering.”

As the medical team was led away, one doctor remained, staring down a corridor that intersected with the one that she was standing in.

“Ma’am, you should go with my men,” Ellering told her.

“What if there are people down there that need help?,” Flores asked, gesturing down the hallway.

“That leads to the Main Bridge. There’s no one left there.”

Krissy bit her lower lip and nodded as she turned to follow the rest of the medical team.


* * * *


“Mazik, how’s your progress?,” Bulloch said quietly after tapping his combadge. He and Major Powell were crouched in a service tube near the battleship’s main engineering section.

“We’re on our way now, sir,” came the Roylan’s reply. “It took a little time to de-rig the explosive from the shield generator.”

“Good job.” Bulloch tapped his combadge to close the connection.

“I wonder how long we’ve got,” Powell muttered.

“How long for what?”

“How long before the Jem’Hadar locate us in these crawlspaces again.” The major craned his head from side to side, looking down the service tube for any threats.

“Hopefully they won’t.” Bulloch pulled his tricorder out and held it up. “I’ve modified this to mask our biosigns.”

Powell nodded in approval. “Good thinking.”

Bulloch sighed and looked away. “I should have thought about it before I got your men killed,” he said quietly.

Powell stopped scanning for threats. He hit Bulloch on the shoulder to get his undivided attention and stared directly at him. “Back on MN-1375, I was in command of a platoon tasked with holding a rather strategic land bridge that was the only practical way to cross the canyon that it spanned. We had it pretty well defended. It was lucky for us that there was a plain on the other side of the land bridge. We can see the Jem’Hadar coming from a far ways off. They had to retreat to the hill, but then, they started to pick us off. One by one, my men began to go down.”

Powell’s hand went to the left side of his neck, rubbing the scarred flesh. “It wasn’t until I realized that our combadges and collar insignias were glinting in the sun that the duck shoot stopped. It would have been nice to notice that earlier, but that’s not the way that these things work. You didn’t kill those men. The Jem’Hadar did. What you did do was find a way to give our mission a fighting chance, and you’re going to save the Samaritan and the Pegasus.”

“Do you really think that we’ll put this off?,” Bulloch asked.

Powell resumed his lookout up and down the service tube. “It’s better than thinking we can’t.”


* * * *


“The viridium signatures are heading towards engineering,” Ra-Gorvalei reported from the port station of the Samaritan’s Bridge.

“All of them?,” Kingsley asked. “I thought that half of them were supposed to go to the shield generator.”

“They must be taking their trilithium to engineering,” Ra-Gorvalei realized.

“But we need that shield down to beam them out.”

“Sir, I don’t think that shield is coming down.”

“The battleship is closing into weapons range!” The Samaritan shuttered before the words were even out of Burns’ mouth.

There was an explosion from the overhead as an EPS conduit overloaded. Sparks showered down over the Bridge and pieces of metal were shot across the room. Kingsley’s hand shot to his face as a piece of hot metal grazed his neck.

“Mister Ra-Gorvalei, damage report!,” he demanded once the hot rain of energy subsided.

There was no response. Kingsley looked over to the port station. Ra-Gorvalei lay back at his station, moaning and clutching at his head. He was at his side in a second, applying pressure to the wound with one hand while tapping his combadge with the other.

“Bridge to Sickbay, medical emergency!”

“The Klingons are re-engaging the battleship,” Burns reported. “We’re out of their weapons range.”

Ra-Gorvalei felt dazed and confused. He saw a bright light move from one eye to another. Kingsley slipped the pen light back into his pocket and the Efrosian’s eyes were able to focus a bit. “Sir, your neck is bleeding.”

“It’s superficial,” Kingsley said. “You’ve suffered a concussion. I’m having you transported to Sickbay.” And he felt himself wishing that he could trade places with his injured XO. “Ra-Gorvalei, I don’t know if I can do this without you.”

Ra-Gorvalei felt himself being dragged into unconsciousness, but before he gave in, he looked at his superior officer. The collar of Kingsley’s uniform shirt had absorbed the blood flowing out of the cut on his neck. The blue collar was now stained a dark red. He smiled weakly. “You can. Red suits you.”


* * * *


“Attitude control restored,” Jared reported from the helm of the Pegasus. The controls felt different than the Samaritan’s. They responded immediately and with definite power. The Galaxy-class starship had a confidence about her, even in her weakened state. And he had what he always wanted, the helm of a Federation starship.

“Phasers and torpedoes are ready. Shields are still offline,” Ellering read off of the command console. He pressed a button, activating a communications link with Engineering.


* * * *


“Engineering, this is Commander Ellering. I need my shields back online.” The commander’s voice echoed through the huge engine room. His call went unanswered as Engineering was in chaos. The crewmen that weren’t incapacitated from injury were fighting fires and praying for some sort of direction.

Sovek held a vial out to Doctor Flores. “Doctor, you’ll need this.”

“What is it?,” she asked, taking the vial.

“Morphine, amphetamine, and tri-ox,” Sovek answered.

“A painkiller and two stimulants?” Krissy looked at the vial in disgust. “Sovek, this will worsen the condition of many of these men!”

“Doctor, we are not here to provide long-term treatment. We are here to make this crew capable of executing their duties and getting this ship back into the fight. This may go against your instincts as a physician, but if this ship is not repaired, there will be no patients left alive to treat.”

Sovek turned and attended to a crewman suffering from burns before she could reply. Krissy took a deep breath and walked over to a crewman sitting against a bulkhead. “How are you doing?,” she asked him.

“We’re going to die.” The crewman had his legs pulled up to his chest. His breathing was shallow and his words were forced. “I live in a four-man bunkroom. John was killed two weeks ago when we got trapped behind the lines. Chris died just a few days ago. Brian is lying on the floor over there. He hasn’t moved in a long time. I know that I’m next.”

Krissy scanned him with her tricorder. “You have a broken rib. You have to let go of your legs so I can treat you.”

“It hurts,” he said, but he complied and let go of his legs. His eyes transfixed on his friend lying on the deck.

“Engineering, I need to know where my shields are!,” Ellering yelled over the shipwide intercom.

“What part of the ship do you work on?,” Krissy asked the crewman. “Do you work on the shields?”

He shook his head. “The shields won’t work. The ripple filter is shot. Unless someone bypasses it, they won’t get power.”

“Can you bypass the ripple filter?,” she asked him. He didn’t respond and she hesitated for a moment before loading the vial that Sovek had given her into her hypospray and administered an injection. “This should help with the pain. It’s hard to lose people close to you, but we still have jobs to do that the crew is counting on us to do. Now I’m going to go help Brian, but I don’t want the ship being attacked while I do. Can you bypass the ripple filter and fix the shields? Can you do that for Brian?”

The crewman began to breathe easier and perk up as the drugs took effect. “Yeah,” he said,” I can do that.”


* * * *


There was a loud clatter. Powell put his finger to his lips, signalling Bulloch to be quiet. The major quickly and quietly crawled around the corner of the service tube so he could see the Jem’Hadar engine room through a vent grating.

Bulloch heard weapons fire and a lot of yelling. Another clank came from around the corner and the thump, thump, thump of someone hurrying along the crawlspace. There was more weapons fire, and then nothing. He peered around the corner. The grating was gone and Powell was nowhere to be found.

“All clear!,” the major hollered. “You can come out now, Ensign.”

Bulloch crawled out of the service tube and into the battleship’s engine room. There were lifeless Jem’Hadar bodies strewn across the deck along with a couple of Starfleet marines. The rest of First Lieutenant Shay’s team stood ready with their rifles as they covered the entrances.

“Here you are, sir.” Mazik held out the trilithium explosive.

“Thanks,” Bulloch said, taking the canister. He took a quick look around the room before stopping in front of a large piece of equipment coming out of the wall.

“That’s the weakest post?” Powell gestured at the apparatus that Bulloch was security the explosive to.

“It’s the dilithium chamber,” Bulloch replied. “This will blow the reactor wide open. I’m setting the timer for five minutes.” He moved over to an engineering console.

“Why not just blow it now?,” Powell asked him. “With the shield generator intact, we have no way off this ship.”

“We have to warn the Samaritan so that she has enough time to get clear of the blast,” Bulloch said.

“So what do we do until then?,” Mazik asked with a shaky voice. All of a sudden, one of the doors swooshed open. Weapons fire spouted from one of the marine’s rifles as he downed an advancing Jem’Hadar soldier.

Powell looked levelly at the Roylan. “We hold.”


* * * *


“Sir, we’re receiving a signal from the battleship,” Burns reported.

Kingsley checked his own console. “It’s a message. ‘Five minutes, Bulloch’.”

“Adjusting course away from the battleship,” the operations officer said. “I’ll get us clear of the blast zone.”

Kingsley slumped a little in his chair. This wasn’t how the plan was supposed to do, but it had changed. Some of the trilithium had been lost so his men couldn’t free themselves. Things change, he thought, plans change.

He sat up. “Wait,” he ordered. “We have to get our people off of that ship.”

“Sir, the battleship’s shields are at…” Burns scanned his instruments,” forty-seven percent. They’re trapped.”

“Then we’ll have to free them.” Kingsley opened a channel to the Pegasus, and Captain Bregath, explaining the situation.

“We will not leave your warriors behind, Samaritan,” Bregath assured him. “However, our transporters cannot handle that many people at once.”

“Pegasus is ready. Our shields just came back online, but our transporters aren’t functioning,” Ellering said.

Kingsley opened a channel to Engineering. “Chief, what’s the status of our transporters?”

“I’ve been listening in, Skipper, and the transporters are fire,” replied Chief Shaw,” but the shields are shot. We can get you two percent tops. So you’re going to have a hard time getting close enough to that battleship to use them.”

“Sir,” Jared interrupted the conversation from behind the helm of the Pegasus,” I have an idea about that.”


* * * *


“It’s your show, kid,” Ellering said.

“We need someone to target the battleship’s dorsal shield. We’ll beam our people out through there,” Parker said.

Ellering relayed the order to the Klingons. “And how are you going to get the Samaritan close enough without any shields?”

“She’ll have a shield,” Jared said. “Us.” His mind slipped into a familiar frame. Objects in space all had a direction and a speed. How he moved the ones that he held control over would influence the movement of the ones that he didn’t.

“Burns, set course two-seven-four, mark one, half-impulse power,” the pilot commanded and Burns complied.

The Samaritan turned, showing its broadside to the battleship. Fighting through the Klingon ships hammering their assault on their dorsal shield, the Dominion vessel set an intercept course for the hospital ship. Jared set the Pegasus into motion. He adjusted her attitude so she shared the same orientation as the battleship and he set his course to lead it.

When the Pegasus was in range, it opened fire on the battleship with photon torpedoes. “Their dorsal shield is beginning to buckle,” Ellering said.

Jared adjusted his course and speed. The Pegasus entered phaser range of the battleship and every functioning battery lanced out at the enemy with fiery red beams.


* * * *


“We’re almost in weapons range of the battleship!” Burns’ heart was pounding and he thought that it might leap out of his chest.

“Burns,” Jared’s voice came over the Bridge speakers,” hard to starboard! Course zero-one-two, mark three, three-quarters impulse!”

“But that would take us directly at the battleship and we have no shields!,” Burns pleaded.

“Turn the ship, Mister Burns!,” Kingsley ordered. “Turn it now!”

Burns’ hands were shaking but he entered the new course and speed.


* * * *


“Hold on,” Jared warned Ellering. He threw the Pegasus into emergency reverse and rotated the ship ninety degrees. They came to a complete stop so that the battleship saw nothing but the massive oval shape of the ship’s saucer section. The Dominion ship fired at it as if it were a huge bullseye.

“Parker,” Burns called over the intercom,” we’re heading directly for your ship.”

“Full impulse, Burns,” Jared commanded. “Be ready with those transporters.”

“We’re ready, Mister Parker,” Kingsley came back.

The battleship was slowing. Jared knew that it would turn soon to avoid a collision. He just had to help it turn the right way.

“Their dorsal shield has collapsed, but I don’t know for how long,” Ellering said. “Whatever you’ve got in mind, do it now.”

Jared waited one second longer. All the objects were in place. He activated the Pegasus’ thrusters again, rotating the ship ninety degrees in the opposite direction. The battleship dipped its bow, diving to avoid a collision. Samaritan remained on course, sailing just under the Pegasus’ saucer as it moved out of the way and just over the top of the Jem’Hadar ship.


* * * *


“Energizing transporters,” Kingsley said.

“Sickbay to Bridge!,” Bulloch’s frantic voice came over the speakers. “All souls are aboard! Sixty seconds to detonation!”

“You heard the man, Mister Burns,” the CO said. “Get us out of here!”

The Samaritan moved off at its best speed along with the Pegasus and Captain Bregath’s ships. The battleship erupted into a ball of white light, the dark metal of its menacing hull annihilated into streaks of pure energy as the antimatter from its reactor consumed the ship. The hospital ship rocked one last time in the wake of the explosion. Then it was over.

The Bridge was silent for some time until Kingsley spoke. “Engineering, damage report.”

“We’re pretty banged up, but we could squeeze out Warp Four if you don’t give us too many bumps,” replied Chief Shaw.

“Commander Kingsley.” Ellering appeared on the viewscreen, standing behind Jared. “I wanted to thank you. Your ship,” he placed his hand on the ensign’s shoulder,” and your crew saved our lives.”

Kingsley smiled. “Commander Ellering, this ship’s mission is one of life.”

The viewscreen split views and Captain Bregath appeared on one side. “Qap’la, Samaritan. We honor you as fellow warriors today, and we await your command.”

“My command.” Kingsley found meaning in the words that he never knew existed before that moment. “My command is to set a course for Starbase 375 at Warp Four. Let’s go home.”

 

Favorite line. What a fun tale! Definitely deserves an epilogue - assuming this is the final action installment. Well done!

I particularly enjoyed the evolution of Kingsley - very satisfying character arc.

Thanks!! rbs

 

I am almost done with this rewrite! An epilogue is on its way!

 

Chapter Ten: No Matter What Your End Is.


Ensign Jared Parker gracefully flew the Phlox away from the Samaritan. He set his course towards the large starbase that the hospital ship was orbiting. He looked back at the hospital ship that had just returned from the front lines. The Federation gray paint of her hull was interrupted by black scorch marks, courtesy of the Jem’Hadar and their disruptors.

He checked his course and speed again before opening a channel to Starbase 375’s docking control. “Docking Control, this is the runabout Phlox, requesting docking clearance.”

He was cleared for docking, setting the Phlox down in the starbase’s maintenance bay. He hopped down onto the deck, noting the slight shift in gravity as his body crossed over the door’s threshold. It was greater than normal. Phlox’s gravity generators were off but that was expected, considering what it had been through.

Jared handed the runabout over to the starbase’s maintenance crew. He straightened his dress uniform and began to walk towards the door, but he was stopped by a passing ensign.

“Did you just bring that runabout in?,” the ensign asked him, pointing at the Phlox. The underbelly of the runabout, damaged by its forced landing in a forest, looked like someone tried to scrape it off. “It looks like you’ve seen some serious action.”

“Some,” Jared said, offering a half-smile. “We just got back from the front.”

“Wow. I just got orders for the USS Centaur. She’s a small ship but we’ll be heading to the front soon. I’m hoping to make a difference in this fight.”

“It’s tough out there. Good luck,” Jared said to the excited ensign.

“It looks that way.” The ensign glanced back at the Phlox. “What kind of ship are you on?”

“The USS Samaritan. It’s a hospital ship.” The Ensign’s eyes went wide at his response.


* * * *


“You missed it,” Bulloch whispered as Jared slipped into the back of the room. To one side, there were large floor-to-ceiling windows. In the center were chairs set up in rows, but most of the people in attendance were now going to meet the receiving party that stood at the front of the room.

“I got held up. How was it?”

“It was a funeral.”

“Yeah,” Jared said, letting the silence hang in the air for a moment. “How’s she holding up?”

“You could ask her.”

Jared looked towards the front of the room where those in attendance were conveying their condolences to Flores.


* * * *


Krissy recognized some of the people offering their regrets. They were her colleagues, the crew from the Samaritan, and even a few of her Klingon patients. Most of them she didn’t know. They were crew members from the Pegasus, who had been Jacob’s friends and shipmates. Each one of them telling her what a good man her fiance had been. Each one of them telling her what she already knew.

“We met,” Commander Ellering said,” briefly in the corridor aboard the Pegasus. You were on the away team.”

“Yes, I suppose we did,” she replied.

“His quarters are intact. I’ll have his things sent to your ship.”

“Thank you.”

“He said something to me once. I was writing one of those letters that husbands sometimes do before heading into battle. The ones that say all of the things that you wish you had time to say.” He paused. “He didn’t write one. Jacob told me that he hadn’t left anything unsaid. He told me that’s why he loved you and how he knew that you were the one.”

Krissy felt her throat choking up and she put her hand to her mouth to cover her involuntary frown. The room got blurry as her eyes glazed over with the oncoming tears that she fought back.

“Thank you,” she finally managed to say.

Then she caught sight of something at the back of the room. It was Jared. Their eyes locked. She thought that his gaze looked like one of pain or concern, or even of understanding. Maybe it was a little of each. Whatever the case, she didn’t want to look away, and for a moment, she felt as if they were the only people in the room. She gazed into his eyes and huddled in them for warmth.

Then he looked away.


* * * *


Jared felt Krissy catch his stare. He looked away after holding her gaze for too long. “I have to go,” he muttered and started for the door.

Bulloch grabbed his arm. “Where are you going?”

“I can’t be here, Bull. I can’t do this, not now.”

“Then when?,” Bulloch asked him. “She needs a friend now.”

Jared freed his arm and walked out the door. It swooshed shut behind him and he was alone in the corridor. He stood there for a while, staring at the deck.

The door swooshed open.

“Jared.”

“I really don’t want to hear it, Bull,” Jared said as the doors swooshed shut again.

“Who’s Bull, Ensign Parker?”

Jared turned around and felt like even more of an idiot. “Commander Ellering, I’m sorry. I thought you were someone else.”

Ellering nodded with understanding. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you. I’ve been given command of the Pegasus. We’ve been made one of the maintenance priorities and we’ll ship out as soon as repairs are finished. I have to re-man my ship, and I need a lead helm officer.”

Jared didn’t know what to say. He looked at Ellering before looking at the door holding the memorial behind it. “Sir, we’re at the funeral of the man that I would be replacing.”

“I know that it’s not the soul of tact. You don’t have to answer right now, but I’m pressed for time and I need to get my ship manned.” Ellering patted Jared on the shoulder and walked off.


* * * *


“Did you know him?,” asked Major Powell.

“Lieutenant Muller?,” Burns asked in return, looking towards the large picture set in the place of honor in lue of the body. He shook his head. “No, I’ve never met him.”

“Me neither, but funerals aren’t held for the dead.” Powell motioned towards the picture. “They’re to remind us why he died, and what he died for. To let people know that they’ll be remembered if they meet the same fate. It’s the same reason that we give out medals.”

“I’d rather have a medal.” Burns forced a smile.

Powell patted him on the back. “Wouldn’t we all?”


* * * *


Lieutenant Ra-Gorvalei had to grab the door frame as he entered Kingsley’s quarters.

“How’s your head?,” Kingsley asked.

“The head is fine.” The Efrosian gingerly touched the left side of his head. “My balance will be off for a few days while it heals.”

“Then, by all means, sit..” Kingsley stood quickly and helped his XO to the chair across from his desk.

“Thank you, sir. What did you want to see me about?”

Kingsley took his own seat and picked up a PADD. “Your report on the last two weeks.”

“I completed it this morning and sent it to Admiral Ross.”

“It’s not complete,” Kingsley said. “It says here that we ‘happened across a Maquis outpost after noticing a divergence in the plasma storm’s energy’.”

“That’s the truth, sir.”

“Maybe,” Kingsley sighed,” but it’s not the complete truth.”

“Sir, the complete truth would implicate you as a Maquis sympathizer. You could be charged with treason.”

“Only because I could be guilty of it.”

“You were only maintaining your oath as a doctor to save lives. You’re a capable commanding officer and Starfleet is in need of your services.”

“I’m honored that you think so, Mister Ra-Gorvalei. I really am, but you’re justifying. Being in command means accepting the consequences of all of my decisions, whether they’re good or bad.”

Ra-Gorvalei nodded. “I’ll correct the report.”

Kingsley nodded back. “And I’ll deliver it myself. I suspect that there will be some questions to answer.”


* * * *


“Plomeek soup,” Sovek commanded the replicator in the galley. Nothing happened. “Plomeek soup,” he repeated himself, only louder.

“The replicators are offline,” Bulloch’s voice called from a table across the room. “I’ve turned off all ship’s services, replicators, laundry, and hot water.”

“For the repairs?,” Sovek asked as he walked over to the ensign’s table.

Bulloch nodded. “Yeah, but the starbase has plenty of open rooms with private laundry and replicators.”

“If the replicators are all off, then why are you sitting here alone?,” Sovek asked him.

“I suppose that’s a logical question.” He chuckled but lost his humor as quickly when he answered. “I’m actually trying to write a letter to the parents of Crewman Anderson. He was killed when the Jem’Hadar attacked us in the Badlands.”

“I knew him.” Sovek sat down at the table across from Bulloch. “He kept my medical equipment in working order while I operated during the battle.”

“Every time I try to finish this letter… I don’t know. I guess I try to imagine how Mister and Missus Anderson will feel reading it and nothing sounds good enough. Could you help me? Maybe give me some advice that’s un-muddled by Human emotions.”

“What do you have so far?”

Bulloch lifted the PADD up and read. “Dear Mister and Missus Anderson.” He set the PADD down. “I’m kind of stuck after that.”

“This war took my son. It was… difficult.” He contemplated his response for a moment. “Possibly against logic, I find myself wondering what my son was doing the day before he died and what he would have done the day after, had he survived. Before he joined Starfleet, I was familiar with his daily routine and his daily accomplishments, as I am sure that Crewman Anderson’s parents were similarly knowledgeable of their son’s life. However, once they leave home, that familiarity with their lives wanes. Mister and Missus Anderson knew who their son was when he left them. My advice is to let them know who their son was when he met his end.”


* * * *

 

“Come,” Ra-Gorvalei said, answering the door chimes.

“You wanted to see me, sir?,” Jared asked, straightening to a position of attention as his XO’s manner seemed to demand.

“Why are you still aboard my ship, Ensign Parker?” The Efrosian didn’t look up from his computer console.

“Sir?”

This time Ra-Gorvalei put the PADD down and looked directly into his eyes. “Commander Ellering told me that he offered you the helm of the Pegasus. So, why are you still here?”

“I was under the impression that the choice to stay or to go was mine, sir.”

“So you’ve chosen to stay?”

Unconsciously, Jared’s eyes looked away when he answered. “I haven’t chosen, sir.”

“Commander Ellering doesn’t have time to wait, Ensign. The Pegasus will be underway in less than a week.”

“A week?” Jared was surprised. “It has a hole in its saucer.”

“It’s getting a new one. The stardrive section of the USS Valhalla was destroyed two weeks ago in the Typhon Sector. Its saucer section was able to accomplish an emergency separation and save some of the crew. The crew and the saucer will join the stardrive section of the Pegasus. Commander Ellering needs an answer, and I need to know if I should start looking for a new pilot.”

“If I may, sir, what would you choose?”

“What I wanted most,” Ra-Gorvalei replied without hesitation. “You probably already know what it is. Don’t worry about who you’ll disappoint or what you think others want. This is your career, and your decision.”

“What I want is to make a difference.”

“That you can do anywhere,” Ra-Gorvalei said. “It just comes down to what type of difference you want to make.”


* * * *


“You’re not going to hold me here now, are you?,” Chief Shaw asked as he hopped up onto the examination table. He had insisted that he could find the starbase’s sickbay on his own. However, the pretty young doctor had insisted on leading him there.

“I hear you found your way to Engineering and fixed the ship during the battle. I think, even if I tried to keep you here, you’d find a way to sneak off.” Krissy tried to sound upbeat but failed.

“You sound like you have the weight of the Galaxy on your shoulders, little darling.”

“It’s been a long day.” They were both silent as Krissy examined the Chief’s eyes with her equipment. “My fiance’s funeral was today,” she finally said when the silence became too much to bear.

“I know,” Shaw replied. “I figured you probably heard enough condolences for one day. Sometimes, people just don’t know when to shut up and let you feel sorry for yourself.”

“But being alone is just as painful.”

“Like your whole world went dark and nobody is there to let the light back in again.”

“Oh, my God, Chief. I’m so sorry that I wasn’t able to get you the Ketracel White in time.”

Shaw dismissed the apology with a wave of his hand. “You don’t owe me an apology. You tried, and almost got your pretty little head killed over it. Sometimes we lose things that we think we can’t live without. That’s life. And you get to feel sorry for yourself, and you get to be alone and ask, ‘Why me?’ Then you realize that this is happening and this is the way that it’s going to be.”

“And what do you do then?” Krissy didn’t know if they were talking about eyesight, Jacob, or someone else.

“Whatever you can. Whatever gets you through the day. You lost this thing, and you never imagined living without it, but it’s gone and you’re not dead. So you can do what you can. I’m getting those implants. Starfleet is getting their twenty years from me whether they like it or not.”


* * * *


Jared Parker made sure to turn the socks right side out before he shoved them into the duffle bag. Behind him, the door swooshed open as his roommate entered.

“Going already, Jared? You know we’ll have quarters in a couple of hours,” Shane Bulloch said.

“I know. I just want to be ready to go.” He shoved the last of his clothes into the duffle and zipped it up. “Done. How’s your letter coming?”

“Done,” Bulloch said, holding up his PADD. “Did you talk to her yet?”

Jared huffed in frustration. “And say what? I told her that Jacob was alive when she thought that he was dead. Then I took that away from her, less than an hour later. I couldn’t even tell her that he was really dead. She read it from the stupid look on my face. You tell me how I can help her. How can I do anything but be a constant reminder of the second time that she lost the love of her life.”

Bulloch spoke softly. “You know why you told her that Jacob was alive, and you know the reason that she was able to read your face like a book? It’s because you’re her friend.”

“And I want to be more than that,” Jared said, raising his voice. “How do I stand there and tell her that I’m sorry her fiance died when part of me always wishes that he wasn’t around? I mean, we’re back here. We’re safe, and I can’t help but wish that I was back on the raft in the middle of some unnamed planet’s ocean.”

The understanding left Bulloch’s voice. “You seem to be feeling pretty sorry for yourself. Especially for someone that’s been asked to perform his dream job, helmsman of a starship.”

“His job, Bull.”

“So what? You’ve been handed everything you wanted. Krissy has had everything snatched away. If you really cared about her, you would stand by her now.”

Jared looked away and shook his head. “Why do you care so much?”

Bulloch sighed. “Because I’m watching a friend in agony as they realize their life isn’t turning out the way that they thought it would.”

“Then you go talk to her.”

“I wasn’t talking about her.”


* * * *


“Dominic!”

A smile stretched across Admiral Ross’ face as he walked out from behind his desk to greet his old friend.

“Hello, Bill,” Kingsley said, shaking the admiral’s hand. “Next time that you need a favor, the answer is no.”

Ross laughed. “At least, I was right to ask. You did a hell of a job out there. Every after action report that’s come across my desk has ended in retreat or defeat until the Samaritan came home.” He patted him on the shoulder. “That color suits you.”

Unconsciously, Kingsley adjusted the red collar of his uniform. “My blue eyes were dirty,” he joked,” and somewhat inappropriate for the captain of a Starfleet vessel.”

“I’ve signed both requests that you submitted with your report.” Ross sat down again and shuffled through a stack of PADDs until he found the two that he wanted. “Be sure to extend my congratulations to the awardees and your entire crew.”

“I will.” Kingsley took a deep breath. “Did you get to read the revisions to the after action report that I sent you?”

The smile faded from Ross’ face. He leaned back in his chair and clasped his hands on the desk in front of him. “I did. It was a surprise. Especially after I had just finished drafting this letter.” He handed a Padd to Kingsley.

“This is a promotion letter to the rank of Commander,” Kingsley said, reading the PADD before he handed it back. “My association with the Maquis is still a crime, and I’m prepared to accept the consequences of my actions.”

“I lost over ninety ships in a single engagement, last week. I also lost the experience of their commanding officers. I can’t afford to lose any more. Luckily, I’m a Starfleet admiral during a time of war, and I have wide discretionary powers in matters of discipline.” Ross stood. “Commander Kingsley, you are hereby demoted back to Lieutenant Commander, but in consideration of your recent meritorious service, you will retain command of the USS Samaritan.”

“Thank you, Bill.”

“Just don’t do it again,” Ross replied, smiling once again.

“No need to fear that,” Kingsley said, returning the smile. “Now, have you been able to get any information on the Nelvian named Eskol or the man named Sloan?”

The admiral shook his head. “Starfleet Intelligence says that they’ve never heard about either of them. We’ve received a few unsubstantiated reports of the Dominion disguising their ships to appear to be Starfleet.”

“If that was a Dominion ship that abducted us, why weren’t reinforcements sent when we escaped? Not to mention the holographic simulation that they put us in was a simulation of a Dominion ship. It doesn’t make sense.”

“It is baffling,” Ross agreed. “And I found out one more piece of information that makes this all a little more confusing. We can’t find any records of a race called Nelvian or any variation. We can’t even find a race matching the medical scans that your Doctor Flores provided. We did discover that Nelvian is a word in one of the languages of the Dominion.”

“What does it mean?”

“Shamed one.”


* * * *


The runabout Phlox had been moved to the starbase for repairs and the runabout McCoy was still resting on the surface of some unnamed planet, but the shuttle bay of the USS Samaritan was surprisingly full. As directed, the crew was there and they were joined by former patients, some marines, and of course, the Klingons. They were all facing towards where the shuttle bay door would have been, if it hadn’t been opened, and the force field provided a view of the massive starbase floating in space as a backdrop to their proceedings.

The space echoed with applause as Kingsley pinned the new pips on Bulloch’s gold collar. “Congratulations, Lieutenant Junior Grade Bulloch,” the CO said when he was done. Bulloch shook his hand before rejoining the crew.

When the applause died down, Kingsley addressed the audience. “Lieutenant Bulloch was scheduled for regular promotion in three months but his superb performance of his duties and demonstration of leadership these past weeks have proven that this promotion was long overdue.” Another round of clapping and cheers filled the bay. “Now, Ensign Jared Parker, front and center.”

Jared was surprised to hear his name being called. He shuffled out of the formation and walked towards Kingsley. Ra-Gorvalei was handing the skipper a small box before the XO took position, a few meters away, came to attention and raised a PADD so he could read from it.

“Attention to citation,” Ra-Gorvalei commanded when Jared was in front of the CO. The Starfleet personnel immediately came to attention. The civilian doctors imitated the posture, a moment later.

The Efrosian continued. “For heroism and extraordinary achievement in spatial flight as Helm Officer of the USS Samaritan, in action against enemy Dominion forces in the vicinity of the Badlands. Assuming the helm of USS Samaritan, Ensign Parker skilly navigated the intense plasma storms of the Badlands. Although the USS Samaritan was heavily damaged, Ensign Parker outmaneuvered two pursuing Jem’Hadar assault ships, resulting in their destruction. His courage and devotion to duty were in keeping with the highest traditions of the United Federation of Planets’ Starfleet. I am proud to confer onto Ensign Jared Parker, the Starfleet Distinguished Flying Cross. Signed; Admiral William Ross.”

The cheers and applause were deafening as Kingsley took the medal out of the small box and pinned it on Jared’s uniform. Then they descended on him, patting him on the back and shaking his hand. Eventually, he found himself standing face-to-face with Ra-Gorvalei.

“I understand that you’ve made your decision,” the Efrosian said.

Jared nodded. “I’m meeting Commander Ellering in an hour.”

Ra-Gorvalei extended his hand. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you, sir,” Jared said, shaking his hand. “I know that Commander Kingsley isn’t an expert on Starfleet tradition so, thank you very much, sir.”

“Don’t thank you, Mister Parker.” Ra-Gorvalei gestured towards another officer. “Thank Mister Burns. He recommended you for the award.”

Jared was patted on the back by a couple of engineering technicians and nurses as he walked over to the operations officer. “I really don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t need to say anything,” Burns said. “As your superior officer, it’s my duty to praise you when it’s appropriate.”

“All the same, I appreciate it. Thanks, Carson.”

Burns smiled. “You’re welcome, Jared.”

Their words were almost lost as Captain Bregath’s voice boomed across the bay. He sang in Klingon,” quv Daq Hom ‘Iv tob Daq taH HoS!” His men quickly joined in.

Everyone in the shuttle bay looked towards the unlikely choir as they sang. Everyone except Jared. He looked to the back of the crowd where, standing alone, was Krissy. Their eyes locked. The Klingon song seemed to face away, and for a moment, she felt as if they were the only ones in the room.

Crewman Mazik patted Jared on the back and offered his congratulations. When he looked back, he saw Krissy walking away.


* * * *


“Well, it seems very uplifting,” Kingsley said to Ra-Gorvalei. “I wonder what it’s about.”

“Us,” Ra-Gorvalei replied, handing a PADD to him. “Captain Bregath wrote it shortly after we first parted ways.”

Kingsley read the translation.


Honored are the weak,

Who prove to be the strong

Honored is the Night Bird

Hear her valiant song


The Night Bird who swooped down from heaven just to save her own



Who protected them in the days of storm, far, far from home



Who gave her blood to defeat the beasts that pursued her through the sky

Who invited the beast in one night, so it may hear her battle cry


The Night Bird bruised and broken


The Night Bird barely alive


Joined us warriors in battle


So that we may survive



Night Bird, be our brother


Night Bird, be our friend


Night Bird, know your victory


No matter what your end is.


* * * *


Jared took the long way to the transporter, walking all the way aft from his quarters so he could pass through the shuttle bay before he left. He wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was because it was where he watched the Pegasus leave him, two weeks earlier.

Maybe it was because he wasn’t ready to do what he was about to do. Or maybe he just liked the shuttle bay. He was alone and his steps produced a metallic echo as he strolled across the deck. The shuttle bay door had been left open, and the silence of the bay was a stark contrast to the bustling activity of the starships surrounding Starbase 375.

After a moment, Jare shifted the duffle bag on his shoulder and turned towards the door to Sickbay. The large doors opened after they sensed his presence and pulled back to allow him access to the center of the Samaritan. Like the shuttle bay, Sickbay was empty except for one person. Flores looked up to the door, startled at its opening

“Hi,” she said.

“Hey,” he replied, mad at the need to turn and walk away that he felt in his stomach.

“You’re leaving now?”

Jared nodded. “I have to meet with Commander Ellering.”

“I saw you at the funeral.” She felt sorry for the words immediately, and she didn’t know why. “I’m glad that you came. It meant a lot.”

“Yeah, well, I wanted to say… you know.” He didn’t know how to finish the sentence. ‘I’m sorry that your fiance is dead,’ just seemed hollow and hurtful.

“I know. Thank you.”

“I saw you at the awards ceremony.”

“I would have…” She trailed off. “There were just so many people.”

“I know.” And the awkward words failed them and they stared at each other in silence.

It was Jared who finally looked away and said,” So, are you staying aboard? Or are you going home?”

She sighed and looked at the floor. “You know that I can’t go home. Anywhere that I go, I’ll be an outsider.” She looked into his caring eyes. “Every time that I ask myself where I want to go, I can’t help but think about when we were on that raft. I don’t know why I think about it.”

“I do,” Jared said quietly.

A small smile crept across Krissy’s lips. “I guess I do too.” Her smile faded, and her expression became more mournful again. “I don’t want you to go, Jared. There’s no one where… I just wish you would stay.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Krissy.”

“What? I thought you were reporting to the Pegasus.”

“Yes, but only to tell Commander Ellering that I’m staying aboard the Samaritan.”

She looked at the duffle over his shoulder. “But your bag…”

“Dirty clothes,” he said, smiling gently. “Bull turned off the laundry. I was going to run a load on the starbase while I talked to Ellering.”

“Jared, I…” She threw his arms around him.

He froze up with surprise but after a moment as he felt the warmth of her body sneak into his, he hugged her back. They held their embrace for a long time. When they finally let go of each other, they both turned away, not sure where to go from there. They stared out the open door of the shuttle bay and watched the ships slowly orbit the starbase. When the Pegasus wandered into view, Krissy looked back at Jared.

“You’re giving up your dream to pilot a ship like that.”

“No, I’m not,” Jared said, looking at the massive starship. “Because here, on this ship, I make a difference.”



The End.

 

Nice wrap up! I particularly liked the klingon song. Neat camouflage on the Jared storyline. And a good moral coming from Shaw. Also liked Kingsley facing the music.

It did seem that Ra-Gorvalei deserved a commendation considering his early actions saved the ship and gave Kingsley the time he needed to grow into his role - as well as some mentoring and role-modeling.

Top notch story! Thanks!! rbs

 

Finally fully caught up with this.

With Samaritan, you delivered yet another nail-biting tale full of highs and devastating lows for a truly diverse group of characters. The lows here were particularly painful for Doc Krissy. You really put her through an emotional wringer in this high-octane adventure.

I liked the ending. Jared's decision to stick around didn't surprise me after everything he'd been through but the misdirect was still nicely played.

Also enjoyed the way you resisted the temptation to wrap everything up nicely in the end. Instead, a few major mysteries remain. That might actually be even more satisfying than the alternative.