There is a certain deep focus that the lighting the bridge takes on during Red Alerts brings to the command staff assigned to it.
This wasn’t the crew’s first fight in the Dominion War. Far from it. But Starfleet and its allies hoped like hell it would be the last. As the mixed fleet bore down on the Cardassian Homeworld, Commander Tanar Laron stared at the viewscreen, watching as the planet– and the ships defending it– expanded on the screen.
She was an anomaly in more ways than one for Starfleet. Bajorans weren’t exactly plentiful among Starfleet’s ranks for a myriad of reasons; and as far as she knew she was the only Bajoran in the fleet… for that matter the only person in the fleet… with Cardassian blood, the proof of which was undeniable: the grayish tinge to her skin, the faint neck and forehead ridges that paired jarringly with the ones on her nose. But whatever taint of appearance some bastard occupier had cruelly granted to her father and then her to her, she had never once thought of these people as anything less than the enemy. Certainly not her people. Not once. Not ever.
Absently, she reached up and tugged lightly at the d’ja pagh on her ear as she pulled up the tactical overlay on the side panel of the First Officer’s chair where she sat on the Dionysus. “This is going to get ugly, Captain,” she said dryly. She realized those were the first words that had been uttered on the bridge since they dropped out of warp.
“Quite!” Captain Ben-At Shuro, a Bolian, and a highly decorated and well-regarded Starfleet commander, replied with some levity and a boyish grin.
A couple of the other members of the bridge crew chuckled, despite themselves. Captain Shuro had a way of setting his crew at ease, even in the darkest of times. Tanar almost envied that in him. Her own expression was still stoney as she regarded the battlefield. The brief pat of the Captain’s blue hand on her shoulder snapped her attention away.
“Don’t worry, Laron,” Captain Shuro grinned. “Second best ship and crew in the ‘fleet here. We may not be the Enterprise– but we’ve given the Dominion a run for their money before, and we’ll do it again and again until they get the message.”
* * *
In a battle like this, minutes could feel like hours, hours like minutes. The Dionysus rocked as it took another hit.
“Shield Status, Mr. Korith,” Captain Shuro asked as he leaned forward slightly in the command chair.
“Shields at 57%,” the officer at Tactical responded. Then his eyes widened. “Captain, incoming tor–”
There was noise. There was fire. Then there was nothing but silence and darkness.
* * *
Beep. Beep. Beep.
Commander Tanar groaned softly as she pushed herself up in her seat. The bridge was dark, save for a few flickering lights on some panels. There was a chunk of deuterium crossbeam half-pinning her to her chair, and for once she was grateful for her diminutive build as she realized she could wriggle out with some effort. The left side of her body: face, shoulder, and arm… were covered in something viscous and sticky.
Wriggling out underneath the beam and rolling onto the floor in front of the command seats, Tanar coughed, then demanded, “Status Report.”
As she looked up at the viewscreen, her breath caught. The stars, the planet ahead, the dance of ships and the bright slash of phaser fire, all marred with the occasional flicker of green and blue, as if the screen was shorting out.
Except it wasn’t a screen at all. Conn and Operations were gone. The bridge stood open to the space, only protected by a clearly failing forcefield.
Lieutenant Leonis. Lieutenant Commander Korith. They would have been ripped out of the bridge with their stations. She turned around to face the rear of the bridge, and realized what the stickiness on her left side was as she saw what was left of the Captain, half impaled, half crushed by the same crossbeam that had pinned her in place– and likely saved them both from being blown out into space before the field went up. Lieutenant Commander Banner was nowhere to be seen, but her empty seat was spared the fallen beam.
A cough from behind the beam, and then a weak voice responded to her query, which felt like she had asked it years ago. “Hull breaches on decks 1, 2, 3, 6, 7–” another cough, “10 and 11, Commander. Shields are down, tactical offline, helm offline…” Lieutenant Holmes.
A second voice added, “Sensors also offline.” Lieutenant Commander Korvak. The Vulcan’s calm voice gave Tanar a moment of relief. “Containment field on the bridge looks to be failing as well.”
“Jia’kaja…” Tanar reflexively began to mutter a prayer before stopping herself. Ignoring the sharp pain shooting down her hip and thigh, she moved up to the upper portion of the bridge. “Captain Shuro is dead,” she heard herself say. “The others are gone.”
The Science officer, a human woman, gasped softly, though the Vulcan engineer simply nodded at her once. “Understood. Orders, Commander?”
Tanar took in the two other surviving members of the bridge crew, forcing aside the voice in the back of her head naming the four officers that had been in the conn room off the front side of the bridge. Time to grieve later. Korvak clearly had a broken leg, though Holmes seemed little worse for wear in the dim light. Bruised, of course, but nothing serious. “Lieutenant Holmes, please escort Mr. Korvak to medical and then meet me in the Auxiliary bridge. I’ll lock things down here and then seal off the bridge.”
“Commander, I am capable of assisting you with this as well as–” Korvak began.
Tanar cut him off. “Korvak, you have a bone visibly sticking out of your leg. Get to sickbay.”
Holmes moved to position herself to help escort the engineer. “The main stairwell is–”
“I know. Use the turbolift. Korvak, use that big Vulcan brain of yours to make it happen.”
The Vulcan frowned. “If we take the lift, with the stairwell unavailable, how will you get to Deck 7?”
Tanar gave him a look. “I’ll figure it out.”
The Vulcan looked for a moment as if he might argue, but then the containment field crackled again. “Understood. Live long and prosper, Commander.”
“Prophets guide your path,” she replied, already turning towards one of the few panels that were still working. She tapped her communicator. “Bridge to Engineering.”
“Oh, thank the Gods,” a young man’s voice responded. “Is everyone all right up there? We’re trying to patch these hull breaches, but–”
“Where is Commander Charkum?” Tanar asked.
The Lieutenant… some Terran boy that Tanar hadn’t gotten to know at all, responded in a burble of words that practically tripped over themselves. “He’s been hurt bad. We’ve tended to him as best we can but the hull breaches between here and–”
“Understood, Lieutenant. The Captain is dead, which means we’re both getting field promotions today,” she said dryly. “So I need you to act like a Chief Engineer. Talk to me.” She continued to reroute the bridge controls manually to the auxiliary bridge as she spoke to the younger officer, hoping the weight of responsibility would calm him down.
That seemed to work. “Life support is functioning, but unsure for how long. Multiple hull breaches. Transporters are entirely offline. Shields down, weapons down. Honestly Cap– Commander– the ship’s being held together with structural integrity fields and prayer.” He took a deep breath. “The good news is, we probably aren’t much of a target anymore!”
“I’ll take it.” The last of the controls moved, Tanar moved towards the turbolift doors, overriding them to force them open despite not having a lift present. She swung over towards the inset ladder, then punched a command into the keypad to reseal the doors. “If you could be so kind as to seal the bulkheads on Deck One?” she requested as she began to climb down the darkened shaft.
“Oh, uh, yes. On it right away.” A beat, and Tanar could hear the click and hiss above her. “Done. So now–”
“Life support, thrusters, and keeping my ship from coming apart at the seams, Lieutenant. Those are your priorities. If you need anything, contact me at once. Tanar out.”
* * *
The long climb in the silent darkness, and all she could see were the faces of the crew. She counted the decks as she passed them, until her feet landed on the roof of the turbolift. She ran her hands over it until she found the latch, then dropped into the lift, wincing as she landed on the floor less than gracefully. She caught herself against the wall of the lift instead of falling to the ground. Opening the door to the hall, she quickly moved left towards the door to the new bridge, and entered.
“Status report,” she commanded as she strolled in. Holmes was there, sickbay was on the other side of the lift on the same deck, after all. There were others as well, many with less experience than Tanar was used to, but that didn’t matter now. She listened to the reports without hearing, responded without thinking. Repair this, check that, use this to manage that. The crew jumped to her orders. She realized what she must look like, a crazed woman splattered in blue ichor, coldly demanding their fealty.
She didn’t have time to think about it. “On screen,” she finished her latest command. The bridge screen shifted from the forward view of the ship to a tactical view of the battlefield.
“Commander, this is Lieutenant Smythe in Engineering.”
“Go ahead.”
“Sensors back online. The Structural Integrity field is stable. Thrusters back at 85%, and we have limited impulse.”
“Weapons?”
“Sorry, no can do, Commander. Primary phaser array is completely shot, and the secondary is in vacuum.”
Commander Tanar sighed, settling back into the Captain’s chair. She stared at the battlefield, watching the ships dance among the stars around Cardassia Prime. A thought occurred to her. “Limited impulse?”
“Ah, yes. Enough for a short burst.”
“I see. Keep up the good work. Let me know if anything changes. Bridge out.” She drummed her fingers on the arm of the seat. “Ensign… Monare?” she queried the young man sitting at the conn.
“Aye, Captain?” he responded. She didn’t correct him. Did she need to? She didn’t know, and it didn’t matter.
“Show me a course through the thick of the combat zone, as quickly as we can currently manage,” she began, “and then show me one that circumvents it, at a moderate speed.”
Monare tilted his head. “Um… to where, exactly, Captain?”
No weapons. The ship was barely holding itself together. Returning to the fight, the only way they could, would mean using the ship itself as a weapon. Tanar considered it, staring at the viewscreen icily, mentally calculating the amount of damage that the Dionysus would do to the capitol city if she was brought down on their heads–
–no. She cleared her throat, and looked around at her bridge crew. In the red light of the auxiliary bridge, they looked haggard. Exhausted. Many of them clearly injured. And yet somehow still…
Hopeful.
Tanar shook herself mentally. She couldn’t do this, no matter how much everything inside her was screaming for vengeance in the only way she could grant it. “Our original point of entry into the system,” she replied quietly.
The conn officer tapped on his console for a few moments, then a pair of lines, one red, one blue, appeared on the main viewscreen overlaying the field of battle. “There we are, sir.”
“Is our tractor beam working?” she asked towards operations.
“Aye, though I don’t think it’ll stand up to anything too heavy.” The young Betazoid at operations replied.
She chewed on her lower lip, then spat at the taste. “Can it grab life pods?”
Several members of the crew brightened as they began to connect the dots.
“Aye, those aren’t too much.”
Tanar leaned back in her seat. “Mr. Monare, plot a course to give our tactical the best chance at grabbing as many pods as we can. We may be out of this fight, but the wraiths will take us before we let those ketracel-huffing bastards snuff out our people like so many duranja lamps.”
“Aye aye, Captain! Commander! Sir!” A small buzz immediately popped up as the crew began discussing and working to make her commands a reality.
“Do it.” She closed her eyes.
* * *
Weeks Later
Starfleet Command, San Francisco, California, Earth
“–they’re giving me a what?” Captain Tanar practically spat the question out, rubbing the fresh pips on her collar.
“Akira Class. The Forger. Not quite out of dry dock yet,” Admiral Park replied calmly. “You’ll be able to do all your paperwork from Utopia Planitia while you wait on the ship to be ready.”
She leaned back in the chair across from Park’s desk. His office was a lot larger and brighter than his ready room had been back on the Sherman, but other than that, not much had changed. He still sat calm and collected in his chair while she slumped back in hers. The difference was she wasn’t venting about security concerns to her captain anymore. “A brand new ship. And a promotion.”
“Technically, they were only confirming your field promotion,” Park pointed out.
Tanar grumbled. “I don’t belong in the big chair, Ca– Admiral. And you know it.”
“Do I?” Park lifted a brow.
She scoffed. “You look like Talbert when you do that, you know.”
Park laughed. So did she. But afterwards, the Admiral looked serious. “I made sure you got this ship. And I wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t know you belonged there.”
Tanar sighed. “I’m not–” she was interrupted by the door chiming.
Park pushed a button, allowing the office door to slide open. An older woman in science teal strode in, carrying a bottle of Calaman Sherry and a trio of glasses. “Laron. Andrew.”
Tanar rose to her feet, smiling. “Dr. Maka.”
“I’m pretty sure you can call me Chumani now,” the doctor said, placing the bottle and glasses on the desk. “Andrew told me you got a promotion, so I’m here to congratulate you.”
Tanar laughed, and glanced toward the Admiral. “What’s the catch, Maka?”
Park smiled. “None. As a matter of fact, I convinced Chumani to take the position of Chief Medical Officer on the Forger with you, Captain.”
Tanar blinked. Dr. Maka poured three glasses, and handed one each to Park and Tanar before taking the last for herself. “I haven’t said yes yet,” she pointed out. “I could retire. I’ve been talking about retiring for the last two years.”
Park snorted, taking a sip of the sherry. “You’re too much like me, Chumani. You’ll retire when you’re dead.”
Tanar shook her head. “That’s the truth. If Starfleet is going to be stupid enough to give me my own ship, though, I can’t think of a better doctor to have with me.”
Maka gave Tanar a withering look. “Do you really think they made a mistake promoting you?”
The three of them sat in silence for a moment, before Tanar replied seriously, “Yes, actually.”
Park frowned. “Why?”
“Because I’m not suited for the big chair, Andrew. They should be throwing me in a brig, not giving me a promotion.”
“Why would you say that?” asked Chumani with a curious glance.
Tanar sighed. “I was this close,” she holds up two fingers, “to throwing the Dionysus at the planet. This. Close. That would have killed everyone on board, wasted a ship, and for what? A few moments of triumph and a lot of dead Cardassians?”
“But you didn’t.” Park drained his glass.
“No, instead I took the coward’s way out and retreated.”
Park shook his head. “You had barely any shields, no functional weapons, and the Dionysus had so many holes in it that it didn’t even make it to Utopia Planitia on its own yet– it’ll be another month at least before what’s left of it is towed in to be dismantled.” When Tanar opened her mouth to protest, he held up a finger to stop her. “Instead, you saved the surviving members of your crew, as well as picking up enough escape pods from the battle that you received a Special Commendation for it–”
“–that’s another thing I shouldn’t have–”
Park cleared his throat to counter-interrupt her. “–including three Romulans, one being a Senator’s SON, and a half dozen Klingons–”
“–I–”
“AND,” Park continued, “every surviving member of the Dionysus crew has been singing your praises for your level head and–”
“I WASN’T!” Tanar exploded. “I wasn’t level headed at all! I was on the verge of panic! I was wearing Captain Shuro all over me, and the only reason I was able to pretend to keep it together is because I knew if I completely lost it in front of the crew then we’d–”
Maka snorted a laugh. “So, you were a captain on a Starfleet ship in the middle of a crisis.”
Park pointed to Maka. “Exactly so. Whatever you felt in the moment, Laron, what you projected to your crew was calm competence. And in doing so, you saved many lives on a day so many others were lost. You deserve the extra pip. And this ship. I expect you’ll manage.”
Tanar stared at both of them, then drained her glass. “Don’t have much of a choice, do I?”
“Not really,” Maka shrugged.
“Then you’re definitely stuck on my ship, Chumani.”
“I told you, I’m thinking of retiring.”
“Tolivel.” Tanar stood up. “Retirement would be boring.” She straightened her uniform. “On that note, I have another, more irritating appointment with Intelligence I need to head to. It was good to see you both.”
And two days later, she left for Utopia Planitia…