Come on, you big green son of a …

He felt cool air on his sweat-dampened skin at the same instant his feet all but tripped over the raised threshold of what he knew was the docking port’s pressure hatch. T’Prynn guided him through the entryway, and Reyes looked down to see the familiar gleam of polished duranium deck plating. How long had it been since he had last set foot on the station? How long had he stared at it from one of the Omari-Ekon’s viewing ports?

“Watch out!” he warned, feeling his heart race at the sight of Ganz and at least a dozen followers—only some of whom were Orion—turning the corner in the passageway leading back to the merchant vessel. He felt T’Prynn starting to turn in that direction even as she kept carrying him farther into the station’s service corridor, and her motion allowed him to raise the disruptor in his left hand.

“Reyes!” Ganz bellowed, his face a mask of unrestrained fury. The Orion, rather than stopping at the threshold separating his ship from the station, seemed to have no intention of giving up the chase. Less than ten meters away and still pressing ahead toward the hatchway, he raised the disruptor pistol in his massive green hand and aimed it at Reyes’s face.

Then, everything dissolved into chaos.

Phaser fire pierced the air all around him as Reyes felt himself pulled downward. Streaks of blue-white light flashed over his head, interspersed with the deep howls emitted by disruptor pistols coming from the other direction. T’Prynn lowered him to the deck before scrambling to return fire, though her efforts seemed not to be needed, as Reyes caught sight of at least half a dozen men and women in Starfleet uniforms. He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up into the face of a male Andorian officer he at first did not recognize. Then he realized that this must be Commander ch’Nayla, T’Prynn’s replacement as the station’s intelligence officer.

“Mister Reyes,” he said, adjusting his hold on Reyes so that he might help him move out of the line of fire, “come with me.”

Feeling a fresh twinge of pain in his thigh, Reyes allowed himself to be maneuvered backward by the Andorian even as T’Prynn and other station personnel retreated to positions of nominal cover at the first corridor intersection leading into the station. The Orions appeared to outnumber the Starfleet security detachment and were using their advantage to press their attack, moving forward while laying down a vicious string of covering fire. For his part, Ganz had taken momentary refuge behind the entrance to the docking gangway, leaning out every few seconds to take a shot with his own disruptor.

“Is he out of his mind?” Reyes asked of no one in particular as he shifted his weight off his injured thigh and leaned against the bulkhead for support.

Ch’Nayla, leaning into the corridor to return fire, replied, “It certainly seems that way.”

A shadow fell across the deck plating near Reyes and he turned to see Tim Pennington standing behind him, wielding the portable audiovisual recorder he had seen the man use on several occasions.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Reyes asked.

Appearing slightly out of breath, Pennington offered a knowing grin. “Right place at the wrong time. Story of my life, mate.”

“Mister Pennington,” T’Prynn said from Reyes’s right. “I should have known you would somehow find your way here.”

“Nice to see you, too, Lieutenant,” Pennington replied, before jerking himself back as a disruptor blast tore into the bulkhead behind him.

Another bolt of weapons fire screamed past, much too close, and Reyes recoiled as it struck ch’Nayla where he knelt next to the bulkhead while trying to return fire. Hit in the chest, he was knocked backward and off his feet, collapsing on the deck. One of his teammates rushed to pull him back to cover even as more disruptor bolts filled the narrow passageway.

“Damn it!” Reyes shouted above the din. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this!” Looking to where the security guard—Reyes did not recognize the young ensign—knelt over ch’Nayla, he asked, “Is he all right?”

The ensign shook his head, ducking as more weapons fire sailed overhead. “No, sir. He’s dead.”

From where he stood next to Reyes, trying to lean forward with his recorder in order to capture the firefight, Pennington said, “What the … is that Ganz?”

Angling for a better view, Reyes leaned around the corner to see the muscled Orion advancing from the relative safety of the docking port, his disruptor held up and firing at any target that presented itself. He seemed not to care about the hailstorm of phaser fire hunting him and his men, some of whom were falling victim to the hasty defense being staged by the Starfleet security force.

T’Prynn turned her head toward the journalist, gesturing with her free hand for him to stay behind her. “Mister Pennington, you are in the way. Please—”

“Look out!” the reporter shouted, reaching forward and grabbing the Vulcan’s extended arm and pulling her toward him just as a disruptor bolt slammed into the wall next to her head. Pennington’s movements sent her past him and back around the corner, making him pivot to his left as his momentum carried her after him, and Reyes heard another report as energy once more howled in the corridor. He heard the impact of the shot against soft flesh at the same instant Pennington cried out, the force of the shot sending him tumbling forward into T’Prynn. Something metal or plastic clattered on the deck, and Reyes looked down to see Pennington’s recorder where it had fallen from the journalist’s grip.

Then he cringed again when new weapons fire blasted away a chunk of the bulkhead to his right. He looked up to see Ganz firing at him from the other end of the short passageway. Some of his men lay unmoving on the deck behind him, and still others were running for the docking port and supposed safety aboard the Omari-Ekon, but Ganz was standing his ground. The expression on his face made Reyes wonder if the Orion had taken actual leave of his senses.

Then their eyes met, and any lingering skepticism vanished as Ganz released an enraged snarl and stepped into the corridor, moving forward with menacing purpose. “I’ve been waiting a long time to do this, Reyes,” he said, bringing up his weapon to take aim.

“Me, too,” Reyes replied, pulling his own disruptor into view and firing the instant he could sight down its length and see nothing but the Orion’s face. The energy bolt, discharged at the weapon’s highest setting from a distance of less than twenty meters, took Ganz’s head and most of his torso on its way into the wall behind him. Soft, bloody shrapnel painted the bulkhead around the point of impact, and what little remained of his body lingered upright for an additional few seconds. It then fell backward, dropping to the floor with a sickening, heavy thud.

Seconds later, Lieutenant Jackson and two of his security officers rushed forward, covering the other fallen Orions and verifying that no threats remained. Jackson was speaking into a communicator, and Reyes heard something about reinforcements, sealing off access to the Omari-Ekon, and requesting an emergency medical team for the injured personnel. Hearing that, Reyes turned to where T’Prynn was huddling over Pennington, who lay unconscious on the deck with a ghastly wound covering most of his right arm and shoulder.

“T’Prynn,” he said, “is he all right?”

The Vulcan shook her head, and Reyes thought he heard the note of concern in her voice. “I do not know.”

Sagging until his back rested against the bulkhead, Reyes allowed himself to slide to a sitting position on the deck. He bit back the pain from his own injury, at the same time allowing the first wave of relief to wash over him. After his long exile with the Klingons and the Orions, he was free, at least in a relative sense. There was no way to know what might next be in store for him, but at the moment he did not care.