“The central Jefferies tube,” he said, hefting his own ponderous toolbox. Realizing he would likely dislocate his shoulder before he made it more than a few steps out of the room, he put it back down and rooted around inside for the two items he knew he would need. “We’re shunting power mains one and three into the tactical grid.”

Ford shot him a worried glance. “One and three, sir?”

“ ’Sright,” he said, plucking a dynospanner from the box.

Anderson piped up, “But that’ll shut off life-support.”

“Very good, Ensign,” Judge said. Digging to the bottom of the cluttered case, he found his plasma cutter.

“Sir, without life-support we’ll have less than ten hours of breathable air, and—” The deck lurched as a rough hit battered the ship. The trio landed hard on the floor.

Judge glared at the young enlisted woman. “Ten hours? Try ten minutes. Think short-term, Ford, or you won’t have a long term. Grab your tools and let’s go.”

Orders and reports and the chaos of discharged phasers raged around Oriana D’Amato, who was grateful that all she had to do was fly the ship. Captain Gannon was behind her, issuing commands from the center seat. Beside her, Berry was serving as tactical officer, struggling to keep up with overlapping instructions from Gannon and Commander Milonakis.

Gannon’s voice snapped, “Evasive, starboard!”

D’Amato accelerated into a looping corkscrew maneuver that almost overwhelmed the inertial dampeners. No matter which way she went, one of the six Tholian cruisers appeared in her path, or another volley of Tholian ordnance cut her off. She had been mostly successful at evading the enemy’s attacks, but the hits they had scored had proved to be substantial. “I need covering fire,” she said to anyone who was listening.

The response was quick. “Target lock!” Berry said.

Milonakis answered, “Fire!”

Phaser beams slashed across a Tholian cruiser’s shields, and a pair of torpedoes knocked it off course, clearing a small gap in their encircling formation. D’Amato piloted the hobbled Bombay through the slim passage, only to note that the enemy ships were already regrouped and moving to intercept them again.

“Berry,” Gannon said, “plot a warp jump—fast.”

Tactics were not exactly D’Amato’s specialty, but she knew that the Bombay’s best move was to escape. Standing toe-to-toe with six Tholian ships was a losing proposition, and surrender wasn’t an option. Despite her limited experience with Tholians, even D’Amato knew that the reclusive aliens were said never to take prisoners. The fact that the enemy vessels were doing everything possible to block the Bombay’s retreat seemed to confirm the rumors.

Three Tholian ships streaked past the Bombay, zigzagging across its forward quarter. “They did it again,” Berry said, pounding his fists on his console full of hastily plotted warp coordinates—now blinking with warning signals. “We’re cut off.”

At the science station, ch’Shonnas bolted up from his sensor display. “Incoming!”

Milonakis grabbed the railing. “Brace for—”

It felt like the ship rammed into a brick wall. Darkness smothered the bridge. The thuds of tumbling bodies were barely audible beneath an explosive thundercrack, which tore a scream of terror from D’Amato as she was pinned against her helm console. She winced as secondary impacts shook the bridge around her. Eruptions of skin-searing fire and acrid smoke pelted her with incandescent bits of debris.

The seconds it took the emergency lighting to engage were some of the longest D’Amato had ever lived through.

Dim yellowish orange illumination faded up slowly, obscured behind a heavy curtain of thick gray smoke. Ceiling struts hung in twisted bundles, and a load-bearing cross-beam had broken free and smashed through the port-side consoles and railing. Pinned beneath it, lifeless eyes open and staring in D’Amato’s direction, was Commander Milonakis.

D’Amato turned her head in the other direction to see that she had escaped a similar fate by less than a meter; Ensign Berry, however, had not been so fortunate. He was skewered to his seat, impaled through his chest by a fallen ceiling strut. D’Amato could only hope his death had been instantaneous.

From behind her came the clatter of wreckage being kicked aside. She turned to see Captain Gannon extricating herself from her chair, which was surrounded by sparking, fallen cables. The captain looked scuffed and had a nasty laceration across her left cheek, just below the eye. The cut bled heavily, sheeting half her face with bright red blood. Without bothering to wipe it away, she stumbled forward to D’Amato. “Report.”

“We’ve lost the starboard warp nacelle, Captain,” D’Amato said. Leaning over to check Berry’s console, she added, “Shields are gone. Phasers down to quarter power.”

Gannon turned toward Nave, who was pulling herself back into her seat at communications. “Nave, did our mayday get out?”

“No, sir,” Nave said. “The Tholians are jamming us.”

“Prep the log buoy, ten-hour delay.”

“Aye, Captain.”

Lieutenant ch’Shonnas limped down the stairs from the science station. His right antenna was bent and bruised, and his slender nose now had a sharp break just below its bridge. “The Tholian ships have broken off their attack, Captain,” he said.

D’Amato swelled with irrational hope. “They’re retreating?”

“Not quite,” ch’Shonnas said. “They’ve regrouped and are bombarding Commander Singer’s outpost on Ravanar IV.”

“Onscreen,” Gannon said.

The science officer reached under Berry’s corpse and switched the main viewer image. The six vessels were now assembled in a tight grouping, firing in unison to deadly effect on the planet surface. Watching the awesome display of firepower was almost hypnotic. As horrified as D’Amato was, she was unable to make herself look away. Then a screech of metal drew her attention to ch’Shonnas, who yanked the fallen metal debris from Berry’s chest in a single pull. Free of the strut, Berry’s body fell sideways from his chair. With a look of grim sadness, ch’Shonnas dropped the blood-slicked length of duranium to the deck and sat down at the navigator’s station.

Gannon stood behind ch’Shonnas and D’Amato and watched the Tholian ships on the screen. “D’Amato, are we still mobile?”

“Barely. Impulse only, and that’s spotty.”

“Is the warp reactor still online?”

“One-quarter power only, sir.”

The captain frowned. She leaned forward and opened an intraship channel. “Bridge to Mr. Judge.”

Half out of breath, the chief engineer’s voice gasped over the intercom, “Judge here, Captain.”

“Kevin, I need power, now. Impulse, warp core, batteries—all of it.”

“The shield emitters are toast, Captain. I can have partial forward shields in six minutes if we—”

“Forget shields. All power to tactical and impulse.”

“I’m sorry? Did you say—”

“There’s no time, Kevin. Phasers and propulsion. Now.”

D’Amato was certain she heard Judge sigh in resignation.

“Yes, sir,” he said. “Give me sixty seconds. Judge out.”

The channel closed. Gannon leaned forward and rested her hands on ch’Shonnas’s and D’Amato’s shoulders. “D’Amato, plot a ramming trajectory on the lead Tholian cruiser. Whatever she does, stay with her. Shal, target weapons manually. Hit that lead cruiser with everything you can.”

Looking up at the captain, ch’Shonnas said, “Sir, the other ships will—”

“Move to intercept. Yes, I know.” Gannon patted ch’Shonnas’s shoulder. “I know. Keep your sights on the leader.”

Doubt nagged at D’Amato as she laid in the course. “Captain, if we start taking return fire, should I—”

“Hold your course.”

The captain didn’t need to say any more than that. D’Amato understood, and the shell-shocked glances that passed between herself, ch’Shonnas, and Nave confirmed that they, too, knew that this was going to be the Bombay’s last stand. “Aye, Captain. Helm ready.”