Main Bridge, Kl’Deesius.

19:00 Hrs, Day 87 Year 51.

“Commander we have an urgent message from the local fleet,” the Ops officer aboard the Kl’Deesius alerted Miradima. She left her command seat and approached his console. “It’s a passive sensor sweep from the Kl’Rygir.”

“Show me,” she ordered.

An image appeared on his console, of a picture similar to that of a radar image. “Disturbances around the outer edge of our detection ranges?” She asked. “Suggestions?”

“Ships exiting from FTL travel.”

Miradima now recognised the signatures of those disturbances. Indeed, from her extensive knowledge on navigation and astronomy, she knew that these were indeed the signatures a ship gave off when it powered down its’ drives and travelled using non-distorted physics. “Enemy ships?” The signatures these readings gave off seemed frighteningly similar to those she had been taught to recognise as threats.

“Undoubtedly Commander, they were recorded less than fifteen minutes ago,” the officer told her.

This was not good news, Miradima thought. In fifteen minutes at that distance, the enemy would begin appearing on everyone else’s systems. “Communications, open a channel to the rest of the fleet,” she ordered then waited for his signal. “All units this is your Commander speaking. The enemy have entered normal space outside your detection range, hoping they would not be detected. Those signatures were recorded fifteen minutes ago. You should be detecting them now.” She looked at her tactical officer and waited for confirmation of this fact. When several minutes passed, she became concerned. “Have you got them yet?”

“No Commander,” was the slightly distressed reply. “Have not detected any enemy vessels within range.”

“Not good,” she replied under her breath. Then she became suspicious. “Tactical, go to Active Sensor Sweeps, now!” The tactical officer rushed to obey her strident order. His exclamation was all the warning she needed. “All hands, battle stations!”

“Twelve vessels, six destroyers, six scouts!” the Tactical officer announced. “Twenty minutes until they have optimum firing range.

That’s unless they’ve updated their weapons, Miradima thought to herself. “How long until we have weapons range?”

“Ten Minutes,” was the immediate reply. “Standing ready to arm weapons,”

“No,” Miradima replied. “Open a channel to the fleet, encoded randomly every ten seconds, and make sure the other vessels can keep up.”

“Yes Commander,” the communications officer replied. “Fleet wide channel open.”

“All vessels this is an emergency transmission. You are being transmitted channel encryption details. The codes will be changed every ten seconds so have your system keep up,” she waited until she was sure that the encryption codes had changed. “We have detected enemy vessels well within our sensor range. They must have developed stealth technology like our own and are hoping they can sneak up on us. They must know we’ve detected them by now but do not switch to Active Scanning or change your heading. I want them to think that we’re the only ones who know about them and that the fleet will not pay any attention to us. We will relay sensor information to your ships directly, and your instructions are to wait until they reach firing range or until we transmit an attack order. Immediately either of these two events happens, you are to fire at will. End Message.”

“Acknowledgments coming in from all vessels Commander,” the communications officer replied.

“Maintain radio silence,” Miradima ordered. “Navigation, set a course directly for the enemy,” she tapped her communicator. “Walter Davidson to the Bridge.”

He arrived within a few minutes, and immediately took up his position at the console modified for his use. It was there, that he would deploy his army of CPU drones that would distract the enemy.

“Auto fighter Control standing by,” Davidson announced as soon as he reached his station.

“Navigator, get ready for evasive manoeuvres,” Miradima ordered.

“Standing by,” was the reply.

Now they were waiting for the enemy to make their move. It was just as well the enemy did not know which ship was leading this fleet or they would know that the rest of the fleet were playing ignorant.

“Enemy is in visual range,” announced the tactical station.

“Show us,” Miradima ordered.

What everyone saw was horrific. Aside from the vessels surrounding them, there were six large hulks that even Miradima had never seen before. Each one had “tusks” extending from the nose, and as expected, all were seamlessly blended in with the rest of the ship. The hull was very dark, but the skin seemed to ripple, as if it were alive. The ripples and patches on the skin seemed to pulsate ferociously, like a beast caged. The hull seemed to move.

The ships were not only three times the size of their escorts, but they registered power readings ten times as high, and their power output had increased within the last five seconds that they were watching.

“I think they already have us within their range,” Davidson commented.

“I think you’re right,” Miradima replied. “Navigation, get us moving!”

“Right away,” was the reply, but even as the helmsman was speaking superfluously, the Kl’Deesius had changed heading and was moving away from the fleet.

“We need to know how much firepower it’s going to take to destroy each destroyer,” Miradima told her tactical officer. “Get ready to fire a continuous burst on my signal,” she turned to her operations officer. “Get as much data as you can,” she turned to the helm. “Navigation, change heading and head on intercept for one of the destroyers.”

“Changing course. Leftmost target,” was the reply.

“Walter, those ships ready for launch?”

“Just about,” Davidson replied. “When?”

“Launch them all now and get them flying point for us.”

“Aye sir,” he replied, keying in the codes needed to complete the operation. “Drones launched.”

“I don’t think their firepower’s going to be enough anymore, will they be able to evade the enemy and provide a distraction?”

“Yes,” Davidson replied immediately. He waited for another order.

“Have them attack and evade. Determine the pattern yourself,” She ordered. She recalled that Davidson was still influenced by his Earth based methods and did not always take the initiative, therefore in conscience, she could not allow herself to get irritable and so, made no other comment.

“Aye sir,” he replied, keying the commands. “Six groups, maximum burn, evasive priority over attack weaponry,” he added quietly. “I think they should still attack, more effective distraction.”

“Exactly. Take the initiative more often Walter,” Miradima told him. “Tactical?”

“The Auto fighters are flying on an attack vector,” was the reply. “They’re firing on the enemy.”

“Time to our own firing range?”

“Forty seconds.”

“Stand by targeting,” Miradima turned to her communications officer. “Get a signal ready to send. Targeting assignments for the destroyers take priority,” and she gave the officer the choices of ships for each of the six enemy ships that she wanted dead first. “Understood?”

“Understood Commander,” he replied.

“Stand by,” she turned to her helmsman. “Navigation?”

“We’re in range,” was the reply.

“Tactical, fire!”

Clearly visible on the forward display was the point of view from the Kl’Deesius bow section. Intense beams of energy were directed forward, and they impacted on the surface of the enemy ship in their sights, a small speck on the display but looming fast. Suddenly the view lurched and the enemy ship found itself in the corner of the display. Three red pulsating beams seared the right edge of the viewer.

“That was too close,” Davidson commented.

Miradima headed back to her chair. “Well, Operations?”

“Weapons discharged five percent, full power in three seconds.”

Too much information, Miradima thought, but with the exception of the small incident with the Tau Ceti two years ago, none of these people had seen battle before. “Tactical?”

“No visible damage, but I estimate their hull was penetrated and some internal damage took place. Before the hull sealed itself there was at least three percent damage to the vessel.”

This was going to be a long battle.

Stephen was working with the medical teams, ferrying supplies to different areas. Most of the people that had been transferred so far were so badly injured they had no ability to stand and walk, much less put up a fight against their so-called captors. From this aspect the task of the medical teams was easier, though Stephen felt terrible about such thoughts when these people were so obviously suffering from what had happened to them. The few people who were able to stand and move about freely were not only abusive, but in some cases, incredibly violent. As the individual quarters were occupied, the numbers of sick and injured decreased in proportion as the lower priority able-bodied survivors were brought in.

Now suddenly, after a steady stream of one person being sent in every thirty seconds, the transports stopped without warning. After five minutes, Stephen became concerned and approached Helen on the matter.

“Let’s find out,” she replied and handed her medical instruments to another medic nearby. “The last one was five minutes ago?”

Stephen nodded. “Could something have gone wrong?”

“Who knows?” Helen replied, then signalled for the officer standing watch over the upper levels where the sensitive equipment is. “Transports to the individual quarters have stopped for some reason. Have you been informed of the situation?”

“Not yet,” he replied then tapped his communicator. “Transports have ceased. What’s the situation?”

“Stand by, communications are busy,” was the reply.

“This could be some time,” the officer told them both.

“I guess we wait then,” Stephen said with a sigh, then headed back toward the assembly point, where the medics were just about finishing up their duties.

In fact they were so close to finishing up their duties, Stephen was not needed, so he headed for the edge of the assembly point, near a corridor leading to his own temporary quarters. He found he was not alone when he arrived because Janet was waiting for him. She was sat on the floor, back to the wall, and she looked bored.

“I was bored out there,” she told him. “Everyone’s settled in their own rooms. It’s more than they’ve known for a long time.”

“I thought so,” Stephen replied. “Mind if I sit?”

“Go ahead,” she told him, patting a spot next to her. He complied. “So what’s going on out there?”

Stephen shrugged. “Don’t know,” he admitted. “All of a sudden, people stopped arriving. The others are trying to find out why now but their communications are busy.”

Janet looked sideways at Stephen. “You think anything’s up?”

Stephen exhaled heavily. “I don’t know, but I think so, yeah.”

She gripped his arm gently. “It’s the waiting that’s the worst part,” she told him. “I know all about that.”

Stephen had learned quickly that Janet never says anything without a reason. Maybe she wanted to talk about something, if only to pass time. “What happened?” he asked.

“It’s not as if it were only the one incident,” she replied. “One that really sticks out is waiting for news on a skirmish that broke out near a weapons cache that an enemy faction had discovered. I wasn’t in charge at the time and I was ordered to sit tight.”

“Must’ve been frustrating.”

“You could say that,” she replied. “Most of our soldiers were sent out to defend the position, and I knew that if that position fell, we would be in serious trouble… I waited for three days for news, and during that time there was nothing, not even a squeak from the front line.”

Stephen looked toward the wall at the far end of the room. What was happening now? “Sorry,” he said. “I keep getting distracted.”

“I was the same myself,” she replied. “It worked out in the end, but it was still difficult while I had to wait for news,” impulsively, she pushed herself away from the wall and moved so that she was directly in front of him, both of them facing each other. “So come on, what was your trip like?”

“You wanna know what happened on our visit?”

“Yeah, I wanna know about… What was the place called? Tau Ceti?”

Stephen found that the Earth designation for the star system evoked painful memories of the Tau Ceti and the two crew-members that they had lost as a result. “The people of the system would call it the Klankharis Realm.”

“That was it,” she said ingeniously, causing Stephen to smile slightly. “What’s the place like?”

“Well, it’s very different from what you’re used to. It’s also very different to what I was used to as well.”

“Yeah?” she asked. “In what way?”

“None of their planets have large cities. The only large concentrated area of people is in their spaceports on the surface of each world. I think the best way to describe it is by showing it to you some day.”

“Maybe… I think I like the sound of that.”

“If I understand correctly, I think we’ll get to see soon enough anyway,” Stephen said carelessly.

Janet frowned at him. “Why?”

“Oh, no don’t worry!” Stephen tried to reassure her. “I mean can you imagine staying in an enclosed space like this moon base for ten or twenty years?”

“Well… Yeah, I mean why not?”

“You’re too used to locking yourself away,” Stephen replied. “Just imagine this; going anywhere you want, with anyone, without fear of being persecuted or attacked or, or being poisoned by radiation. I couldn’t be locked away in a concrete tomb for two years, let alone twenty! It was bad enough on board our space ship.”

“What was it like? On board your ship?”

Stephen thought about it, and then decided to tell her, editing it so as he didn’t have to dwell too much on thoughts of Adam or Caitlin. And yet, every time he veered off on a tangent to avoid discussing them, it was as if Janet knew he was doing so, because she would squeeze his arm gently.

She was so different to how she projected herself in front of the others, it was almost as if she were a completely different person.

So he felt as if he could tell her everything, from when the shuttle Challenger Two lifted off of Earth, when the Tau Ceti broke free of her moorings and fired her engines for the first time, to when they arrived in the Tau Ceti system, the small incident in orbit of Tau Ceti 6 that brought them into contact with Miradima for the first time, to their trade alliance with her people, and then their return to Earth. Somewhere between the start of his retelling and mentioning their return journey, he and Janet had somehow managed to move from the floor by the wall, to his bunk, both lying flat on their backs, staring at the ceiling. Then there was an uneasy silence, Stephen dwelling on thoughts of what they first saw in Earth’s orbit when they got back.

“Can I ask you something?” Janet asked suddenly. Stephen nodded. “When you showed me the footage of your return. Why did you do that?”

Stephen stared at her as if he hadn’t learned anything from her over the last two days. “You should know why,” he replied, looking back up at the ceiling again.

“I think I do, but I want you to tell me.”

Stephen had trouble understanding why but did so anyway. “I believed at the time that you didn’t care much for what happened to us… I wanted to show you what we saw. I wanted to know if you felt anything.”

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

She nodded. “I can understand that,” she replied, and then moved so that she lay on her side, looking at him. “It really got to me, you know.”

“It did?” Stephen asked, surprised at her admission. He was further surprised to see moisture collecting in her eyes. “I thought it might, but I didn’t think you’d tell me.”

She shook her head, exhaling what suspiciously sounded like a sob. “Oh fuck, here I go again.”

“Don’t fight it,” he told her.

“I won’t,” she said quietly, hugging into him. “I’m not really the tough bitch everyone out there sees me as.”

“I know,” he replied. “I’m just as glad you’re not.”

“Why?” she asked, not moving.

“Because,” and Stephen lowered his tone into a gentle whisper. “We couldn’t be like this with each other as we are now if you really were.”

She looked up at him, kissed him briefly, and then closed her eyes, allowing the tears to fall. She must be experiencing a lot of pain, Stephen thought as he held her to him. “I’m so sorry-” she began.

“Listen you,” he admonished gently. “Don’t give me sorry, okay? We didn’t know each other before. We’ve come a long way over the past day or so.”

She simply nodded. “Still feels terrible, knowing what I do now.”

“You were just protecting those around you from what you didn’t know and couldn’t trust… It’s only natural.”

She began to shake. “You’re a real nice guy, you know that?”

He sniffed. “Where I come from, that’s not much of a compliment.”

“It should be,” was all she could say, shaking her head as she surrendered to the emotions that took over.

There was a hard knock at the door. “Stephen, get out here right now!” It was Helen.

Janet looked up, a horrified look on her tear stained face. Stephen raised a finger to his lips in a silencing gesture. She nodded as he did. “What’s going on?” he asked, imitating a sleepy tone even though he was wide-awake.

“The fighting’s already started!”

“Son of a bitch!” Stephen snapped. “I’ll be right out!”

“Meet me by the lift.”

Once he was sure she was gone, Stephen lifted both himself and Janet up off of the bunk, hugging her swiftly. “Look, I gotta go-”

“I heard,” she interrupted. “I hope it’s okay.”

“Me too,” he replied, squeezing her shoulder briefly and then dashing out of the room.

The Bridge of the Kl’Deesius.

“Get us out of range!” Miradima snapped at her helmsman as another volley of energy pulses collided with the ship. “Damage?”

“Our armour around decks two through eight has been severely compromised now,” her operations officer replied. “Environmental controls on deck three are no longer working. We’ve lost our space fold drive.”

“Tactical, what’s the situation now?”

“Two destroyers have been destroyed. Two have been severely damaged and look to be retreating.”

“Kl’Deesius to Kl’Orix and any support ships. Do NOT let those ships get away!” If they escaped and called for assistance, Earth would soon perish and the Klankharis Realm would be facing another full-scale war.

“They’re still in jamming range,” the tactical officer suggested.

“Communications, signal for the fleet to converge on the two remaining destroyers and to ignore the scouts.”

“But Commander, that will leave them vulnerable to attack,” the communications officer protested.

“I’m sending in some of our remaining drones to assist,” Davidson interjected. “They’ll provide a distraction for the scouts.”

“Good thinking,” Miradima said absently. “Bridge to the War Room, how are things down there Captain?”

Marlon’s voice came on over the link. “We’ve lost another six drones. Two more have overheated their weapons systems and are pulling out of the field to cool down. I suggest letting them determine their own flight strategy for our selected targets.”

“Can they do that?” Miradima asked.

Davidson replied. “We gave them all the information on our tactical database aboard the Tau Ceti when I recovered the mission logs. They should be able to adapt as long as I signal one of the units as a designated co-ordinator for the others.”

“Do it,” she replied. “What weapons do we have left?”

“Pulse Cannons have shut down due to overload and won’t be back for another three minutes,” the tactical officer replied. “We still have weapons turrets, and our beam cannon has about a minute’s firing time without our space fold drive.”

“Not good,” Miradima understated. “Engineering, we need that drive!”

“We can jury-rig a solution but it’s going to take several minutes.”

“We don’t have that long!” Miradima turned to her helmsman. “Navigation, fly us just outside of their firing range-”

“Ship Commander, they’re sending two of their scouts after us!”

“Destroy them!”

The vessel swung about and headed back toward the battlefield. Within seconds, both enemy scouts were on top of them, firing projectiles that emanated a hellish deep red light. Most of them missed their target, but two of them hit. One of them grazed the left wing; the other collided directly with the port-side forward section of the ship, sending it spinning dangerously out of control.

“We’ve lost attitude control,” the helmsman told them.

“Calling in drones to assist,” Davidson announced.

Indeed, several automated units were heading at speed to the position of the Kl’Deesius, firing at the enemy scouts all the time, distracting them as they did. Most of the detachment that was sent to assist was destroyed, but it gave the Kl’Deesius time to re-establish control and resume their attack.

“Target the left ship first and fire,” Miradima ordered.

“Yes Commander,” replied the tactical officer.

Everyone continued working at their stations, Miradima and Davidson watching as the scout they fired at was destroyed. Now there was the one pursuing scout left, and they pursued it as it tried to escape.

Just like them to be cowards, Miradima thought. She sat back in her chair and watched as the vessel continued pursuit of the enemy, caught up with it, fired a massive volley of projectiles from her turrets, and destroyed the scout.

“What’s the status of the pursuit fleet?”

“One escaping destroyer left,” the tactical officer replied. “We’ve lost the Kl’Taros and the Kl’Gritch has been disabled.”

“And the other destroyers?”

“Both are moderately damaged. The Kl’Miranis, Kl’Fezek, and Kl’Lanar have been severely damaged and are withdrawing… Wait, one of the destroyers is firing… The Kl’Fezek has been destroyed.”

“Bring us about,” Miradima ordered. “Put me through to the fleet.”

“Fleet on line,” the communications officer replied.

“Pursuit group, destroy your target and assist the rest of the fleet. All other vessels, Engage the enemy one ship at a time, starting with the destroyers. Evade the scouts but do not engage!” She made a gesture to the officer to cut the connection. “Target the same destroyers as the rest of the fleet and fire as soon as we’re in range.”

The Kl’Deesius ploughed back into the fray, immediately firing at the nearest destroyer along with the other ships. The battle continued to take its toll, and the fleet lost the Kl’Lanar and Kl’Miranis.

“Where are our fighters?” Miradima asked Davidson.

“Assisting the pursuit group… The remaining escapee has been despatched,” Davidson replied. “Shall I recall them?”

“Get them to tie up the scouts while we finish the destroyers.”

“Two destroyers and three scouts remaining,” the tactical officer replied. “Four pursuit vessels are re-joining the battle.”

Four of the eight that were sent out, Miradima thought. This battle was taking its’ toll. “Tell them to engage,” she ordered. “What’s the situation now?”

“Only the Kl’Orix is relatively undamaged,” replied the tactical officer.

More luck than anything else, Miradima surmised, since the Kl’Orix was more heavily involved in the fight than many of the other vessels. “Understood,” she replied in turn. “What about our fighters?”

“We’re down to forty-seven drones,” Davidson replied.

“Have them concentrate on the scouts.”

Eventually, after much fighting, the remaining destroyers were destroyed themselves, leaving the three scouts. However, the alliance now only had five vessels themselves. Five would surely be enough to destroy the three vessels remaining.

“Commander,” the tactical officer replied after a pursuit led to the destruction of the three scouts. “Support has detected a space-fold signature closing fast on the system.”

“Friendly?” Miradima asked.

“No Commander, it’s another enemy destroyer.”

This could not be happening. With only five ships remaining, they could not hope to destroy another enemy destroyer. The six that had arrived had managed to destroy almost twenty-eight Klankharii frigates, and nearly a hundred fifty drones from Earth. Depleted firepower taken into account, the remaining five vessels would not stand a chance against this monstrosity a second time.

“Commander, your orders?” the communication officer asked.

Miradima snapped back to reality. “See if we can lure that ship out of the system,” she ordered. “Have the remaining ships form up with us. Davidson, get the remaining drones to attack the destroyer.”

Their tactic seemed to work for a moment, the destroyer following them out of Earth’s orbit. However, at the last moment, the destroyer changed course and headed directly for the moon.

“Where is that ship going?” Miradima snapped.

“Course projected for the lunar satellite,” the tactical officer informed Miradima. “Impact in two minutes twelve.”

“Pursuit course, fast as we can! Get the fleet to follow us in,” she added in an aside to the communications officer.

“Fleet engaging the destroyer.”

The ships all began firing at the destroyer, still headed for the surface of the moon. As it closed the distance, it began to retaliate, sending deadly globs of pulsating light from various tentacles on its’ surface as it did. This volley of shots hit three of the remaining five ships before they could engage evasive moves.

“Status?” Miradima ordered.

“The Kl’irkan has been critically hit and has lost power,” the tactical officer replied morosely. Another ship lost to the enemy, they would not be able to restore power before hitting the surface. “The Kl’Orix has also been hit and her weapons systems have been critically damaged.”

“The Kl’Natra has signalled it will capture the Kl’irkan and pull her to safety,” the communications officer announced suddenly.

The tactical officer interrupted. “Commander, the Kl’Orix is doing something… Oh no!”

“Tactical, show me!” Miradima snapped back.

The forward view altered to show a representation of the destroyer vessel and the Kl’Orix. The allied vessel moved forward of the destroyer before suddenly halting and turning to face the destroyer. Then, with everyone watching the scene in horror, the Kl’Orix ploughed straight into the destroyer, detonating with an explosion greater than any mere collision could cause. The result was that the destroyer, despite being many times bigger than any of the allied ships present, span off course and back into space, gaseous substances emanating from the gaping hole that the Kl’Orix must have made in the surface.

“The Kl’Orix overloaded her drive systems as she hit. The detonation has knocked the destroyer off course,” the tactical officer replied.

Davidson suddenly made a suggestion. “I’m sending the remaining drones on a collision run,” he told everyone, tapping command codes as he did. “Maybe it’ll damage them enough for us to get a clear shot at a critical part of the ship.”

Without approval or acknowledgement from the others, he had completed his task and now, with everyone watching, the view was filled with drone fighters headed directly for the destroyer, each one colliding at full speed with the destroyer until there was no more of them left.

“That had minimal effect,” the tactical officer informed everyone. “The destroyer has regained control and is slowing down.”

Probably for another attempt at the surface, Miradima thought. “Stand ready-”

“Another space fold signature Commander,” announced the tactical officer, alarmed.

What else could go wrong? “We can’t destroy another one,” Miradima replied. “See if we can transport some survivors off of the surf-”

“Incoming vessel,” the tactical officer replied but his tone had altered. “It’s the KlT’Horsukais!!!”

Miradima was ecstatic at the arrival of the destroyer class vessel from home. Help had arrived at last and unexpected as it was, never more required than right now! “Relay the position of the destroyer and request an attack.”

“Yes Commander,” the tactical officer replied, relaying the information as he did so.

Both vessels pursued the destroyer and fired on it until it was destroyed. They had managed to save the people in the lunar colony.

Suddenly, the Kl’Deesius was impacted with a jolt. “What was that?” Miradima asked.

“Shockwave from the destroyer’s elimination,” the tactical officer replied. Of course, such a large ship would cause a considerable shock wave that would affect anything in the area.

“The Shockwave has knocked our communications off-line,” communications added. “Restoration is likely to take twelve minutes.”

“Understood,” Miradima told the communications officer. She turned to her operations officer. “Damage report?”

“Damage to all sectors,” replied the officer. “Communications is being repaired along with Weapons and the main drive. Auto-repair is having trouble keeping up as it has been compromised during the attack.”

“Get a team on it,” Miradima ordered.

“Yes Commander. You should also know that several large areas of the hull were stripped. Many decks have been exposed to space.”

Miradima swivelled so quickly on the officer that he jumped back. This was not good news and she must know how extensive the damage was and how many had been lost. “Details?”

“Hull has been breached in forward sections on decks two through five, and rear sections in three, four, six through eight, and eleven.”

Miradima had stopped listening when forward section deck four was included. Marlon was in that section and he had been in the war room, near the edge of the ship. “Get a recovery operation up and running, deck four,” Miradima ordered, but everyone hesitated. When her security officers did not move quickly enough, she turned on them. “MOVE!”

Davidson jumped as she shouted. He had only ever been party to her wrath once but that was enough. However, as much as he wanted to deny it himself, he could understand their reluctance. Trying to mount a rescue operation in a damaged section of the ship was dangerous even if force fields were in place, which they probably wouldn’t be with the ship so badly damaged, which brought him up sharp against the second fact. The ship would not have been able to erect those fields because of the damage situation, and therefore a rescue attempt would be futile.

No matter what any of them did now, the fact was inescapable.

Captain Marlon Greenfield was dead.

Then it hit him like a rock. Davidson, now realising this fact, staggered back from his console. Miradima, released from her own shock by this reaction, moved immediately to his side, steadying him as his legs gave out from underneath him. The shock was almost too much for him…

Indeed it was almost too much for her.