I can see Helios slipping away ahead of me, its disk-like grey form creeping down the underspace corridor, scrabbling desperately back towards Federation space, back to safety. They are ahead of me and getting further away. They’re moving beyond my reach, they’re leaving me behind. Around us the red walls of this surreal half-place bubble and boil with captured matter and tint my cockpit with bloody shadows, cackling demons that rear and chatter with arrogant eyes and vicious teeth. I can hear the Labyrinth laughing at me, mocking me, teasing me for being so close to sanctuary.

You’ll never leave. You’re here forever. Or whatever you have left.

Helios might as well be a million lightyears from me now, it’s a cruel fate to float in the waves as everyone you love sails slowly away. Do they see me? Do they know that they’re abandoning me to the cackling shadows and bitter thoughts? It matters not, they are sailing away all the same. My only consolation is that my sisters are safe, my loves are safe, my family is safe.

A tiny yellow light flares on my console and the shadows leap back, startled by its accompanying shriek. Structural integrity failure. The Valkyrie groans as if to prove a point, and the demons beyond the cockpit cackle once again, deep rumbling laughs of duratanium hull plates buckling against the forces of nature.

How small will gravity make you Helena Tyll?

How will it feel to breathe the airless underspace?

How will it be to burn in the icy void?

My stomach turns and my veins are filled with ice water as the small warning continues to flash and the demons continue to laugh, drowning me in the deep groaning of the hull. I can hear the quiet weeping of the symbiote, a life so shortened, a life I had been trusted to protect. Before I know it the crying is coming from my own mouth, the tears rolling down my cheeks pooling at the base of my helmet, vast lakes growing salty tears dammed by the hermitic seals that hold my breath.

Then it stops. Everything stops and there is silence.

Helios is gone. I am alone.

“This is bloody crazy!” Circe screamed, her blue fingers turning white as she clutched the headrest of the leather seat in front of her. “Where are we going?”

Astris clutched the delicate scarf that was wrapped around her head, its blue and red pattern whipping behind her in the passenger seat as the car raced forward through the barren brown plains. “Away from them!” She shouted, motioning with her free hand to the pursuing vehicles, their red and blue strobing lights barely visible through their miniature dust storms.

“I got that, but to where?” Circe allowed one hand to slip free from its vice like grip to pull her loose t-shirt up over her mouth in a desperate attempt to protect her lungs. “There’s nothing for miles except dust.”

“I’m sure the boss has a plan.” Merope chided from the other side of the open bench seating of the Ford Thunderbird as it bucked sharply, bouncing over a large rock. “Right boss?” Merope’s voice wavered, as did her confidence if only momentarily.

In the driver’s seat Helena clutched the wide steering wheel with one hand whilst the other reached up to hold the tan Stetson atop her head, a gigantic grin cutting across her face. “The plan is…” The four women lurched forward as the car slowed suddenly to a dead stop, Helena’s foot pressing the brake pedal deep into the car’s chassis. “That.” Helena motioned ahead, beyond the dust-covered window, to the slowly clearing vista. All eyes followed her long arms; across the green hood of the car, and across the dry dust bowl until the dark ground fell away abruptly into the open air of the valley crevasse.

“They jump? In this?” Circe waved her arms around to indicate the archaic vehicle. “I must’ve missed that class where they invented anti-gravity in the 20th century.”

“They’re getting closer Helena.” Astris’ attention was firmly fixed on their rear where the pursuing police vehicles were continuing to approach, the dust clouds falling away into the cloudless sky. “We might be out of options.”

“Never” Helena muttered under her breath.

“Boss, you know I trust you, but there is no way that we can make that jump.” Merope’s eyes continued to widen as she estimated the distance with imaginary versions of herself standing atop the other’s shoulders. 1 Merope, 2 Meropes, 3 Meropes, 4…

“This might be the end of the road.” Astris offered mournfully, preferring not to take a jump into certain death.

“I think that was back there…” Merope began to joke before her voice suddenly disappeared into the screech of rotary blades slicing through the dirty miasma of brown air. A black-skinned helicopter rose suddenly from the deathly void, its propellors reaching out like metallic talons towards the four women.

“COMPUTER, FREEZE PROGRAM!” Circe screamed, finding the final straw drawn by the black-hulled monster.

Instantly the valley fell into silence as the vicious helico-predator stopped in mid-air, suspended like a frozen mobile above the classic lines of the Ford badged crib. In the distance the pursuing vehicles halted before Circe took a breath, their strobing lights caught mid-shift like a string of festive lights across the horizon. Throughout the valley, the dust and dirt, churned up into a soup, hung motionless in the air as each tiny grain was caught in the twisting maelstrom.

“Spoilsport.” Helena muttered, her whisper now loud enough to echo across the small silent holodeck.

“I’m not sure what this is achieving Helena.”

“It’s group bonding. It’s an adventure.”

“Oh, what an adventure! Over the edge of the cliff.” Circe snorted derisively. “You’re a crazy woman.”

“Careful Circe.” Astris chided, “Watch the tone.”

Helena reached across an arm toward the older woman to quiet her. Astris had quickly become the mother of the small group and was somewhat of a stickler for respect, manners are free might as well be stitched across her heart.

“You have thoughts Circe?” Helena spun in her seat, resting her chin on the headrest as her dirt-covered Stetson bobbed slightly now it wasn’t battered by the whipping wind.

“Well…” the young Bolian blew out her cheeks, disarmed by the older Trill woman’s openness. “…Not jumping headlong into the canyon is up there.” She fell back into the leather seats and crossed her arms in frustration. “I’m still considering other options.”

“Merope?” Helena turned her attention to the half-Vulcan woman on the other side of the rear seats. “Thoughts?” The young woman shook her head slightly, her eyes still focused on the vast canyon ahead of them, 50 meropes, 51 meropes…

“We could have turned back, attempted to outrun the police. Maybe tried to lose them in the dust clouds by running along the edge of the canyon.” Astris offered, shaking her long hair from the costume scarf she wore, the long curls of her mane falling down to her shoulders. “The chance of success would be low but not impossible.”

“Essentially impossible, especially when they have air superiority too.” Helena pointed upwards to the ominous presence of the helicopter that hung surreally feet away, frozen like a fly in amber.

Astrid shrugged as she tamed her wild hair into her familiar twin bunches. “I’d argue it’s a better chance than jumping.”

“Imagine these were Jem’Hadar. Or heaven forbid the Borg,” Helena mused. “Capture is tantamount to death. Or worse.” The three women fell silent and as still as the frozen holodeck around them, three more frozen grains amongst the multitude.

“Jumping is certain death as well Helena. You know that.” Astris’s voice was barely a whisper.

“True,” she acknowledged taking the tan bucket from her head and adjusting the beading that lay around its circumference. “But it would be on our terms.”

“Your terms,” Circe hissed through gritted teeth.

“Again, true. But you could have jumped out at any time.” Helena nodded to the line of cars frozen on the horizon, twisting in the frozen shimmer of rising heat. “Taken your chances with them.”

Circe turned her head towards the photonic persuers. For a moment they glistened with dark verdant energy, a blossom of mechanical devices snaking across their skin, a whisper of a thousand churning voices waiting to drown any who came too near. A chill ran up her spine, to be voiceless amongst the collective was the darkest of her nightmares.

“Perhaps jumping is the only option,” Merope announced, her counting of the valley suspended momentarily.

“This is a bit of a dark lesson Helena,” Astris tilted her head as she let out a sigh. “Your very own Kobayashi Maru?”

“Maybe,” Helena smiled wryly. “Think of it more like a statement of belief.”

“Death before dishonour?” Circe furrowed her hairless brow disapprovingly. “That’s surprisingly Klingon of you.”

Helena chuckled as she focused her vision downward to her lap as she finished tightening the leather loop of her hat. “No, that choosing is always better than indecision.” The three passengers viewed her curiously, suddenly communally aware there were vast layers to their commander they may never fully understand.

“What did the women in the story choose?” Astris was already putting the scarf loosely around her head, recalling that she heard the end of this tale during one long deep space voyage.

“The jump. The choice.” Helena whispered her vision still downturned.

The sound of squeaking leather interrupted their quiet contemplation as Circe began rooting amongst the seat cushions.

“What are you doing now?” Merope spat.

“Well, if we’re jumping off a cliff then I’d like a seatbelt.” Circe pulled the strap from between the seats and clicked it into the receiver, laying its length across her lap. “Not that it is much use but it’s sort of reassuring.”

A pair of clicks echoed across the quiet holodeck as the two other women quickly slotted their seatbelts into position.

“Let’s make a choice boss-lady.” Merope offered the commander a smile as she tightened the lap belt and brushed her short hair out of her eyes.

“Canyon before capture!” Astrid cheered, raising an arm defiantly as the other held her headscarf in place in preparation for the buffeting wind to resume.

Helena lifted her hat back atop her head, pressing it forcefully into place as she turned back toward the waiting void and placed her hands on the steering wheel before taking a deep breath.

“Computer, resume program.”

In a darkened room, within a quiet country manor, surrounded by silent fields of mourning grain, a woman runs her fingers over an empty wooden casket. Mapping each dark carved triangular notch that charted the life of Helena Tyll, her slender fingers wandering across her journey. Her joining, her transfer to Starfleet, her forming of the Helaides sisterhood, and her sacrifice for the Helios family.

Satisfied with the accuracy of the impressive saga she turns on her heel and takes several clicking steps to the tall dark wood doors and steps out, closing them on silent hinges, a final whisper escaping her lips.

“Let us hope we do not all come regret this choice Helena.”