Captain Scott Bowman stood on the bridge of the USS Leif Erikson, his arms clasped loosely behind his back. In front of him, Tessara Vren’s Orion Interceptor hovered looking sleek and menacing. Around him, a tense silence swirled around like smoke, as the officers on duty sat waiting for the inevitable. Lieutenant Junior Grade Tanna Irovin, recent transplant from the USS Valkyrie, was watching her console closely, monitoring both the Interceptor’s system, and their own. The Erikson’s shields and warp drive remained offline, but the power readings from the Interceptor were all over the place, a result of the virus Lieutenant Garion Beckett was able to implant. 

There was a chirp, and the viewscreen lit up with Tessara Vren’s face, cool but aloof. “Captain Bowman,” she said smoothly, “Your time is up.” 

Scott tilted his head slightly to one side. “Has it been three hours already?”

Tessara smiled, but it did not reach her eyes. “I trust then, you have made peace with your decision?”

“I have.” Scott said, his tone even, “Have you?”

Her eyes narrowed slightly, and a moment of frustration passed across her face before she composed herself again. “Of course.” she replied. 

Her eyes darted off-screen, then snapped back. Her face split into a smug grin.

“Fire.” 

Silence. 

Seconds stretched. From his peripheral vision, he could see Tanna turn to him and shake her head. Scott almost smiled, and the corners of his mouth did turn up slightly before he caught himself. “Is there… something wrong with the triggers, Tessara?” He asked

“What did you do?” She asked, her voice starting to peak with rage. 

“You arranged a pretty clever trap for us, with your damaged freighter,” he said, “but my Chief Engineer is cleverer.”

Over on the bridge of the Eclipse Wind, Garion was keeping an eye on the console in front of him, which had a display of the stolen controls from the Razor’s Interceptor. “Hey now,” he said, leaning back slightly as the console flashed red “That’s not playing nice.”

“What’s going on?” Bema asked, leaning over Garion’s shoulder to take a look.

“They’re trying to shoot at us.” He answered, then added “Let’s see how you like this…” and he bent down over the screen, his hands dancing along its smooth surface. 

“There,” he said, after a moment. “Now their systems are locked in a reboot cycle. I’ve got their targeting, communications, hell even their helm diagnostics are being rerouted to garbage inputs.” 

Vail let out a low whistle. “Well, someone over there is definitely cussing you out.”

“Keep it up,” Bema said, “I don’t want to take any chances with this one.”

Dathasa was alone outside engineering now, crouched beside the blast door’s control panel. She had the cover pulled off, and she was working the panel’s internals to override the lockout. There was a spark of energy, and a small, acrid smelling cloud of smoke drifted upwards, curling around her hands. The door gave a loud hiss, and began to open. 

She pulled a smoke grenade off her hip, pulled the pin and tossed it under the opening door. A small pop followed, and she could see thick grey smoke begin to curl out into the corridor. Dathasa took a few steps back, then ran at the door, dropping to the floor as she went and slid under the opening door, concealed by the smoke. She ducked behind a console as she heard shouts of anger and frustration from two separate voices, both deep and guttural. Probably Nausicaan. She listened hard for footsteps, or any sound, but the din of the room was just too loud. 

One of them walked right past her, which made her jump slightly. She pulled a disruptor and fired, hitting him in the side with a stun blast. He hit the ground hard, and the other guard ran over to his partner, looking around feverishly for the attacker. Dathasa pulled her knife out of her boot, then leapt to her feet and jumped onto the second Nausicann’s back. He bellowed and started thrashing, trying to get her off, but she wrapped her legs around him and intertwined her ankles, then dug her knees into his ribs to hold on. He flailed his free arm behind him wildly, groping the air for any piece of her he could grab. She trapped his arm with hers, then swung her other arm down hard, looking to plunge the knife into his chest. He caught the blow, then sent an elbow up over his shoulder, catching her in the jaw. 

Dathasa saw stars for a second, and almost lost her grip on the brute, dropping the knife to the floor. She wrapped her arms around his thick neck and squeezed hard, gritting her teeth and pulling, hoping that he would just fall over. He kept trying to grab her, but she kept dodging his hands, until finally, he stumbled and fell to the floor. She waited for a few moments, not daring to move, still pulling hard to make sure he was out. Slowly, she got to her feet, then gave him a quick stun with her recovered disruptor, just to be safe. 

Tessara Vren stood in the middle of the Engineering Room, backlit by the pulsing light of the Warp Core. Her posture was collected – regal even, and her jacket hung half fastened on her small frame. She clapped her hands together a few times, slowly, then stopped and held her arms out wide, her fingertips level with her shoulders. 

“Dathasa!” she said, as if they were old friends meeting for dinner. “Oh, pardon me, Lieutenant Dathasa. You’re punctual, as always.”

Dathasa held her disruptor steady, aimed directly at Tessara’s chest. “Step away from the console.”

“You made good time getting here.” Tessara said with a grin, “I was hoping for another minute or two.”

“You’re done, Tessara.” Dathasa growled, “You’re people are all stunned or captured, and your ship is on the fritz. You’ve lost.” 

Tessara barked out a sharp laugh. “Oh Lieutenant, you of all people should know, you’ve never lost if you plan ahead.” She looked up to the ceiling. “There was a time… when I thought Starfleet and I could have been allies. Idealism is really just rebellion dressed in a uniform.”

Her eyes levelled on Dathasa again. The air between them shifted – cooled even. 

“You’ve got good instincts.” Tessara said. “Better than most I’ve seen. Tactical mind. You don’t think like a hero. You think like a survivor.”

Dathasa didn’t reply. 

Tessara raised her hands, and ran them through her hair. “You’d thrive in my world, you know.” she said, “And I pay better.”

Dathasa tensed. “Don’t try it.” she warned through gritted teeth, but it was too late. In the moment Tessara ran her hands through her hair, she activated the neural implant. One line at a time, with lightning speed, Garion’s virus code was being rewritten. Tessara had started a purge.

Garion flinched as the console before him started flickering, and lines started to disappear under his hands. “Shit shit shit shit shit shit…” he said, his hands blurring over the console as he tried to regain control of the vanishing code. 

“What, what’s going on?” Bema asked.

“We’re being locked out.” Garion said, sweat beginning to form on his brow. “I can’t stop it. I think she’s hardwired to the ship’s systems” 

A message flashed across the screen. 

Next time, bring a bigger stick.

Garion leaned back with a sigh, and dropped his hands into his lap. 

“It’s time to go.” Bema said. He tapped his combadge. “Commander Saberwyn to Transporter Chief, time to get us out of here.” 

Roger that, Commander. Stand By.

The transporter beam enveloped the team, and they left the Eclipse Wind to drift.

A smug grin broke across Tessara’s face as the last of the virus code was wiped from the Interceptor’s computers. She looked at Dathasa again, her expression infuriatingly calm. “I’m gonna leave you to ponder my offer, but don’t worry. I’ll be back.” 

Dathasa started forward, firing her disruptor, but she was firing into the shimmering light of a transporter signal.

It was too late.

Tessara was gone, escaped again. 

On the bridge, Tanna turned to face the captain. “Sir, the Razor ship is moving.”

Scott looked up to the viewscreen, in time to watch the Interceptor turn, flashing its engines in a cheeky fashion, then snapping away, out of sight. 

Personal Log. Lieutenant Dathasa. Stardate, 2402.6.15

I should be asleep.

I told the Doctor I would get some rest, and I told Scott I would take it easy, but instead here I am, sipping lukewarm tea, staring at a blank terminal screen. There’s something about the silence after a fight. It isn’t peace, just a weight that settles into your sternum and reminds you of all the things that didn’t go according to plan.

The official story is that we won. We took back the ship and no one died. I stunned six of those gang members, seven if you count the one that snuck up on Tom. He doesn’t. But I let Tessara get away. I had her in my sights, and I was ready to fire, but I didn’t. Part of me wanted to hear what she had to say. 

She said I could have done well in her world, and she wasn’t wrong.

But I don’t want to be like her. And I don’t think that I am, but we aren’t as far apart as I would like. Maybe that’s why she offered. Maybe that’s why, for that split second, I almost wanted to say yes. 

I won’t tell Scott. He’s been supportive. He trusts me, even when others doubt my instincts, but he already carries so much. This burden is mine. Tessara is still out there, and I am sure she will find us again when she wants to. 

Next time, I’ll pull the trigger. 

End Log.