Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Science officers log. The USS Tir Asleen has been on an exploratory and dangerous mission through the Neutral Zone, following a faint distress call. It has been pinging our sensors every fifteen minutes for the last two days, but so far there is no sign of the ship. The frequency is not one used by Federation vessels, or anyone else in the quadrant as far as we can ascertain. If Lieutenant Tanthalos hadn't been bored at the helm the other night and messing with the dials, we might never have found it. Personally, I am shocked he could be anything other than a nuisance, even by accident. - Computer, delete last sentence." 

The computer beeped in a neutral kind of way, and Sorsha sighed, thunking her head back onto her pillow in frustration. Madmartigan, the roguish and charming (and admittedly handsome) Galladoornian pilot had been on her mind a lot lately, and it annoyed her. There were far more important things to be thinking about! Her mother, Bavmorda, had ramped up her war efforts against the Federation and was enlisting the aid of any mercenary who would join her cause. She had Klingon War Chiefs, Cardassian pirates and Romulan extremists positively salivating at the chance for personal glory and to satisfy age-old hatreds. Her right-hand man, for want of a better term, was a monster named General Kael. A disgraced commander of the Romulan Empire he had been sent into exile some twenty years prior, and immediately joined Bavmorda's cause. A cause Sorsha was to inherit, had it not been for Madmartigan and Willow. Lost in memories it took a moment for her to register the trill of her comm-badge.

"Science officer to the bridge."

That was Ballantine, their Vulcan Chief of Security. A no-nonsense sort, as most Vulcan’s were, he would expect her on the bridge immediately.

She flung her legs over the side of her bunk and pulled her blue service jacket around her shoulders, affixing the comm-badge to her chest.

"On my way."

Hurrying, she exited her quarters and strode purposefully towards the turbo-lifts.

***

"On screen."

Floating through space, approximately a lightyear away, was the strangest space craft Sorsha had ever seen. It was a strange bronze colour, eerie green light strobing along its plates and hull. It was like no ship she had ever seen and it was old, clearly far older than anything they had so far come across in the Federation.

"Where the hell has that come from?" Madmartigan mused, lounging back in the helm's seat and gazing in wonder at the screen, chewing absently on a blackroot twig. 

“Mr Tanthalos,” said their captain, a grim Bajoran woman named Kovu Butash, rubbing her temples, “what did I say about that disgusting habit?”

“Well, not to do it on the bridge I believe, sir,” Madmartigan grinned cheekily, twirling the stick of the native Galladoornian herb between his fingers and popping it back into his mouth as he lounged back again in his seat.

“Put it away, Mr Tanthalos,” Captain Butash grimaced, “and hail them again.”

"Aye sir," Mads replied with a sigh, taking the twig of blackroot from between his lips. He looked around, winked at Sorsha who rolled her eyes, and tucked the herb into his pocket. The man was a menace!

Madmartigan pressed a glowing yellow comms button. "Drifting vessel, this is the Federation Star Ship Tir Asleen, do you require assistance?”

Again, there was no response.

“They have not responded to our hails, Captain,” Ballantine said, cutting through the awkward moment with Vulcan-born disinterest. “However, a preliminary scan reveals life support is still functioning though their weapons, helm and other preliminary systems appear to be offline.”

Sorsha tapped away quickly at her console, initiating her own scan of the ship. Immediately a small light blinked at her.

“Captain,” she said, looking up, “there are two life signs aboard.”

***

“Tir Asleen to Away Team, do you copy?”

They had transported to the stranded ships’ bridge, the only place where their transporter could penetrate the hull, and it was quiet.  

“We copy, Captain,” Sorsha replied quietly, tapping her badge. The atmosphere didn’t lend itself to speaking loudly, it was like they had stumbled into a tomb.

“What is the situation over there?”

The three torch beams cut swathes through the darkness; the hum of the ships’ life support system was barely audible. Madmartigan looked around slowly.

“Eerie, Captain,” he responded, cocking his head to the side. “It’s like a ghost ship over here.”

“Well lieutenant, we know it’s not a ghost ship, so be careful,” Captain Butash said gruffly. “I want an open comms channel at all times.”

“Yes sir.”

Willow Ufgood, their Nelwyn chief medical officer, swiftly pulled his tricorder from the pouch at his belt and snapped it open. The device blinked to life and trilled quietly.

“Two life signs, approximately 70 metres from our location and two decks down,” Willow whispered, beginning to walk towards the closed door leading to the rest of the ship.

“This ship is huge,” Sorsha murmured, as she ran her hand over one of the nearby consoles and leaving faint trails in the fine layer of dull red dust on the instruments. “It could hold several thousand people easily, why are there only two life signs?”

“Well, why don’t we find them and ask them?” Madmartigan replied, seemingly deliberately trying to keep his voice at a normal volume, and he followed Willow towards the door. Sorsha pulled her own tricorder out and, rolling her eyes, joined her crewmates by the door.

“Their main power circuits are offline, how were you planning on getting the door open genius?” She sneered at the tall Galladoornian, but her heart wasn’t really in it. She was just trying to make this incredibly abnormal situation feel more normal.

“Isn’t that what you’re here for?” he retorted, grinning at her.

Flushing with embarrassment, Sorsha roughly shoved him out of the way, and began scanning the sealed door.

“If it weren’t for the fact that she makes it so obvious she hates me,” Madmartigan hissed in a loud stage whisper to their Nelwyn companion, “I’d swear she likes me.”

“Shut up Mads,” Willow sighed, frowning at his tricorder, “I don’t want to have to patch you up in Sickbay again. I have a feeling I’m already in for a busy day so if your nose gets broken again it’s staying that way.”

Madmartigan clutched his chest in mock horror, as Sorsha’s scanner beeped and the door slid open with a whoosh. With the barest look over her shoulder at the other two, she strode out into the corridor.

The only sound was their quiet breathing and footsteps as they made their way deeper into the ship, torch beams lighting the way before them.

“There’s a service shaft, port side, that leads to the next level down,” Sorsha said, looking at the blinking lights on the tricorder display.

“I hate this,” Willow muttered quietly, “I just feel like something is going to jump out at me.”

“Oh, like a troll?” Madmartigan asked, smiling innocently.

Willow looked back up at his friend with a witheringly cold expression. “I told you that story in confidence!”

“If you could at least try and stay on mission?” Sorsha hissed over her shoulder at them, and stumbled, her torch beam swinging wildly as she threw her hands up to catch herself.

Madmartigan lurched forward and grabbed her around the waist before she could fall, and she regained her footing.

“Thanks,” she said stiffly, shoving him away again. He simply threw up that infectious grin he had, and they continued, carefully stepping over the hosing and panels and remnants of a blown-out power conduit.

They found the service shaft, and as they continued, they saw more signs that the ship had experienced some kind of distress. A blown conduit here and exposed wiring there, the occasional sparking of an electrical grid still connected to a failing power bank.

“What do you think happened?” Madmartigan asked, an uncharacteristic sombre note in his voice as they made their way through the next level. It had clearly been some kind of living space, and there were more personal objects and traces that people had once been here, strewn about chaotically. Furniture had fallen, there were cracked screens and internal windows, and over it all a fine layer of red dust.

“What is this stuff?” Madmartigan asked, breaking the tense silence once again. He was nervous, whatever his projected demeanour tried to say otherwise.

“I’m not sure, there’s traces of bio-matter and particles of unknown origin, I’d need to study it back on the ship.” Willow pulled a specimen jar from another pouch and gently scooped some of the residue into it, sealing it tightly.

“Is it hazardous?” Sorsha asked, watching nervously.

“I don’t think so, but if it was, we’ve already been breathing in it for twenty minutes so it’s a little late to worry about it now,” Willow retorted, straightening his diminutive frame and re-opening his tricorder, brushing past his two taller companions.

They continued through the space, leaving footprints in the dust and made their way down another access tube to the level they were looking for. Their progress was halted by a large, heavy and intimidating metal door, a seal of green light ringed the edges of the frame.

“Well, that’s not menacing at all,” Sorsha muttered, pulling the small portable scanner out of the back of the tricorder and beginning to run it around the seal, the device beeping as it went.

“They certainly locked themselves away tightly,” Willow agreed, pulling his own tricorder out and checking the scan. “And the life signs are only ten metres ahead.”

“This technology is more advanced than the door to their bridge,” Sorsha said, frowning slightly as she continued to scan. “There’s some kind of quarantine seal. It might take me a little longer to get this one–“

The door slid open with a pneumatic hiss. “- open?” She stepped back slightly in surprise.

"Nicely done, Sorsha," Willow said, looking up with a small smile.

"That wasn't me," Sorsha replied in a whisper, tucking the scanner back into the tricorder slowly. 

Madmartigan gently gripped her shoulder with his left hand and pulled her aside, and pulled out a bladeless hilt from his holster where a phaser normally would have been with his right. 

"Better not to take any chances, right?" he asked as, with a practiced flick of his thumb, a blade of pure white light about a metre long sprang into being. 

"I can't believe they let you keep your proton blade," Sorsha muttered, rolling her eyes.

"His what now?" came the disbelieving voice of their first officer and fellow Galladoornian, Airk Thaughbaer, over the comms.

"They didn't," Madmartigan grinned, and he stepped into the chamber beyond the door, illuminating the immediate space around him with the blade. 

 "Life signs are ahead, ten metres," Willow said quietly, following Madmartigan, "one is very faint." Sorsha bought up the rear, her free hand on her phaser. 

With the glowing blade of solid light they had a better view of their immediate surroundings. Rows and rows of metal and glass columns lined the chamber, coiled wiring and piping branched across the ceiling like a mass of snakes, and that faint green glow permeated everywhere. As Sorsha crossed the threshold the door whooshed shut behind them.

"Oh that's disconcerting," Willow grunted, whipping his head around nervously.

"Away team to Tir Asleen, do you still read us?" Sorsha asked, tapping her comms badge. Only silence answered her.

"Great," Madmartigan sighed, his grip tightening slightly on his weapon.

"My apologies," an ethereal, feminine voice stated from the darkness, "but what you have been bought to must not be shared with those beyond that door."

"Who's there? Show yourself!" Madmartigan demanded, squaring his shoulders. 

"I am Cherlindrea, the automated computer system of the Fin Raziel, last surviving ship of the Kymerian Fleet," the cool voice replied. There was a hint of an electronic crackle to it.

"I've never heard of a 'Kymerian Fleet'," Willow said, speaking into the darkness. 

"That is unsurprising, our race is far older than yours, Nelwyn," the voice of Cherlindrea responded. "We have been hunted, pursued for centuries by the very enemy that hounds your people now."

"My mother?" Sorsha asked in bewilderment. 

"How do you know about my people if I've never heard of yours?" Willow asked at the same time.

"Not your mother, no, but the one she serves," Cherlindrea replied, ignoring the Nelwyn, "The Wyrm."

"What's the -" Madmartigan began. A blinding white light pierced the darkness, spotlighting a console station approximately ten metres away from them.

"I will answer your questions. Come."

Looking at one another uneasily, the trio made their way into the circle of light. The wires and tubing for a whole section of the strange columns came to a focal point at the computer terminal, and they could see more branching out into the darkness. Sorsha quickly scanned the terminal, and after a moment she closed her tricorder, and began to tap away at the keys. A small screen lit up, revealing line upon line of alien text, that Sorsha quickly read over...and gasped. 

"What was this place?" she breathed, continuing to read. 

"The last hope of the Kymerian Empire," Cherlindrea replied. "Centuries ago, a small aperture in subspace formed on Kymeria, our home world. That aperture began to leak a substance of incredible power and unimaginable evil into our world. This corruption spread swiftly, turning brother against brother, mother against child. Kymerians slaughtered one another in the streets and darkness descended onto the world. No matter what our scientists tried, they could not cure the taint, they could not stop the spread, and one by one they fell prey to it as well. Those that did not immediately burn out from within, began to form into a great host, led by a young man who devoted himself wholly to the Wyrm, much as your mother has done. Finally, we made a decision, those that remained, to escape the planet we called home and seek refuge among the stars. Our technology had progressed to space travel, but our warp capabilities were still only a theory, several decades from being ready for testing. The people of Kymeria were well aware they would not live to see a planetary haven, but they continued to work on their cure as we were pursued even into deep space by the Children of the Wyrm. It took many generations but, finally, a cure was found. It was on that day that the Wyrm made its final assault. Its vile servants attacked the ship and came aboard, slaughtering and infecting everyone. This chamber had been built as a last resort, a quarantine zone of sorts, should this situation arise. A nurse maid managed to smuggle the cure through the ship, and sealed them both within this chamber, though she was wounded in the process. In fear that she may be infectious she immediately sealed the child into cryostasis, and then herself. The Wyrm tried to gain entry to this vault, but its servants were husks, barely alive, and it failed and abandoned them to their fate."

Sorsha realised her mouth was hanging open, and she closed it, swallowing. She also realised that, since entering this space, there had not been so much as a speck of red dust.

"I'm sorry," Willow said, after a moment of stunned silence, "your cure was a child?"

"An infant girl, yes." Cherlindrea replied.

"An infant?" Willow yelped, incredulously, clutching his chest in horror.

"Your people experimented on children?" Madmartigan demanded, grip once again tightening on the hilt of his proton blade. 

"Our people were attempting to protect their children," Cherlindrea said. Her voice had not changed tone, but was perhaps a decibel louder, as though she were indignant on behalf of her long dead crew. "And, in Elora Danan, they succeeded."

"I wouldn't call this ghost ship a success," Madmartigan spat angrily. 

Willow held his tricorder in front of him, gratified that his hand didn't shake, and turned slowly on the spot scanning. "The life signs, they're in these columns. They're cryochambers!" 

"I have called you here," Cherlindrea continued, as though nothing had happened, "so that you may carry Elora Danan to her destiny. Should the Wyrm survive then Darkness shall swallow this galaxy whole, and none shall survive. Elora Danan must survive! And she has chosen you for this task."

"What do you mean 'she chose you'? She's a baby in cryostasis," Sorsha spluttered, looking away from the console for a moment. A small blinking orange light flickered beside a small blinking green light, she knew which tube held the baby, and her finger hovered next to it. "Also putting a child, and especially an infant, into cryostasis is so incredibly dangerous!" 

"There was no concern the child would be harmed," Cherlindrea said, "that is not her destiny. Now you must take the child and leave this place, my sensors have detected a Wyrm-aligned vessel approaching at warp and will be here within an hour. Your vessel must be far away by then."

"Wait," Sorsha said, looking back to the console. "Is this child the last of your people?"

"Yes," Cherlindrea replied. "She is Elora Danan, Semprum Sorceress of the Nine Realms, the Last Blood of Kymeria, and the one true Empress." 

"That’s a lot to take in," Willow said, quietly, as his eyes bulged in surprise.

Madmartigan, with another well-practiced flick of his thumb, switched off his proton blade and holstered the weapon. "Get the kid out, Sorsha."

"Cherlindrea," Sorsha said, ignoring the Galladoornian for a moment, "is there some record of your people's history? So that she can know where she came from, at the very least?" 

In answer, a small panel slid open in the console, revealing a strange looking memory core. It was long, twisted, like a gnarled tree root rather than a piece of technology. 

"When you have awoken Elora Danan, remove this core," Cherlindrea said. "I will be deactivated, and the ship will be set to self-destruct within thirty minutes, which should be ample time for you to remove yourselves and your vessel from the vicinity of the blast radius. 

Sorsha nodded, and with no further delay (ignoring Madmartigan's huff of irritation) she pushed the glowing green button on the console. 

The column nearest the console rotated in place with a slight groaning creak, and the glass panel slid upwards. A blanket of chilled fog rolled outwards, billowing down and across the floor dramatically. 

"Willow?" Sorsha asked, but the Nelwyn medical officer was already moving. Within the tube, restrained but appearing comfortable in a child's seat, rested a baby girl. All three drew back in surprise, Sorsha with another quiet gasp. The baby looked human. She had pale, smooth skin and an unruly mop of reddish golden curls. Ten little fingers rested on the edge of her blanket, which appeared to be made of some kind of woollen and fur material. She had a little nose, and rounded ears and she was as perfect a baby as any of them had ever seen. Willow swiftly pushed down the fatherly instinct to pick the baby up and cuddle her, missing his own small children Mims and Ranon, and began a quick medical examination of the infant to check her health. Easier to do while she was still asleep. 

Sorsha looked around at Madmartigan, and couldn't stop the soft smile from forming on her lips. He was staring at the baby, absolutely enraptured. He might have been joking around before, when they were on the bridge, but it was his brief moments of sincerity that made her think she really could love him. Despite his many, many, many ingrained flaws. 

Madmartigan looked down at baby Elora, as Willow swiftly ran his medical tricorder over the baby muttering to himself, in wonder. He'd seen children before, obviously. Everyone must have seen a child at some point in their lives. He'd never thought particularly much about being a father. His thoughts on the matter had always amounted to 'if it happens it happens' but it wasn't something he'd actively thought about. He'd never considered what it would be like to have his heart held so tightly by such a tiny hand, by such a small person that he would die to protect.

As Willow folded up his tricorder he pulled a hypo-spray from his pouch and gently administered the reviving agent to the baby, who immediately began to stir and grizzle. 

Her bright blue eyes blinked open, and Madmartigan fell head over heels in love. His mother had always told him it would happen when he had one of his own, and he'd scoffed at the idea. He understood now. He slowly reached his hand out and gently touched the baby's hand. Elora Danan immediately wrapped her pudgy baby hand around his finger, and stopped grizzling, looking up him with a thoughtful and serious baby expression. 

"Okay," Madmartigan said, clearing his throat slightly, "I guess she's kind of cute, when she's quiet."

"She's healthy, far as I can tell," Willow said, folding up his tricorder and tucking it back into his pouch. "I want to do a full biometric scan back at the ship, just to make sure, but physiologically she's almost human." He tickled the baby gently, with a smile, and she let out a chuckling laugh.

"Well, let’s get out of here then," Madmartigan said, and he gently reached out towards the baby. 

"Hey, what are you doing?" Willow asked, staring at him as Madmartigan scooped the baby up. "Have you ever actually held a baby before?"

"I can pilot a Battle Cruiser through a cloaked minefield, blindfolded, while being fired upon by Klingon Warbirds," Madmartigan scoffed, jiggling Elora in his arms. "I think I'm steady enough to hold a kid. Besides," he whirled around with Elora outstretched and the baby laughed again as he tucked her back to his chest with a grin, "I think she likes me."

"You're also here as a protective detail. Isn’t that why you bought that dumb sword?" Sorsha said, ignoring the warm feeling in her chest as she looked at the completely besotted helmsman. "Hard to swing a proton blade and hold a baby, also what is wrong with a perfectly good phaser?"

"I don't know I saw an old film once, where there was a guy and he was holding off a whole heap of enemies with a sword in one hand and while holding a cat against his chest," Madmartigan mused thoughtfully, ignoring the other part of the question entirely. 

"Movies aren't reality," Sorsha sighed, rolling her eyes. "Let Willow hold her, I actually trust him not to drop her or smash her into a bulkhead by accident.”

Madmartigan reluctantly handed the baby to Willow, who gently cuddled the infant to his chest, tucking her blanket more securely around her.

“What about the other one, the nurse maid?” Madmartigan asked, looking back towards the console.

“She would not survive her injuries, should she be released from cryostasis,” the electronic crackle of Cherlindrea said, and Madmartigan jumped, his hand flying to his sword hilt. He’d forgotten the computer system was still active.

Willow sadly nodded his head towards his pouch where his tricorder sat. “I’d agree with that, unfortunately.”

“Protect Elora Danan,” Cherlindrea said, “for she is the only hope to fight against the tide of Darkness.”

Sorsha looked between Willow and Madmartigan, who also shared a look, and almost in unison they nodded. Sorsha reached her hand into the glowing console and with a firm tug, removed the core.

The lights turned immediately from green to red, and a warning tone began to peel from the ancient speaker system.

“Let’s go,” Sorsha said, tucking the core into her pouch, and hurrying towards the doors as they slid open.

“-y does he have a sword? That is against Starfleet regulations! I had to leave mine on Earth! You answer me, Tanthalos!” 

“Away team to Tir Asleen?” Madmartigan said, blinking in surprise as he tapped at his comms badge. 

“Oh, good, you’re alive,” came the snarky voice of their first officer, and Madmartigan’s best friend, Airk Thaughbaer.  "Now I can kill you when you get back on board!"

"Commander," Captain Butash sighed in exasperation, "that would also be against Starfleet regulations. I know Galladoorn is only allied with the Federation, and not as yet a member, but please try and contain yourself."

"Captain," Sorsha interjected, pre-emptively cutting off Airk's response, "this ship has activated a self-destruct protocol, we need to be beamed aboard immediately. The Tir Asleen needs to get as far away as possible."

"We can't get a transporter lock on you at your present location, there's too much interference from the hull plating. It's a most intriguing alloy, I wish we had time to study it further. You will need to get back to the bridge, your entry point, and we can extract you."

"Help me with this would you?" Willow said looking up at Sorsha. He had begun to unwind the blanket from around Elora.

"What are you doing?" she asked, surprised. 

"I come from a farming village, on Freen," Willow said, frowning slightly in concentration, "and during planting season the parents of the village with small children wind fabric around them and have them on their backs, keeping the child safe and leaving the parents' hands free for farming. When I took my leave of absence last year and went home, I did that with my daughter Mims. It's quite safe. Look, just hold her for a second, please."

He gently handed the silent and watchful baby to the bewildered, and suddenly extremely nervous, science officer.

"Why are you talking about a baby?" Captain Butash asked, into the silence.

"Well, Captain," Willow replied, carefully draping and tucking Elora's blanket around himself and forming a secure pouch on his back, "we're going to have four to beam back."

"Weren't there two life signs aboard?" Butash asked, keeping her tone carefully neutral. 

"Unfortunately if we had revived the older woman she would not have survived, her injuries were too severe and she wouldn't have made it to the bridge much less the Tir Asleen," Willow replied, as Sorsha very carefully tucked the baby into the makeshift holster, and Willow tightened the knot on his front, securing the infant in place. 

Elora Danan looked up at Sorsha with her big thoughtful blue eyes, almost seeming to be looking through her as though searching through her mind or her soul, and smiled at her. Sorsha swallowed and began heading back up the corridor towards the service shaft. 

They didn't stop to investigate on their way back, hurrying along as quickly as they could. Madmartigan had the hilt of the proton blade in one hand and helped haul Willow up the service shaft with the other as the Nelwyn became unbalanced on the ladder rungs. Sorsha bought up the rear. She wasn't used to the feeling of protectiveness that seemed to possess her every time she looked at Elora, but she knew she would do anything to keep that baby safe. That made her nervous.

It took them almost ten minutes to reach the bridge, the eerie green light that had guided their way to the quarantine room was now a strobing and alarmed red the whole way back.

"Away team to Tir Asleen," Sorsha said as soon as she crossed the threshold, "four to beam up, please transport us directly to Sickbay."

"Roger that. Energise," one of the transporter techs replied, and the four of them slowly dissolved into specks of light.

Chapter Text

Chapter Two

A moment later they had rematerialised in the Sickbay of the Tir Asleen. Willow immediately moved to a console and tapped a couple of keys. The doors sealed shut, and a blinking red light appeared above the door. 

"Commander to Sickbay," Airk's voice was once again on their comms. "What's going on in there?"

"Just a precautionary wellness check, Commander," Willow responded as he loosened the knots of the blanket at his front, and Sorsha gently extracted Elora from the pouch. "There was a strange dust-like substance that we came into contact with, I want to confirm it's not hazardous before I send us back into the ship."

"Very well, keep us appraised."

"Yes sir."

Willow gently removed his comms badge and laid it on the console, and silently motioned for the other two to do the same.  Sharing a confused glance, Sorsha and Madmartigan removed their badges and set them beside Willow's. The Nelwyn pressed a couple more keys, and a small dome of light encased the badges. 

"Okay, they can't hear us now," Willow sighed, straightening his back and groaning as it popped slightly. He was still fairly young, but the baby was about half his size and that trek had been an effort.

"We could have just closed the channel," Sorsha muttered, confused.

"We could have, but they might have re-opened it," Willow said, his tone serious.

"What are you doing, Willow?" Madmartigan asked as he holstered his proton blade. He reached over and gently removed Elora from Sorsha's arms, tucking the baby back to his chest protectively. Sorsha had to stop herself from pouting and crossed her arms in annoyance instead. 

Well, firstly," Willow retorted, "I want to run a diagnostic on that dust and make sure it's not hazardous. Then, I want to do a full biometric scan of Elora and make sure she's healthy. And then we should discuss what we're going to do with the information we learned."

"What's to discuss?" Madmartigan asked, gently bouncing Elora as he sat down on one of the examination tables.

"Well, if she's a cure to the Wyrm's influence, then what do we do with that information?" Willow walked towards the inner lab, fishing the vial containing the dust sample from his pouch.

"We don't do anything with it!" Sorsha snapped, horrified. "She's a baby Willow! She needs to grow up and be a person, live a life! She's not a lab rat!"

"I agree!" Willow replied, plugging the vial into the mass spectrometer and beginning the scan. The machine beeped to life and a low hum filled the room. "But one way or another," Willow continued, coming back into the Sickbay proper, "word is going to get out. People are going to - WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING!?" He froze, eyes bulging as he stared at Madmartigan. Sorsha, who had been so intently focused on the Nelwyn, turned and her jaw fell open.

Madmartigan had fished his blackroot from his jacket pocket and was chewing on it. A small, pudgy hand held another piece of the herb as Elora sucked at it quietly, a content little expression on her face.

Willow stormed over to the tall Galladoornian and whipped the herb out of Elora's hand, then Madmartigan's teeth.

"I am the father of two children," Willow yelled, "and you never ever give a baby blackroot!"

"Well, my mother raised us on blackroot," Madmartigan retorted, annoyed, "it's good for you! It puts hairs on your chest!" He jiggled Elora comfortingly as she started to grizzle with the raised voices.

"She's Elora Danan, the last member of her race, sole survivor of an interstellar catastrophe and, apparently, the cure to the darkness that will swallow the galaxy!" Willow snapped, hurling the pieces of root across the room. "She's going to go through a lot in life, the last thing she's going to need is a hairy chest!"

Willow turned away from his friend once more, in exasperation, and stepped back to the console. Sorsha rubbed her temples with a groan.

"Did you see what he did?" Madmartigan asked, in a sing-song baby voice, "He stole our blackroot!" He dropped a whiskery kiss on Elora's cheek and she giggled. "I'll get us some more, don't worry about it."

Willow rolled his eyes.

"Can you pop her down on the table please?" he asked, turning his head to glare at Madmartigan.

Madmartigan got back to his feet, and gently placed Elora on the table.

Willow tapped at the console and the scanner emerged, encasing Elora, who cooed.

"It's okay, Elora," Willow said soothingly, "this will just take a minute. Got to make sure you're nice and healthy."

The scan took less than a minute, and Sorsha swooped in and scooped Elora up when the screen retracted, causing Madmartigan to pout this time.

Willow scrolled through the data displayed on the screen.

"Well, my initial scan back on the ship was pretty spot on," he muttered, "she's almost identical in physiology to a human."

"What's this, on her arm?" Sorsha asked, noticing for the first time the strange markings as Elora wiggled and burbled happily. 

"Part of her outer dermas," Willow replied, still scrolling. "Looks like her race may have natural markings on their skin. It’s nothing to be concerned about." 

Sorsha unconsciously bounced Elora gently, and Elora smiled.

"Hang on," Willow muttered, a small frown puckering his brow, "there's something here."

He pulled up the scan of Elora's brain, and brain activity. 

"What?" Madmartigan asked, leaning in and peering intently at the screen.

"Well, firstly, she has a lovely healthy brain," Willow said, "but watch the waves." He played the scan of Elora's brainwaves. 

"I don't see anything out of the ordinary," Madmartigan said, a moment later, with a small shake of his head.

Willow sighed, and zoomed in on the wavelengths, playing the scan again. This time the minute peaking of the brain activity was more noticeable.

"Okay, I saw that," Madmartigan said slowly.

"That is something," Willow mused. He closed the screen and retrieved a data pad from his office, returning once more to his friends. 

"Okay, so what is it?" Sorsha asked, in mild irritation. 

"I have no idea," Willow replied absently, beginning to tap away at his data pad. "It will require further investigation, so unfortunately I can't allow Elora to leave Sickbay just yet."

"Well, is it hurting her or something?" Madmartigan asked, frowning in concern.

"What?" Willow looked up, "No, at least I don't think so. It's something she's generating herself. It looks like a natural form of unique mental abilities. It could even be telepathy, which I'm familiar with. I'll need to study it."

"Alright," Sorsha sighed, and she settled Elora back down on the examination table. The baby yawned, as Madmartigan retrieved her blanket and tucked it around her.

"What?" he asked indignantly, as he straightened up and saw both Willow and Sorsha looking at him in bemusement. "She's a baby! It can get cold in here, I know from experience."

"You two are adorable, really," Willow deadpanned. His data pad beeped. "And the dust analysis is done!" 

Ignoring the glowering of his companions, Willow bought up the report on his pad and blinked, his face growing pale.

"What?" Sorsha said, uneasily.

"Uh," Willow swallowed hard, "it's biomatter, consistent with the Kymerian DNA which we now have on file courtesy of Elora here."

"Okay, so what they all exploded?" Madmartigan asked, scratching the back of his neck nervously.

"No-o-o-o, although I'm sure that would probably have been preferrable," Willow replied, still looking queasy. "The biomatter is tightly bound to molecules of inert Elixir."

Sorsha gasped.

"Oh, that's disgusting," Madmartigan muttered, also looking ill.

"Yeah, so essentially these people were infected, possessed, and then discarded and left to burn up and disintegrate from the inside out," Willow said quietly, and he hopped up onto another examination table, clutching his data pad on his lap as he looked back at the other two. 

"Okay, well that's awful," Sorsha whispered, falling down onto the table beside him, rubbing her temples once more. "What does that mean for us, and Elora, then? We were walking through that stuff for over half an hour."

"It's inert, dead," Willow said, forcing confidence back into his voice, "so nothing will happen to us. It's just dust now. No contaminant or potential infection at all, we're all in the clear. I want to study it though, I don't think anyone has come into contact with inactive Elixir and no one has been foolish enough to try getting an active sample, so this is a rare find," Willow said ponderingly. "But it will have to wait, I want to check those brain wave patterns again. While I'm doing that, you two should probably go debrief the Captain and Commander Thaughbaer," he grinned at Madmartigan. "I think you might be in trouble, Mads."

Madmartigan sighed, unconsciously caressing the hilt of his proton blade as he grimaced. 

"It's a stupid rule anyway," he grumbled, but squared his shoulders. "Alright well, if you really are a Princess then look after him, okay?" He gently reached out and held Elora's tiny hand for a moment, and she blinked owlishly up at him and yawned. Madmartigan grinned. 

Willow rolled his eyes as he hopped off the table and retrieved their comm badges from the console and unsealed the quarantine lock on the doors.

"Well, I think Airk may actually put him in the brig this time, but I will try and come back later," Sorsha said, and she pulled the oddly shaped data core from her own pouch and laid it on the console. 

The helmsman and the science officer both took one last look at Elora, who had closed her eyes and fallen asleep with her little hands clutching at her blanket, and with their hearts melting they reluctantly left the Sickbay. 

Willow shook his head with a small smile, he could see how that situation would play out in the long run. Elora would certainly grow up well loved and cared for if those two had anything to say about it. 

"Okay Elora," he whispered quietly, so as not wake the sleeping baby, "just you and me and whatever is going on in that head of yours."

He quietly pulled up the brain scans on his console, and began running an in-depth diagnostic, occasionally tapping away at his data pad to record his notes for his report. The data core flickered and pulsed with its own internal light and Elora slumbered on, undisturbed. 

***

"Give it to me," Airk all but snarled, as soon as Madmartigan and Sorsha walked into the captain’s ready room. 

Madmartigan sighed, and handed over the proton blade. 

"For this breach of Starfleet protocol, you will be confined to the Brig for forty-eight hours, and I'm making a note on your personal record," Airk continued, putting the weapon down on the desk and crossing his arms. 

"Yes, sir," Madmartigan said, standing stiffly at attention, staring at the wall about a foot above Airk's head. 

"Alright, well now that that's taken care of," Captain Butash replied, clearing her throat as she leaned forward and rested her elbows on the desktop, steepling her fingers in front of her. Airk, still glaring at Madmartigan, moved to stand at the captain's side, arms still crossed. 

"Before you write up your official reports, I want a breakdown of what happened over there," Butash said, and nodded towards Sorsha. "What are we dealing with, Lieutenant?"

Sorsha quickly shot a sideways glance at Madmartigan, who was still staring directly ahead, and saw him nod ever so slightly.

"Well, Captain, we followed the life signs down to some kind of quarantined chamber. We were able to revive an alien infant, from a race of people fleeing a planet called Kymeria."

"Never heard of it," Butash frowned, puzzled. "What were they fleeing from?"

Sorsha paused, nervously. 

"The Wyrm, Captain," Madmartigan said quietly, still looking ahead.

Captain Butash leaned back in surprise. 

"And what of the child?" Airk asked, his tone softening only slightly. 

"She's with Willow, in Sickbay," Sorsha said, "he wanted to make sure she was healthy, having been in cryostasis for so long."

"And the second life sign from the vessel?" Captain Butash asked, looking between the two of them.

"A nurse-maid, according to the ships computer. She was badly wounded getting Elora to the cryochamber, and she would not have survived if we had revived her," Sorsha replied, with a sad shake of her head. 

"Elora?" Butash looked at Sorsha and raised an eyebrow. "You've named her already, Lieutenant?"

"Her identity was recorded in the ships logs that we accessed on board, Captain," Sorsha responded in a rush, and felt her cheeks grow warmer. "It will all be documented in my report."

Captain Butash waved aside her words and leaned forwards once more. 

"Then what happened?"

"The computer announced that there was a ship approaching at warp and we should evacuate, so we removed its data core as we did not have enough time to download the content, and inadvertently triggered a self-destruct protocol." Madmartigan said quickly, before Sorsha could respond. 

Captain Butash frowned again, this time in concern. 

“What kind of ship? What threat are we looking at here?”

“We aren’t sure, Captain,” Sorsha replied, “but I recommend keeping a constant sensor sweep until we’re back in Federation space.”

“Very well,” Captain Butash nodded, and stood. “Commander, I leave Lieutenant Tanthalos with you, and I want a full report from the pair of you on my desk in the next forty-eight hours, although I will give you an extension in light of your impending detainment.” She smiled slightly at Madmartigan, who was still staring directly ahead and looking mildly put out. “Dismissed.”

Sorsha turned on her heel and left the ready room, making her way back to her quarters to begin her report.

“You’re with me, Madmartigan,” Airk grumbled. Picking up the proton blade from the desk he grabbed Madmartigan by the shoulder and shoved him out the door, ignoring the grunts of protest from his subordinate and friend.

***

“Come on, Airk!” Madmartigan complained, as his friend roughly shunted him into the brig and the forcefield barrier crackled to life behind him.

“You can’t flaunt the rules of the system whenever you feel like it, Madmartigan!” Airk snapped, as he chucked the proton blade into a locker and slammed the door shut. “We’re not members of the Federation, we’re here and we have to prove ourselves as trustworthy every day! The politics between Earth and Galladoorn right now aren’t the friendliest, if we want to make it here then we need to follow the damn rules!”

“Come on Airk,” Madmartigan said again, smacking his palm against the forcefield. “It’s a stupid rule anyway! Any knight of Galladoorn with a sword can outmatch any Starfleet officer with a phaser!”

“I know!” Airk snapped, crossing his arms again as he frowned at his friend. “But it’s not regulation in the fleet we chose to serve when we left Galladoorn. My father gave me my sword, the day I joined the Shining Legion, you don’t think I would carry it with me every day if I could?”

“No, of course, you’re right, I was stupid,” Madmartigan sighed, as he dropped down onto the bunk, his head in his hands.

Airk sighed, losing some of his frustration.

“You weren’t stupid Mads, I get it believe me. Just follow the rules, please? I despise paperwork. Forty-eight hours, then you’ll be released back on duty. You’ll get your blade back when we get back to space-dock.”

“Thanks, Airk,” Madmartigan flopped back onto the bunk and stared despondently at the ceiling of the small cell, folding his hands behind his head.

Airk sighed again, and nodded to the junior security officer, who took up position by the console, and left the room. In his late twenties, Airk Thaughbaer was young to be second in command of a starship, but being Galladoornian had its perks. As so few from their planet joined the ranks of Starfleet, any who did were fast tracked through the ranks, though that didn’t always mean the weight of responsibility didn’t feel heavy. Airk shook his head slightly, he would not be distracted in his first commission, and he could not allow any feelings of loyalty or friendship to cloud his judgement. Madmartigan would be punished as though he were any other Starfleet officer, no matter how bad Airk felt about it. 

***

Sorsha frowned at her data pad, her finally completed report saved to the computer's records. She'd started and deleted it three times. Cherlindrea had told them that they couldn't tell anyone beyond that quarantine chamber about Elora, that she was still being pursued. How much of what they had learned had she been supposed to put into this report? With a sigh she tossed the pad onto her bunk and walked to the replicator.

"Chamomile tea, hot" she said quietly, and the computer beeped. A moment later, with a steaming cup of tea in her hands, she sat down on the low seat in her quarters and stared blankly at the wall. 

How were they supposed to explain all this in a way that kept Elora safe? Did they have an obligation to use the child and whatever abilities she possessed to stop the threat of darkness consuming them all? Why did this situation tickle at the back of her brain, as though she'd heard it before? Eyes unfocused, watching the lazy curls of steam rising from her mug, she lost herself in memories. 

"You disappoint me, General," Bavmorda snapped, cheeks flushed red and eyes blazing with rage. 

"I am sorry, my Queen," the gruff Romulan replied quietly, bowing deeply, "but there was no sign of a ship. If we knew what it was we were looking for then perhaps -"

The stinging crack of flesh striking flesh echoed around the chamber. "I don't need excuses from you, General. I need you to accomplish the one task I ask of you." Bavmorda lowered her hand, as General Kael slowly looked back up at her, a trickle of green blood pooling at the corner of his mouth. "There is something aboard that ship that will destroy me, destroy everything we are building here, and it must be found and bought to me so that I may ensure our victory!" 

Sorsha stood to the side, not yet twenty years old, her arms by her sides, awaiting further instructions. She had been working under General Kael, at her mother's command, for four years now and she hated him. He was cruel, violent, and plain evil. She could see why her mother relied on him for her dirty work. She had learned, over the course of her life, to keep such thoughts buried deep below the surface and to never left them show on her face. 

"We are constantly harassed by those Starfleet dogs, my Queen," Kael murmured, the tips of his pointed ears quivering slightly. Sorsha gulped, the general was becoming angry. "If we could launch a direct assault, to break through their defence, then we could continue the search more thoroughly." 

"Sorsha," Bavmorda stepped towards her only child, displeasure twisting her thin lips into a sneer.

"Mother," Sorsha replied, her voice steady, betraying nothing of her fear. 

"You will lead an assault on the Starfleet blockade," Bavmorda said, reaching out and gently touching Sorsha's' cheek. Sorsha flinched. "Do not fail me, child."

"Of course, Mother," Sorsha stepped back, swallowing hard, bowed deeply and turned away, heading towards the docking bays where their fleet were stationed, General Kael sweeping along behind her as he ground his skull-masked helmet back onto his head. Her first command, finally!

Though she walked quickly she still heard the whisper of her mother's ancient Betazoid advisor hissing "One day my Queen, I fear your daughter will betray you."

"Don't be ridiculous," her mother had retorted, turning back to the huge view screen displaying her army's current positions, "I trust her loyalty more than I trust yours." The doors to the audience chamber then sealed shut behind her.

Sorsha sat bolt upright in her chair, knocking over her now cooled tea and spilling it onto the floor, the cup cracking as it hit the deck. She didn't register it at all. Cold sweat beaded on her forehead and her blood ran cold. Her mother! Her mother had been searching for a ship that contained a threat to her power! It seemed too much of a coincidence for this ship, and Elora Danan, to not be the threat her mother had feared so greatly. And if that were the case, then Sorsha knew exactly who pursued them now, though she had not seen a sign of the man or his ship in the last seven years. Leaping to her feet she shot out of her quarters at a sprint, running as fast as she could for the turbo-lifts and the bridge. It wasn't fast enough.

***

"Commander," Ballantine said in his gravelly but monotone voice, "I have detected a vessel dropping out of warp approximately half a lightyear from our starboard bow. It is a Romulan Warbird, sir, and they are charging weapons."

"On screen," Airk said, and the view screen flickered. A massive ship, that may once have been a Romulan Warbird though it had clearly been heavily modified and changed from the regulated designs of the Romulan Empire, came into view. 

"Open a channel, Commander," Airk said, perching on the edge of the captain's seat. He was senior officer on the bridge, but he always felt uneasy sitting in the captain's chair, like he hadn't earned it yet. 

"The channel is open, Commander," Ballantine advised, looking back up at the view screen. The Warbird was still on approach, seeming to fill the entire screen.

"Romulan Warbird, this is Commander Airk Thaughbaer of the Federation Starship Tir Asleen, stand dow -."

A small flash of light emanated from the Warbird, and a moment later the Tir Asleen was rocked by a massive explosion. 

"Report!" Airk looked up, as he clung to the arm of the chair.  

"A photon torpedo, Commander," Ballantine replied, hauling himself upright and beginning to type furiously at his console. "Sheilds are down to eighty-three percent and holding."

The inner doors to the captain’s ready room, that led from the office space directly to the bridge, flew open and Captain Butash stumbled out, as the ship shook from a second torpedo blast. 

"Red alert, Commander," she barked, as Airk vacated her seat. "All available power to the shields and all hands to battle stations."

"Shields are down to seventy-two percent, Captain," Ballantine called, as all the lights flashed to red. 

"Return fire, Mister Claymore," Butash replied, settling firmly into the captain’s chair. "Full phaser burst. Helm, evasive pattern Delta four."

"Aye Captain," the young ensign, currently at the Helm controls, called over her shoulder.  

"Phasers had no effect, Captain," Ballantine reported. "The Warbird has targeted our nacelles -" the rest of his sentence was lost as the Tir Asleen shook violently and an explosion ripped through the vessel.

***

"Red alert," the captain's commanding voice crackled over the ship's comms. "All hands to battle stations!"

Willow looked up in alarm as the lights all began to flash a violent red, and the ship was rocked by an explosion followed swiftly by a second. Elora began to wail. 

It's okay Elora," Willow cooed, trying to force his voice into a soothing and calm tone that he absolutely did not feel. The ship was under attack, which meant in about three seconds he was going to be extremely busy. He swiftly shut off Elora's scans, resetting the console for a general medical sweep, and tucked his data pad into his belt. Gently scooping the crying infant up, he took her into the inner office where he swiftly buckled her into the seat bolted to the floor behind the desk. As the restraint clicked shut the world exploded. 

***

 Madmartigan was thrown from his bunk by the blast, the explosion felt as though it had torn through one of the nacelles.

"Hey, kid, what's going on out there?" he demanded, scrambling to his feet and pressing himself up against the forcefield. The junior security officer was lying on the floor, halfway between his station and the door, his phaser lying beside his motionless hand. The lights strobed between red and nothing, blindingly bright and then blacker than space itself, making it extremely hard to focus. 

Of course the lights would be taken out, but the brig's forcefield emitter was still engaged.

He could hear people shouting, thumping footsteps and the distinct sound of phaser fire from other parts of the ship, some sounding nearby and some further away.

"Hey!" he shouted, pounding his fist uselessly against the hard-light of the forcefield. "Let me out!" 

No one answered.

***

Sorsha slowly opened her eyes, blinking slightly. She was lying on the floor, that was strange. It took a moment for her mind to catch up, remembering the impacts and the explosion. She slowly pushed herself upright, groaning in pain as she did so, and leaned against the wall, trying to stop her head from spinning. The corridor flickered between the jarring red lights of the alert protocol, and pitch blackness, making it hard to focus and her ears were ringing. Slowly, haltingly, she stumbled her way down the corridor. Her plan had been to go to the bridge, to warn them about Kael, but clearly she was too late. Focusing her mind on her new plan, she made her way slowly, but gaining confidence as she went, towards the Jefferies Tubes. She needed backup, and she only knew where to find one of her friends right now. And she used that term loosely. She needed to get to the holding cells, then she and Madmartigan needed to get to Sickbay and fast. 

***

It took longer than she wanted, she had had to detour through Deck Six, dodging her way between armed patrols of black-clad Nockmaar troopers. She had stepped over the bodies of fallen comrades and had stopped only long enough to equip herself a phaser, before making it to the port-side Jefferies Tube on Deck Seven. Then she began the painstaking process of descending to the holding deck, before finally finding the brig. 

"Hey! Is anyone there? Let me out!" 

She would have rolled her eyes if her head hadn't hurt so much, she might have a concussion. She was sure that would be very low on Willow's list of priorities when they got to Sickbay.

"Shut up," she hissed, as she stepped into the room proper and pressed her back to the wall, listening hard. So far, despite the screeching of the gangly fool in the cell, it appeared no one had made their way this far into the belly of the ship. She briefly paused, squatting down next to the fallen security officer with his yellow service jacket singed and streaked in blood, and checked for a pulse. There wasn't one. 

"Sorsha, get me out of here! I can help, I'm a better fighter than anyone on this ship!" Madmartigan had pressed his hands and face flat against the barrier, desperately straining to be free. It was so comical she almost laughed, although that could also have been the concussion. 

"Really, Mads? I just came down here for the peace and quiet but you've gone ahead and ruined it," she quipped instead, and made her way to the security console. A moment later and Madmartigan stepped free of his holding cell.

"I worship you, Sorsha!" he beamed, as he wrenched open the storage locker and retrieved his proton blade, expertly and unnecessarily twirling the hilt in his hand before flicking it on. “You are my sun, my moon and my shining stars! I could kiss you!”

"Try it and I’ll break your face again," Sorsha muttered, without the usual bite in her voice. She became aware, dimly, that she was sliding to the floor. Her adrenaline rush must be wearing off, and the effects of the concussion setting in, she thought blearily as she came to rest at the base of the console. 

"Oh, hey are you okay?" Madmartigan yelped, rushing to her side. He gently tilted her head, the light from the blade reflecting off her glassy eyes as she blinked slowly at him.

"Yea, 'm fine," she slurred slightly, trying to push him away and failing.

“You’re not fine, you’re a wreck!” Madmartigan said, quietly. He took the sleeve of his red service jacket and gently wiped the side of her face, and the sleeve came away darker and wet. She had been bleeding and she hadn’t even noticed.

“Come on, let’s get you to Sickbay,” Madmartigan said, and he hauled Sorsha to her feet, slinging her arm over his shoulder.  

Sorsha groaned as, with the sword held in front of them, they made their way back out into the ship, and the several-decked climb ahead of them to get to Sickbay. 

***

A long while later, a lot longer than either of them would have liked, and with several dead Nockmaar troopers in their wake, the pair finally made it to the deck they were looking for. They had amassed a group of their surviving shipmates met along the way, Madmartigan almost chopping a young petty officer from the Operations division in half before he'd registered the gold uniform. A burly Klingon crewman was now supporting Sorsha, who had protested that she could walk just fine on her own, before stumbling against the wall as her vision blurred. 

The doors to Sickbay stood open, phaser marks around the frame and a manual magnetic door-clamp affixed to the lock. Madmartigan felt his heart sink, and he quickly shouldered the doors open the rest of the way before barrelling into the room.

"Willow?" he called, scanning the room for signs of life. The medical bay was a warzone, screens and equipment sparked and smoked from phaser fire, an examination table had been wrenched from its support column somehow and the windows to the inner office were shattered. 

Three black clad Nockmaar mercenaries lay dead around the room. 

There was a whimper and Madmartigan spun around, sword coming up instinctively. 

Willow Ufgood, chief medical officer aboard the Federation Starship Tir Asleen, staggered out of the smoking ruin of his office. Blood sheeted down his face from a nasty wound and he hunched over in pain. He looked up at Madmartigan with tears in his eyes, and Madmartigan promptly disengaged his proton blade and caught the Nelwyn gently as his knees buckled. 

"I couldn't stop them, there were too many," Willow sobbed brokenly. 

"What happened?" Madmartigan asked softly, his heart squeezing in his chest. 

"They took her! They took Elora! I couldn't stop them!" 

Madmartigan looked up and met Sorsha's painfilled eyes, as she pushed herself off her crewmate and half-stepped half-stumbled to Willow's other side and dropped down beside him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders as comfortingly as she could. 

Madmartigan looked around at his rag-tag crew. So far, he was the senior officer, though Willow and Sorsha were the same rank both were injured. 

"Is the computer system still functioning in here?" Madmartigan asked, looking towards a couple of gold-jacketed operations crewmen. 

They leapt at his words, one to a nearby console, and one to the electrical conduit by the door and began to relay a rapid-fire of techno-babble at one another. 

After a few minutes, as Madmartigan instructed a couple of crewmen who knew basic first aid to begin help triage their wounded companions, the young petty officer that Madmartigan had almost run through, turned and gave a salute. 

"Basic computer functioning is online, sir," he reported, sweat leaving rivulets in the soot on his face.

"Good work," Madmartigan said, flashing him a grin. "Can you access the comms network?”

“Yes sir,” he nodded.

“See if you can reach the bridge, we need to know what’s going on,” Madmartigan instructed.

“Willow, can you stand?” Madmartigan asked gently, turning his attention back to his injured friend, and the Nelwyn looked up at him with tear-filled eyes and nodded slowly. “Then stand, let’s do what we need to do and go get our girl. Okay?”

“Yeah, yeah okay,” Willow sniffled, he wiped his face, smearing tears and blood and pulled himself to his feet. Pulling out his medical tricorder, Willow got to work.

***

“The captain is dead,” Airk said, as Willow gently attended to the burns on his chest and arms, “which means, effective immediately, I’m acting captain. Ballantine is acting first officer, Mads you’re acting second. From the reports so far, we’ve lost over almost half the crew. We need to get the ship stabilised and contact Starfleet command.”

“Airk, we need to go after them,” Madmartigan replied, and Sorsha nodded.

“Mads they blew one of our nacelles!” Airk snapped, wincing slightly as his shoulders tensed. “We can’t go anywhere, let alone after the ship that did this to us! We need backup! We need a plan!”

“We need,” Madmartigan said, loudly drowning out his friend and commanding officer, “to go after them! That little girl is the only thing that can stop them and if they kill her, we’ve lost!”

“What do you mean?” Airk asked, frowning at him in confusion.

Madmartigan swallowed and looked to Sorsha, then to Willow. They nodded.

Madmartigan took a breath, and detailed everything they had learned onboard the Fin Raziel. When he was done Airk was staring at him, his eyes wide and his mouth open.

“I did put most of this in my report, Airk,” Sorsha said quietly, and Airk closed his mouth.

“Right, okay, that is a lot to take in,” he muttered, running his hand down his face in bewilderment. “How exactly is a baby supposed to stop the greatest threat to life this galaxy has ever faced?”

“I can answer that, I think,” Willow said, and he pulled out his data pad, bringing up his report. “Her species, the Kymerians, were experimenting with mental abilities, looking for some way to protect themselves from the Wyrm’s influence. They used their children as the test subjects. I managed to pull some information from the core we removed from the ship, and these children were able to use telepathy, telekinesis, but their medical scientists weren’t totally successful until Elora.”

“What does totally successful mean, Ufgood?” Airk asked, frowning again.

“Elora’s brain waves are unlike anything I’ve ever seen,” Willow said, still tracking through his pad. “She can connect to the very living matter of the universe around her at a cellular level, telepathy is basic compared to what she can be capable of. The Wyrm infects living matter with its corruption, but Elora has been genetically altered to be able to seek that corruption and remove it. She’s literally the only thing in the galaxy capable of curing the Wyrm’s influence. If they kill her, nothing and no one will be able to stop it.”

A moment of silence followed his words.

“Alright,” Airk said, finally, and he stood from the examination table. “We’re going to go and attack Nockmaar Station, I guess.” He shrugged on his red jacket, fresh healed skin showing through the burn marks, which he ignored.

“Sorsha,” Airk said, turning to look at the science officer, “go to engineering and assist with the repairs, I want updates every hour.”
Sorsha nodded, turned on her heel and left the Sickbay.

“She should be resting,” Willow muttered, “I managed to reduce the cranial bruising but she’s effectively still got a mild concussion.”

“Right, do you want to run after her and tell her that?” Madmartigan asked, arching his eyebrow at his friend.

“No, I like breathing, thank you,” Willow sighed, rolling his eyes. He knew that there was no way he could stop either of his friends from doing everything they could to get Elora back, nor stop himself from doing the same.  

“Willow, I’m going to need a consolidated casualty report,” Airk said, looking to the exhausted chief medical officer.

“Yes sir,” Willow replied, as another wounded crew member was hauled through the doors of Sickbay, “I will get right on that after I’m done treating wounded.” He pushed himself towards his battered looking shipmates, pulling out his medical tricorder once again.

Airk slapped Madmartigan on the shoulder. “You’re with me, I want helm controls up and running.” Madmartigan gave a casual salute, and together they followed Sorsha out of Sickbay.

Hours later the USS Tir Asleen crawled its way through space at almost warp two, heading directly for Nockmaar station, desperately hoping they wouldn’t be too late.

Chapter Text

Chapter Three

“I have the child, my Queen!” General Kael’s skull-masked face loomed down from the view screen above her. Bavmorda did not like to be loomed over, but it was necessary for the moment.

“Excellent work, General,” she replied coldly, fingers tightening on the edge of her battle-mapped table in anticipatory delight, “bring her to me and I will commence the ritual.”

“My Queen, why can I not simply dispose of the child now?” Kael asked, an almost feral growl to his voice. The man lived for violence; he was a useful tool when he could remember his place.

“Because I order it,” Bavmorda snapped, her eyes narrowing. “That will be all.”

“Yes, my Queen,” Kael bowed low, and the screen went blank.

Bavmorda drummed her fingers against the tabletop, frowning. Her master had given her the knowledge of the ritual. For the ritual to succeed, the child must be sacrificed to the Wyrm on the thirteenth night of the red sun’s monthly orbit, when the flares from the surface would react with the Elixir of the subspace aperture within Nockmaar station that would purify the Wyrm’s essence and be able to leech the mutation from the child’s DNA. She had been assured that, if the child were not exposed to this highly potent Elixir, then even if the child were to be disposed of by ordinary means, her soul and very essence would endure and be reborn. She wasn’t sure how that could be, but it was not in her to argue against the very being that gifted her family their own powers, a being whose existence still baffled scientists across the system.

She seethed at the delay, but it was inevitable. Drumming her fingers once more on the tabletop she glared at the battleplan, showing her fleets’ movements and the movements of the Starfleet resistance. She spared the barest glance for the holographic red X over the last known location of the USS Tir Asleen, where her only daughter had been stationed after betraying her and joining the infernal Starfleet. All these years later she could still hear the whisper of her old Betazoid advisor hissing in her ear: “One day my Queen, I fear your daughter will betray you.” She had killed him of course, once Sorsha defected. Word could not spread of her weakness, after all.

Now her daughter was dead, at the hands of her most trusted General and she felt nothing. Turning on her heel she swept from the audience chamber, it was time to prepare the top of the spire for the arrival of the End.

***

“Nockmaar Station is a floating fortress with its own personal attack fleet, it is why Starfleet has never tried to directly engage with it!” Ballantine, the unflappable Vulcan, was flapped. His eyes had widened a millimetre and the pitch of his voice raised a fraction of an octave, which from any other member of the crew, would have been akin to a shriek of surprise.

“And yet,” Airk said grimly, “we’re going to attack it.” He sat a little straighter in the captain’s chair. He might not feel like he’d earned it yet, but it was where he was needed now.

“Comman- uh, that is, Captain,” Ballantine coughed, another hint at the Vulcan’s distress, “forgive me but that is not logical. Our ship is severely damaged and we have lost over half of our crew compliment!”

“Yes, Mister Claymore, I’m well aware of that,” Airk sighed, rubbing the side of his nose in frustration. “However, we don’t have a choice. What’s our ETA on the station, Mr Tanthalos?”

Madmartigan frowned at the display before him, worrying at the blackroot twig gripped between his teeth.

“Well, approaching at warp one point nine, currently the fastest speed we’re able to achieve, we’re looking at forty-three hours and sixteen minutes,” he replied, the words muffled slightly by the clenched jaw and twig.

“Right, repeat that without the blackroot,” Airk rolled his eyes.

Madmartigan spat the nubbin of the twig from his mouth and repeated his timely estimate.

“Alright then,” Airk nodded, “maintain course and yellow alert, until we come up on the station.”

“Aye, sir,” Madmartigan replied. He tapped some dials on the controls before him. “Course laid.”

“All senior officers to the ready room,” Airk said, tapping his comms badge. “Just because this is absolutely insane, doesn’t mean we shouldn’t have a plan.” He stood, supressing a groan, and walked stiffly from the bridge. Madmartigan slapped a red-jacketed ensign on the shoulder as he traded his seat to them, and followed Airk from the room, Ballantine and Sorsha on his heels. It had only been twelve hours since the attack, and everyone was battered and exhausted and bruised. Everyone still alive, anyway.

The room was soon filled by Airk, Ballantine, Madmartigan, Sorsha, Willow, their acting head of engineering, the senior operations officer and a handful of others. Several hours of exhausting back and forth later, and they had what could charitably be called ‘a plan’.

***

“We’re coming up on final approach, Captain,” Madmartigan said, looking over his shoulder at Airk. The only sign that he was even remotely nervous about what was about to happen was his uncharacteristically serious demeanour, to an outward perspective he looked perfectly at ease. Airk knew better, after all Madmartigan was his best friend.

“All hands to their designated positions,” Airk called, an open comms channel broadcasting his words to every member of the crew. “Red alert.”

As the lights flashed to red, and a warning peal echoed through the ravaged ship, the channel crackled.

“Away team one is in position at transporter room one,” Willow’s voice called through, determination in his tone, “standing by.”

“Acknowledged,” Airk replied, and he got to his feet.

“Away team two is in position,” came the level voice of Ballantine, “awaiting launch instructions from the shuttle bay.”

“Acknowledged,” Airk repeated, “stand by, Commander.”

“Aye sir.”

“Ensign, you have the bridge,” Airk said, nodding to an Andorian junior officer, “follow the plan as instructed. Tanthalos, you’re with me.”

“Aye sir,” Madmartigan replied, trading his seat once more and following Airk from the bridge. His hand brushed the hilt of his proton blade, and he swallowed. Airk called the command for the transporter deck and the turbo-lift began its descent.

“Computer, halt turbo-lift,” Madmartigan said, quietly, and the lift ground to a halt.

“Mads, we don’t have time for whatever scheme you’ve come up with,” Airk sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Shut up, Airk,” Mads replied firmly, and he pulled his proton blade from his holster. Airk frowned at him in confusion.

“You should take it; you’re commanding officer and the best fighter we’ve got on our team.” He held the hilt out to his best friend, and he wasn’t surprised to realise he meant every word.

“Mads,” Airk swallowed, “your father made you this blade, same as mine did for me. It’s supposed to be carried by you, are you sure about this?”

“I don’t need a sword to win this war for you, Airk,” Madmartigan grinned, and he shook the proffered weapon gently in his friends’ face.  

Airk took the sword, and stood tall, holding the hilt to his breast for a moment in a Galladoornian salute.

“Thank you, my friend,” he said, and he tucked the weapon into his holster. The lift resumed its movement and the pair stepped out onto the transporter deck, Madmartigan with a phaser now in his holster courtesy of Airk. They made their way to transporter room two, where the rest of their third away team was stationed, awaiting further instructions.

“Captain,” the Andorian ensign, named Thiraa Sh’qikrol, called through, “we have dropped out of warp and are maintaining a current distance of four thousand kilometres. Scans show that the Warbird and two other smaller vessels are docked at the station, and we’re being scanned.”

“Acknowledged,” Airk replied. Taking a breath he stepped onto the transporter pad, followed by his team. “All teams standby, transport the moment there’s a breach in the stations’ shields. Bridge, begin phase one.”

“Aye sir,” came the response, and a moment later the ship shook slightly as a volley of photon torpedos were launched towards the station.

The plan, such as it was, was to lower the shields of the station to the point that transport aboard could be achieved, whilst the shuttles hung back. When the shields were down the Tir Asleen was to go to warp immediately, and make its way to the nearest Starfleet rendezvous position and broadcast a distress call requesting backup. 

Several more moments, and a handful more volleys later, and the comms channel crackled again.

“Shields are down, Captain!”

“All shuttles launch, energise transport and get this ship the hell out of here!” Airk barked.

“Aye sir!” came the multiple responses, as the lights flared in the transporter bay and the away team pixilated and vanished. Transporter room one followed suite, and the two shuttles on board flew out of the docking bay, banking wide of the station as instructed. A moment later and the Tir Asleen jumped to warp, disappearing in a blink followed almost immediately by the two smaller vessels that detached from the spire in pursuit.

***

The moment Madmartigan’s team materialised on Nockmaar station all hell broke loose, phaser fire crackled around them as the secondary boarding party dove for cover. They had appeared on one of the middle decks, looking to distract the main force protecting the station from the true rescue team’s presence.

Airk flicked the proton blade on and launched towards the Nockmaar troopers, deflecting phaser bursts, as Madmartigan and the rest provided covering fire. Outnumbered as they were they were determined they would not be outmatched, as one of their party fell with a gurgling scream and a hole burned through his chest.

Several floors above them Willow, Sorsha and a couple of security officers materialised in an unoccupied corridor. The security officers swiftly spread out, covering both ends of the corridor with their phase-rifles, as Sorsha flipped her tricorder open.

“Mother’s chamber, where the aperture is located, is at the top of the spire, two floors directly above us,” she whispered, quickly running a sensory scan. “Two guards on the door, two more inside, along with my mother and Elora. The only access to the chamber is the stairwell.”

“Are you sure you’re ready for this?” Willow asked gently, looking up at his friend. “She’s your mother, Sorsha, for all that she’s done.”

“My mother is a monster, Willow,” Sorsha replied firmly, closing her tricorder and swapping it for her phaser. “Now let’s go save that little girl.”

Nodding, Willow followed Sorsha as she slowly began climbing the spiralling stairwell, one hand on the wall and the other holding her phaser outstretched, the two security officers following behind, keeping a constant sweep on their rear.

As they approached the top, Willow gently reached out and tugged Sorsha’s jacket and she froze, looking down at him in concern. Holding a finger to his lips he gestured for her to step back, and she did so, watching him curiously.

Willow pressed himself to the wall and slowly climbed a couple more stairs, until he had a line of sight on the two black clad Nockmaar troopers stationed either side of an imposing metal door with a strange banded symbol sealing it shut.

Taking a breath Willow focused his gaze on the trooper to the left, and narrowed his eyes slightly in deep concentration. Sorsha watched in bewilderment as the guard turned his head towards his companion, stepped forward and seized him around the throat, so swiftly and silently the other didn’t have time to make so much as a gurgle before he slowly slumped to the ground. Then, the first guard simply laid down beside him, and appeared to fall asleep.

“Wha –“ Sorsha gasped, as Willow released the breath he had been holding, a thin sheen of sweat on his brow.

“Don’t worry about it,” he muttered, and quickly stepped into the main space directly before the door. Shaking her head in astonishment, Sorsha followed on his heels, their security detail right behind them. They didn’t spare a glance for the downed troopers.

Looking to each other, Sorsha and Willow both nodded in silent agreement, and together they wrenched the door open, revealing the inner sanctum of Nockmaar Station.

***

“Shields are down to eighty percent, Commander!” the red-jacketed crewman at the helm said, frantically slamming dials to orchestrate an evasive manoeuvre as a second volley of phaser fire from the Warbird streaked past them.

“Acknowledged, evasive pattern Omega Six,” Ballantine instructed, as he returned phaser fire. The plan was for the shuttles to hang back from the fight as much as possible, they were the away teams exit strategy, but the Warbird had begun firing the moment they had cleared the Tir Asleen. Being much smaller was an advantage in this situation, but they had taken a couple of hits so far.

“The Warbird has not disengaged from the station, Commander,” a second crewman from the science division said, bewildered. “Why aren’t they coming after us?”

“It is best not to speculate on why our enemies are not doing something, crewman,” Ballantine said levelly, continuing to monitor the scans for further fire. “Instead, focus on the instructions we have been given, and be ready to beam away team three to the shuttle as soon as they call for our aid.”

“Yessir,” the crewman replied, swallowing hard.

The shuttle shook again, this time from the proximity of the phaser burst rather than a direct hit, and the three crew fell silent, desperately trying to maintain the necessary distance to the spire without blowing up in the process. The second shuttle streaked by, in their own evasive efforts, and like dancers on a stage both craft desperately tried to keep to their orders, maintaining just enough distance from the spire to perform their tasks, without blowing up in the process.

Every second was an eternity, as they waited.

***

“Hold your position!” Madmartigan roared, as the phaser fire continued to crackle around them. They’d lost a few more members of the team, but far more Nockmaar trooper corpses littered the deck than the three colours of Starfleet uniform.

“We don’t have the luxury!” Airk yelled back, running a Nockmaar trooper, who had broken through their defence, through with his blade.

Airk swept his eyes briefly over the force arrayed against them, looking for weakness or something they could exploit, but no such luck. It was a wall of black leather and guns; he ducked back behind a pillar as another phaser blast shot past him.

“I think if we can take out their commander,” Airk called to Madmartigan over the screaming and shooting, “we can probably rout the rest out!”

“Kael? The guy in the skull mask?” Madmartigan replied, ducking another shot himself.

“Yeah, you got eyes on him?” Airk asked, deflecting a stray phaser shot with the proton blade. A scream nearby, from a blue-jacketed member of their squad, answered their question. General Kael, first commander of the forces of Nockmaar, slowly withdrew a huge sword from the now limp body of their companion, and slowly turned his helmeted face towards their pinned down squad.

“Yep!” Madmartigan replied, unnecessarily.

“He’s mine, then!” Airk snarled, and he flew towards the sword-wielding general, sparks flying as the blade of hardened light met steel.

Madmartigan lost sight of his friend as he ducked and shot towards another trooper making a break towards the unit. Blasting and ducking he somehow avoided death at every breath, and managed to drag a wounded security officer back into the centre of their clustered team.

Several moments went by and there was a brief lull in the fighting. Madmartigan looked up and saw Airk and Kael struggling back and forth part way up one of the nearby staircases leading to the level above. Madmartigan watched in horror as the glistening steel of Kael’s sword exited from his best friends’ back, his scream of rage and horror lost in the din. Lurching to his feet, phaser dropping from his hand, he barrelled towards the foot of the stairs, where Airk had fallen in a crumpled heap.

“Madmartigan,” Airk choked, blood pooling around him and turning his yellow command jacket a dark red, as Mads dropped to his knees at his side.

“I’m here, Airk,” Madmartigan croaked, throat tight with tears he would not shed. He would be strong for Airk in this moment, as a knight of Galladoorn should be.

Airk, with effort, held the proton blade up towards Madmartigan, who gently took it, holding his friends’ hand tightly.

“Win this war for me,” Airk grinned, blood trickling down the side of his mouth and staining his well-groomed beard. Madmartigan nodded, but Airk didn’t see it as his eyes dimmed and fixed in space, his grin locked on his lips. Madmartigan slowly lowered Airk’s hand to rest gently on his breast, and took a moment to close his eyes. Then, rage and grief burning in his heart, he gripped his sword tightly in his hand and got to his feet. With a roar he hurled himself up the stairs to the next level where the fighting had progressed, intent on driving the proton blade to the hilt through General Kael’s heart.

***

“Mother!”

The chamber was cold, bitterly so, and moisture had condensed on the ceiling, so a steady drizzle of water was falling through the air. Elora was crying loudly, tightly swaddled and laying in a basin carved from a pillar of obsidian that stood in the centre of the room below an eerily glowing globule floating in the space overhead.

One of the security guards yelped in pain, and collapsed, as one of the guards inside the chamber spun around and fired.

Bavmorda blinked, surprise momentarily flitting across her face at the sight of her daughter, before a scowl of purest loathing took its place.

“Foolish child,” she snarled, water dripping down her curved black-metal crown, “I must destroy you now!” With a tilt of her head the two guardsmen in the chamber pointed their phasers and blasted.

Sorsha dived to the side, her own phaser firing and dropping one of the guards. She lost track of Willow in the kerfuffle, phaser blasts flying through the air and the strangled yelp of another of the guards dropping as the final guard and their security officer opted for physical violence and were rolling around on the deck. There was a flash and they both fell apart, smoking slightly as the phaser between them exploded. With the smoke and the mist Sorsha could barely see, and Bavmorda coughed slightly. It took a moment more for both women to realise the room had fallen silent.

“Where is the child?” Bavmorda snapped, swinging her head around wildly. Sorsha wiped her face, and climbed to her feet, looking towards the now empty basin in the centre of the room. A moment later the doors to the sanctum, that had stood open slammed shut, as Bavmorda held her hand outstretched in a claw.

Willow, who had been sneaking towards the previously open portal, froze in his tracks, Elora held protectively to his chest. Bavmorda tilted her head imperiously, considering the diminutive Nelwyn before her.

“Put the child back, peck,” she said quietly, the slur for the small race dropping easily from her lips.

“No!” Willow snapped back, colour rising in his cheeks, as he held Elora even tighter to him.

Sorsha leapt for her mother at this distraction, and froze in mid-air, straining uselessly as Bavmorda’s other hand flew up beside her pointing at her only child. Turning her eyes on Sorsha, Bavmorda smiled cruelly and flicked her wrist. Sorsha flew backwards, towards a spiked grate, with a startled scream, before she froze in place again centimetres away from the sharp metal spikes.

Bavmorda turned her head back to look at Willow, who also stood with one hand outstretched now, still clutching Elora, sweat running down his face mixing with the water in the air.

“Now that’s interesting,” Bavmorda said quietly. She flicked her wrist once more and Sorsha’s eyes rolled up into her head and she collapsed limply to the deck. “You have some small talent there, peck,” Bavmorda smirked, focusing her sole attention on the Nelwyn now. “But your powers are no match for mine, now return the child to the altar.”

“No, I won’t!” Willow gulped, sparing a look at Sorsha’s semi-conscious form.

“You have no power here, peck,” Bavmorda snarled, taking a threatening step towards Willow. “Now put the child back onto the altar, and I’ll allow you to live.”

“And what’ll happen to Elora?” Willow spat, stepping back again. “I just saw what you were willing to do to your own daughter!”

“Do as I say!” Bavmorda snarled, raising her arms threateningly.

“No!” Willow snapped again. “You say I have no power here, but I say I have all the power I need! I’m going to send Elora away, far away from you and your disgusting master, to a world where evil cannot touch her!” He shifted the bundled baby in his arms and began muttering quietly to himself.

“Impossible,” Bavmorda cried, eyes widening, “there’s no such place!” The slight tremor in her voice betrayed her nervousness, though.

Sorsha stirred slightly, and watched bemusedly as Willow raised Elora over his head and with a final cry waved and the blanket fell limply to his side, Elora nowhere to be seen.

“Impossible!” Bavmorda shrieked, stumbling backwards in alarm.

Wincing in pain, but with a flash of adrenaline surging through her system, Sorsha crawled forwards and pried the phase-rifle from her dead crewmates hands and pointed the muzzle towards her mother. Bavmorda blinked and turned her head, mother and daughter made eye contact for a brief second, and Sorsha pulled the trigger, aiming the gun towards the spiralling globule-mass above her mothers’ head.

“NO!” Bavmorda screamed, as the globule burst. Elixir, pure and raw and crackling with eldritch energy, direct from its subspace Wyrm source, poured forth and coated the queen of Nockmaar Station. Her screams continued as her flesh began to burn and smoke from her bones. Sorsha and Willow watched, horrified, as within moments Bavmorda was no more than a streak of red dust swirling to the floor.

“Willow,” Sorsha gasped, pushing herself back to her feet and looking at her friend, “where’s the baby?!”

Willow looked up at her, and a relieved grin spread across his face. He stepped to his right and ducked behind a bulkhead, emerging with the no-longer swaddled Elora, who cooed as Willow gently bounced her.

“I used to do magic tricks for the kids of my village,” Willow grinned at his friend, “this was just my old disappearing pig trick!”

Sorsha laughed, and leaned gently against the walls as her knees trembled as the adrenaline left her system.

“Here,” Willow said, his humour slipping away in favour of his stern medical-trained demeanour, “sit down, hold her for a minute and let me look you over. Being squashed between two telekinetic forces can’t have been good for you, though I’m glad I stopped you from being skewered.” He smiled again, as Sorsha sank to the floor, and cradled Elora in her lap as Willow cracked open his medical tricorder.

“I didn’t know you could do that,” Sorsha said quietly.

“Well, Nelwyn have basic telepathic abilities,” Willow muttered, frowning at his display for a moment. “But honestly, until I had a brief look at the data core from the Fin Raziel, I didn’t know I could do that either.”

“Huh,” Sorsha blinked at him, “you were studying the core? When did you find the time?”

Willow just grinned at her, and closed his tricorder.

“You’re fine,” he said, and he took Elora back from Sorsha who got to her feet once more. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

Slowly, with halting steps, they began to make their way out of the spire and back down into the station proper.

***

Kael’s sword swept through the air, and Madmartigan ducked beneath the swing, bringing his proton blade up in a thrust that his opponent dodged. They had been equally matched, blow for blow, and as their forces dropped around them, they focused only on each other. Back and forth they traded sword blows, sparks flying from the meeting of the steel against the hardened light of the proton blade.

General Kael swung again, and as Madmartigan dodged backwards he grabbed Madmartigan by the collar and slammed his skull-masked helmet directly into his face. Madmartigan howled, blood pouring freely from his nose. With a mighty backhanded swing he swung his blade at Kael’s head and shattered the skull mask, Kael’s dark beady eye glaring hatefully back at him from the shattered bone.

Madmartigan finally broke through the General’s defence, ramming his proton blade through his torso and twisting it upwards with a vengeance. For all the good it did, he may as well have slapped the enraged Romulan with a feather duster. Kael shoved Madmartigan backwards, against the railing, and attempted to throw him over the side, as Madmartigan flailed and gripped tightly to his arm. With a heave Madmartigan pushed Kael backwards towards the stairs, and thrust his proton blade through his chest once more. Again, the Romulan barely seemed to notice or even feel the impact, pushing back for level ground and swinging his own sword and forcing Madmartigan back again.

Madmartigan paused, slowed his steps, as though exhausted suddenly (not a feeling he had to pretend) and Kael seized his bait rushing forwards with his blade extended. In a feat of brilliant footwork Madmartigan leapt to the side and swept his sword up, catching Kael under his helmet and almost severing the general’s head from his shoulders. Kael collapsed to his knees, sword falling from his grasp, and as his eyes began to dim as his green blood poured down his leather armour Madmartigan kicked him square in the chest and the general’s corpse tumbled down the stairs, falling limply at the base beside Airk.

The fighting stopped immediately as the Nockmaar troopers registered what had happened, and suddenly they broke off their attack, fleeing towards the docking bays. With a scream, the Starfleet crew who were still able, ran in pursuit. Now they were on the offensive, they had won!

A few more minutes passed, and Ballantine’s voice crackled over the comms.

“Away team two to away team three, do you copy?”

“I read you, Captain,” Madmartigan said, breathing heavily, as he assisted another officer to their feet. It was time to initiate the second part of their plan, which was to get the hell out of here.

There was a momentary pause on the other end of the comm.

“Oh,” Ballantine said quietly, “my condolences, Commander.”

“We can mourn and remember the dead later, Captain,” Madmartigan said firmly, “can you get a lock on the comm badges from this away team?”

“Yes,” Ballantine replied, “but, Commander, I wished to advise that the Warbird has detached from the Spire, it is preparing to go to warp.”

“Leave it,” Madmartigan replied, “Kael’s dead. Let his rabble run. Beam out away team three, except for me. I need to find Willow and his team, make sure they got Elora safely. We’ll rendezvous with you at the Tir Asleen, from shuttle two.” 

“Roger,” Ballantine replied, “Claymore out.”

Madmartigan watched, as a moment later his team pixilated and vanished into motes of light. Gripping his proton blade tightly, almost unaware he was doing so, he began to climb to the higher levels, looking for his friends.

***

“Sir, there’s an escape pod!” the helmsman shouted, over the babble and groans of the returned away team. “It was just ejected from the Warbird as it jumped to warp! Two life signs on board, one very faint.”

“Can you get a transporter lock on them?” Ballantine asked.

“Yessir,” his crewman replied.

“Erect a forcefield on the transporter pad, and beam them aboard. It may be beneficial to learn more about what took place here, for Starfleet’s records.” Ballantine gently eased his phaser from his holster, just in case.

“Aye sir, energise,” came the response. Within seconds a dark-skinned human woman, clad in the black armour of Nockmaar with a long black cloak wrapped around her, collapsed to her knees on the pad, her breath a wheezing gasp.

“Lower the forcefield,” Ballantine said quietly, getting to his feet and re-holstering his weapon. He didn’t need it; the woman was dying. There were clear phaser burns across her chest and exposed skin, one of her eyes was swollen shut. “Do not be afraid,” he came towards her, and knelt at her side.

“He’s dead,” she gasped, her eyes were glassy and she couldn’t seem to focus properly. “H-He’s dead, she can be free now!”

“Who can be free?” Ballantine asked, keeping his voice at a soothing, neutral, tone.

Almost in answer to his question her cloak seemed to wiggle, and a couple of the jumpier Starfleet personnel grabbed for their phasers, but Ballantine held his hand up and they froze.

A toddler, no older than a year and a half old at the most, a mop of ginger curls and slightly pointed ears peered out from where she clutched tightly to her mother’s side. Her large, dark brown eyes, were wide. Ballantine swallowed hard, a hybrid child!

With a sudden surge of strength, the woman shot her arm outwards and grabbed Ballantine by the wrist, her eyes looking past him or through him but certainly not seeing him.

“Promise she will be safe. My daughter, promise me you will keep her safe.”

Ballantine gently removed her hand from his arm, and nodded slowly.

“Starfleet can provide asylum for y –“ he began, but the woman cut him off with a gasped croak.

“Jade. Her name…is…Jade.” Her eyes rolled up in her head and she collapsed to the floor of the shuttle, dead.

The little girl, Jade, simply sat at her mother’s side. She was so small, so young, the comprehension of what was happening was lost on her. When Ballantine scooped her up, she offered no resistance, turning her wide brown eyes on him and considering him thoughtfully as she chewed at her fingers.

“Well, young Jade, you have had quite the eventful day,” Ballantine said quietly, taking the child and strapping her in securely to one of the shuttle seats.

“Sir?” one of the crew asked, cautiously. “What is going on here?”

“We have rescued a child, crewman, and will take her with us to the Tir Asleen where we will ascertain if she is in good health, then we will proceed from there.” Ballantine replied, returning to his own seat. “Lay in a course for the rendezvous point.”

“A-Aye sir,” the bewildered helmsman replied, and seconds later they had jumped to warp.

***

Sorsha heard the approaching footfalls, and motioned for Willow to hang back. He pressed his back to the wall, turning slightly to shield Elora from sight, shushing her quietly. With a leap Sorsha shot around the corner and slammed Madmartigan into the wall with a grunt.

“Okay, please don’t break my face again!” he yelped, holding his hands up, his un-lit hilt held loosely in his right hand.

“Mads,” Sorsha said, a relieved grin spreading across her face as she bumped her forehead gently against his chest, before looking back up at him, “one day we’re going to have to tell people that that was an accident, because that stupid access hatch was stuck and I tried to pull it open and you were standing right behind me.”

As he opened his mouth to respond with a witty quip, Sorsha kissed him, and he responded in kind.

“Away team one to shuttle craft two,” Willow said, unable to keep the laughter out of his voice, “four to beam up. Take us home.”

***

Eleven months later

“How did this happen?” Sorsha asked, keeping her voice level and quiet as she slowly lowered baby Kit into the cot, her twin brother Airk already asleep as his sister yawned widely. Sorsha had been on parental leave for two and a half months now, just before the twins had been born. Elora, now about a year and a half old, doted on her little siblings. She was peering at them through the bars of the cot at that very moment.

“I have no idea,” Willow said quietly, settling back on one of the seats in the room. They were all sitting the lounge room of the Tanthalos household, Madmartigan and Sorsha having gotten married ten months ago.

“I thought the whole crew had been put under a gag order, that every report was redacted and sealed behind level four security clearance protocols?” Madmartigan whispered. He walked over to his children and gently scooped Elora up into his arms, dropping a whiskery kiss on her cheek as he sat down on the chair opposite Willow. Elora giggled and began to play with the braid in Madmartigan’s hair, sucking on the beads thoughtfully.

“They were, they all were,” Willow sighed, “but you remember what I said that first day? This was always going to get out.”

“So,” Sorsha sat down, beside Mads and gently stroked Elora’s back, leaning against Mads for support, “what do we do? How do we keep her safe?” 

“I don’t know,” Willow sighed again. “The whole Federation knows who she is and that she’s linked to the three of us somehow. There’re some factions who hail her as a goddess, some who want to finish what Bavmorda started.”

“Well, that’s not going to happen,” Madmartigan growled, cuddling Elora tighter to him. She giggled and babbled happily.

“She could come with me,” Willow said gently, looking at his friends. “Freen is an out-of-the-way planet, not a hotbed of Federation activity. My family has a farm, Mims and Ranon would adore her.”

“Willow,” Sorsha said, her throat tightening, “you can’t protect her on your own. And she’s our family.”

“She’s as much mine as she is yours,” Willow frowned. “I only want to protect her as much as you two!”

“Thank you, Willow,” Madmartigan said quietly. “We will figure something out.”

***

Painful as it was, Madmartigan and Sorsha made the decision to put Elora into hiding. Willow reluctantly performed some cosmetic surgery and hid Elora’s epidermal marks, and she passed as purely human, once Willow doctored her official Starfleet files.

Pru, their old academy flight instructor and now retired, was happy to tell everyone who asked that her granddaughter was staying with her now that her son was off-world and running the cargo lines. When his ship suffered a catastrophic warp-breach she was consoled that at least her granddaughter was safe on Earth with her. She vowed to Sorsha that she would take the fact that the closest person to a son she’d ever had was Madmartigan, to her grave. Pru agreed to treat the child’s strawberry-blonde hair with a highlighting solution to make it blonde regularly.

As Pru lived nearby, the couple could still keep tabs on Elora as she grew up, though it hurt that they had to also maintain a distance. Elora grew up, not knowing her family beyond passing acquaintances.

Sorsha rose through the command ranks, eventually being made a Starfleet admiral and becoming permanently stationed at Starfleet headquarters. Madmartigan became a captain, getting his own command on a Starfleet research vessel.

Willow retired from Starfleet and returned to Freen. With great care he securely wrapped the data core of the Fin Raziel in Elora’s baby blanket, and locked it in a wooden chest that he tucked into the back of his cupboard where it gathered dust.

On a mission Madmartigan disappeared, along with two of his crew and Sorsha was devastated. Kit and Airk were only seven years old at the time, and too young to really know what was going on. Keeping her pain to herself as much as she could, Sorsha carried on, and when the time came she wrote a glowing recommendation for Brunhilde Baker to join Starfleet, majoring in medical science.

Two years later her twins enlisted, and her life carried on in much the same way as it had for the last decade. With all three of her children, as she still considered Elora hers, now under her watchful eye at Starfleet Academy she was more determined than ever that she would keep them safe.