Chapter Text

V – Conflict

Lif Culsten had volunteered to head the night shift. It had been the first time that his request to be in charge of Eagleduring the least busy time of the day had been granted. He’d had his eye on the position for a long time but the outbreak of the war had made Edison decide to put more experienced command officers in the center seat even at night.

            This usually meant either Edison himself, Xylion, or Leva. However, the first officer had taken the night off, the Vulcan was still busy managing the cargo Eagle had recently taken on board, and Leva – Culsten wasn’t sure exactly why the half-Romulan had not been chosen.

What he did know was that Eagle’s tactical officer had very recently fallen out of grace with Edison due to his curious behavior. Culsten had that Leva was not the only one acting out of character as of late.

            DeMara Deen had been much more irritable than usual which was especially strange as the blithe Tenarian was not easily rattled. The captain did not seem to be immune from the mood shifts coursing their way through the ship. A few hours earlier he and the rest of the bridge crew had been unable to ignore the piercing voices coming from the captain’s ready room that ultimately resulted in Agent Tren’s sudden departure followed by the sound of a loud crash. Deen had gone to investigate and then both she and the captain had left together.

It was all too obvious that the war was tearing at everybody’s nerves but he had not expected that the sturdy Romulan and the usually cool-headed captain would be the first victims of the relentless stress.

            Culsten leaned back in the command chair, enjoying the feel of the pristine leather and the comfort of the soft cushions. He quickly decided that he liked sitting there. He had little difficulty imagining that this was exactly where he belonged. One day a chair just like it would be his. In the meantime, he had plenty of time to practice for his big day.

            “Status report. All stations.”

            Lance Stanmore uttered a sigh. “Operations: All systems normal.”

            Culsten acknowledged his report with a curt nod.

            “Helm: All systems normal. Still running level three diagnostic on ventral navigational sensors.”

            “Tactical reports all system within standard parameters,” said Trinik from his station immediately behind the captain’s chair after Ensign Srena had made her report.

            “Very good,” Culsten said.

            Srena, the Andorian helm officer turned to look at the acting captain. “Is it at all possible that you are bored?”

            He gave the young blue-skinned officer a stern look. Srena ch’Trenmvec was new to the ship. She had barely graduated from the Academy and had been quickly posted to Eagle. Personnel shortages had forced Starfleet to turn cadets into officers before they had formally graduated, unceremoniously throwing them right into the deep end. They had to learn quickly and Culsten thought that so far the nimble Andorian had done a decent job. It was, of course, his responsibility to make sure that she was doing it right.

            “I’m keeping you on your toes, Ensign. And you should be thankful for that. If there is one thing we cannot afford at the moment it's complacency.”

            Srena gave him a serious nod and turned back to her station.

            Stanmore couldn’t suppress a chuckle. “That was a nice speech. I bet you rehearsed it before coming on duty today,” he said, throwing Srena a large smile.

            Culsten tried to maintain a stoic expression but ultimately failed when a smile broke his lips.

            Srena looked back at him. “For a moment I actually thought that you knew what you’re doing in that chair.”

            Culsten stood. “I know exactly what I’m doing. My only mistake was to recommend you for the helm position,” he said with a vicious grin on his lips.

            “We both know the only reason you don’t want me here is because you know how good I am and you’re worried that the captain may decide to replace you all together.”

            Ever since Srena had come aboard the two had engaged in a rivalry of sorts as to who was a better pilot. Culsten had found that it had helped alleviate much of the tension the much too young officer had felt over helming a starship during a war. He couldn’t deny that she was good. Perhaps even better than he had been when he had first started in that position.

            “I’m beginning to think that there might be something to that,” Stanmore said. “Did you notice how uncomfortable he gets every time you take his post?”

            She nodded quickly. “Exactly.”

            “Lance, I thought you were on my side on this?”

            The blonde-haired operations manager shrugged his shoulders. Stanmore was an easy-going kind of guy, hailing from Southern California on Earth and very much representing the lifestyle of the sunny coastal region. There wasn’t much the man took too seriously and yet he was a professional when he had to be. “Just calling it how I see it.”

            Culsten was about to respond when a warning sound from the helm stopped him in his tracks. It took all his willpower not to jump next to Srena to check the readouts himself.

            “Level three diagnostic completed,” Srena said with a grimace on her face as she looked over the results. Something was clearly amiss.

            He noticed. “What is it?”

            “I’m not entirely sure. There seems to be a malfunction with the aft sensor array. A point seven eight variance in the pattern recognition subsystem.”

            “Point seven eight,” Stanmore said. “That doesn’t sound too bad. Could be a sensor echo.”

            Culsten tended to agree with the operations manager except that he knew that Eagle’s navigational sensors had never experienced a variance higher than point five percent. “Does anyone have a sensor contact?”

            There was a momentary silence as all three stations around him checked their instruments.

            Trinik was first to respond. “Negative contacts within sensor range.”

            “I don’t have anything either,” said Stanmore.

            He took a step toward Srena who had not answered. “Helm?”

            She shook her head. “I think I read a minimal special distortion bearing one-eight-seven mark one-five. Distance approximately three hundred fifty-five million kilometers.”

            “That is well outside primary sensor range,” said Stanmore.

            Culsten now stood almost right next to Srena, quite tempted to push her out of her seat and reclaim his station. “Transfer your findings to the aft science station,” he said and turned to head for the back of the bridge.

            “There he goes having to show off again,” Stanmore said with a smirk.

            But he couldn’t really make heads or tails of the readings the science station provided him. There was no immediate reason to believe that the tiny distortion they had detected was not due to a misalignment of the sensor grid.

            The doors to the turbo-lift opened and Deen strode onto the bridge.

            “What are you doing up here so late?” he asked her as she headed his way.

            “Just thought I finish up a few reports.”

            “Well now that you’re here maybe you wouldn’t mind having a look at this,” he said and pointed at the science station. “We just discovered this a minute ago.”

            She stepped next to him and carefully scrutinized the screen. “Looks like a sensor echo.”

             “You think so?”

            She moved closer to the station and began entering a few commands. “It could be some kind of spatial anomaly.”

            He shook his head. “We’re at warp eight point five. There aren’t many natural phenomena that can travel this fast.”

            She looked at him as if he had just answered his own question.

            “It’s a ship,” he said slowly.

            “There is really no way of telling at this distance. It could be a sensor echo or it could be a malfunction.”

            “What do we do?”

            “We?” she said with a smile.

            “You’re the ranking officer here.”

            “Oh no,” she said quickly. “I just came up here to catch up with some work. You’re the one in charge. You have to make a decision.”

            Culsten tried to think it through. “If it’s a ship I should call the captain.”

            “He’s sleeping,” she said. “And I’m sure he’d be in a very bad mood if you’d call him all the way up here to discuss a sensor echo.”

            He nodded, acceding to her point. “Okay, so let’s say that it isn’t a sensor echo but an enemy starship and I do nothing.”

            “You’ll endanger the lives of everybody on this ship.”

            He uttered a heavy sigh.

            “See why I’m not eager for command?”

            Culsten wasn’t listening. Instead, he turned back to the view screen which at the moment showed nothing but the stars streaking past the ship. And then an idea crossed his mind. An idea only a helmsman could come up with.  Or so he liked to think.

            He stepped up to the tactical console, standing right next to Trinik. His eyes remained trained forward. “Srena, stand by for an emergency deceleration to warp six.”

            “Huh?”

            But Culsten had already moved on. “Lance, transfer all available power to the internal dampening field.”

            Stanmore nodded and went straight to work.

            Deen smiled as she seemed to understand what he had in mind.

            “IDF at one hundred thirty percent,” Stanmore said. “Nobody onboard is going to feel a thing,” he added, also realizing what he was up to.

            Culsten nodded. “Srena, drop us to warp six as quickly as possible.”

 “Decelerating.”

            As expected, there was practically no sensation as the ship hit the brakes. On the viewscreen, the streaking star field adjusted so quickly that an untrained eye would not have noticed.

            An alert signal chimed out from the tactical station. “Sensor contact,” the Trinik said. “Bearing one-eight-seven mark one-seven. Distance three hundred fifty-one million kilometers.”

            “I’m reading it, too,” Stanmore said. “It definitely has mass and speed. Wait…” he checked his readouts again. “It’s gone.”

            “Something is following us,” said Srena, her short antennas on top of her head twitching excitedly.

            Culsten turned to face Deen, a satisfied grin on his lips.

            “I guess now you better start calling everybody.”

            He nodded. “Yellow Alert. Lieutenant Culsten to Captain Owens, please report to the bridge.”

*        *        *

Eagle’s senior officers had assembled on the bridge no ten minutes after Culsten had called out the yellow alert.

            DeMara Deen and the Lif Culsten had taken their respective stations at the front of the bridge, Commander Xylion was at the science station and Michael Owens, Gene Edison, and Jana Tren stood close behind him while he attempted to analyze the pursuing vessel.

            “Whoever they are,” Edison said. “They seem to be quite determined to stay undetected.”

            “Any chance of identifying the ship?” said Owens

            “I believe we are being followed by two vessels,” Xylion said while his fingers raced over the control console. “I detect two warp signatures. Both vessels are utilizing a modified energy shield to mask their presence.”

            “A cloaking device?” said Tren.

            “Not in the conventional sense,” Xylion said. “This one appears to be designed to deflect direct sensor scans. It is not as efficient as a full clocking device.”

            “Efficient enough,” said Edison. “They’ve been following us undetected for who knows how long. But I guess we can rule out Romulans or Klingons.”

            D’Karr who stood close by observing the officers, nodded. “If we were being followed by my people, we would not have been able to detect them.”

            “Whoever they are, I believe it is safe to assume that their unconventional shielding device is consuming a great amount of energy,” said Xylion. “Considering that they are traveling at such high speeds, I find it unlikely that they are prepared for an attack.”

            Owens nodded. “They’re just shadowing us. Perhaps trying to figure out where we are going,” he said and looked at Tren.

            “I don’t believe it,” Tren said under her breath.

            Edison turned to the captain. “In any case, we shouldn’t take any risks. If we divert course we could head to the Prellus system. A detour that shouldn’t cost us more than a day or two.”

            “And lead them right into the waiting arms of the Eighth Fleet,” the captain said with a smile. “It would be a splendid little trap,” he added and headed back for his chair at the center, closely followed by Tren and Edison.

            “We cannot afford to change course,” Tren said as they stepped into the command area.

            “What do you suggest we do?” Edison said.

He had met Jana Tren for the first time just a few minutes earlier. It hadn’t been enough time to get to know her but he had found her instantly unsympathetic. She had made an entirely cold and professional impression and seemed to make an effort to maintain a calculated detachment to Eagle’s crew. Everybody except the captain that was. It wasn’t difficult to guess that the two had a history. How far back it went and how close they had been, however, he didn’t know. What he did know was that she was a Betazoid and that made him very careful with his thoughts.

            “We don’t have a choice,” she said. “We need to engage them.”

            Edison shook his head. “That is not a good idea. We’re still licking our wounds from our last encounter with the Jem’Hadar. We can easily avoid risking lives and damage if we head for Prellus.”

            “I’m afraid this is not a matter of convenience, Commander,” she said coldly. “We have to act and we have to act now,” she turned to the captain. “This is our only option.”

            Owens looked at her for a moment and then turned away, noticing for the first time that Leva was not at his post. A clear breach of protocol during a Yellow Alert. “Mister D’Karr, could you give us a hand at tactical?”

            “Of course,” the Klingon said promptly and stepped up to the offensive controls, standing ready to assist Lieutenant Trinik.

            Owens sat in his chair. “Red Alert.”

            The alarm klaxons began blaring throughout the ship without delay, bracing the crew for impending danger.

            Tren sat in the chair next to him.

            Edison remained on his feet, trying hard to force a frown off his face.

            “Helm, bring us about,” the captain said.

            Culsten responded and began to turn the ship.

            On the viewscreen, the starscape was noticeably changing as the ship executed a hard course correction.

            “Two Jem’Hadar attack ships detected. Dead ahead, three hundred fifty million kilometers and closing,” said Lieutenant DeMara Deen.

            “Our mystery guests have just become a lot less mysterious,” said Culsten.

            Owens leaned forward in his chair slightly. “What’s their status, Dee?”

            “Holding course and speed,” she said. “We’ll be in weapon’s range within two minutes.”

            Edison glanced over to his left to see the determined expression on the captain’s face. Next to him sat Jana Tren, her eyes seemingly equally focused on what she had forced Owens to do. But there seemed to be something else there as well. A tad of insecurity perhaps? He couldn’t be certain. She looked his way as though she had picked up on his thoughts. He quickly turned away.

            “We’re now in visual range,” said Deen.

            “On screen,” he said.

            The viewscreen showed the two bug-shaped starships heading straight for Eagle. Both ships were still thousands of kilometers out but the image on the screen made it appear as if they were a mere stone’s throw away, ready to pounce on Eagle at any second.

            “They’re on a direct collision course,” said Culsten with unmistakable tension in his voice.

            Tren leaned closer to the captain. “The Jem’Hadar are prone to make suicide runs.”

            “I’m aware,” he said, no doubt recalling the painful memory of seeing a Jem’Hadar ship smashing into Agamemnon days earlier.

            And yet the captain remained calmly dedicated to their current approach, showing no signs that he planned to change the ship’s heading. Tren focused on his profile, as though trying to get a glimpse of what was happening in the man’s head. Edison thought that whatever she was picking up from him did not help put her mind at ease.

            In the meantime, So’Dan Leva had entered the bridge. He had quietly proceeded to his station, relieving Trinik, and with all but an icy look had made D’Karr relinquish the tactical console as well. “Their weapons and shields are fully charged,” he said.

            Neither Owens nor Edison had the time to take special note of the Romulan’s sudden arrival.

            Owens’ eyes never left the viewscreen. “Mister Culsten, what is the distance between those two ships?”

            “Less than eight-hundred meters.”

            Edison looked at the captain with a growing suspicion of what he had in mind. “That is not a lot of space,” he said, knowing well that Eagle was about four-hundred and forty meters wide.

            A small smile crept onto Owens’ lips and Edison knew instantly that his suspicions had been right and faced the helm station. “Lif, you think you can pull off a Hammer-Drill?”

            Culsten looked down at his instruments and then back at the first officer. “It’s going to be tight.”

            Owens nodded. “Do it.”

            “Aye, aye, sir,” he said and returned his full attention to his station. He was going to need it. “Everybody better find something to hang on to.”

            “What’s a Hammer-Drill?” Tren said.

            “You’ll see.”

            Edison headed up the ramp to the tactical station. “Commander, we need full power to forward shields and get ready to transfer power distribution at a moment’s notice.”

            Leva nodded.

            “Distance to target: five-million kilometers, four-point-five-million kilometers, four-million,” Deen reported. “Now, three-point-five million, three-million kilometers. We are entering secondary weapon’s range.”

            “Mister Leva, fire torpedoes, both targets, full spread,” Owens said.

            Without delay Eagle began firing bright blue quantum torpedoes at a rapid pace. Each projectile was catapulted out of the launcher heading straight for one of the two Jem’Hadar vessels, ten in total, five for each.

            The attacking ships barely even attempted to avoid the incoming fire. Multiple impacts on both ships significantly weakened their shields but they remained on course.

            “Drop to impulse,” Owens said. “Initiate Hammer-Drill Maneuver.”

            This was Culsten’s cue. A few button presses later Eagle had dropped out of warp and the ship began to spin on its z-axis. While the internal dampeners and the artificial gravity countermanded the effects of the ship’s sudden roll, the main viewscreen now had the enemy ships spinning.

            Tren had to turn her eyes away from the screen, probably beginning to experience a sense of motion sickness.

            “The Jem’Hadar have dropped out of warp.”

            “They’re opening fire,” Leva said.

            But Gne knew that there wasn’t much they could do about that. The maneuver Owens had chosen required Eagle to maintain its present course no matter what.

            “Steady as she goes,” the captain said.

            The constantly moving Federation starship offered very little surface for the supercharged Jem’Hadar polaron beams to connect with. Many simply zipped harmlessly past Eagle; some graced the perimeter of the shields while a few found their target.

            “Shields holding at eighty-eight percent,” Leva said from tactical, holding on to his station as the bridge shook from the impacts.

             “Distance now five-hundred-thousand kilometers and closing.”

            Culsten began to slowly shake his head and Edison realized why. The two ships on the screen were moving closer to each other, closing the gap between them.

            Geen noticed it too and he shot the captain a worried look.

            “Three-hundred-thousand kilometers,” said Deen. “Primary weapon’s range.”

            “Fire phasers,” said Edison without hesitation.

            Again the Jem’Hadar seemed unconcerned, not attempting to avoid the phased energy discharges emanating from the Starfleet vessel.

            “Multiple hits. The starboard vessel’s shields are buckling,” Leva said.

            But Owens’ focus remained on the screen. “Mister Culsten?”

            “I don’t know,” he said, his voice revealing a hint of insecurity. “Not much room.”

            “Yes or no?” the captain said.

            It took the young helmsman a second to answer. But when he did his voice was firm as steel. “We can make it.”

            “Dee?”

            “They’re not changing course. Eighty thousand kilometers now.”

            “They’re either playing chicken…“ Edison said.

            “Or they’re on a one-way trip,” finished Deen without taking her eyes off her instruments.

            Geme looked back at both the captain and Tren. Owens was still determined to follow through with the current course of action. For some reason, he seemed to doubt that these particular Jem’Hadar had any intention of dying for their Founders just yet. Tren’s eyes, however, darted back and forth as if everybody around her had lost their minds. The steadily closing enemy ships were a clear sign to her that they meant business and she couldn’t believe the serenity that had ensued on Eagle’s bridge in light of the impending collision.

            Edison suppressed a smirk. He took some delight in the seemingly stiff agent’s distress. He understood now that her cold demeanor was mostly a mask she had put on to fool those around her. Or perhaps it was some form of protection she had learned to apply over her years in whatever dealings she had been involved with. He had no time to give the matter too much thought, however. Eagle was about to undertake one of the most dangerous combat maneuvers in the books.

            Eagle’s bridge shuddered as both Jem’Hadar vessels had now intensified their firing rate as if angry at the Starfleet ship’s insistence not to veer off.

            “Shields at seventy-five percent,” Leva said, his voice just slightly less confident than just moments before.

            The spinning Eagle continued to shoot toward the Jem’Hadar, her nose pointed straight at the seemingly tiny, and closing gap between the two ships.

            “Fifty-thousand kilometers, forty-thousand, thirty, twenty, ten-thousand kilometers.”

            “Mister Leva, concentrate all phaser fire on the port nacelle of the starboard vessel,” Owens said.

            The concentrated barrage that followed was dead on target. The shields already weakened before gave in and the phaser blasts tore through the enemy vessel’s warp nacelle and pushed the ship away from its companion. The gap was widening.

            “Do it, Lieutenant,” Owens said, directing his attention to the helmsman.

            Culsten’s superior Kellonian reflexes came in handy now as he manipulated his controls at lightning-fast speeds.

            Eagle – still spinning – was about to smash right into oncoming traffic. The few thousand meters between them were melting away in seconds, bringing them ever closer to certain catastrophe. Then, just moments before the inevitable, the Federation ship froze on its z-axis, stopping all rotary motion as it was almost completely vertically aligned.

            The enemy ships now filled out the entirety of the viewscreen causing Jana Tren to grip the armrests of her chair with so much force that her knuckles began turning white.

            The bridge crew collectively held its breath as they realized what would happen next.

            “Drop shields,” Edison said. It was a sacrifice that had to be made to squeeze the massive starship through the tiny space available. Keeping them up would have resulted in the powerful energy screen colliding with those of the Jem’Hadar and causing substantial damage to Eagle.

            “Fire phasers, both targets,” the captain said.

            Eagle passed through the gap between the two attack ships. The phaser arrays mounted on the upper and lower part of the ship’s saucer section fired at each Jem’Hadar vessel at point-blank range, nearly doubling their effectiveness. The beams tore through their shields like paper and drilled deep into their hulls.

            Within seconds it was over. Eagle was clear.

            “Redistribute shields,” Edison said, unable to fully mask the relief that had crept into his voice.

            The main screen had shifted to an aft view. One of the two ships had not survived Eagle’s daring maneuver. It had lost its port nacelle and was spinning wildly out of control until it was utterly consumed by a massive explosion. Eagle’s phasers had apparently ripped through their engineering section and destabilized the warp core.

            The event passed without comments on the bridge.

            The second vessel even though heavily damaged was not yet beaten. In an uncharacteristic move for the Jem’Hadar, the ship changed heading and jumped to warp.

            Edison couldn’t quite believe it. “They’re escaping.”

            “That’s new,” said Culsten and received an agreeing nod from Deen at his side.

            Tren took a deep breath. “Follow them.”

            Edison turned to the Federation agent. It had sounded like an order. “Excuse me?”

            But she looked at the captain when she spoke again. “We need to stop them.”

            Deen was equally irritated and she turned around to face the command area. “I thought this mission was too important to be delayed?”

            “There is no time to explain,” she said, shrugging off the questions before returning her attention to Owens. “Mike?”

            He looked at her. “Are you sure this is necessary?”

            Her eyes mirrored unwavering determination. “Absolutely. I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t.”

            “You didn’t ask,” Deen said under her breath and turned back to her station.

            Edison wanted to give Deen a warning glare for being so outspoken but he couldn’t help but agree with her.

            Tren did glare at Deen, even if was just at her back.

            “Very well,” Owens finally said. “Mister Culsten, engage to intercept.”

            “Engaging.”

            Eagle jumped to high warp, following the fleeing Jem’Hadar vessel. It had taken so much damage that it had not been able to muster much more than warp seven. It was easy prey and it soon enough reappeared on Eagle’s viewscreen.

            “They have sustained heavy damage to their shields and weapons systems,” Leva said. “Their life support system is also fluctuating.”

            “Torpedoes?” said Edison.

            Leva shook his head. “Launchers are not ready.”

            Owens stood up and glanced at Leva.

            “We’ve been having some trouble with the launchers since we left the starbase,” he said defensively. There was clearly some unspoken subtext in what he was saying, and the way he briefly glared at D’Karr, as if he blamed the Klingon for this state of affairs.

            “Options?” Owens said.

            “Phasers will be ineffective at this speed and distance,” said Edison.

            D’Karr stepped forward. “We could use the tractor beam to force them to sub-light speeds.”

            Leva quickly shook his head. “That is not a recommended procedure.”

            “Will it work?” Owens said.

            “It will if we transfer warp power to the emitter. A few seconds would suffice.”

            “That would drop us out of warp and—“ Leva stopped when he realized his mistake, clearly somewhat embarrassed he chose to express his feelings with an icy look directed at the Klingon instead. D’Karr responded with a self-satisfied smirk.

            Owens, either oblivious to the rivalry or choosing to ignore it, nodded. “Lock on with a tractor beam and get ready to transfer power.”

            “Edison to engineering. Stand by to transfer warp power to the tractor beam emitter.”

            “Yes, sir. You are aware that we will drop to impulse?”

            He grinned. “That is the idea. Bridge out.” He turned to look at Deen. “Engage tractor beam.”

            “Engaging.”

            A powerful blue beam shot out from Eagle’s secondary hull and like a lasso connected firmly to the Jem’Hadar ship.

            Edison narrowed his eyes. “Transfer power now.”

            As anticipated Eagle suddenly dropped out of warp, forcing the Jem’Hadar to sub-light as well. The tractor beam fluctuated for a few seconds and then collapsed as the emitter was unable to process the amount of power it was being fed.

             “What are you doing?” said Leva with irritation as D’Karr stepped up next to him to attend to the tactical board.

            “I’m transferring power to the phasers otherwise we blow out the tractor-beam emitter,” he said and then turned to the captain. “Phasers at one hundred forty percent power.”

            Owens didn’t show his surprise at D’Karr’s unexpected actions. “Fire phasers.”

            Leva hesitated for a moment before following the order. “Firing.”

            The Jem’Hadar’s shields were no match for the overcharged phaser blast that easily pierced the ship like a hot knife through butter. Small explosions ripped across the vessel’s hull and then quietly ceased. The Jem’Hadar attack vessel simply remained there, drifting and with no signs of power or life.

            “The enemy vessel has been neutralized,” Leva said.

            Owens turned to Jana Tren already expecting what she was about to say.

            “They have to be destroyed.”

            There was a moment of silence on the bridge as nobody spoke. It wasn’t because Tren’s comment had come as a particular shock to them. Nor did it stem from the prospect of killing more Jem’Hadar. Eagle had faced numerous in combat before and the outcome had usually always been their complete destruction. But this was the first time Eagle’s crew had been put into a position to be able to decide over the life or death of their foes. Both Tren and D’Karr seemed untroubled by the dilemma but Edison and he guessed the other Starfleet officers couldn’t ignore the moral implications as easily.

            Owens simply nodded.

            “Mister Leva,” Edison said, “status of the launchers?”

            “Ready to fire.”

            He glanced at the viewscreen and the doomed Jem’Hadar vessel drifting there. He wondered how many Jem’Hadar were still alive. He didn’t bother to check. “Load a tri-cobalt device and fire.”

            Eagle fired a single, high-yield explosive that tore the Jem’Hadar ship to pieces, leaving behind nothing but dust and debris.

            “Stand down from Red Alert,” said Owens.

            The red alarm lights ceased and were instantly replaced by the standard illumination.

            “Mister Culsten, resume our previous course and engage at maximum warp.”

            “Aye, sir.”

            Tren stood from her chair, a small smile forming on her lips as if to congratulate the crew on their successful engagement. It quickly disappeared when she found nobody to return it.

            Edison stepped up next to the captain. “Sir, could I have a word with you in private?”

            Owens nodded briefly looked around the bridge and then headed straight for the doors to his ready room with Edison in tow. “Lieutenant Deen, you have the bridge,” he said just before crossing into his office.

Deen was caught off guard and threw him a surprised glance only to see the doors closing behind the captain and the first officer.

She stood from her station and noticed that Xylion, who would have been next in the chain of command had already left the bridge to attend other duties. That left Leva as the logical person for Owens to have handed over command before he and Edison had left the bridge.

Instead, he had tapped her, and she was pretty certain it wasn’t because of an oversight.

Leva stared at her, directing his ire at the obvious slight at her. Then he quickly turned away and left the bridge.

            She decided not to take it personally and took the center seat.

            “Lieutenant,” said Jana Tren in acknowledgment.

            Deen looked up as if noticing her standing in the middle of the bridge for the first time. “I don’t mean to be rude, ma’am,” she said in a cool tone. “But regulations are quite clear about civilians on the bridge.”

            Tren nodded slowly and turned to the exit. She changed her mind midway and looked back at the younger woman. “You know, Lieutenant, I don’t have to be a Betazoid to know that you are not being very honest.”

            “I beg your pardon.”

            “You quite obviously meant to be rude,” she said and then stepped into the turbolift.

*        *        *

 “We have a serious problem on this ship, Commander,” said Owens the moment the doors to his ready room had shut close behind the first officer. He continued to round his desk.

            Edison nodded slowly. He had asked to speak to Owens on a different matter but he had expected the captain to bring up their current situation first. “I realize that.”

            Owens didn’t sit down. He remained at eye level with Edison, emphasizing the weight he put on the matter. “Good. That means that I can spare us both the speech about how a starship cannot afford any single officer not to work at their very best capabilities during times of war and how just one weak link endangers the lives of the entire crew.”

            Edison remained in a near-at-attention posture. “I have underestimated the problem with Commander Leva.”

            Owens took his chair. “You certainly have.”

            Edison knew that he had been a rather spoiled first officer since he had come onboard Eagle.

Except for a few exceptions, the people under his command had always been the very epitome of a Starfleet crew and he could count on one hand the number of disciplinary actions he’d had to initiate as an XO.

There had been conflicts in the past, even the best crews experienced problems from time to time but on Eagle,those types of problems had most often been dealt with amongst each other and without the need for official punitive measures.

Edison had trusted that Leva would sort out his problems himself like he had promised; instead of having them affect his duties. He was upset about the breakdown in trust and even more that he had to be reminded by his captain that what he was doing was not enough.

            “Gene,” Owens said, his voice softening now. “You cannot afford to be Mister-Nice-Guy anymore. I need Leva to get his act together or have him replaced. I really don’t want to lose him right now either but I’m starting to think that we might be better off without him in his current state of mind.”

            Edison could do nothing but agree with Owens. “I hate for his career coming into jeopardy because he cannot handle a Klingon. But you are absolutely right, sir. We cannot afford his personal feelings endangering this ship.”

            “You do what you have to,” the captain said and turned to his brand new desk computer that had only recently replaced the old one. It was a clear sign that he was finished with the conversation.

            Edison didn’t move.

            The captain shot him another glance. “Is there something else?”

            “Actually there is, sir.”

             “That’s right; you asked to speak to me. What’s on your mind?” he said and gestured for him to take a seat.

            edison was reluctant to take the offer as he anticipated that the captain might not like what he had to say. “There is another person on this ship I would like to discuss with you,” he said and took the seat. “Somebody who is not a member of this crew.”

            “D’Karr?” Owens said. “I don’t think we need to worry about him too much. He needs a refresher course on our rules and regs but otherwise, I believe he has been very resourceful.”

            Edison nodded slowly. He couldn’t quite tell if the captain was trying to avoid the issue on purpose or not. “I agree but I was not speaking about D’Karr.”

            Owens leaned back in his chair. He clearly knew what was coming.

            “How well do you know Agent Tren, sir?”

            The captain hesitated. “Very well.”

            Edison barely contained the skepticism in his eyes. “I’m concerned that her attitude is endangering not only this ship but also this mission.”

            “We don’t really know much about this mission.”

            “That’s exactly my point, sir.”

            “I have been made aware that her authority is coming directly from the highest levels of the administration. There is very little we can do about that,” Owens said.

            But Edison knew the captain well enough to realize that he was trying to build a defense for Tren. It was the only explanation that made sense. Ordinarily, the safety of his crew was of paramount importance, no matter who was giving the orders.

            “Don’t you think it is somewhat unconventional that we are taking orders from a civilian? There is a clear chain of command at work in Starfleet. There is a reason why we do not answer to members of the administration or even to the Council.  We answer to the admiralty and they answer to the civilian government.”

            “You speak like a military man, Gene,” Owens said with a small smirk.

            “I do not want to be a soldier, sir.”

             “Nor do I,” he said, his smile now gone. “Do you think I like her orders? Hunting down Jem’Hadar like they’re animals, not even considering taking prisoners?”

            “Then why are we doing this, sir?

            Owens let out a small sigh as he left his chair and turned to the window. For a moment seemingly content to watch the stars streak by instead of continuing the conversation.

            “I trust her, Gene,” he said after a few moments.

            “Do you really?”

            Owens turned away from the window to face his first officer and met his determined glance. “Yes,” he said. But his voice failed to carry true confidence.

            Edison thought he understood. It was clear that Owens cared quite a bit for Tren. Or once had. And he could sympathize with the surprisingly strong emotional impulses that accompanied caring deeply for one special person. With love. But he didn’t know half of how Owens felt about Tren and his one and only concern at this moment was not his captain’s possible feelings toward Jana Tren but the safety of the ship.

            “For the record, sir,” he said in the most official tone of voice he could fashion. “I do not trust Agent Tren and I believe her recklessness might pose a serious threat to this ship and her crew.”

            Owens looked up with surprise at first. But his glance quickly turned cold as ice. “Duly noted, Commander.”

            “I also want to suggest that you consider disregarding her orders on the basis that she has no direct authority over this vessel,” Edison continued, knowing that he was treading on rapidly thinning ice now. The captain’s increasingly frosty behavior was an undeniable indication that he did not want to hear what he was saying.

            “I told you, she has my trust,” Owens said harshly and sat back down in his chair. “I will make a note of your remarks in my log. That’ll be all, Commander.”

            Edison nodded slowly and turned to head for the exit. Part of him wanted to say something else, something to defuse the sudden tension he had brought on between them. Just before he left the ready room he shot a glance over his shoulder. But Owens was not looking his way; in fact, he was doing nothing else but waiting for him to leave. So he did.