6 Hours After Zero Hour

Deck 12 had become a kill box, but Lieutenant Prad moved like she was born for it. “Move left!” she shouted, diving behind an exposed conduit as a Vaadwaur disruptor blast exploded overhead. Her team moved left, sending suppressive fire down the corridor. A hand gesture from Prad sent two Officers sliding into a junction. Planting several charges against a bulkhead, then moved to a safe position.

The explosion went off just as planned. “That’s one down!” Prad yelled. “Two more on this deck.”

Elsewhere, in a cramped maintenance alcove, Ensign Henderson huddled over a modified data terminal. His makeshift uplink flickered as he watched the team move. “Signal coming through,” he whispered, “rerouting power, and we have a heartbeat.”

For the first time in hours, Milo saw dots on his display, scattered but alive. “Henderson to Team Delta. Prad’s through on Deck 12. Begin Phase Two.” Comms chirped with confirmation, broken but functional.

Milo sat back, sweat pouring from his face, “it’s not pretty,” he muttered. “But it’ll do.”

On the Galileo, AJ leaned against the biobed, his bandaged shoulder stiff but usable. Elena stood beside him, “Welcome back,” she said quietly. “We weren’t sure anyone made it.”

Tindal sighed, “Neither were we. I wish more had gotten off.”

Outside the medbay, two Romulan officers passed, “Subspace harmonics are fluctuating again,” one said. “Not just here, it’s across entire sectors.”

The other leaned closer. “Cardassia Prime. They are saying that’s the origin point. They’re doing something massive, whatever it is.”

Tindal listened; this wasn’t just about Eos, something was quadrant quadrant-wide.

Milo’s hands flew over the console, rerouting through old subroutines and damaged junctions. With one final tap, the tactical display blinked to life. Across the station, sensor feeds returned; patchy, but visible. One by one, terminals lit up green. Milo keyed into station communications, “This is Henderson. Sensor grid is online. You’re not alone out there anymore.”

Across Deck 15, Prad’s display came alive with movement data. “I’ve got eyes,” she breathed. “Turner, with me!” The two squads moved in sync, cutting through Vaadwaur patrols with newfound determination. What had been scattered resistance was now a coordinated force.

Near the cargo junction, another Vaadwaur fell, dragged into cover by a medic. “We have to return,” the Vaadwaur pleaded, “I won’t get stuck here.”

The medic glanced at Prad, who watched. “They’re breaking,” she exclaimed. “Something’s scaring them more than us.”

Meanwhile in Ops

The plan hinged on timing. While strike teams overwhelmed the lower decks, Gab looked at Commander Malik and whispered, “Two guards. If we are fast, they don’t know what hit them.”

Malik nodded. “We make this count.”

Without warning, the first guard went down with a jab to the neck. The second tried to raise a weapon, but was too slow. Gab’s elbow met his jaw with a crunch.

They looked around Ops, there was no resistance. Dovral’s men had grown comfortable. They weren’t expecting the resistance to come back from the dead. Within seconds, Gab was at the command terminal. Milo’s patch had activated station comms. In what had seemed like days, Gab finally looked pleased. There was still hope.

“All units. This is Captain Harris.” His voice filled every working communication device in the station, “They want this station?” he said, “Then make them bleed for every bulkhead.”

Across the station, weapons were raised and ready. Officers rallied. The Vaadwaur turned and, for the first time, they started to fall back. The Vaadwaur weren’t fighting, they were the ones attempting to survive. Something had changed.

Back on Deck 14, Milo leaned over a patched-together terminal, the screen glitching. At first, he thought it was interference, but then it cleared up. He nearly fell out of his chair. “Picking up partial transmissions,” he shouted. “Looks like Starfleet, something about tetryon harmonics, aperture instability… Cardassian field teams.”

“They’re sealing the apertures.” Milo looked to Prad, “The Vaadwaur will be stranded. Left behind.”

The rumors spread faster than orders. Walls had begun forming, the apertures would never open again. For the crew it was more than a win. The Vaadwaur were departing as fast as they had arrived; well, not all of them.

Inside a sealed compartment, Dovral stood alone. Eos had burned but somehow she had survived. His Lieutenants had already surrendered to the opposition. They last thing anyone said to him was that they needed to withdraw. His ships are already gone. The apertures were destabilizing, they had lost.

“Cowards,” he hissed.

Gab’s team advanced through the station. Every corridor felt like a last stand. Emergency forcefields flickering on and off. Comms had continued to come to life, Romulan signals overlapping with Starfleet singals. Gab’s comm badge came to life, as Milo’s voice came through loud and clear. “Just pulled a communication from Cardassia Prime. It’s confirmed; harmonic stabilization’s underway. They’re closing them. Not just here. Everywhere.”

Gab paused in the corridor, and sighed. He looked back at Malik, then to the reactor bulkhead just ahead. “Let’s finish it.”

The reactor control room radiated with heat. Coolant sizzled from damaged pipes. Warning klaxons sounded. Gab pushed through a half-collapsed blast door, already bleeding from a shoulder wound. At the center of the room stood Dovral.

His uniform was torn, armor cracked, and a smear of soot across one side of his face. But he stood tall. Calm. His eyes locked on Gab, “I wondered if you’d be the one,” Dovral said.

Gab said nothing. He moved left, circling, eyes on the nearby coolant terminals.

“I expected less resistance from your people,” Dovral continued.

Gab exhaled. “You’re stalling.”

Dovral stepped forward. “Our aperture may be weakening, and our escape routes closed. But Eos still matters. Even in death, this station proves the Federation can bleed.”

Gab never took his eyes off of Dovral. “You stayed. You wanted to be remembered for trying.”

Dovral’s face twisted. “You think tetryon harmonics and Cardassian engineering can save you? You think those walls will hold us back forever?”

“Probably not,” Gab said. “hopefully, just long enough for you to regret crawling through.”

The overhead lights flared red. The coolant system behind Dovral began to destabilize. “You won’t survive this,” Dovral said.

Gab looked past him, “I didn’t come here to survive.” Dovral shouted as he grabbed his disruptor and fired. But it was too late. Gab’s hand had found the release. Slamming it down, the coolant released into the chamber.

The last thing Gab heard was Dovral’s scream.

Back in Ops, Milo’s voice choked in shock. “We’ve got full station control.” Across Ops everyone cheered, even the Romulans joined in the celebration.

Okafor’s voice broke the stillness. “Captain Harris?”

Milo looked up from his terminal, “he didn’t make it.”

A second later, the communications system came to life. Gab’s voice, recorded hours earlier, played through the speakers. “If you’re hearing this… I’m gone. But the line held. Make it count.”