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“Got it.” M’Benga looked relieved.

Scotty checked his tricorder. The particulate energy had increased a hundredfold. “Thank you, Doc.”

M’Benga nodded. “All things considered, I’d rather stick to medicine.”

“Are you ready, Mister Scott?” Spock called from the front of the shuttle. “Our time is limited.”

“Almost, Commander.” Scott checked the charge of the microreactor. “We’re good enough.”

The worst part of the plan was that there was no way to remotely control the satellite. Someone would have to go out there with it. Emalra’ehn had volunteered.

“Ready, lad?” asked Scotty.

M’Benga was helping Emalra’ehn check the seals on his EVA suit. “Ready,” said the young man.

Spock flipped on the comm. “Columbus, are you ready?”

“Aye, sir,” answered Kologwe.

“Accelerate to full impulse,” ordered Spock. “Linear course.”

Scotty felt the overtaxed engines of the Hofstadter surge.

Once Emalra’ehn was outside the shuttle, they needed to have him set up just right.

“Open hatch now,” commanded Spock. M’Benga tapped the hatch control, and it swung open.

Emalra’ehn climbed up onto the recovered sat, putting his feet on one of its projecting emitters. “Ready.”

“Maximum impulse,” reported Spock.

“Matching speed,” said Kologwe.

“Stand by,” said Spock.

Scotty caught the eye of Emalra’ehn, who gave him a thumbs-up.

“Go.”

All the Farrezzi had been awoken. They had been horrified, but once they saw the playback, they believed Kirk. None were trained in combat. Horr had suggested that the New Planets Cousins had deliberately gathered laborers, hoping to obtain passive slaves.

Kirk raised a hand to get the Farrezzi’s attention, but their reaction was difficult to gauge, since no heads turned. “Attention requirement!” he shouted. “If this ship goes to warp, it will be impossible to keep you from being sold. You know what the New Planets Cousins plan to do. We have to stop them.”

He walked over to the unconscious slaver and picked up its gun. Holding it up, he turned to the crowd. “Who knows how to use this? We need to arm ourselves.”

A dozen Farrezzi were each waving two limbs in the air and saying something. Kirk could only make out the closest one.

“Statement: I possession ability of weapon use. I hunter training completion.”

The others squeaked in affirmation. Maybe they’d be successful after all.

Cron Emalra’ehn gripped the satellite as tightly as he could while M’Benga and Rawlins picked it up from either side. Cron saw Rawlins wince as the weight pulled at his shoulder. The doctor counted off, and they shoved it—and him—out the hatch. The force field crackled around him.

The Farrezzi fighters were coming up fast. Behind the Hofstadter, the Columbus flew cover, interposing itself between Emalra’ehn and the approaching fighters.

He reached inside an open panel on the satellite, twisting a dial. His tricorder told him that the satellite was locking on to a target. Using his tricorder, Emalra’ehn could adjust the direction.

“You okay, lad?” Scotty asked.

“Calibrating sights.” Emalra’ehn was stunned by how calm he sounded. He hoped he had understood Scotty’s instructions.

“Ninety seconds,” reported Jaeger. Time was running out.

“Power looks good,” said Scotty.

Emalra’ehn’s visor lit up—the Columbus was taking fire.

“I’m lined up. Let’s do this.”

“Affirmative,” Spock said. The Hofstadter dipped down slightly, then disappeared as Spock threw its engines into reverse.

This was it—Petty Officer Cron Emalra’ehn alone in the cosmos, with two enemy fighters.

“Now.”

“Copy that,” said Kologwe.

Seven Deers took one of the back seats in the Columbus to monitor the shield systems. They were taking quite a pounding, but they were needed if this was to work. Glancing forward, she could just make out a purple-and-silver dot ahead—Emalra’ehn hanging onto a Farrezzi satellite.

The Columbus slipped to one side. A moment later, a beam stabbed out from the satellite, hitting the closest fighter.

“Hofstadter is also firing,”