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“Not yet.”

“We can’t wait, divert the power.”

“Aye, sir.”

Even on as small a ship as the Sentinel, there was considerable waste in the life support system. Even with it taken off-line, there would be enough air just sitting in the corridors to last a couple of hours, and at red alert, they’d probably all have wristlamps in any case. And if they don’t, that’s just too damn bad, she thought, a bit unkindly. They should’ve evac’d by now.

The young ensign—whose name, she finally remembered, was Natale—said, “Shields back up to full. Sir, this juryrig won’t last, request permission to rewire junction 92A5.”

Gomez frowned, then smiled. “Good idea.” That junction was a backup for holodeck systems, and could easily accommodate a shield rerouting, at least for a couple of hours. It would take a few minutes, but the present setup would hold in the meanwhile.

“Thank you, sir.” Ensign Natale moved off, grinning with an enthusiasm that Gomez remembered seeing in the mirror back when she was the dumb young ensign and Geordi La Forge was the chief engineer doling out praise only when earned.

She often missed those days on the Enterprise. She had so many good friends there—Lian T’su, Reg Barclay, Gar Costa, Wes Crusher, Ella Clancy, Denny Russell. Even La Forge was more a friend than he ever really was a CO.

And, of course, Kieran. Lovable, goofy, wonderful Kieran.

One of the other engineers cried out from near the warp core, startling her out of her all-too-brief reverie. “Commander, containment system’s fluctuating—we’ve got to take the warp drive off-line.”

Dammit, dammit, dammit. “Do it.” She tapped her combadge. “Bridge, we’ve lost warp drive.”

“Not much of an issue right now,” Patel said. “At least you got shields reenergized.”

Gomez pursed her lips. “Yeah, but our hat’s running out of rabbits.”

As if on cue, one of the Jem’Hadar strike ships exploded.

“Maybe yours is.” Gomez could visualize Patel’s toothy grin.

“Sir, the Musashi has lost shields. The other Jem’Hadar ship is moving in.”

“Tenmei, cut them off, draw their fire.”

“Aye, sir.”

The maneuver apparently worked, as the Sentinel started taking dozens more hits, from both the outpost and the Jem’Hadar. “We can’t keep this up,” Steinberg said, the first sign of tenseness creeping into an exterior that was normally a Vulcanlike calm; the noncoms had nicknamed him “T’Steinberg.”

“Easy, Steinberg, we’ll be fine.” Gomez tried to sound reassuring, but she was too busy trying to figure out what the Musashi was doing. It looked like…

No!

The Musashi was on a suicide run—headed straight for the outpost.

The Jem’Hadar realized it too, obviously, as it and the outpost both changed their firing pattern to concentrate on the Musashi.

Amalfitano’s voice cried out, “Tenmei, get between them and the Musashi. We have to give them time!”

Two seconds that seemed like hours passed, and the Musashi rammed into the Dominion outpost, annihilating it.

Sonya Gomez learned the most valuable lesson of her life shortly after she reported to the Enterprise, and the Borg carved a section out of the ship’s hull, costing the ship eighteen crew members. When she found she couldn’t get her mind around the loss of eighteen people, La Forge had said the words that she spoke now, over a decade later, to her staff:

“We’ll have time to grieve later. Steinberg, get the shields back to their regular frequency. Ensign, how’s our juryrig?”

“Almost done,” Natale called out from under a console.

“Be done, I want this ship with full defenses.”

“Grimnar,” Amalfitano was saying even as Gomez spoke, “give the Jem’Hadar everything we’ve got.”

Two seconds that actually seemed like two seconds later, the Jem’Hadar ship exploded in a satisfying conflagration, a plume of fire that was quickly consumed by the vacuum of space.

Which left the Sentinel alone amid a cloud of debris that used to be four starships and an outpost, behind enemy lines, without warp power.

“Engineering,