Chapter 4

The next thing Sito knew was that there was a beeping sound coming from the main computer console. She stretched over to it and began maniacally trying to counter the ringing noise. The warning beep died down, but the siren was slightly ringing in her ears. She rubbed her nose and simply stared in horror at the sight she saw next.

Three Cardassian patrol ships were hovering in front of her shuttle. She settled back into her seat and stared; aghast. Adrenaline began to kick in and it powered her forward. She raised shields and powered up her photon torpedoes – just in case. Firing even the smallest of rounds at a Cardassian ship in Cardassian space – from a Federation vessel – would be a death sentence for the firer. However, she needed the reassurance. The reassurance that salvation would only be the press of a button away.

Years of training at the Academy had taught her that a shuttle was no match for a Cardassian ship, even if that ship happened to be a lowly patrol vessel. She had no chance, unless the Prophets came to her. She prayed.

A computer displayed her worst nightmare to her. They were firing up weapons, and not only because they had noticed her doing the same. They were aiming. And… they fired. The shuttle's comparatively weak hull shuddered and shook, and Sito realised that she was flying all over the place. The stars became mad blurs, and this time, she wasn't at warp when the stellar bodies streaked and streamed across the windows.

She daren't even think what the temperature of the outer hull was. The antimatter and photon torpedoes bombarded the shuttle and she fired one back. Her return fire was useless, but she didn't believe in no-win situations. She had had more than her fair share of turmoil on her lifetime.

Flames engulfed the cockpit and the vibrations became almost unbearable. The sky became a dizzy blur and blood cascaded down her face, from where she had hit a console as she ducked. She reached up and touched the blood. This time, the wound on her cheek was real. Sito sniffed and wiped her eyes; she furiously, messily combed her blonde hair out of her face.

A crimson tide blurred her vision and life itself very nearly drained from her eyes. Her own yells and curses and mutterings brought her back in time. There she was: in the Occupation again. Fighting Cardassian oppressors. She had thought very long and hard about joining the Underground. But, the Bajoran Underground was notorious, and not for all the right reasons. Deaths were rife, as were common spats amongst its members. They were all fighting for the same cause – for a free Bajor – but, that didn't necessarily mean that there was order.

Family members would have the life sucked out of them before their very eyes. Smoke choked their lungs and flames licked ever higher and higher. Terrified screams and angry yells rang out amongst the metallic-clad hiding holes of the Resistance fighters. Sito knew she was not cut out for that. After all, she supposed, if she helped kill the Cardassians, how did that make her any better than them? The Cardassians had done what they had done to Bajor for a reason. A sick, barely justifiable reason, but nonetheless, it was a reason. They were not simply bored or in need of something to occupy their time with; they needed Bajor's plentiful resources. For not one moment did Sito forgive the Spoonheads – nor did she think she would ever be able to, but she was not able to completely and utterly condemn them.

Two wrongs did not make a wrong. Revenge had, and always would have awful, stinging consequences. Life was hard in the Occupation, and Sito Jaxa had seen many of her closest comrades and family members murdered ruthlessly by the Cardassians, either collectively or individually.

Sito was paralysed. Frozen. Her levels of adrenaline were lessening. She was pretty sure she had a broken ankle or had at least suffered a severe sprain. Her ears were ringing and the noise of an explosive decompression was beginning to deafen all of her senses. Blindly, she reached for the communication controls. She struggled to get a message to the Enterprise. The only thing that would have a hope of being her salvation. Holding onto the console with two steadfast, bleeding hands, she ordered, "Computer… start log."

The computer chirped. "Unable to comply."

The bland, calm tone angered Sito beyond measure. Yet, she retained her composed state. "Why?" she managed to breathe the word.

Again, the machine beeped. "Communication systems are non-operational," it replied. "Main sensors and subspace relays have sustained heavy damage."

Shit. Of course they had sustained heavy damage. She was flying – hovering – blind. Flames licked higher and higher, and she could smell burning metal, burning flesh. She yelped, shaking a tongue of fire off her ankle.

Surely the shuttle could take no more. Coolant systems had rupture, sending cool flows of gas and liquid spilling madly about the cabin. Warning sirens blared and the calm, female computer voice delivered various warnings of varying degrees of seriousness.

"Computer," she started again. "Can I scan for other vessels?" she asked.

"Specify parameters."

She considered, but cut her thinking time short. She barely had any time to do anything beyond what was necessary. "Try… two lightyears."

"Three Cardassian patrol cruisers approximately fifty kilometres off the starboard bow," the computer relayed the information.

"Federation vessels!" she screamed at the computer system, no longer able to control herself much more. She could see the goddamn Cardassian patrol ships. She didn't need anyone to tell her they were there!

By chance, she looked down and saw that her hands were tingling. They were turning blue and were dotted with sparkles. Her reflection in the forward window showed her that her entire body was experiencing the same thing. She knew what was happening. She was being transported. But, she didn't know where.