A/N: Here we go - chapter 23! Hope everyone's enjoying reading as much as I am writing :)

The hallways were cavernous; it was Labyrinthine. Every turn seemed wrong and she began to get unsure, but the padd was helping her a great deal and she soon found herself in some sort of shuttle-bay. Despite her misgivings, it seemed that Telok wasn't lying. There was a way to get off this planet.

Furtively, she glanced around. Left, right, up, down. There was no one following her, Romulan or human or otherwise. She found the shuttle by its registry number, then keyed in the correct command codes and she was, soon, enough, sitting in the cockpit. Setting the padd down, she took a deep breath, considered for the briefest of moments, then started the ignition sequences.

The tiny craft's engines whirred and whined, as if protesting, but she didn't care. She needed to leave. Now. She wasn't going to let a ship stop her. And so she settled into her chair, got comfortable, then pushed forward hard on the throttle. The craft jerked slightly, then became accustomed to its speed, as it shot up out of the compound's shuttle-bay and into the unknown.

Soon enough, there was nothing but the empty blackness of space all around her and her stolen shuttle. Magnus IV was a pathetic little spot of light in the far distance, its orange hue getting harder and harder to notice with every thousand kilometres that the shuttle went. One more sub-light acceleration brought the shuttle out of the Magnus star-system and into interstellar space. Corina punched in some coordinates, then brought the ship into warp.

As the shuttle cruised along at warp factor two, she suddenly felt quite alone. She knew that each star likely had a dozen planets; she knew that so many planets had life; she should not have felt alone. But she was. She also knew that on one of those planets, or orbiting one of those planets, was Damar. She was going to find him. She had said as much and she wasn't going to let him down.

"Computer, what time is it?"

"The time is oh-nine-hundred-hours," came the shuttle's computerised response.

She came to wonder why she had even asked that question. She didn't know where her trial was going to take place, or even if it would actually happen. She certainly didn't know when. Why even bother asking what the time was, when she didn't even know the time of the trial?

She knew that it was a silly question, but she didn't care. It was just something to pass the time. Then she glanced down at her console and frown washed over her features. "Computer, how much fuel have we got?"

"Please restate question."

She groaned. This game was getting less fun by the minute. "Okay, then. At present speed, how long until we exhaust our fuel reserves?"

"Approximately six hours."

"Six hours?" she repeated, rolling those words over her tongue, hearing them once more. "That can't be right. We're… we're only going warp two. I don't understand. How could-?" She slammed a hand down on the console, as the sickening realization overcame her. "No, no," she murmured. It couldn't be true. It wasn't happening.

But it was. It was happening. Telok had been nice enough to give her a ship. A ship that would run out of fuel before she could even leave Syndicate space. Anger, fury, rose up inside of her and she knew that she needed to do something. But she couldn't. What could she do?

"Computer, nearest Federation starbase?"

"Starbase Forty-Seven."

"How far is that from our present position?"

"One-hundred-and-eighty-three light years."

"At present speed, how long will it take to get there?"

"Ten hours—"

"Nevermind," she said swiftly, vehemently, cutting the computer voice off. Ten hours. That was too long. Drumming her fingers on the console for some time, she then pulled up a diagram of the sector that she was currently in. The map did not at all look promising; Syndicate space as far as she could see.

"Okay…" she mused, rubbing her forehead. She suddenly was beginning to feel very, very tired. She had hardly slept since being on Magnus IV. "Computer, scan for nearby vessels."

The computer beeped in protest. "Please specify parameters."

"How far can we travel at present speed before our fuel reserves run out?"

"Sixty-four light years."

"Then, scan for ships within a radius of sixty-four light years." She bit her lip and waited not so patiently for the computer's answer, resenting the ship for its top speed of warp two. But Orion ships were slow and clunky – even slower and clunkier than Cardassian ships were – and she didn't expect much.

"One-hundred—"

She held up a hand. "Narrow down scan to Federation ships, as well as Klingon and Cardassian."

"Sensors detect twenty Federation vessels, five Klingon vessels and one Cardassian vessel."

"Okay…" She considered for a moment, a long moment, looked out of the small windows as if they could offer her any help. But the stars were useless and space was leering at her, laughing at her, mocking her; she was alone, lost. She didn't know what to do. But she knew that she couldn't just do nothing. She had to do something. Anything. She cleared her throat, sat up straighter. "Computer, give me an overview of the life support systems."

The ship's computer beeped. "Oxygen supply estimated to last for another ten hours. Gravity systems fully operational. Inertial dampeners are online."

That's something, she thought. Well, at least I've got enough air – I've got too much! Ten hours of air and only six hours of fuel. She blew air through her lips, was starting to feel defeated.

A few moments of silence followed, interrupted only by the solid humming of the shuttle's weak engines.

Then the computer beeped. She hadn't heard that particular noise before and it was startling enough to take her out of her reverie. With a start, she jolted forward, immediately alert to the situation. Whatever the situation was.

"Wait…" she murmured, the word falling out of her mouth. Her eyes were wild; she stared at the various screens. As she thought of the time that she had helped Damar to pilot that Cardassian shuttle, when they had crashed, when he had lifted her from the wreckage, when she had tended to his shoulder, she knew what was happening.

The diagrams showed her that one of the Federation vessels was moving towards her position. Fifty light years, then forty, then thirty. It was getting closer and closer. The shuttle had virtually no shields. She powered them up, of course, but she had the horrible feeling that one well-trained hit from a photon torpedo would do the trick. But it was Federation. It didn't matter if it was advancing on her position. It didn't matter if the ship that she was in barely had any shields. Did it?

The question was still in her mind as the craft was jolted violently sideways. Desperately, she clung onto the control console, her fingers gripping the hard material, her jaw clenched shut. Slowly, she opened her eyes and found that the violent movements had subsided… then they stopped altogether.

Biting her lip, she opened a hailing frequency. "I am a Federation citizen. My name is—" She stopped, faltered, considered, was concerned. She doubted if she should tell them her name. After all, she'd made quite a name for herself on Pirithous Prime and Magnus IV; Damar had helped her to see to that. "I am a Federation citizen," she decided to repeat. "Please, refrain. My ship has limited defensive and weapons capabilities."

Then, with one last long look at the display screen in front of her, she knew what she had to do. "I surrender." With that, she lowered her shields completely. She had barely pressed the command. But any doubts that she may have had as to whether or not anyone on the Federation vessel had heard her words were instantly cleared from her mind in the next few moments.

Before she could raise her shields again, a barrage of phaser-fire ensued, blanketing her small, defenseless craft in its fiery glow. She knew that she was vulnerable but she didn't feel vulnerable. She was infuriated and her rage was serving both to cloud her judgement and to spur her on.

"I'm Federation," she echoed into the comm system. Swearing, sighing, angered, she regarded the weapons systems intently. Satisfied that she was reading it correctly, she released the ship's own pathetic arsenal. The shots barely made a dent on the other ship.

By now, smoke was filling the cockpit and the computer system was blaring all sorts of warnings and alarms at her from every direction. The craft rocked and swayed, was battered and bruised.

"Warning. Life support systems are critical. Recommend evasive manoeuvres."

The blandness, the lack of urgency, in the computer's voice annoyed her to no end. But she simply groaned. She tried to turn the ship, to angle it sharply away from the enemy fire and to get to safely as quickly as she could. But the ship's propulsion systems were jammed. She wasn't going anywhere and she knew it.

The hiss of the smoke and the dirge of the computer warnings was becoming too much. She barely even registered when she became aware of the light blue sparkles that were shimmering around her, enveloping her. She was being transported and she didn't even know it.

Corina blinked. Her eyes were aching, dry. She was so very thirsty. In the glare of some unwelcoming blinding light, she squinted. She may as well have been staring at the sun. Gingerly, she reached a hand up to her forehead, felt a trickle of blood wend its way past her eyebrow, down her cheek. The blood began to dry, scarlet, on her face. She wiped it away with the back of her hand.

Then she realised that she was lying down. It wasn't particularly comfortable and it felt more like a metal pallet than something that someone would actually wish to sleep upon. A glance down at her hands revealed purple bruises on her knuckles; she had evidently struck something. What that something was, however, she did not know.

Her head was spinning, heavy, but she hauled herself into a seated position, anyway. Slowly, as if afraid that the floor – if there even was a floor – would give way underneath her feet, she swung her legs over the side of the bed. Her feet met the floor. It was solid. She was definitely inside of something that was manmade. She wasn't sure if that served to reassure her or unnerve her further.

Drawing herself up on to her feet, she stood, still, contemplative. She was apparently in some sort of alcove, a little compartment separate from but attached to a larger area. The entire room was white. There were no windows. But she could hear something. It was only slight, as if silenced or muffled, but she could hear it. It was there. A low, gentle, continuous hum. In the past few months, she had been on enough ships and space stations to know what engines sounded like.

She was on a ship.

And she soon realised which part of a ship. Narrowing her eyes, she took a step forward and was surprised when her light-headedness returned. Tentatively, her arms outstretched, she took another step when, all of a sudden, she felt a tremendous shock make its way through her body. There was a crackle, a jolt; she was thrown backwards, her back colliding forcefully and painfully with the pallet.

With a hand pressed to the small of her back, she winced and forced back the tears. They were stinging the backs of her eyes but she wasn't going to let them out. Not yet, anyway.

"I wouldn't do that again if I were you."