I rang the doorchime. Akira-classes had this ominous double beep that told you someone was at the door. I liked the more chime-sounding noise on the Nebula-class ships. Actually, now that I think about it, I shouldn't have paid such close attention to the doorchime, but I was so nervous that I couldn't do much else.

She opened the door, and both of them swept aside like they couldn't go any faster. Beyond them lay one of the dearest sights I have ever beheld. She had put her chestnut-brown hair up so that it flowed down from the base of her skull. Around her shoulders were a pair of black straps which kept a dress of the same colour about her. It wasn't really low-cut, and the straps had this sort of curve away from her arms, both of which were bare. The dress went down to her ankles, where she had a pair of flat shoes-- ever a sensible walker, if a spectacular dresser.

I had to nearly snap to attention to keep my eyes about her lovely face. She had the brightest eyes, a shade of shining green, and her fine, freckled face had to its credit the single most gorgeous smile I have ever beheld. I couldn't really move. I mean, here I was in duty uniform, stinking of calisthenics and briefing-room sit, and there she was...

"I had a little time," she said, at last. I couldn't get my mouth to operate. "I hope you like salmon."

"Repficator lish? I mean--- replicator fish?"

"No, I called down to Ship's Stores and asked if they had any--- did you just stumble over your words?"

"Maybe."

She gave a little giggle, and tilted her head forwards. "Oh, come in here, you." She held out a hand to me, and naturally, I took it. Holding her hand made me feel like it was out in the woods after school again, finding out the meaning of life with someone I'd been passing notes through the computer to, only to have my access point isolated by the instructor. The access point didn't matter out there, in the woods, walking hand in hand. No rules could keep my hand from hers. Not out there.

Her new quarters were small, but really suited her. She'd unpacked quickly, being lightly packed for battle. There was a dining room with a computer terminal in one corner, then the bedroom and bathroom beyond it.

"Can I ask you something, sir?"

"Don't-- Sean."

"Sean. That'll take some getting used to."

"Right." I sat down, a little too quickly. I'd call it a swoon, if you will.

"Well, what I wanted to know was, how long you knew."

"Knew what?"

"That I felt the way I do."

"I didn't, actually. I'm pretty blind to that sort of thing-- at least, in battle. When we were on Buruta, I tried not to pay too much attention to anything but the woods and the hills. Jemmy was there, and we had to get out alive."

"I know. Can I... can I tell you?" Now she was sitting, opposite me, still holding my hand.

"Of course, I'd like to hear."

"Well, I suppose it all started, really, the third or fourth day after you took command. I mean, it wasn't all at once, and we were a new company, but... do you remember the first fight between Medic Pratt and Private Emerson?"

"Yeah, I do." Mostly because it was the first fight I'd had to break up. "Something about seating arrangements in the briefing room."

"That's right. Emerson was upset that Pratt had been promoted just on the grounds that she was medic, since he was a private-first-class as well, and you said---"

"And I told them both to talk it out, before I settled it for them."

She laughed. "On stun, if I remember."

I smiled. It'd been primitive --hearkening back to my basic training-- but it was the best I could come up with at the time.

"I just remember how Emerson was so... well, obviously he just wanted a reason to talk to Medic Pratt."

"And now they're together."

"Yeah. And I just knew then that you'd be a good commander. If called upon, that was. I mean, I didn't really want to go into battle."

"No one does."

"Oh, I almost forgot." She went to get up, but I caught her before she was on her feet.

"No, no," I said. "Just show me where I should be going."

"Oh. Under the cover on that platter are two plates. Dinner, sir."

"Let me get that for you." First I helped her back into her chair. Then I set out dinner-- on two little onyx trays, each of which had their own utensils.

"Thank you. I mean, you didn't have to."

"I figure it's only fair. Best to keep that dress in as wonderful a condition as it looks."

"Thank you, sir." She looked down at her meal, smiling and blushing. "I'm sorry, sir, I'm just... not very good with compliments, is all."

"No one is, Marianne. If they are, they don't get them very often. Or shouldn't, at least. The ones who deserve them most never hear them-- or, when they do, they can't believe them." I tasted the piece of salmon I'd been cutting as I talked. I had to watch myself-- not say too much. No need to dominate. I could do that with the troops tomorrow. This was special.

"Can I ask you something, Sean?"

"You don't have to preface. Just ask."

"All right." She hesitated for a moment, fussing with her utensils. "Where are you from?"

"Setlik III. Ever heard of it?"

"Wasn't it fought over during the Cardassian War?"

"Yeah. Lots of good people died." I took another bite of fish, chewed, swallowed, continued. "There was a ship. The Rutledge. Cardies had been harassing our city for months. A number of us redshirts beamed down. My mom was dead, my father was gone off to join the partisans, and I was... well, I don't know where I was. I don't really remember.

"All I know is, they took me back to the Rutledge --old Excelsior-classer, that one-- and they treated me. Head lice, pneumonia, the whole deal. I wouldn't have lived long. And they saved my life.

"There was one medic, a Dr. Connelly. She took good care of me. She was the nearest thing they had to a pediatrician. She told me, 'Starfleet always takes care of our own. And even those that aren't, because we hope one day they will be.' I never forgot that, you know."

"That why you joined up?" She hadn't been eating, just listening to me-- watching me, with this look halfway between fascination and intrigue.

"That, and because there wasn't a whole lot going on after the war. Reconstruction was a lot of work, but I was in and out of trouble all the time. My dad came back with one arm-- the Federation gave him another one. But they couldn't fix the hole Cardie took out of his life. And I suppose I joined up for him. Couldn't stand the thought of some other kid going through life, like I did."

She just watched me. Still.

"Your fish is gonna get cold. Hope you don't mind if I keep eating."

"No-- not at all. I'm sorry. I just... I didn't know."

"Wouldn't have changed nothing if you had, right?"

She shrugged slightly. "I just... I was lucky, I guess. Raised on Luna colony, good parents, just couldn't really concentrate all that well. Not officer class material, no good with science. Read a lot, learned very little. Had a lot of... big ideas, of joining up and making my name as a starship captain after busting it out in the trenches or something. I don't know. It was schoolgirl foolishness, is all."

"Hope I helped with that."

"I was just so surprised when you said you were shifting me to shipside duties. Part of me always believed it'd end up that way, and I couldn't believe it was really happening. I still can't believe this is really happening right now."

"Well, can I do anything to convince you?"

She stretched her hand out to me again, and I took it in mine, and smiled into her eyes. I never thought of green as a particularly warm colour until I met Marianne. But I sure still do now.

We talked some more after dinner. I gave her the rundown on my career up to that point. She'd read my record. The missing year in my life, they'd put down that I'd been wounded in training.

"None of that," I declared boldly.

"What were you doing?"

"Maquis insertion. They had me working the front lines. After all, I fit in perfectly. Good cover story. I hate the Cardies as much as any Bajoran does. So I fit right in. I just knew where my heart was."

"So you never planned to go career."

"Nope. I didn't plan to live long enough. I was reckless. I fought with my commanding officers, I brawled with everyone else. And mostly anyone out of a uniform, I ignored. Until everyone in uniform started shooting at each other, and next thing I knew, I had a section of my own."

"Did Renalla help with that?"

"With what?" I gave her a look that made clear how much I wanted her to explain what she meant.

"With command, I mean. With shifting into the role."

"Yeah, mostly because she listened to my concerns."

"I was so disappointed when rumours started going around about you two."

"Rumours?"

"Well, you two were close, and you had fifteen of us with nothing else to do but gripe. So of course we put you and her together."

"Nah. What Renalla and I had was nothing but the friendship between a sergeant and his second."

She gave me a look of understanding. Maybe she thought I'd just explained how she got passed over-- I don't know.

"So you never wanted to pursue her romantically."

"You know much about Betazoids, Marianne?"

"Can't say I do, no."

"They have... really weird attitudes, by our standards, about love. They pick one mate-- and it's for life."

"What's so weird about that?" I wish I could say something other than that she looked hurt when she said that. I wish I could. But she did.

"Well, it's the connection they have with each other. Goes beyond hearts and minds, into souls. Very deep. And I don't want anyone that deep inside me. Barely enough room just for me."

"Oh."

I couldn't find a way out except through. "I don't know. Suppose I'm just too wary of others."

"What do you mean, others?"

"You know. Other species. It's just because I've never had a bad experience with an old-fashioned human being."

"Oh, I understand. I mean, we're all supposed to be friendly and non-discriminatory, but some species just have... attitudes, you know? I don't understand them. I realize that's no reason to dislike them, not understanding."

"Still, nothing wrong with being more comfortable with your own kind."

"I couldn't agree more." She had just finished up. I still had that refugee kid's appetite-- food, and more of it, please sir, I want some more. But a life of kilocalorie-based rationing in this red shirt had taught me not to push it.

I stood up and took her hand in mine. We stood for a moment, holding both of each others' hands. She made a move, but I looked down.

"No, no... please. I just... can I just look at you for a minute?"

"Okay. I'm sorry if I get anxious."

"No, it's okay. So am I-- you're looking back, after all." And we just looked at each other for a minute. Then I let go of her hands, and drew the back of my left across her right cheek. "I want to thank you for dinner, Marianne."

"Do you have to leave?" Her voice had a sort of little plea in it.

"We're not back in the briefing room until oh-eight-hundred."

"It's only twenty-one-hundred now. Please, I want you to stay."

"Sure." What else was there to say? Not like I was going to break and retreat. Not when I felt like victory all over.

I stepped forward, and put my arms around her waist. She threw herself towards me, and her arms fell around my shoulders. We embraced for a long moment, then she stepped away. Her back was to the wall, my arms pinned between her and it.

"Thank you, Sean."

"For what?"

"For being everything I'd dreamed you'd be."

"Reckon I'm more than that-- and not all in a good way, either."

"I know. But you really do care about me, and I can tell."

"Hey, I'm just doing what I feel is right."

She grinned, and her nose had a mischevious wrinkle to it. "Keep doing that. It's what you're good at." And then just as she moved to kiss me again, she added, "...sir."

I held her close to me, and we slowly made our way into the next room. I lowered her, kneeling down before her as she sat on the bed. I realized then that just under the strap on her right side were the tendrils of some sort of blotch on her skin. I recognized it immediately, but I tried not to look at it. She helped me out of my tunic, and then I put my head on her shoulder, and reached around back to unfasten the dress. As I did, the fabric slouched forward slightly, revealing the fullness of the scar. I tried not to look at it. But it was right there.

"Marianne-- wait."

"What?"

"I'm sorry." I let myself come to rest on my knees before her, and I looked down. "I didn't realize you hadn't had a dermoplasty."

"I don't intend to," she said. I looked up at her, completely surprised. "I think we make it too easy nowadays. Prosthetics and demoplasties and all our medical knowhow. No, I want it to look on the outside the way I feel on the inside some days."

"But you can see a counsellor about that."

"And you know how that works, Sean. They tell you it wasn't your fault, that the Federation provides for you, and then they send you off to die all over again. Sure, the Federation provides for us. A certain ration of food when we're living, a certain provision for our families when we're dead. I don't want to go through that. It's part of me now."

"And I'm so sorry."

"I don't understand."

"I should've protected you. I should've done more."

"Sean... it was my fault."

I remembered that she felt that way, of course. It was hard not to recall instantly. Those bright green eyes, a mixture of torment and apology...

"Come here," she said, as she stood up and let the dress fall away. She took my hand and helped me to my feet, where I stood in my undershirt and uniform trousers. She took my left hand and put it on her right shoulder. Her bra was strapless, and the full shape of the scar was visible, a crater from the upper part of her breast right to the collarbone.

"I--- I'm sorry," I said. "I keep thinking it's fresh."

"So do I," she replied as she undid her hair, and let it down. "But I want you to know, that I don't have any reason to feel anything from it. After all, my heart's on the other side." Her hair was shoulder-length; regulation length. It was just enough to fall across the scar and partially hide it from view.

"True," I said. It was the best I could do. "I don't... I don't understand how you can feel anything for me but rage."

"It wasn't your fault. If I'd run, they would've killed me. And I wanted to run, Sean. I wanted to run right home. But there was no way out-- and you kept us in that line. If you hadn't, we would've had a lot more wounded."

We both stood there a long moment, her looking at me, me looking at the back of my hand. "I knew I loved you right then," she continued. "I knew I could trust you, could follow you, anywhere, and do anything you asked of me. Because you gave me the strength to go on."

I didn't know what to say. Figured there was nothing to say. I put my other arm around her back and drew her tightly to me. She tucked her arms under and around, and pulled me down onto the bed. We rolled around a minute, then she called for the lights.

A few hours went by. By that point, we were together, under the covers. I was laying on my back, and on either side of my right leg was one of hers. She had her head on my shoulder, and her scarred shoulder was peeking out from under the sheet. She had one arm cradled under my head, and the other across my chest.

"I need to know something," she began, "and don't be afraid to be honest with me."

"Sure."

"You're not looking at this as a one-night thing, are you?"

"I don't know how to do one-night things. I don't have the heart to do that to someone. I don't know. Is that what you want?"

She blinked at me. "No, of course not. I just... well, I suppose they're all going to have a good laugh out of this."

"I don't understand."

"Them, the section. They're going to be talking about you, the guy who got his girlfriend out of the service, the guy who... who tamed one of his toughest troops..."

"Let 'em," I said, and I kissed her softly. "I don't care what they think. I care about what you think. You're the only voice that matters."

"You really want to know what I think?"

"Yeah," I said.

"I think you're the best thing that's ever happened to me. I think I'm going to be worried sick at this time tomorrow, knowing you're off in a combat zone and I'm nursing a transporter. And I think that if anything ever happened to you---"

"Whoa, whoa. Not that."

"Well, I just don't know what I'd do!"

"You'd go on at your post, do your duty for the Fleet, for the cause. You'd go back home, to Luna City, when this war is over. And you'd do whatever it is you'd have done if we'd never met."

"And I'd miss you," she added.

"Yeah. I don't think about things in terms of who lives, who dies. I think in terms of me living and Jemmy dying."

"What about... after the war?"

"I hadn't thought on it much," I said. Which was true. What did I have to go back to? "Reckon I'd see where I wound up in the rank hierarchy. If I made officer, I'd want to see about training next-generation redshirts. If not, I'd just quit and go... somewhere. Maybe become a freighter pilot or something."

"But-- well. If we're still both still alive. I mean, we are together now, right?"

"Sure we are," I replied. "I mean, that's what we're here for, right?"

She smiled at me. "So... I can tell you that I love you?"

"You're doing it again."

"What?"

"The stripes come off in bed, Marianne. See?" I pointed to my neck. "No rank." I pointed to hers. "Right?"

"...well... I love you."

"I know. I love you, too." I smiled at her. "It'd be too complicated if we had rank in here. I'd need to get forms signed just to touch you."

"Well, like you said, no rank." She put her right arm across me and slid herself over, so we were nearer to face to face. Then she added, "right?"

A few more hours went by. We caught a sonic shower --not together, I was too tired-- and I suited up for duty. I tried not to strut on my way out. She saw me off in a bathrobe, half done up. The way she sat in the chair, her legs crossed, holding a cup of coffee from the replicator, her hair tossed behind her... she looked even more beautiful than the night before.

"You look incredible," I said.

"Thank you," she said, looking down into her coffee. "I'm sorry-- I guess I better get used to that."

"I have a lot of time to make up for," I replied. "I don't know how I missed it before. But you're so beautiful."

"Thank you," she repeated. Then she added, "About that."

"What?"

"Time. I don't know when I'll see you again."

"I have to come back to T-child every once in a while for command reasons," I lied. "I'll see what I can do about coming back."

"In one piece," she added.

"In one piece," I acknowledged. "You know me."

"That's just what I mean." Then, with a sarcastic kick to her voice, she added, "sir."

"Oh, so that's how it's going to be, is it? Well... you take care of yourself. Don't let anything happen to that transporter. If you need to talk, I can see if we're in comms range. If not... I'll keep a personal log, address it to you."

"All right," she said. "I'd like that."

I finished my coffee and tapped the table. Ship's chronometer read 07:38. "Suppose I'd better go," I said.

"Aww," she replied. "I don't want this to be goodbye." And then I noticed that, while she'd been looking down, she'd started to cry. "I'm sorry," she said, seeing that I'd noticed her tears.

"Hey, come here." I stood up, and she did the same, putting down her cup. I took her hand into mine and embraced her. "Don't worry. You know me. I'll take good care of myself."

"And everyone else, too. Just... don't be afraid to put yourself first, okay?"

"I won't. I promise."

"...because you can command a whole division, and I don't care. None of them is the man I love. And I want him back in my arms again soon... sir."

"Me too," I said. And I meant it. I didn't want to let her go. I didn't want anything quite so badly as to have my commbadge chirp, have it be Captain Valan himself, "good news, kids, war's over!" Sure, a Vulcan would never say 'kids'. Come to think of it, the concept of 'good news' would probably be lost on a Vulcan.

But Kalandra, and Jemmygrad, awaited me. And I had to go. Eventually I pulled myself away, kissed Marianne goodbye, and made my way to the briefing room. Got there in plenty of time, though the impulse to strut was hard to resist.

I found Tim in the briefing room.

"How'd it go last night?" he asked.

"Last night, and this morning, you mean." I shouldn't have said that, but it was too late by the time I realized it.

"Hey, nice, man... good job."

"Yeah. Say, Tim-- I never see you around with anyone."

"Uh... reason for that, boss. See, when the Borg assimilated me... uh... how to put this..."

"No way."

"Those hormones became irrelevant, know what I'm getting at?"

"Does it still work?"

"Hell, yeah. Just doesn't work the way it should as often."

"I'm sorry, man."

"I'm not. Women is bad news, man. No offense or nothin'."

"No, it's cool-- I'm mostly of the same opinion. Least now they got nothing to grab hold of you by, right?"

"Yeah--- but, hey, Sarge, keep that to yourself, dig?"

"You keep my little slip-up to yourself, and I'll do the same."

"No, it's cool. I'd meant to explain to you, regarding that, 'bout what the Borg enhanced and removed from my system. You know they re-fused my skeleton with steel so I can lift up to three hundred kilos?"

"No way."

"Yeah. Course, I have to use some kind of muscle stimulant that my nanoprobes automatically produce to get my tissues to go along---"

That was as far as we got. Captain Valan had called all the sergeants, lieutenants and captains together. All two hundred and eighty something of us. This was an officers' briefing-- even NCOs. Whole room was practically buzzing with Vulcans. Lucky for me that I spotted the other section leaders. Welsh and Price, from Bravo and Charlie (though they called it Chicago company, a reference to Price's hometown on Earth) were there, as were Pelletier and Bellamy, from Fox and Gold.

Hotel, Hadassah Roseman's squad, wasn't so much a section as an assigned escort to Dr. Singh's medical team, and the command officers of the regiment, and four Zeps, designated Able company. This was standard organization for all Starfleet regiments. The Zeps --Starfleet Enlisted Personnel Regulation Officers, a more modernized version of what you might call military police-- did all the public-relations stuff. While we were blowing up the village, they were explaining why to the bystanders.

Anyway. I looked around and saw them all. By then, we were all on our feet anyway. Captain Valan told us to sit down, and the briefing began.

"Peace, and long life." He gave us that damned Vulcan hand salute.

"Live long and prosper," came the response from the pointy-eared contingent. I muttered something I won't repeat. Tim caught it.

"I come before you today in order to advise you on the situation on the planet classified Kalandra. Our forces have fallen back along the shore of Lake 3-Alpha-9."

That wasn't Starfleet standard, but it was our way of doing business in the Two-oh-Second. But they'd set a grid across the planet, starting with a straight line of longitude running across the highest point, the 'alpha line'. That was why this lake was called 3-Alpha-9. It was the ninth lake in the grid, three spaces down along the line on which the highest peak on the planet was located. It was also the biggest of those lakes. There were twelve of them in that grid alone.

"The Thunderchild will break orbit upon our arrival at Kalandra and commence a most unusual maneuver. Some of you may be aware that the Akira-class heavy cruiser is capable of orbital insertion and planetary landing. The insertion point will be here." At this, the Captain indicated a point on a two-dimensional map of the planet, with Lake 3-Alpha-9 highlighted on it. "The ship will then descend into Lake 3-Alpha-9, and our Shadowfax-class troop transport shuttlecraft will launch."

There was a murmur in the room from those of us with enough sense not to ponder logically. "We're all dead," I said to Tim. He just nodded. I raised my hand.

"Sergeant First Class Doyle," the Captain said. I stood up.

"Dixon, sir. Sean Dixon."

"My apologies, Sergeant First Class Dixon."

"Sure. Look, sir. Doubtless our ship can land. But underwater? What're we doing in there?"

"The Jem'Hadar have set in place a complete transporter screen around the planet, and intelligence reports that Cardassian battle cruisers are abundant in the system. This is the only way in which we can retrieve the Second and Third Battalions, in order that they may be placed in reserve."

"I see. Will the shields work on the T-child, sir?"

"No, Sergeant, they will not."

"Thank you, sir." There were other questions. I didn't hear them. All I knew was that Marianne was coming down with us to Kalandra. Nothing else really seemed to matter. This was top-secret stuff until we splashed down. So I couldn't even tell her. Already I was wondering if anyone would notice a lifepod missing, two less life signs on board.

"This is, as I have stated, a most illogical and unorthodox maneuver. This is precisely the reason why Starfleet Command believes that it will work." Mostly 'cause, if it didn't, T-child and the whole Two-Oh-Second would be consigned to a watery grave. But old Captain Valan kept on talking.

"We will then maneuver in order to take and hold a beach-head on the edge of City 3-Alpha. The archaeological remains are not to be damaged unless absolutely necessary, and the city itself is to be fought for in as logical, and as respectful, a manner as is available." Rules of engagement had just bound all our hands. We didn't have a chance in hell. I just hoped they'd have me polishing rifles instead of landing on that beach. Jemmy wasn't going to take to us skipping a starship across his lake too kindly.

"Transporters will be inoperative across the whole planet, leaving us dependent upon ground transport, and the Shadowfax-class vessels. Third and Fourth Regiments will land first, on the far sides of the lakeshore, and draw Jem'Hadar and Cardassian troops away from the proposed beach-head. It will fall to First and Second Regiments to storm the beach. The task should be simplified by the intended reduction in enemy counteroffensive ability undertaken by Third and Fourth Regiments."

Vulcans to the left of us. Vulcans to the right of us. Jemmy and Cardie in front of us. Me cursing thunder. Oh, what a lovely war.

"Specific orders will reach each of the section and company commanders regarding their intended roles in the upcoming offensive."

A question-- this time from Angela Bellamy.

"Sergeant Bellamy. Go ahead."

"Sir, who's gonna man the T-child while we're gone? The enemy can swim. Can't they?"

"Yeah, but Cardie don't surf," Tim said to me. I chuckled.

"The ship will be manned by Starfleet security personnel." Great. Only thing worse than a mission planned by starboys for the redshirts was a mission planned by starboys in which other starboys posed as redshirts while the redshirts went out to see if a Shadowfax-classer could float. This mission had "complete tragedy" written all over it.

"In addition," the Captain went on, "the vessel will also be providing fire support by using its quantum torpedo launchers while underwater." So if they didn't know we were hiding a starship before... they sure as hell would the moment they opened fire. What next-- we'd have a cloaking device down there?

Briefing told us nothing else of value. It'd have been nice if they'd instructed us how to leave a last will and testament. Lucky for me I had nothing leave, no one to leave it to. We'd reach Kalandra at eighteen-hundred. Marianne was on duty until seventeen-hundred. We were expected to be on our horses, strapped in and ready to go in case anything went wrong. But that was none of my concern. A Shadowfax-classer can make it out even on a sinking Akira-class. We hadn't been in the business of sinking ships in over three hundred years-- just blasting them from the stars. This was madness. Even with the specially modified structural integrity fields and the specially modified quantum torpedoes and the specially modified everything else, if anything went seriously wrong, Marianne wouldn't have a chance. They hadn't specially modified the lifepods, after all.

Our main objective was to take out the transporter and communications jamming systems, locally. Then a message would be sent to our reinforcements-- the rest of the Seventh Fleet, comfortably awaiting our good news orbiting Shinrezi, thirty light-years out. Thirty light-years... they could get to Kalandra in, what, three, maybe four hours? By then their objective might be to salvage a dead starship and bury the dead. That might be all that was left.

We were instructed to tell our troops nothing --nothing!-- about the insertion. Just tell them that we were heading off the T-child. At least Third and Fourth Battalions had it easy. They were going to jump the sinking ship like the green-blooded vermin they were about to become. As soon as T-child touched down on the surface of the planet, they were to make their best imitations of a drowned ship's crew. They even got to go out the back way-- never mind the through-deck design.

I prepped everything, checked Rienzi over six times. Sixteen-forty-five rolled around and I sprinted to Marianne's exact location.

I called to her as she crossed a corridor. She spotted me and we snuck into a turbolift. "Hold," I said.

Her eyes were wide with panic. "What did they tell you?"

"Most fool nonsense I've ever been a part of."

"We're going to engage the Cardies, then fake a warp nacelle breach?"

"What?"

"That's what I heard! We're going to show up, let them fire on us, take out as many of their ships as we can, and then the engineers have a coolant breach packet retrofitted to the port nacelle. We're to simulate distress and make it look like we're going down. They have the whole thing planned out, to the letter."

"Suppose we actually are?"

"Well, I don't know. What will you do?"

"If anything happens-- get off this ship. Don't come looking for me. I will find you, Marianne. I won't let them hurt you. Just... survive. Make it out of here. If anything --anything-- goes wrong, I will do whatever it takes, I swear, as long as I find you."

"I won't leave you behind," she said. "If there's anything I can do. To hell with the orders. I won't let them leave you behind."

"Whatever it takes, okay?"

"Whatever it takes," she repeated, then added, "I love you."

"I know. I love you, too." I kissed her. "Look, if you don't hear from me... go to my quarters, gather the stuff."

"Oh, Sean!"

"No-- they might move someone in, and I don't want to lose my stuff. I'll be back for it. And you."

"And I'll be waiting." She smiled. "Sir."

I kissed her once more, then she stepped out of the turbolift. "B deck," I said, and went back to the hangar.

Everything was secure. It had to be. We didn't have a second chance at this. Or, really, anything. Even Lieutenant Ronik was dropping with us --on board the Rozinante. Captain Valan was going down with Fourth Battalion, posing as the ship's captain. We were even squawking a different transponder, as USS T'Pau, one of T-child's sister ships, reputedly with an all-Vulcan crew, the first ship since USS Intrepid was lost way back when to have such a crew. We were to show up looking for some lost friends, find some enemies, and then go down with a warp core breach fake-out. Then we'd rise from the dead, an Akira-class phoenix, water instead of ashes, T-child instead of T'Pau.

Seemed like a silly way of making war. But then, we needed Kalandra too bad. We were all expendable-- me, Marianne, Tim, and all those Vulcans.

I saw Victor Welsh pass by-- he was section command, like me. Only he had been in section command since the start of the war. He was at least ten years older than me, and Jake Price, from Chicago, was at least five. I figure I was the youngest section commander in the division, to be honest. I was only twenty-six when we fell to Kalandra. Wish I could say the same about when we left.

"So, what do you think, Welshie?" I asked him.

"What a complete mess. Only a starboy could think this was a good idea."

"Tell me about it. Why don't they just clean the grid from orbit?"

"That's what I told Pricey-- narrow-beam, high-power phaser shots. Take out the jammers. Drop us in, move onto the next grid. We're just taking this bird into a hornet's nest, man."

"Well, hey, for the cause, right?"

"Nuts to the cause. I got three kids back home, man. I hadn't planned on never seeing them again, hear?"

"Yeah. Got me a woman I wouldn't mind seeing home with again." Hers, of course-- home, for me, now meant wherever Marianne might be.

"Look, whatever happens back there, we got your back."

"Likewise, Welshie."

"You're a good kid, Dix. Keep your head and your tail clear, and trust to hope. We're gonna make it out of this one. Like we always do. We're First of the Fourth. We've got nothin' to fear."

I caught up with Julia Hayden. She was in her quarters when I paged her. She made it down to the deck in record time.

"Reporting as requested, sir."

"Julia... good, thank you." I handed her the padd with the map. "You good with maps?"

"Not the best, sir, but I do what I can."

"Good. I couldn't find my way off a planet if I leapt into orbit. On a starship or starbase, I'm much more easy-- three-dimensions, see. But hills and such, that's just confusing."

"Topography, sir?"

"That's it. Throws my senses out of whack."

"So you want me to memorize the whole map?"

"Memorize what it looks like now. Memorize anything we find out. And keep yourself alive. You're my map trooper. I'm only going to lead us into death if I can't find my way around."

"Yes, sir. Anything else, sir?"

"Yeah. I need something good to tell the troops. You know, on the way down. Last time out, I ripped off some dead guy, play about a king. I need something similar for this time, only we leave in ninety and I need it now."

"I can think of a few things, sir."

"Try me."

She punched the padd command interface a few times, and pulled up something. "One of the psalms, sir. While I normally would see to the certain doom of anyone who messed with this one, in this case, I think I can make an exception."

"Certain doom, eh?"

"Yes, sir. If I may, sir."

"Yeah."

"Your doom would be... disadvantageous to me, as it would mean increased responsibility, and less time for the things which matter most to me."

"Like your faith."

"Yes, sir."

"So you just want me to stay alive so that you don't have to command?"

"If it helps to think that way, sir."

"All right. Know that map."

"I will do my best, sir." She still stood there.

"That's all."

"Thank you, sir."

I still held the padd in my hand. "Oh,Corporal Hayden," I called, as she walked away.

"Already committed to memory, sir."

"Very good. Carry on, then."

"Sir." She did.

I read the poem --or whatever she called it-- that she pulled up. Yeah, this didn't look too hard to work into a speech.

We were strapped into the Rienzi, ready to go, and I tapped my commbadge. "Attention, Second Section. This is Sergeant Dixon. We're about to be involved in one of the..." I resisted the urge to say 'stupidest', but it was hard.

"In one of the most complex military maneuvers yet attempted in this war. Starfleet Command has devised it, Starfleet command has provided for it, and Starfleet Command has asked us to carry it out. Starfleet has seen to our every need, and want. Starfleet has nursed us back to health, has treated us with every comfort, has given us hope in times of despair. And though we'll walk in the valley of death, we should fear no evil, because we will walk together-- for the cause, for the uniform, for the Fleet, and for the Federation.

"We're in this together, folks. We'll make it out the same way-- together. Anyone disagree?"

"SIR! NO, SIR!"

"Are you with me?"

"SIR! YES, SIR!"

"Then strap in and safety rifles! Checklist!"

The checks started coming in-- thirty-one, not including myself, to go through. Hayden took care of that for me. Once she gave me the thumbs-up, I checked my own.

"And mine as well. STARFLEET! Remember your training! Fear no evil! Stand together! Fight together! And victory will be ours!"

The ship rocked. Not a good feeling. Then again. And another. I could practically hear the ship's klaxon sounding, the faked distress signal, the second-last Cardie ship being blown to pieces, the last one moving in for a kill shot as the T-child hit the atmosphere.

Then I felt the whole ship rock hard. No mistaking that-- penetration. Then a hard fall. I could swear it got harder to breathe. I tapped my commbadge.

"Dixon to Leduc."

"Sean? You okay?"

"Yeah. We haven't left yet."

"I'll be waiting for you."

"I know. I'll see you when I get home."

"Love you. Leduc out."

"ALL HANDS, BRACE FOR IMPACT," I heard. Not from Rienzi-- from a speaker inside wired into T-child's all-hands system. After all, we still counted. Moments passed. Then a shudder. The inertial dampening system hadn't been quite fully overcompensated. But we were floating on top of the water. I took the padd from Julia, and tapped a couple commands-- ship's schematic. Main launch bay. Doors-- status report. Rear doors open. Vessels departing. I went back to the schematic. A few lifepods were being released as well-- I saw them blink green twice, then go black instead of the white of the full schematic. They were going all out to fake this, weren't they?

Sick curiosity prevailed-- I patched in internal sensors and went looking for water onboard. Only things I found were the ship's pool and the emergency water supply. No leaks-- yet. I tapped in the structural integrity status. No change. Holding. Doors-- status report. Both closed. So two Battalions were away. Off to give Jemmy a surprise.

"THIRTY SECONDS TO LAUNCH!" came the voice of the starboy up front. Everyone tensed up. At least a couple of them had gotten sick, leaned forwards and put their stomach contents out on the ground. Rienzi's whole compartment stunk terribly of vomit. I shut it out of my mind. I tried to think of how Marianne had smelled the night before, that sweet, salty scent of femininity and sexual energy. It was the sort of thing that you wanted the whole universe to smell like, just so you felt the energy to keep going. Where we were heading would smell a lot worse than this compartment. No xenoforms meant no decomposition. That was a relief. But blood still had that odor of ruddy iron to it --unless you were a Vulcan or a Jemmy-- regardless of xenoforms.

There was a rush, and we were off. I felt Rienzi buck as we hit the water, then surfaced. My padd had gone blank-- disconnected from the T-child internal computer. I tapped into Rienzi, got the external view. We were completely in blackness. No light-- it was night planetside. And we were to just drop in on the beach at first light. Never mind the starship we were leaving behind, and the woman I loved aboard it.

To say I had mixed feelings would be an understatement. My feelings weren't mixed. They were straightforward, or rather, straight backwards. I didn't want to go to Kalandra. It's a pity I didn't have the option of trusting my gut on that one. The way things would play out in the weeks and months to come, I'd find that I'd come to hate my gut feeling for being right.