Tyler fired six shots into the alien gunman, putting him down, but it was already too late. He was numb to his core. He hadn't particularly liked Nain, but he had felt a certain grudging respect for her. She was clever, she fought well, and she was as brave as any of his people.
He would have to tell Captain Drake what had happened to her. He didn't relish that duty. As a soldier, he had had to do it before, tell friends and family of men under his command that their loved ones weren't coming back. He had never enjoyed it. And somehow, he never seemed to find the right words. Good words, yes, but never the right ones; the ones that would explain just what had happened, why that person had lost their life, and what it had achieved.
This time, it would be even harder, because what had Alex died for? She had been the victim of a lucky shot. How did you phrase that to make it sound like a worthwhile death?
He put it out of his mind for now. Focus on the job at hand, worry about the consequences when the mission is complete. "Rhodes, secure this area. Sanchez, access their computers, find Daedalus' crew."
The soldiers carried out his instructions without the need for words. While Sanchez was querying the computer, Lieutenant Miles contacted him. "Major, this is Miles. We've secured the operations centre. All resistance neutralised. We're using the life support system to flood the rest of the station with anesthesine gas, but we can't access the prison level ventilation systems; they're on a different circuit."
"Acknowledged, Lieutenant. We have control of the prison. Standby." He changed his communicator to a different frequency. "Tyler to Sergeant Harrison."
"Harrison here, sir."
"Status?"
"They tried to send a distress call a few minutes ago, sir. We jammed it successfully. The fighters detected our presence, but we were able to disable them. The pilots bailed. We have them in our custody."
"Very good. Inform Captain Drake of the situation. Request he proceed to our location ASAP."
"Aye, sir."
It would be hours before the Endeavour and the rest of the fleet arrived. Time enough for him to locate and release the Daedalus crew, and to work out what he was going to say to Drake.
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Captain William Drake was enraged, and pacing his quarters wasn't helping him to calm down. Everywhere he looked, he saw little signs of her past presence here – the glass she had been drinking from before she had left, one of her cloaks slung over his chair, pictures of the two of them on various ships and planets – and that just added fuel to the fire.
How could she be so massively stupid and reckless? Even by her appallingly low standards of thinking, this latest action was idiotic.
He left his quarters, electing to pace the ship instead. The corridors were emptier than they had been in hours; by now most of the repair work had been completed, a little motivational encouragement from the captain convincing the crew to work a whole lot faster. With his ship at ninety-five percent operational status, Drake was sorely tempted to take Patton and Grant and warp immediately to Alex's location. Common sense, fortunately, overruled his impulsive desire to support his friend. The aliens had shown themselves to be fearsome adversaries; until Icarus was ready for action it was foolhardy to make a move.
If she were in his shoes, she would probably make it anyway. Damned idiot.
Most of Endeavour's engineers were now aboard the Icarus, rushing along her repairs. They would be ready to go in six hours, the chief had promised, and Drake was holding him to that number. It was far shorter than his original estimate, but still a very long time.
Worry crept in with his anger. Six hours in enemy territory? He tried to reassure himself that she was with professional Federation Marines, the best that Admiral Rose had; and Alex was no stranger to danger; but he couldn't make himself believe that she would be all right. The odds were stacked sorely against it.
Damned idiot.
His rage was cooling; he had walked the length of the ship and then some, pacing down corridors, using ladders to move between decks instead of taking the turbolifts to wear himself out faster. He was now on deck five of the primary hull, officer's accommodation. Without needing to look, he knew where his subconscious mind had led him, and a glance at the nearest door confirmed it: NAIN, LIEUTENANT, A.
He opened her door and went inside. Her cabin was only slightly smaller than the captain's, and came fitted with the standard issue bed, desk and work chair. Most of the rest of her space was filled with copious amounts of clutter: discarded clothes, papers, memory sticks, empty bottles and crushed beer cans. It epitomised Alex's character perfectly, and he now understood why she hadn't invited him to her room since coming aboard.
He was a little confused by the swords, the mace, and other weapons of pointy death that she had hung on the wall next to her bed. Alex wasn't much of a fighter. She was a sharp shot with phase pistols, but she didn't like knives – she had always said that being stabbed was one way she particularly didn't want to die. So why the swords? They hinted at a side of her that he hadn't known about, and didn't want to. The cheery, adventurous, hard-drinking Alex was the only one he wanted to know.
And he wanted her back, safe and sound, aboard the Endeavour.
He helped himself to a beer from Alex's small fridge. It was strong European lager, not the watered down Starfleet ale served aboard ship. He pulled the ring and took a pull of the beer.
Alex would be furious when she found one of her cans missing. That wouldn't quite make them even, but it was a start.