United Star Ship Redemption, velocity Mach 9.5

Descending to Antarctica, Earth (Tau'ri), Ancient Weapons Platform

Glaciers flashed past as I piloted the Redemption. With me at the helm, the ship was soaring like something half its size across the frozen landscape, tracing a dangerous flight path to the Ancient Outpost. Luke Skywalker had once told me about Beggar's Canyon back on Tatooine, and while Antarctica—no matter which Earth—reminded me more of the frozen wastes of Hoth, the winding route I was taking the Redemption through was more in line with the stories Skywalker'd told.

I swerved to port to avoid a rapidly approaching glacial cliff, grinning from ear to ear. Instead of simply beaming down to the Ancient Outpost, or just descending to the place via shuttle, I'd elected to take a winding path through the glaciers and terrain close to the outpost, putting Thrum's upgrades to the engines (and my pilot's reflexes) to the test.

Granted, if I made an error, we would probably just plow right on through the mountains of ice and snow with barely a scratch, but I was treating this exercise like I was in a fragile fighter—in other words, a situation where a single mistake would kill you. Granted, the Redemption was, well, significantly bigger than a fighter, but it was the thought that counted.

"No wonder your crew call you the best pilot in Starfleet in their logs." Thrum commented as I put the ship into a midair skid with the thrusters and then applied full impulse to get around a sharp bend, which squeezed the battlecruiser into a gap between two towering slabs of ice. The ship shivered—only just—and the faint thunk told me we'd probably scraped ice off one of them. But we were through, and Redemption roared out onto the flat plain where the Outpost stood.

"Thanks," I said in reply as I buzzed the various surface buildings, probably scaring the researchers as I brought the ship about. Once we were settled into a hover, I issued Blue Alert and went about extending the landing gear. The Redemption settled easily and came to a rest beside the central dome.

I stood up and turned to Thrum's avatar, who was holding a crystal and an ancient-looking 21st century computer hard drive the size of a T-bone steak. "So…these have search algorithms in them?" I inquired.

"Yep." Thrum replied, handing the two items over to me. "The crystal should let you search the Database down there directly, while the hard drive should search via the Tau'ri computer systems. It'll use a term linkage engine to look for phrases like zero point module, ZPM research, ZPM production, drones, Ancients, Stargate Program, et cetera. Granted, the database is not as extensive as Atlantis' database, but they still haven't found much."

I nodded. "I just hope they let me use it. Nelen, perform a geological scan of the area around the base. Maybe there are rooms the Air Force teams missed."

"Yes sir."

Inside the Ancient Outpost

"…You want to do WHAT?!"

I sighed, feeling another predictable tirade coming on.

"Let me get this straight," said Doctor Rodney McKay—the egotistical genius from the Atlantis installation who, dammit, just wouldn't. Stop. Talking. I managed to keep a straight face but the urge to just man up and sneer was overwhelming. "You want to put a search algorithm into these Ancient computers, a search algorithm made by an AI that we know nothing about—and search through the stuff we already have? I've devised dozens of search algorithms that I've used here and on Atlantis, and I've found nothing! How the hell do you think you can do better?"

I sighed. "First off, McKay, this search algorithm was devised by an AI older than the human race itself. It—HE—once worked with living, breathing Alterans and their computers, and probably knows more about the Alterans than you could ever hope to." I aimed a glare at the doctor. "So either you can let me plug this crystal or hard drive in and share it with you, or I can take this to General O'Neill and ask him to make sure you never get to see Atlantis again. Oh, or?" I pulled out an orange. "This."

McKay gaped at the citrus fruit for a minute, opened his mouth, but then he thought better of it and stepped aside.

"Thank you," I said, mentally thanking Colonel Carter for that tidbit of information and stepping up to the control interface. Remembering what Thrum had told me, I found the correct slot and inserted the crystal.

"Engaging search." Thrum informed me through my earpiece. "ETA to search completion, five minutes."

I started whistling tunelessly and nodded to my security escort, who was starting to give me the "hairy eyeball," which stopped when he saw me notice. I meandered over to the central chair in the meantime.

"That's the primary control chair," said Thrum. "It allows a mental connection, which allows certain sentients to control the drones. Trust me, a drone swarm is eerily beautiful. It only works if someone has the Ancient gene or the necessary gene therapy."

I nodded and sat, just to see what would happen, glancing around.

Aaaannd…Nothing.

"I expected as much." Thrum said, having patched through to the UT implanted in my ears. "Seeing as you're from a different galaxy in a different universe, I didn't expect you to have the ATA gene." He'd only just finished saying this when the lights dimmed, the chair lit up and it suddenly reclined, giving me an extensive view of a massive hologram that appeared in the air around me.

"What did you do, Antilles?!" McKay yelled, running up, along with several scientists.

"Easy, McKay, I just sat down!" I retorted, too busy being startled and studying the hologram.

"Ugh. Really need to put a 'do not sit' sign down," he mumbled, looking up. "Wait a minute…is that the universe?"

The hologram was a wonderful panoramic view of countless swirls; galaxies of various sizes and forms. Then those galaxies swiveled and compressed into a rectangle and sidled downwards, and more galaxies appeared in a second rectangular prism, many different than the others. The whole view had a single red line that divided the two areas, oddly reminding me of a sandwich.

"Thrum, what is this?" I asked.

"One moment. Accessing camera feeds. Huh."

"What?"

"It appears to be two universes. Specifically: this one, and yours. The Tau'ri universe is the one on top."

With a sudden flash of descending light, another holographic avatar appeared. It was not Thrum; rather, it was a human. At least, it looked human. "Welcome."

Thrum sent a Starfleet computer's chirp to signal me. "Search is complete. Oh."

I sat up. "What, 'oh?'"

"The Alterans built Bridgeway."

I thought about it for a moment. "'Oh' is right. Not exactly surprising, though."

"But what's even more interesting, is that there are six ZPMs stored right beneath us in their vault."

"WHAT?!" I roared, jumping out of the Control Chair. The hologram shut off.

"What?" McKay said, jumping a foot. "What's wrong?"

"There are six ZPMs beneath us!"

McKay's eyes bugged. "Are you shitting me?!"

I cut him off. "Thrum, beam me down there!"

"Me too!" McKay protested.

Moments later, I found myself in a room shrouded in darkness, with McKay beside me, and as soon as we finished rematerializing, the lights rose, and the doctor's jaw dropped.

"Holy crap. Six ZedPMs sitting beneath us the entire time. We probably didn't detect it due to the shielding."

The room in question was certainly larger than the one the control chair was located in. There were several terminals that lit up with McKay's presence as he wandered around the room, but what really drew our attention was the pedestal containing six ZPMs, right in the middle of the room. All were glowing softly.

"Dibs," McKay quipped, after a moment of shared silence.

I shot a scathing 'really?' look at him and flashed the citrus again "McKay, I'll talk with General O'Neill about who gets what, but right now, I just need one ZPM for study." Cowed, McKay nodded. "Thrum, what else have you found?" I asked the AI.

"Nothing much other than the designs for drones." Thrum replied in disappointment. "I assume that most of the necessary data is in Atlantis. I'll transmit the data to the SGC."

I nodded. "Contact Homeworld Command and inform them of the discover-"

"…Oh, shit."

I raised an eyebrow in an almost Vulcan fashion at the alien AI's use of a human curse word. "Excuse me?"

"You need to get up here, sir." Thrum said, almost urgently. "Now, Admiral. Shipboard systems just went into lockdown and I think you know why. Directive Zero."

Those words immediately spurred me into action.

"Antilles to Redemption, one to beam directly to my ready room, now." I ordered through my combadge, running up and grabbing a ZPM. "Energize." As I dematerialized, I managed to glimpse a spluttering Rodney McKay, one finger raised uselessly.

I tapped the computer screen, closing the brief communications hotline with the captain of the USS Elusive Moon. Sighing, I took a moment to process, and had an idea, looking up at Yeoman Marlin. "Marlin, get me a line to the Resolution, Omega priority."

"Yes sir." She replied, clearly tense and worried while she accessed the wall terminal.

Moments later Admiral Craig's face appeared on my ready room's private screen. He looked puzzled. "You need something done, Admiral?"

"Yeah. Directive Zero."

Craig's eyes widened, and then he sighed and ran a hand over his face. "Well…crap. Judging by the fact that you called me, Wedge, it's only something me and my crew can accomplish, because you'll be busy."

I offered a grim smile. "Got it in one, Franklin. The Ori found a boronite deposit and are already mining it. I need you to do a quick hit and run, destroy any trace of that boronite, and make sure Omega does not fall into the hands of the Ori. I'm sending the coordinates. The Elusive Moon will be in-system and will give you support if you need it."

Craig stared off into space in thought and shrugged. "Maybe acting as a situational monitor, but we likely won't need 'em to intervene directly. Inform them to remain on standby."

"Good. Also, I'm sending something over to Getaway via the Stargate. A power unit they use on this side called a Zero Point Module. Plug it into your systems, and you should be able punch through their best ships without a scratch. Good luck, Craig." He nodded in reply, reached up, and the screen changed back to the UFP seal.

I stood up and exited my ready room to find Luke Webi waiting for me. "Omega?" he asked, his telling look making it clear he knew of the situation.

"Yep." I noticed his expression shift to a troubled one, and reassured him. "Don't worry, all right? My crew has done Solenae duty with me, so they know what Omega is."

Webi frowned. "Why aren't we going?" He asked.

"Because the Ori have over fifteen ships guarding that ore deposit, and one of them looks like it's a dreadnought according to satellite readings—SGC has vague specifics, mostly on its size, which looks like it's over four klicks. Right now, without enough experience, we can't face that thing alone with the weapons we currently have. So, I'm sending the Resolution. That ship is one of MACO's best ships of the line. Believe me, kiddo, Craig and his crew can take a hit and dish it back like a mama krayt dragon." At this, Webi smirked. "Now, Thrum, what happened when I sat in the control chair?"

"It scanned your Quantum RNA signature, sir." The AI replied as his holographic avatar materialized in front of the Chair. "It seems that the Ancients were…experimenting with techniques for exploring alternate dimensions. Bridgeway is the central hub for crossing those dimensions. If a universe has a Supergate, the Hub logs the 'address.' It just so happened that this galaxy's Supergate was either the most recently formed, or the address just reached Bridgeway. Basically, we control a dimension crossing device. Don't know why the Ancients abandoned it though... Did they Ascend, flee a plague, or get wiped out by the Iconians or someone else?"

I pondered this. "Hm. Seem solid enough. Devise another search algorithm that we can send through the 'Gate. See what else we can find from home."

"You know what? Why not?" At that, Thrum's avatar disappeared, probably to do AI things.

"I never thought an AI could be that…hyperactive," Nelen commented, shaking his head.

"What'd you expect?" Luke replied with a shrug. "The guy's a scan of an organic's mind. He's gonna act like the original. Mostly."

I sighed and stuffed my hands in my pockets, meandering down the hallway with Webi following on my heels. "And here I am, thinking the Redemption couldn't possibly be upgraded any further. What's next, cloaked shields?"

Back home, Bridgeway Installation

The empty atmosphere of the Bridgeway installation was no longer quite as empty as it had been, following the UGTF's departure. Several Starfleet ships—three—had just entered the Shield Planet. One was a Trident-class, the USS Gold, which, debatably, had the most experience with Dyson Spheres, or their style.

The other vessel was very famous. Smaller than the USS Gold, the second vessel was of Starfleet's Intrepid-class, but that in and of itself didn't exactly make the vessel famous. In fact, it was this ship that made the Intrepids of Starfleet iconic. It was her name, and what she'd accomplished for seven years in this same region of space.

Voyager.

There were several differences from her seven year trip, mostly internal. Her former second officer was now a Rear Admiral, and now commanded the ship. Furthermore, Voyager had been pulled from the Utopia Planitia museum docks, rearmed, refurbished, and refitted to 25th century standards.

These two ships—and one other—were here because of the technological marvel that was the planet Starfleet had dubbed Bridgeway. What made this place notable was the fact that there was an inter-dimensional artificial wormhole generator that a Borg Cube could fit through, and the entire planetoid was encased in a thick, internally illuminated shell—near-pure neutronium alloy.

Then there was the third ship that had entered Bridgeway. This one was another of Starfleet's finest, built on Voyager's legacy with technologies that were still cutting-edge nearly twenty-five years later: the USS Vesta, currently the flag command of Admiral Kathryn Janeway.

Now, on a Dyson Sphere, life was sustained by sufficient distance from the star it was built around. At this place, heat and light was generated by the shield, sustaining the planetoid itself. It was built by a race never seen before, and according to preliminary reports, some type of guardian resided here that seemed to be distantly related to the Iconians.

On the bridge of Voyager, Admiral Tuvok watched as his ship—and, in the peripheral of the viewscreen, his former captain's as well—approached scanning range of the Supergate, the shimmering blue 'puddle' illuminating the faces around him.

"Lieutenant," Tuvok said, not taking his eyes off the viewscreen. "Any status reports from Fleet Admiral Antilles?"

"Aye sir." The young, talented Trill currently on duty reported—Ensign Daazi Vos. "Ori forces have attacked a refugee planet, several devices that are called Zero Point Modules have been discovered, and... oh, that's bad."

"Ensign?"

"These…Ori people have discovered a Boronite deposit, and they're trying to weaponize it."

A grim prospect. Tuvok nodded. "I trust Antilles and his group are handling the situation?"

"Yes sir," said the ensign, "Admiral Antilles has deployed the Resolution to destroy the deposit." A pause. "I've also received a search algorithm designed by—wait, what? Sir, apparently it's the Redemption itself!"

Tuvok turned in his seat to regard her. "Explain."

"From the data packet sent, it looks like an ancient AI has been integrated into the Redemption's main computer."

Tuvok raised one pointed eyebrow in the ubiquitous Vulcan expression. "Is the ship compromised?"

"No sir." Ensign Vos tapped away at the screen while beckoning the Admiral over to her station. Tuvok joined her. Lines of trinary code—with an attached bracketed summary of different programs provided by the Redemption's senior engineering officers—flew across the screen, and Tuvok bent a little closer, his brow furrowing in contemplation while the Lieutenant explained. "According to the files they sent, the AI's programming is adaptive. It learns, and FAST, because it's based on brain scans of a sapient being; a, uh…'Furling'. Now, the AI can't do anything directly affecting the ship without some form of authorization from the senior staff. It does have flexibility clauses integrated, to allow for a possibility of officers being mentally or emotionally compromised. In fact, it has assured it is perfectly fine with working alongside the crew. The search algorithm here is designed to look for items of interest and flag them—I believe it's based off of a Deep-Web search engine used by 21st Century special forces operatives, which makes sense given the timeframe. It's just…incredibly fast."

Tuvok turned around and took the Chair. "Very well. Relay the search program to the Gold and the Vesta. Anything else?"

"No sir."

Tuvok's console pinged and he glanced down to the console between himself and VanZyl to study the foldaway console, much as his former captain once had. It appeared to be an anomalous sensor reading, coming from near the Supergate, but when no further signals appeared, the computer flagged it as random signals coming from the other side of the gate.

Another beep and a quick announcement from the helm told him they were being hailed by the Vesta. "Onscreen." It was Admiral Janeway. Around her, he spotted members of the Vesta's crew, among them Marla Gilmore, formerly of the USS Equinox.

"Hello again, Tuvok. I assume you've picked up the same energy readings we just did."

He inclined his head. "Indeed, Kathryn. You have further information?" The Vesta-class was still a leader in the field of interstellar scientific study, after all. It was only logical to arrive at such a conclusion.

"We just might have a group of stowaways on our little excursion, Mister Tuvok. The Voth."

"Voth?" Tuvok repeated. His expression tightened. "Shall we go to yellow alert, Admiral?"

His old friend tilted her head, a considerate smile tugging at one corner of her mouth. "Mm, not yet. The signature is identical to other readings Starfleet has of their cloaking devices. It appears to be a research vessel; stationary. For now, I'd like to give them the benefit of the doubt and leave them alone. They're probably as curious about this facility as we are. Nevertheless, we'll keep a close eye on them for you."

Tuvok's instincts—his "gut feelings"—were saying something else, but for now, he held it in check for later reference. It was an ability that Admiral Janeway and the old crew of Voyager had taught him to trust, though, so the Vulcan made a note on his PADD for the task force briefing later that day. In the meantime, he had more important things to worry about—namely, what to do about the situation brewing on the other side.

In the atmosphere of Bridgeway, near the Supergate, there was seemingly nothing but air, at least to the naked eye. But there was something. Moving relatively slow, but still much faster than any prop-driven aircraft of ages past could hope to.

In that bubble of nothing, a large ship hovered, buffeted by faint gravimetric fluctuations. It was long and flat, a pointed trapezoid prism. Sturdily built, strong, powerful, and commanded by one of the most powerful races in the Delta Quadrant, it sat motionless near the Supergate.

While it seemed tranquil on the outside, inside was anything but. In the command center of the Bastion-class cruiser, a heated debate was going on between two particular individuals.

One was large and bulky, an alpha male of the Voth species. He loomed over the others on the bridge. He wore a hulking suit of armor, distinguishing his rank, General, in the Voth's space forces. The other was smaller, and wore the far less intimidating garb of a scientist.

"If we study this wormhole generator," The scientist was saying. "I think I can create new FTL drive, a device far more efficient than transwarp, or slipstream! I just need more t—"

"I will not risk staying in primate-controlled space without reinforcements!" The General snarled. The scientist was not affected. The armed forces and scientific communities had always had 'problems' with each other, especially after the Solenae Dyson Sphere debacle and the significant amount of defections it spawned, most notably Nelen Exil, their foremost expert on the Dyson spheres. "No level of advancement will change my mind!"

"I'm talking about near-instantaneous travel. Anywhere, anytime."

That made the General pause. "Near-instantaneous?" he growled. Not only would that be a great boon in tactical situations, it would throw him up the ranks, maybe even to a seat on the Council of Elders.

Finally he swept the lackey aside and took a seat in his command chair. "We'll stay. But I'll make a call for reinforcements. I do not like sitting in the middle of enemy territory with nothing but a cloak to protect us."

And a signal was sent from that bubble of nothing, calling for more of its kind to evict the current residents of the artificial planet.

SG Universe, Earth Orbit

BC-304 Nemesis

Two hours later

Amy stared at the device before her. A ZPM. They had enough to fully power Atlantis AND give one to every ship in their small fleet. The Daedalus had one, and now the Nemesis had one. The last one would go to the Apollo once she was finished, seeing as SGC didn't need it, due to the Midway Bridge.

Starfleet had been quite generous with the ZPMs, even though they'd been the ones who found them. Admiral Antilles had agreed that Stargate Command needed the ZPMs more than his people did, and ended up asking for only one for study.

Furthermore (as if Amy even needed another reason to praise them) the Starfleeters had sent a group of their engineers over to assist her team in making the Nemesis battle ready. Boy, had they delivered on that. Everything was working, from drones to power distribution. Tie that in with the fact that they now had a ZPM powering the ship, and Earth would be a force to be reckoned with, short of the Ori fleets or the combined might of the "Unigate Task Force."

"Ready to take the gal out for a spin, Amy?"

Amy smiled, her hair turning pink, and turned to Will. "You know I am."

Will grinned. "Guess what? We're in luck. We've been ordered to start strikes against Ba'al and the Lucian Alliance; keep them in check mostly, since that Unigate Task Force is busy with the Ori."

Amy scoffed. "Us against a Ha'tak? Ha! The only reason the Odyssey was almost captured was because she was unprepared and didn't have a ZPM running her. Now? The bastards will be screaming for their mothers." She took the center chair. "Helm, lay in a course."

The Getaway system, aboard the starship Resolution…

Captain's Log, Stardate 93148.4. We've taken the hours since Antilles' Omega Alert to summon the rest of Task Force Fury to the Getaway system for rendezvous. Captains Korok and V'stisss of the Steadfast and Hardy, respectively, have been tasked with escorting part of the Stargate team assigned to the Atlantis facility, while I command the Resolution on its strike against the Ori boronite operation. Needless to say, Engineering has been hard at work synthesizing the materials and weaponry necessary for our plan to work. Whether the ZPM will actually work as we all hope, however, has yet to be seen.

Tisjha Sh'jeph let out a string of Andorian curses, snarling at the stubborn micro-plasma conduit that just wouldn't slot into place. "Come on, targ-fucker, move!" She went back to hammering away—among other seemingly futile attempts. Finally, she managed to get the section of conduit to move into place after stomping on it and wiped her brow, standing up, tilting her head back momentarily to bask in the faint warmth emanating from the glowing tower of the starship Resolution's massive warp core.

The Odyssey-class starship possessed one of the largest and most powerful warp cores ever built by Starfleet, and the primary housing took up four decks of main engineering. What Tisjha had been working on, however, was something much smaller than that. The ZPM sent by Admiral Antilles via shuttle (by way of a Stargate) was finally—finally!—jury-rigged into the ship's power grid by a mess of circuitry, ODN lines and housed by the remains of a surplus plasma relay. "Well, it's ready as it's going to be, sir," she said, turning to Admiral Craig, who'd stopped by Main Engineering with Abigail to check on the progress of their little project.

Craig whistled when he saw the energy readouts on the monitors. "Wowza. Anything that so much as looks at us the wrong way will get blown clear to the Q Continuum if we fire the phasers." He smirked. "Not that Q wouldn't appreciate a little…mortal entertainment, particularly from mortals with delusions of grandeur."

Abigail smirked—a smirk that wasn't entirely her own thanks to her Borg memories. "Ain't that the truth."

"Think it'll work, Chief?" Craig asked, eyeing the crystalline ZPM.

Tisjha gnawed on her lip for a moment, exchanging her hyperspanner for an engineering tricorder to assess the readings herself. After a brief pause, she simply shrugged, while her antennae curled inwards and backwards against the top of her head, a move indicative of uncertainty among her kind. "We'll have to see, sir. That's still an awful lot of power to be shunting through the EPS grid…"

Abigail interjected smoothly, "—which means you and your team will be monitoring these systems constantly, right Commander?"

Tisjha nodded, managing a smile. "Yes, ma'am."

Admiral Craig nodded. "Good. Now, um…will we be able to increase our slipstream velocity if we use this in conjunction with the slipstream drive?"

Tisjha grinned. "Absolutely. Both harness quantum physics. Applying the ZPM's power to the Slipstream Drive should amplify its effects, maybe even enough to mimic one of those Stargates." She was about to go on, but just then the whooping cry of the Red Alert klaxons interrupted her. "Red Alert! Admiral Craig, report to the Bridge immediately," came the booming voice of Karvat'ama. "All hands, report to battle stations."

Minutes later they strode onto the Bridge amidst the usual whirlwind of activity caused by Condition Red. The lighting on the bridge had shifted from its formerly bright, open atmosphere into a far more businesslike tone. The klaxons kept up their eerie wail, sounding thrice—as was the norm—at regular one-minute intervals. The subdued chatter of the bridge was tense, and the lighting on the bridge had shifted, and the sleek lines of the expansive room were lit in a more dangerous hue. "Report!"

Karvat'ama looked up from his station at Tactical, having replaced Flores at shift change. "Long-range sensors have picked up an Ori scout vessel moving in our direction, sir. We've managed to conceal the ship in an ambush field for now."

Craig stepped up in front of the viewscreen. "Our masking field's engaged as well?"

"Yes, sir."

Craig nodded. "Good." He watched the viewscreen as the lone Ori ship—a "Hammerhead," they'd dubbed it—moved into range of the Resolution's video sensors.

"Any sign they've seen us?"

The Jem'Hadar shook his head. "Not at this time, sir."

The bridge remained tense for the next several minutes while the sensors tracked the scout vessel's trajectory. Craig knew his ship—easily three times the size of the tiny enemy ship and far more beautiful, to boot—could trounce the lone Ori ship in battle without even drawing from auxiliary power. But their mission took priority.

"Mr. Garak, enter coordinates for the…what system was it again?" he wondered, interrupting himself to glance down at the readouts. "…MG1-X359R system, that was it."

"Aye sir, warp available at your command, Admiral."

Craig nodded. "Punch it."

It took less than an hour for the Resolution to exit on the fringes of star system MG1-X359R, upon which the ship immediately launched a series of masked sensor probes. The crew immediately spotted a great area for covert observations—the massive asteroid belts that had clearly spawned smaller rings of debris around the lonely planets within the system. But as MACOs' heavy command cruiser settled in to power down behind a massive asteroid, Gienna had been monitoring the second planetoid in-system, a mere 200 klicks from their position and the site of the Ori mining operation.

"Sir, multiple longrange sensor contacts from our probe. bearing two-eight-nine by five-eight, average 180 kilometers from our position." Gienna's murmur of astonishment suddenly carried, and she glanced up from her readouts. "Captain, it looks like the Stargate satellites were correct. Gorgon-class, right on the money; it's just…sitting there."

Craig's lips tightened grimly. 'The Enterprise Luck strikes again,' he thought, dropping his chin onto his steepled hands. "Onscreen." When the image cleared from Probe Beta's position, he sighed. Yep. He was right.

The massive Ori dreadnought loomed amid the boronite operation, with several orbital drill platforms tending towards the surface of the planet. The vessel sat motionless amid the organized chaos nearest the primary orbital processing center. The readouts overlaying the image quickly established the dreadnought's size at just over seven kilometers in length, and Craig realized their biggest problem. "They're stockpiling the majority of it on that station so they can test any of the new weaponry onboard that dreadnought," he realized, stifling a curse. The bridge crew fell silent at this. No one wanted to consider the implications of an Ori dreadnought armed with the power of Omega.

"What's the rest of the vanguard?"

"Eight capital ships not counting the dreadnought," said Elisa quickly. "Four cruisers, two Hammerhead Escorts, not counting all their support craft. It's a sizable force."

"And we still don't know how effective that Ancient Tech module will be," Basil added.

"Zero Point Module," Abigail interjected, but the doctor waved it off with a blithe "whatever."

"Well I, for one, am very glad they don't have warp cores or singularities powering their ships, or we'd all be in very big trouble." Namar piped up from the helm, in an airily flippant tone he'd obviously picked up from his father.

"Careful, you might just jinx us," Basil muttered, eliciting chortles from some of the others and a mild look from Lt. Garak.

"That station is one hell of a BUFF, isn't it?" Abby piped up, after a moment of silence.

Craig turned towards her with a baffled look. "A what?"

A faint tinge of rosy blush brightened Abigail's too-pale face. "Ahem. Big Ugly Fat Fucker, sir. One of my embedded engrams seems to have belonged to an old-Earth military enthusiast."

He grinned. "Oh." Still, that dreadnought was going to be bad news, he thought, turning back to study the viewscreen. It wasn't as large as the Executor-class Super Star Destroyer Antilles had detailed during one of his briefings on his home galaxy, but it positively dwarfed the Resolution...which meant taking their time to a degree.

"Looks like we may have to take the hit-and-run approach to even the odds," Craig muttered at last.

Abigail glanced at him. "Sir?"

"You'll see." Craig rose and stepped over to Gienna's station After murmuring his orders, he let Gienna handle the talking, which the blond Betazoid did. "Now hear this: Auxiliary Escort crew, report to stations on the Zephyra by 1330 hours. Repeat: Auxiliary Escort crew, report to stations."

It was all Craig could do not to smile, and he wasn't about to sit this little mission out. "Captain Winston, you have the chair until I return. Monitor the situation and stay in contact with the Elusive Moon. You have the bridge, Number One."

She didn't even flinch. Abigail was more than used to Craig's quirks. Commanding the Zephyra on a tactical strike mission was one of them. "Yes sir."

45 minutes later…

Craig stepped onto the bridge of the USS Zephyra with an air of solemn reflection. Over the years since the Resolution had been commissioned, his crew had come to expect this from him. They went about their business, engaging the escort's systems checks while their commanding officer stepped up beside the Aquarius-class's command chair. "Hello, beautiful," he murmured softly, ignoring the bustle around him. As usual, he paused, caressing the arm of the Zephyra's command chair while he gazed off into the distance. His wedding ring gleamed faintly in the dim lighting, reminding him again—just like every time he set foot on this sleek, tiny escort—of the old heartbreak that still haunted him, years later. His gaze lit on the dedication plaque on the wall, and the Latin phrase he'd chosen as the Aquarius-class vessel's motto; "Semper Fidelis," paired with its meaning: Always Faithful. Just like his wife had been before her death.

Losing Zephyra had broken him, and nearly broken his daughter. He had never denied it, nor would he try. It was because of her unwavering love—and the promise they'd made to each other on their honeymoon, to keep moving to honor each other if one of them died in the line of duty—that he was standing here today on the bridge of her hard-hitting namesake. A sad smile tugged at his lips at the memory of their happy rivalry. 'Has it really been nearly a decade?' he wondered. The old heartache still burned, but he wouldn't have traded it for anything else. Through this tiny escort ship, she was still with him and his crew, standing guard over the thousands of souls on board his ship. No matter what, Frank. If I leave this world first, I'll be waiting. Just live for me, for whenever we see each other again.

"Sir?" He blinked. The rest of the crew sat at their stations. It was Flores who'd gotten his attention, seated at the helm. "We're ready to go."

He smiled. Lowering himself into the chair he let the comfortable burden of command settle on his shoulders. "Retract umbilicals, release docking clamps. Aft thrusters one-half. Arm the cloaking device once we're clear of the ship, then engage three quarter impulse into the asteroid field."

"Aye sir, aft thrusters one half. Cloaking device on standby."

The hiss and clunk of retracting machinery echoed from the outside of the hull as the Zephyra undocked from its cradle in the Resolution's stern and jetted in reverse out into clear space, its nacelles unfolding from its sides as it drifted clear in the vacuum.

Craig smiled when the voice of his XO came in over his combadge. "USS Zephyra, you are cleared from Resolution airspace. Good luck out there, sir."

"Will do, Winston. Ms. Flores, engage."

The Zephyra's impulse engines flared bright red, shooting the tiny escort forwards into the asteroid field, and towards the Ori menace on the far side.

And here we are! Sorry about the wait, but I for one, am happy about how this chapter turned out.

Reviews and Constructive critism welcome!

And once again, thanks to Heart of Frywinde for the crew of the Resolution and betaing.