Darkness. An endless void. Emptiness. Part of him was missing, he had to find it. She’s gone, he told himself. She’s not coming back this time. Not coming back. His quarters seemed so empty. No more quiet evenings with her in his arms. No more nights with her by his side. He’d never again hear her unique laughter that would melt him no matter how mad he was. He’d never again feel her soft touch that would electrify him no matter how sad he was. I’ll never again taste her kiss. Never again smell her sweet perfume. Never again feel her heartbeat against my chest. She’s gone forever, and there’s nothing in the Universe that can bring her back.

* * *

“We’re gathered here today, in the left torpedo bay of the U.S.S. Bozeman, to pay our final tribute and respects to an honored individual who meant a lot to me.” Foreman paused, looking around at those in attendance of his Beloved: Captain Bateson, Andy, Dr. Hayter, Derek, Ashley, Michael, Scotty, Dennis, Admiral Cromer and her party, as well as Whitney’s Grandparents and his own parents. He breathed and continued, “In fact, no one in this room will ever know how much Whitney meant to me, or what I am going through right now. But I will say that she was the most wonderful and loving individual I have ever met, and she will be remembered as dying in the most honorable line of duty possible. May God rest her soul.”

As Scotty began to play “Amazing Grace” on his set of bagpipes, Whitney’s burial torpedo slowly began it’s journey toward the launching bay. Foreman stood there, stiff as a rock. For her. He couldn’t break down, he would remain in control. For her.

She would’ve wanted it this way, He thought as he watched her torpedo shoot out of the bay into open space. She loved space travel so much. The funeral party dispersed slowly, and Foreman returned to their quarters. Alone once again.

“Enter.”

Derek Kestner walked forward. Had it not been for the motion sensor picking up his presence, he would have slammed head-on into the door. But instead it slid open, revealing Brad and Whitney Foreman’s quarters. No, Derek thought, just Brad’s. He looked around. The light was very dim. “Brad?” he called.

“Over here,” Foreman replied groggily. “Computer: Lights.” Derek looked around the now-lit room, seeing Brad sitting on their--no his--couch; his back turned toward Derek. He walked over and sat down in the chair beside the couch. Brad didn’t look at him, instead he just kept his eyes focused on the floor.

Kestner spoke, “Captain Bateson informed me that Whitney’s grandparents want her personal belongings before they leave for Alpha Centauri. He told me to come help you gather them up.”

Brad replied softly, “I know.”

“Brad, will you be all right? Maybe we should wait a while before we get into Whitney’s stuff.”

Brad stood, still focusing on the floor. “No, Derek, we need to do this, I’ll be all right.” He walked over to the closet, opening it with an access code. He said dryly, “She kept everything nice and orderly: her clothes on this side, mine on that side. Same with our quarters, everything had to be in the right spot; I always knew where everything was. Now that’s gone. She’ll never wear these clothes again.” He reached up, pulling down a bag. He took down her clothes, folding them and laying them in the bag.

Derek said, “What else do we need?”

Foreman walked over to the bed. On one of the nightstands, there was a small, gold jewelry box. He opened the lid, pulling out it’s only contents: a gold locket. Foreman chuckled nervously as he said, “Her mother gave her this not long before she passed away. It was supposed to bring good luck to it’s wearer. This locket saved my life.” He paused. “She forgot to put it on before she went on duty.” As he finished his sentence, tears began to well up in his eyes.

Kestner said slowly, “Maybe we should finish this later.”

Foreman sniffed. “No, Derek, we’ll finish it now.” He straightened his uniform and rubbed his eyes. He placed the necklace back in its case, then carefully laid the jewelry box in the bag.

Foreman went around the room, putting various ornaments and decorations in the bag. When he had finished, he said to Derek, “Will you take it to Mr. and Mrs. Gallimore? I don’t think I can stand to see them, not yet.”

Derek replied, “Of course, Brad, I will, right away. Are you sure you’ll be okay? Maybe you need to see Counselor Rickman.”

Brad looked at him. “I’ll be fine, Derek. You know I never liked getting advice from Counselors.”

Kestner nodded. “All right, then.”

As he turned to leave, Brad said, “Derek, will you tell Mr. and Mrs. Gallimore how much their granddaughter meant to me?”

Kestner said, stopping, “Sure, Brad, of course I will.”

Foreman nodded. “Thanks, Derek, that means a lot to me.”

* * *

Captain’s Log: Stardate: 51701.6. I have recovered from the virus thanks to Dr. Hayter’s vaccine, along with most of the crew. I must note Whitney Foreman as being Killed in Action as of oh-nine-hundred Monday. The Volshins have formally apologized for the behavior of their Captain, Gamrók. Apparently, his actions were not sanctioned by the Volshin Zar, and, as a result, his death and the destruction of his ships were not taken as an act of war toward the Volshins. The Bozeman is undergoing repairs alongside the Sloane at Starbase 31. Admiral Cromer has informed me that the Bozeman’s repairs should be completed by the end of next week. Starfleet then wants us to return to the Swamp along with the Sloane to collect and study more of the nebular gas found there. Our hope is to somehow derive a counter-measure against the TON torpedo using the gas we collect.

* * *

Admiral Cromer sighed. She meant a lot to him, she thought to herself. It'll be hard on Brad to get over Whitney. But he's strong, he'll pull through. I hate to see him sad like this. I just wish he knew how much I care for him. Oh, how much I wish I could wash his pain away. She shook her head. What am I saying? We never had a chance together, just that one night. If only we'd've spent more time together, I know we could've hit it off. If only. She sighed again. If only.

Her comm link beeped suddenly. She blinked, not wanting to come out of her trance. She activated it, and said, "Cromer here."

A familiar voice, "Sorry to interrupt you, Admiral, but I thought you'd like to know the Sloane's repairs are complete, and the Bozeman's should be finished sometime this afternoon."

Cromer replied, "Thank you, Chief Odum. I will inform Captain Bateson."

Joey said, "Aye, ma'am, Odum out."

* * *

"Very well, Admiral, we'll all be onboard and ready to go by sixteen-hundred."

The Admiral's lovely voice replied, "Good, Captain Bateson. Cromer out."

Bateson cut the link. He stood, walked around his Ready Room desk over to the

replicator, and said, "Coffee. Black. Hot." The dark liquid materialized in a cup in front of him. He picked it up, sipping it slowly as he made his way back to his desk. Sitting the coffee on the glass surface, he tapped his commlink. "Bateson to Bridge."

A cool voice replied, "Kestner here, sir."

Bateson continued, "Mr. Kestner, inform the ship to be ready to leave port by sixteen-hundred."

"Aye, sir." After several seconds of silence, Kestner continued, "Anything else, sir?"

Bateson hesitated. "Uh, yes, Mr. Kestner, can you spare a minute?"

"Yes, sir, what do you need?"

"I want you to come in here, I have to ask you something."

Kestner replied, "Aye, sir, on my way."

Seconds later, the door chime rang, indicating Kestner's presence. "Enter," Bateson said plainly.

Kestner came walking into the office, a puzzled look on his face. "You wanted to see me, sir?"

Bateson leaned back in his chair. "Yes, Kestner, I did. How's Foreman?"

Derek hesitated. "He's...doing all right, I guess, considering."

Bateson continued, "When do you think he'll be ready for duty?"

Kestner replied, "He'd have come back the day after it happened if you'd have let him, sir. But I don't think he needs to be back on duty, just yet."

"Can you talk to him? I need him on duty when we get to the Swamp, the Volshins won't be so willing for us to go in there."

Kestner nodded. "Aye, sir, I'll see what I can do."

Bateson smiled. "Thanks, Derek. Dismissed."

* * *

"Computer: activate holo-recording four-eight-two-dash-five."

The placid voice replied, "Program complete, enter when ready."

Brad Foreman took a deep breath, and stepped into Holodeck Three; into the past. The setting was the Bozeman's Observation Lounge. He saw a holographic image of himself standing on a raised platform, and Captain Bateson stood behind him. Suddenly, the doors to the rear of the lounge swooshed open, and a woman in a flowing pink dress accompanied by a man in a black tuxedo came walking through. Foreman knew it was his cousin, John, and his wife Mary. They took their places at the end of the isle, on opposite sides of Bateson on the deck level.

After they had reached their destination, the rear doors opened again, and this time it was Whitney's friend, Samantha, and her boyfriend, Ryan, dressed the same as the previous party. As they took their places, the doors opened a third time, and Brad's best friend, Derek Kestner, came waking through, escorting his former love, Ashley Rickman. Foreman fell in step beside Kestner, saying, "Derek, wasn't this a wonderful day? Everything was right then, now it's all to pieces."

Kestner just ignored him, and continued walking. Foreman hurriedly walked back to the door, just in time for it to slide open again, revealing Whitney's grandfather, escorting Whitney herself. Foreman gasped. "Oh, I never realized how stunning you looked in that dress!" He hadn't noticed the wedding march until now. As Whitney and her grandfather proceeded down the isle, Foreman continued, "There was a lot of things I never noticed." He stared at her. "I never noticed how your brown eyes stood out against that white dress. I never noticed how you kept pulling that one curl of hair back behind your ear throughout the ceremony. I never even noticed the glitter on the back of your dress." He sighed. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

When she got to the end of the isle, she walked up beside the holo-Foreman. Captain Bateson cleared his throat, and said, "Members of the Bozeman, family of the soon-to-be-wed, honored guests. Welcome to the biggest event this ship has seen in it's entire history. We gather here today to wed these two love birds in matrimony, according to Federation Law Sixteen-dash- eight-four-two which states, 'No law shall be made to compromise the inalienable right for couples to wed'. Folks, this right has stretched back for thousands of years and is still one of the most loving things one person can do for another.

"The two persons we are wedding today have been though a lot together, like all starship

crewmen and women have. And, through all that, their love remained. And, because of that love,

we are here today. Now, I know you all are tired of listening to me lecture on, and I'll bet most of you are thinking, Gee, when’s the cake?" Foreman heard the audience laugh slightly. Bateson continued, "So, to not keep you waiting, I'll get started. May I have the rings, please?"

Brad's five-year-old cousin, James, handed the rings to Captain Bateson. Foreman walked up to the altar, and stared at them. His was a simple silver wedding band, but Whitney's was marvelous. I remember picking that out for her, Foreman thought to himself as the Captain cleared his throat again. "Mr. Foreman, place this ring on your bride’s finger, as a reminder of the love you feel for her." The holo-Foreman slid the 24-carat ring down over Whitney's finger, being careful not to scratch her hand as he did.

Bateson continued, "Ms. Gallimore, place this wedding band on Mr. Foreman’s finger, as a

reminder of the love you feel for him." Whitney slid the wedding band down over holo-Brad's hand, taking the same precautions. Bateson said, "Brad Foreman, do you take Ms. Whitney Gallimore to be your wedded wife, to have and to hold until natural forces bid you part?"

Both Brad and the holo-Foreman said simultaneously, "I do, sir."

Bateson turned to Whitney. "And do you, Ms. Whitney Gallimore, take Brad Foreman to be your wedded husband, to have and to hold until natural forces bid you part?"

She smiled, "With pride, sir."

The Captain also smiled, and said, "All right then. By the power invested in me by the United Federation of Planets and Starfleet, I now pronounce you--"

Foreman was surprised when the program froze. "Computer," he called. "Explain why my program stopped."

The computer replied, "The program was paused by another voice command."

Just as Foreman was about to ask the computer who did it, his answer came. "Brad, we need to talk," the interruption spoke.

Brad didn't move, only said, "Derek, what are you doing down here?"

Kestner replied, "We'll be leaving Starbase 31 in a few hours. Captain Bateson wants you to be ready for duty before we go."

Foreman turned to face his friend. "I've been ready for duty for days now. I need something to get my mind off what happened; to get my mind off her."

Derek nodded. "I know, Brad. When can you be ready?"

Brad replied, "Tell Captain Bateson I'll be on duty in two hours."

"I will, Brad, is there anything else?"

Foreman thought for a moment. "Tell the Captain thanks, he did a wonderful job at my wedding."

Derek answered as he left, "I will, Brad."

* * *

Brad Foreman sat alone in his quarters. He was due in Engineering in an hour, and he wanted just a little more recovery time before he had to return to duty. Suddenly his door chime rang, pulling him out of his reverie.

“Come in,” he called out. The doors slid open, and Forman stood up, seeing who entered.

“No, Brad, please, sit back down,” Admiral Kayla Cromer said to him.

He replied, “As you wish, Admiral. What brings you to the Bozeman?”

She answered him, “Well, actually, I wanted to see how you were doing, Brad.”

Brad nodded. “I’m doing all right, I guess. Please, sit down.” He motioned to the couch beside him.

“Thank you,” she replied, taking a seat. She turned toward him, saying, “Um, Brad, I’m really here on unofficial business. This is, uh, this is really hard for me to say after all this time, but uh...” She looked into his eyes, and continued, “Do you remember back before you joined the Academy?”

Brad thought for a moment, then said, sarcastically, “Well, you know, I have had trouble remembering back that far before, but, um, I think I know what you’re talking about.” He smiled for the first time in weeks.

She laughed. “Oh, stop! I remember your sense of humor very well.” Her face turned serious. “In fact, there isn’t much I don’t remember.”

Brad’s face also turned somber. “Me either, Kayla. You know, I kept wondering what had happened to you after we graduated, but I never found out until the Bozeman came to Starbase 31. Seems you’ve made quite a name of yourself.”

She smiled shyly. “It wasn’t all me.” She looked again into his deep blue eyes. The room fell silent. They looked at each other, but not a word was said; their eyes spoke volumes as the silence continued.

Foreman cut the silence. “You know, Kayla, you haven’t changed a bit. You’re still as beautiful as you were that night in Buenos Aries. Still the same soft, beautiful, auburn hair. Still the same deep brown eyes. Still the same hint of red in your cheeks.” She blushed. He smiled and continued, “You know, I never realized what I had in Whitney, until it was too late. I never thought what I might’ve missed by leaving you that night.”

She looked away sadly. He touched her cheek, turning her head back towards him. He continued, “Kayla, I won’t make that same mistake again.” The room became silent again. Brad suddenly realized his face was only inches away from Kayla’s. Then he also noticed that they were moving closer to one another. I can’t be falling in love with her, he thought. But I know I am . Well, so much for recovery time. Just as he finished his thought, their lips met.

* * *

“Scott to Bridge.”

Bateson replied, “This is Captain Bateson, Mr. Scott, go ahead.”

The speakers continued, “Well, sir, it seems I’m missin’ one of my Mates. An’ seein’ as how I only got one, he wouldna be up there would he?”

Bateson answered, “If you mean Mr. Foreman, no, I haven’t seen him.”

“Could ye ‘ave him come down here for me, sir?”

“I certainly will,” Bateson replied. “I’ll get right on it.”

“Thank ye, sir, Scott out.”

Bateson turned toward his First Officer. “Mr. Bush, call Foreman.”

Bush smiled at his Captain. “Aye, sir. Bridge to Lt. Commander Foreman.”

After several seconds of silence, Foreman’s voice came over the speakers. “Aye, sir?”

The First Officer replied, “Mr. Foreman, you’re late.”

Foreman replied nervously, “Um, sorry, sir, I was...I lost track of the time, sir.”

Bush’s smile widened. “Very well, Mr. Foreman, I’m sure we’ve all done that before. Just report to Engineering, pronto.”

Foreman replied, “Aye, sir, on my way. Foreman out.”

Bateson said, “Mr. Bush, when was the last time you lost track of the time?”

Gabe answered, “Well, sir, there was that time on Benderi III when I had a few too many shots of Romulan--”

“Very well, Mr. Bush,” Bateson said, cutting him off. The Bridge crew smiled. Bateson continued, “I want you all to remember that Mr. Foreman has just been through a very rough time, and he deserves to be cut a little slack for a few days, understood?” They all nodded. “Very well. Mr. Welch, prepare to leave Space Dock in ten minutes, mark.”

* * *

“Bozeman to Sloane,” Bateson said.

“Sloane here, this is Admiral Cromer, is the Bozeman and her crew ready to depart?” the young Admiral replied.

Captain Bateson answered, “Yes we are, Ms. Cromer, on your mark.”

“Very well, Captain, I grant the Bozeman permission to depart.”

Bateson stood. “Thank you, Admiral, we’ll keep in touch, Bozeman out. Andy, ahead one-quarter impulse power.” Bateson watched as the Bozeman started forward toward the space doors. It’ll feel good to get back into space again, he thought as she cleared the massive doors.

Bateson cleared his throat. “Okay, everyone, I know it’s been a while, but let’s try to get back in the scheme of things. Set course for the Swamp and engage at warp five.”

Andy Welch replied, “Aye, sir. ETA: fifteen minutes.”

“Very good, Andy, hold course and speed.”

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, the Bozeman and the Sloane came out of warp near a mass of dust and gas called the Swamp. Bateson ordered, “Scan for other ships, Mr. Kestner.”

Kestner replied, “Aye, sir, scanning. There are no other ships in our range other than the Sloane, but the Swamp could be masking any ship within itself.”

Bateson said, “I was afraid of that, go to Yellow Alert.” The Bridge lights shifted to an ominous yellow as a more toned-down version of the Red Alert warning sounded. Bateson could just see his crew preparing to report to Battle Stations if needed.

Kestner reported, “Now entering the Swamp, sir. The conditions within the Swamp are similar to those found in most nebulas, except that sensor range is more limited; weapon’s power is full, but targeting accuracy is cut in half; that should make Mr. Sheffield’s job a bit more difficult.”

Bateson said, “For those of you who were on the Bridge when we fought that Borg ship in the M-16 Nebula: Andy, Gabe, Wizz, and Mike, remember that probe grid we set up to navigate the nebula?” They all nodded. “Well, what would prevent us from doing that again? After all, we were ordered to map the Swamp and recover a sample, so being able to navigate would help us out a lot, wouldn’t it?”

Dennis replied, “There would only be one problem: the greater density of the Swamp would make the process take longer, but it would be just as effective once we got everything into place.”

Bateson stood. “Very well, begin laying down a probe grid.”

Dennis replied, “Aye, sir, the entire process should take about an hour with the Sloane’s help.”

* * *

About fifteen minutes into the mapping, Captain Bateson asked, “Any sign of enemy ships?”

Kestner replied, “None, sir. But we have been picking up several other probes not of Federation design stationed in a similar grid pattern to our own. We thought the first few were random space junk, but after closer examination, I have concluded that these probes are the matrix for another navigational system currently in use.”

Bateson walked over behind Kestner. “Can you identify the source of the technology behind these probes?”

Kestner answered, “So far no, sir, it doesn’t match any known configuration. I have been able to find out that they have been placed here within the past month, but I can’t trace the transmissions the probes are sending, I’ll have to wait until we get more of our probes out there.”

Bateson sighed. “Very well, keep me posted and inform me if your information changes.”

“Aye, sir.”

* * *

Twenty minutes later, Kestner reported, “Sir, there’s a ship entering range of the grid.”

Bateson stood. “Configuration?”

Kestner replied, “Too far to tell, sir, but it’s not Federation.”

Bateson turned to Wizz. “What does the Sloane say about our guest?”

Dayton swiveled around in his chair to face the Captain, and said, “Admiral Cromer advises you to use extreme caution and approach the ship. She says she’ll continue to build the grid and inform us if her information changes.”

Bateson turned back to face the Tactical layout of the probe grid on the Viewscreen. “Very well, set pursuit course and engage at best speed.”

Welch replied, “Aye, sir, time to intercept: two minutes.”

Bateson said, “Kestner, any change in your data?”

Derek replied, “Yes, sir, as the Sloane sets up more probes, my information about the ship increases. She has roughly the same mass as the Bozeman, but her volume is much greater, about twice our own.”

Bateson said, “Computer, using Mr. Kestner’s data, find ships that will fit in that category.”

The computer replied, “List complete.”

Bateson continued, “Very well, name them off.”

“The following races and groups currently use ships matching, within range of the Bozeman’s current data, the volume and mass of Sensor Anomaly one-three-dash-eight-four-two: Borg, Cardassian, Dominion, Epsiloneese, Federation, Ferengi, Gorn, Independent Freighters Association, Klingon, Medusian, Pascallan, Romulan, Serran, Son'a, Tholian, Venturi, Volshin--”

Bateson cut in, “Stop. Which of these have had known activity in this sector in the past month?”

She replied, “Federation, Ferengi, Independent Freighter’s Association, Klingon, and Volshin.”

Bateson continued, “And which of this list didn’t have authorization?”

“Volshin only.”

Bateson rolled his eyes, “I already knew that. Well, Mr. Kestner, it appears that our friends are Volshins. Can you confirm that yet?”

Kestner replied, “No, sir, I--wait, that last probe just focused my information. Volshin ship confirmed. Sir, the Volshin is changing course to intercept the Bozeman, they must’ve saw us.”

Bateson said, “All right, boys, let’s be ready for ‘em; Red Alert!”

Sheffield instantly activated the protocols for Red Alert. “Sir,” he reported, “Our weapons are at full power, but our shields are useless. I do, however, now have full targeting, as long as we stay within the probe grid.”

Bateson replied, “Very good, Michael. Wizz, what’s the Sloane’s take on this?”

Wizz swiveled around in his chair, holding his earpiece. “Sir, Admiral Cromer advises us to use force as a last resort; she’s gonna start destroying the Volshin’s nav. grid.”

“Open a channel to the Volshins,” Bateson ordered.

“Aye, sir, frequency open.”

Bateson stood, looking at the tactical image of his opponent on the Viewer. “Volshin Commander, this is Captain Bateson of the U.S.S. Bozeman, state your purpose here.” There was nothing. Bateson cleared his throat and tried again. “Volshin ship, this is the U.S.S. Bozeman, do you read?”

Finally the speakers crackled. A deep, intelligent-sounding voice spoke, “Our purpose here is not for your knowledge. To prevent it from becoming your knowledge, you will be destroyed.” The Volshins cut the connection.

Bateson said, “Michael, prepare to fi--”

Kestner cut in, “Sir, they are firing the TON torpedo. Impact in ten seconds.”

Bateson said, puzzled, “But our shields are down. Wait, what is the effect if our shields don’t absorb the energy?”

Derek replied, “I don’t know sir, but we’re about to find out. Impact in five seconds.”

Bateson shouted, “All hands, brace for impact!”

As the words left his mouth, the powerful torpedo slammed into the Bozeman’s upper saucer, buckling the ship downward. Kestner cut in through the noise, “Sir, the TON’s energy is surging throughout the ship! It’s shorting out all our circuits.”

“Engineering to Bridge,” Foreman cut in through the static.

Bateson replied as the lights on the Bridge cut out, “Bridge here, Foreman, what’s happening?”

Foreman replied, “Sir, the torpedo’s energy was dispersed among all our systems. We have no warp power, auxiliary is off-line, and the batteries are dead. All we have left is the emergency gel-packs keeping the artificial gravity, inertial dampers, and internal communications operating. The only life support we have is what’s in the air right now. I shot out a distress buoy to warn the Sloane before the systems shut down, but it may not help. Sir, if the Sloane doesn’t succeed in disabling the Volshin ship, I estimate we have only four hours of air left before we suffocate, and there’s nothing we can do about it.”

Bateson answered, “Mr. Foreman, where’s Scotty?”

“He’s trying to get the lights on in Sickbay. Dr. Hayter now has several patients after that explosion, and he has virtually no medical equipment functioning.”

Bateson asked, “Mr. Foreman, surely we can make enough repairs in four hours to keep us alive.”

Brad replied, “I don’t thinks so, sir, all the primary, secondary, and emergency conduits to all our systems are gone, sir; overloaded. I’d compare it to what would happen if we tried to power a warp nacelle with an extension cord. It’s a wonder it didn’t implode the ship, sir.”

Bateson said, “Now I see why we would’ve never won a war against the Volshins. What do you know in the way of injuries down there?”

Foreman replied, “As far as serious injuries go, sir, Wilson’s got a broke leg, Nelson has a wrist fracture, and Mitchell has a cracked rib. Some of us’ve got minor burns from exposed circuits down here, but other than that, we’re all right. As far as I know, there’s no casualties.”

“Good, keep me informed, Bridge out.” As Bateson finished, a figure materialized in front of him. “Admiral Cromer, I’m pleased to see you.”

The young Admiral replied, “As am I you, Captain. We witnessed what happened to your vessel, were there casualties?”

Bateson said, “Fortunately, no, but there were several injuries, mostly burns. What about the Volshins?”

She replied, “We took care of them. What happened?” she asked, looking around.

“We’re still trying to figure that out ourselves. As far as we can tell, when the TON impacted us with our shields down, it surged through all our systems, leaving them burned out. We don’t even have life support. It even got the Batteries; all we have is emergency gel-packs.”

An pressing voice cut in over the Admiral’s communicator, “Sloane to Admiral Cromer, urgent.”

The Admiral tapped her Commbadge, and said, “Cromer here, what’s the problem?”

The deep voice continued, “Ma’am, when that last probe slid into position, we scanned an object in the debris field of the Volshin ship. They must’ve launched it before they exploded.”

Cromer asked, “What is it, ensign?”

He replied, “It’s an anti-matter charge, ma’am. We found a preset timer attached: ten minutes until detonation.”

Kestner cut in, “Sorry to interrupt, Admiral, but with all this dense matter around, that charge will obliterate this nebula and everything that’s in it, including us.”

Cromer ordered, “Then waste no time. Tractor the Bozeman and set course out of here, best speed.”

The ensign replied, “Aye, sir, but we can’t warp, not in here.”

“Understood; full impulse. Have an engineering team beam over here with supplies to get the Bozeman’s life support and communications working, Cromer out. Captain, if you don’t mind, I’m going down to Engineering, I want to see for myself what happened.”

“Of course, Admiral.”

* * *

“What brings you down here?” Brad asked.

Kayla answered, smiling, “I wanted to see what had happened, and to see you. Are you all right?”
Brad replied, “I’m okay; I have a few minor burns, but I’ll be all right. I hope your engineers can get our life support running; all our supplies were damaged in the attack.”

The Admiral looked at him. “I hope so, too, but it might not matter.”

“What does that mean?”

A look of desperation swept across Kayla’s face. “We found an antimatter charge in the debris of the Volshin ship, Brad, it’s set to detonate in about five minutes.”

Brad gasped. “With all the nebular gases around, that’s gonna be one big explosion. And if that stuff’s what’s in the TON torpedo, then that could only make it worse.”

Kayla continued, “We’ve tractored the Bozeman and set course out of here, but we may not have enough time; we can’t warp because of the density of the nebula.”

Brad nodded. “I know. Hmm...what about the deflector dish?”

She sighed. “We can’t disperse the matter long enough to get out of here.”

Brad continued, “No, I mean set the beam to a frequency opposite that of the nebula. That should disperse the nebular gas much more quickly, allowing the Sloane to warp.”

Kayla thought a moment. “That may work. Cromer to Bateson.”

The Captain replied, “This is Bateson, Miss Cromer, go ahead.”

The Admiral continued, “Mr. Foreman has come up with a rather ingenious plan for our escape.”

Bateson replied, “Go on.”

Kayla said, “Hail the Sloane and tell them to set their deflector to deliver an energy beam opposite that of the surrounding nebula. If Brad’s right, it should clear the way for us so we can enter warp.”

Brad could see Bateson’s smile. “Well done, Foreman! I’ll get right on it, Bateson out.”

Kayla turned to face Brad. “You may have just saved all our lives.” She hugged him.

And you’ve saved mine, Foreman thought to himself as he embraced her.

* * *

Foreman stepped aside, allowing Admiral Cromer to step out onto the Bozeman’s Bridge. He followed her down to the center of the Bridge, and Bush got up, allowing the Admiral to sit in his chair. Kestner said, “Detonation in one minute, twenty seconds.”

“Is the Sloane ready?” the Admiral asked.

Bateson replied, “Wizz, hail them.”

“Channel already open, sir,” Dayton responded.

Bateson cleared his throat. “Sloane, we’re ready. Begin disruption.”

Thanks to the quick repairs of the Sloane’s engineers, they could all watch on the Viewscreen the events unfold. The Sloane, fixed in the upper center of the screen by the tractor beam, engaged her powerful deflector array. The beam of powerful blue energy shot out, immediately causing a ripple that, to Foreman, resembled the Nexus he read about in Captain Picard’s files. Behind it was clear space. The ripple sped along the border between the dense golden nebula and the dark space, sweeping away all traces of the nebula in its wake. The beam continued for as long as Foreman could see on the Viewer, then disappeared into the abyss.

Foreman heard Derek shout, “It’s working! The nebula is peeling back enough to let the Sloane enter warp!” He glanced at his controls. “Detonation in three seconds.”

Admiral Cromer spat, “Cromer to Sloane, Engage!”

The Viewscreen suddenly shifted to aft view, just as the antimatter charge disrupted. The bright ball of fire and energy instantly became minuscule as the Sloane zipped into warp.

Bateson walked over to Foreman. “You did it, Mr. Foreman,” he said, patting Brad’s back. “You saved us all!”

Admiral Cromer stood along side Bateson. “Yes, Brad, you did. Rest assured you will receive commendations.”

She smiled at him. The same smile, Brad thought, I saw that night in Buenos Aires. I think I’m going to enjoy the added shore leave. He smiled back at her.