Final Confrontration

Posted on 19 Dec 2025 @ 3:59pm by Commodore Harvey Geisler & Petty Officer 3rd Class Klim Sokamin & Commander Terry Walsh & Commander John Reynolds & Lieutenant Commander Joey Geisler & Lieutenant Commander Camila Di Pasquale & Lieutenant Ranul Frex & Lieutenant T’Mari Rael & Lieutenant Daynah Ral & Lieutenant Commander Jonathan Carter & Ensign Aurilia Moretti

5,609 words; about a 28 minute read

Mission: Imposters Among Us
Location: Idran System
Timeline: July 8, 2390 || 2100 hours

Harvey Geisler had never been more confident in his crew. When most of them had awakened in the morning, they were preparing to launch an assault on Unknown Power G90B. But what they hadn't expected was that two of the people leading them into battle were not just clones, but two people who were quietly working against the crew. While the clones could not prevent the destruction of the G90B vessel, the chaos they caused nearly destroyed the Black Hawk and caused enough of a disruption that would allow G90B to succeed.

But what no one had counted on was the timely escape of the real Harvey and Joey Geisler. Had they not done so, and get picked up by the Endurance, the clone of Joey Geisler would have successfully kidnapped two children, and the Black Hawk destroyed. And, most importantly, the crew of the Black Hawk would have had no opportunity to do what they were doing right now, stop D'rimo and the Confederation, the true identity of G90B, once and for all.

Harvey sat in his chair on the bridge, staring straight ahead at the stars whizzing by as the ship raced to the wormhole at maximum warp. All of Starfleet was amassing, preparing for the inevitable. Harvey knew that D'rimo would not be deterred by this. It would only make him more desperate, and there was nothing more dangerous than someone with nothing to lose.

"Arrival in sixty seconds," announced the helmsman. "The fleet has not reported anything unusual as of yet."

T’Mari sat keeping a watchful eye on her CO, after everything he’d been through she couldn’t blame Harvey for wanting to be on the bridge for this, but as ships Counsellor she was going to be at his side to support him in any way she could. She would be making a point of speaking to Joey as well once everything was over.

Once more Camila sat at the Tactical station and went over the information that they had gathered on the hull composition and readings they had gotten when they had breached, then destroyed G90B. Now she had a full tactical payload set to take advantage of each of those elements and was prepared for fire the moment she had her target. "All weapons systems and shields report ready, Commodore," she called.

A million tactical scenarios floated through Harvey's mind, though only one action remained in the forefront, and that was stopping D'rimo from accomplishing his mission. "He's going for the wormhole," Harvey said aloud, "with an arsenal of tricobalts at his disposal. He doesn't have to make it to the wormhole, just his tricobalts, so we focus on stopping those first. Do we have any chance of intercepting them with torpedoes or phaser fire?"

"Maybe. Maybe not," Camila said as she tried to think unconventionally for a moment. Then she gave a nod. "We could also send all the fighters ahead and use their tractor beams to form a sort of Tholian web," she suggested. "Or create a debris field using the Black Hawk and Endurance tractor beams and weapons."

"Create a debris field from what?" Harvey asked, wondering where they'd make it. "The tractor beams could work, and if not, it gets the fighters in a position to intercept tricobalts in a worst-case scenario. You all didn't happen to come up with a way to detect G90B while I was gone, did you?"

Camila nodded. "The Birythium alloy in their hull. It's one reason they were mining it from Mellon and taking it to their refinery. We can track that, Commodore." She gave an apologetic look at Commander Walsh for volunteering his fighters to take the brunt. "The only other option I can think of to stop the tricobalt is to emit phased subspace pulses at inverse harmonics of the device’s detonation frequency. If they're using standard Starfleet tricobalts stolen from the other ships, we know their frequencies."

Frex stepped off of the turbolift and onto the Bridge for the first time since he had been arrested for treason not long ago. He walked into a conversation about the tricobolt devices. As he listened into the conversation and heard Camila talking, he chimed in and said, "Sorry that I'm late to the party. But, I had to help out with some damage control down in Engineering first. As far as the devices are concerned, could we maybe use the imposters idea against them as a last ditch effort? If they're carrying those devices on their ships and if we can get close enough, I'm sure that we could possibly rig them to go off instead of making them not go off. We'd just have to be close enough to set off the devices, much like we would if we had fired them. Again, as a last ditch effort. But, I don't imagine we'd want them to go off with a few devices that powerful."

"We definitely don't want to detonate them all, so disabling them would be key," Camila said. "However, we need to get through D'Rimo's shields and hope he isn't still invulnerable."

"Well, could we implant something into his computer systems maybe to disable his shields? Maybe piggyback it onto a transmission to him to allow it access? Since we're trying to disable before anything else, that might be a thought," Frex offered up, thinking about some ways to possibly disable D'Rimo's ship.

"We don't have time for that or know the codes," Camila said. "But we might." She tapped her combadge. "Di Pasquale to Mitchell. Get an escort and bring the clone of female Geisler to the bridge."

"Acknowledged, Commander," Shay said, already moving to the brig after pulling a couple other Security officers to provide an escort to the bridge. "We will be there momentarily."

The helmsman interrupted with an important announcement, the words Harvey had been waiting for, "Dropping out of warp in three... two... one." The starstreaks on the viewscreen shrunk to simple pinpricks, accented only by a couple of starships of in the distance.

"Tactical plot on viewer," Harvey demanded, rising from his chair. With the plot, he hoped to see all of the vessels available to him in order to stop D'rimo from accomplishing his goal. "Any sign of D'rimo?"

Camila brought up the tactical display on the main viewer. Several Federation ships were there, including the Endurance, but as for G90B, there was no trace. "Long range sensors aren't picking up any trace elements of Birythium ore or the presence of unknown ships."

The turbolift doors hissed open, and Shay stepped onto the bridge flanked by two other Security officers. Between them, Clone Joey shuffled forward, clad in plain, utilitarian clothing befitting a prisoner, and if that wasn't enough to give away her current position, then the restraints she wore around her wrists and ankles would.

"Prisoner as requested, Commander," Shay announced firmly, guiding Joey to stand just short of other personnel.

"Thank you," Camila said to Shay before she looked at the clone of Joey. "Tell me how you contacted D'Rimo," she ordered. "Give me the codes."

Joey lifted her head, her eyes narrowing as she fixed her gaze on Camila. The restraints at her wrists tugged faintly, but her voice carried a calm, almost mocking edge. "Codes?" she repeated, tilting her head slightly. "What codes are you talking about, Commander?"

She let the silence hang for a beat, then leaned forward just enough to make her words feel heavier. "And even if I did have the codes you want…" The clone's lips curled into the faintest smirk. "What’s in it for me? Why should I hand them over?"

"You get to live," Camila said flatly, her eyes just as flat as she stared at the creature trying to bargain in front of her.

Joey’s eyes flickered, the defiance she’d worn moments ago faltering under Camila’s cold stare. The weight of the restraints at her wrists reminded her of the reality she couldn’t escape. She drew in a slow breath, weighing her dwindling options against the Commander’s promise.

Finally, she lowered her gaze, voice quieter but edged with reluctant resolve. "Fine," she muttered. "I’ll give you the codes."

Her eyes lifted again, locking onto Camila’s. "I contacted D’rimo through a secure subspace relay buried in the system. Masked the signal as standard communications. The codes… they’re embedded in the transmission sequence itself."

She paused, as if reluctant to let go of the last piece of leverage she had. Then, with a resigned exhale, she recited the string of encrypted access codes, her tone flat but deliberate. "There. That’s how I reached him. That’s what you wanted."

T’Mari was paying close attention, now their imposter Joey no longer had her freedom she appeared to be cooperating. “She’s telling the truth.”

Camila looked over at the Counselor and then over at the Commodore. "Should we trust it, Sir?"

Harvey frowned as he considered the options, though as he did, he kept his eyes fixed on the woman who had enchanted and misled him for many days. "D'rimo thinks that we are either dead or missing, but he would have no idea that the real Joey and I are actually here. I think we have no other choice but to find out." Harvey looked over to Camila. "Proceed, Commander."

"Permission to use Protocol Ghost, Commodore," Camila said as she accessed the hidden subspace relay and then entered the encrypted access codes, but held off on transmission. Protocol Ghost was Starfleet-developed offensive cybersecurity program designed for holodeck training drills and simulations, but it could be used offensively against an enemy ship. If the protocols could interact with D'rImo's ship.

Harvey raised an eyebrow at his Chief of Security, surprised at the suggestion. It was a hell of a time to use something experimental, and he had to remind himself that he'd been out of action for more than a week. Camila had seen a lot more than he did during that time, prompting Harvey to nod an acknowledge the request. "D'rimo's ship is primarily Karemma in origin. Adjust the protocol for that and it should work."

Camila entered the modification, surprised that Harvey had allowed her to use it since it was untested on other ships. She took a breath, then launched the hailing frequency that the clone of Joey had given her and hoped it wasn't a warning signal. "Open and waiting for the connection, Commodore."

Frex heard something about 'Project Ghost' and it made him turn his head slightly. That was something that had only been coming out lately. He knew of it only because he had to add in a few things to several key systems to make sure it would work, especially on a ship that's design didn't include a secondary hull. So, Frex turned his head back to the main viewscreen to see what might happen.

The crew did not have to wait long for the connection to establish. What had been a steady set of beeps emanating from the tactical console turned into a half-second tone indicating that the receiver had picked up. A second later, there was a staccato of three beeps, alerting that the connection had closed.

"Did it transmit?" Harvey asked, facing both Camila and the escorted clone of Joey.

"Unknown," Camila said before she looked at the clone of Joey. "Was there anything that you were supposed to have said or did?"

Clone Joey shook her head. "No. I told you everything there was to me contacting him."

The tactical station was not the only station on the bridge that was monitoring sensors. One of those six stations was the Intelligence station, manned by Petty Officer Klim Sokamin in lieu of the hospitalized Chief Intelligence Officer. Until the alert, he'd been watching the incarcerated woman and wondering how he hadn't picked up on the signs of her treachery earlier.

"Commodore," the Zakdorn reported, his eyes now refocused on the sensor readouts. "An unknown vessel has dropped out of warp nine hundred thousand meters astern. It has engaged the Lancelot and Nelson"

"Order the fleet to intercept," Harvey ordered, shifting in his chair. He considered standing, but he had too many places to go stand. The last thing he needed to do was hover over the tactical station lest he give the cloned woman nearby an excuse to try something unnatural. "All ships are to approach the intruder by way of blocking its path to the wormhole."

Camila pulled up the task force schematics on the tactical viewer. "We have the USS Challenger. Valhalla, Endurance and Pinnacle and more ships coming in from Gamma Command, Commodore," she called out as she desperately tried to come up with another battle plan on the fly.


* * *

Captain Graham Holmes stood on the bridge of the Endurance as his Caitian Chief of Security called out the contact as well. "Helm, move to intercept! Tactical, prepare a firing solution! Shields to full!" The might Sovereign class vessel swooped around in a graceful arc and headed into battle once more.


* * *

The rest of the fleet began to close in on G90B as well, attempting to box the alien vessel in and prevent it from reaching the wormhole.

As the Starfleet ships closed in, it was clear that the attacking ship's firing arcs were not accurate. The Prometheus-class Lancelot took a direct hit on one of its nacelles, disintegrating it almost immediately. Another polaron blast was clearly meant for the center of the primary hull, but it instead grazed the side of the ship, charring the paint.

Both the Nelson and Lancelot returned fire. Their shots rang true, but had no effect on G90B's shields. Suddenly, those shields started to falter and one of the engines began to flicker. In a last act of defiance, G90B unleashed a massive volley of stolen tricobalt devices.


* * *

"My god!" Harvey gasped, leaping out of his chair, seeing thirty of the powerful torpedos loosed into space. Most of them spread into a wide arc, but there were at least six heading straight for the wormhole. "Send to all ships, stop those damn torpedoes at all costs."

It was a panicked shooting gallery as the order went out to the fleet and the USS Challenger. Valhalla, Endurance and Pinnacle immediately moved to intercept, a blistering wall of phaser fire aimed at the rogue tricobalts.


* * *

"Sweet baby Klingon! Let's kill the gods again!" Graham called from the center seat on the Endurance before he jumped to his feet. "Open fire and project course on screen!"

The Caitain Chief of Security curled his upper lip to reveal a canine before he purred an acknowledgement and began to lay down heavy phaser fire as the mighty Sovereign class ship came around in an arc.


* * *

The tricobalt device attributed its two-point-one meter length to its unique payload, a warhead slightly larger than a traditional torpedo casing would allow. While phasers were capable of pinpoint accuracy, tactical sensors required enough reference points in order to maintain a precise target lock. The small size of the tricobalt, therefore, caused most phaser lances to miss their targets.

Of the nine tricobalts that managed to obtain a vector to the wormhole, only two were destroyed in the first volley.

"Fifty seconds to wormhole horizon," announced Petty Officer Sokamin, eyes fixated on the tactical plot shown on his viewer.

Harvey, now standing behind the helm, dashed back to his chair to slam a finger on the direct line to the Black Knights. "Black Knights, Black Hawk Actual. Clear those tricobalts from the field." Without waiting for a response, he looked up to his bridge crew. "How close can one of these detonate to the wormhole without impacting it?"

"Honestly, no matter how they were configured, I wouldn't want them anywhere near like 50,000 KM near the wormhole. But, the nuclear option is if they can get the devices to like 5-10,000 KM near the wormhole. There would be no more wormhole if that happened. After working on those things with Camila and knowing what I know about the wormhole, we need to make sure they can't get into that 50,000 KM range, if possible sir," Frex offered up, knowing how delicate the wormhole and the subspace harmonics of it were.

"Then that would give us only thirty to forty seconds to intercept the torpedoes," the Zakdorn intelligence analyst announced, quickly doing the math.

"And that clock is already ticking," Harvey added, eyeing the task group start to move on the tactical plot. "Open fire as soon as we can," he told Camila. "Helm, give us everything we've got, even if you have to engage the warp drive. We have to stop those torpedoes."

"Warp one for four seconds, aye," replied the helmsman, announcing his maneuver as he engaged it, filling the viewscreen with warp streaks. "This will put us right in front of the tricobalts." A moment later, the star streaks disappeared, having placed the Black Hawk directly between the wormhole and fate itself.

Clone Joey stood rigidly between Shay and the other guards, her wrists heavy with restraints, her ankles aching from the constant pressure of the binders around them. She had no idea she would ever be present like this to witness the end. An end she never expected. It was almost laughable. Ironic, even. She, a clone meant to infiltrate and destroy, was now forced to watch from the bridge of the Black Hawk as the tide turned against her masters. The irony twisted inside her like a knife.

Camila looked at the tactical viewer in horror and tried to estimate the amount of damage that they would cause if they detonated in the wormhole. What the Prophets would do. She shook her mane of ombre hair and focused on the center of the tricobalt mass and began to fire torpedo after torpedo and began to manually detonate them any time one of them got within range of a tricobalt.

Frex made sure that the ship and warp core did its job and got them there in time before anything bad could happen. Once he was done, Frex looked back at the viewscreen and just waited to see what happened next.

Two of the tricobalts succumbed to Camila's manual torpedo detonations while one other veered off course as its warhead became disarmed. The Vahalla followed suit and warped in with a volley of its own to take down another tricobalt. But that left four still heading for the wormhole, and only twenty seconds left on the clock.

Clone Joey’s eyes widened as the tactical display tracked the remaining tricobalts streaking toward the wormhole. Twenty seconds. Four warheads. The Confederation’s last desperate strike. She felt her chest tighten—not out of loyalty to D’rimo, but out of something deeper, something she hadn’t allowed herself to feel before. Freedom. If the Confederation fell, if she survived this, maybe she could finally carve out her own existence beyond being someone else’s pawn.

Her restraints bit into her wrists as she shifted, drawing the attention of Shay and the guards. She didn’t move further—she knew she couldn’t overpower them—but her voice cut through the tense silence.

“You’re firing blind,” she said sharply, her tone edged with urgency. “Those tricobalts are too small for your sensors to lock onto consistently. But their payloads—they emit a unique subspace resonance when armed. If you recalibrate your phasers to that resonance, you’ll get a clean lock every time.”

“And the Confederation ships—they’re shielded against direct fire, but not against harmonic interference. If you emit phased pulses tuned to the tricobalt detonation frequency, you’ll destabilize their shield harmonics. That’ll drop their defenses long enough for your torpedoes to punch through.”

She drew in a breath, her gaze flicking to the wormhole on the viewscreen. “You want to stop them? Use their own weapons against them. Track the resonance, destabilize the shields, and hit them hard before those warheads get within fifty thousand kilometers.”

For a moment, silence hung heavy on the bridge. Joey’s heart pounded. She had just given them a possible key to defeating the Confederation—the very cause she had been created to serve. And yet, as the seconds bled away, she realized she wanted nothing more than to see those ships burn. Because if they did, maybe she’d finally have a chance to live free. Even if in Starfleet custody.

Camila listened to the clone and saw the look that crossed its face. A faint smile tugged at the corners of her lips as she began to call up the schematics for the tricobalts, her fingers moving rapidly over the console as she began to configure the pulses. "Mr Frex, prepare to destabilize on my mark." She sent the information over to the Engineer's station, then brought up the phaser batteries and every torpedo launcher aimed the way of the tricobalts. With an added thought, she sent the information to the Endurance.

Frex input a few commands into his own console as he frantically worked to get everything ready for when Camila was ready. Within what felt like an eternity, Frex looked back at Camila and said, "Ready when you are, ma'am!"

* * *

On the Endurance, the Security Chief looked at the incoming message from the Black Hawk's Chief of Security and gave a nod. "Captain," he purred. "We may have a solution."

Graham rose from his center seat and went to look over the Caitian's shoulder at the Tactical panel. "Do it. Full spread. Helm, bring us in!"

The Sovereign class starship arced about gracefully and torpedo after torpedo left it along with a blistering wall of phaser fire, using the destabilizing pulse information that had been given to them.


* * *

Harvey's eyes remained fixated on the viewscreen as his body inched closer and closer to the large monitor. Like the rest of the bridge crew he'd heard the clone's suggestion, and was equally amazed that it seemed to have worked. Two more of the tricobalts fell to the wall of Starfleet fire, and three more remained.

The Valhalla stared down one of the last tricobalts and unleashed a new barrage of phaser fire. While it had received the same information from the Black Hawk, it was too close to the tricobalt to get a clear lock. Two seconds later, the tricobalt slammed into the hull of the Intrepid class ship, disintegrating the primary hull, leaving the engineering hull in tatters. Amazingly, the warp core didn't breach, but power slowly dissipated.

"Damn it," Harvey muttered, tracking the last two tricobalts. On the screen, he saw the Black Knights' entire fighter compliment inject themselves into the fray, unleashing everything they had from behind the tricobalts.


* * *

"Rocco to Black Knights," came Terry's voice over the comms. His tone was steady but edged with the adrenaline of a man staring down oblivion. "We've got a visual on the last two tricobalts. Alpha Lead and Alpha Two form up on me, we're taking lead on this device." He marked the target on his sensors for Alpha Flight. "The rest of Alpha Flight provides cover. Bravo Lead and Bravo Two take point on the second device. The rest, cover. We're going hot. And check your sensors for crossfire."

The Black Knights squadron swooped in on their targets like a swarm of angry hornets. They accelerated to attack speed, weaving through the phaser crossfire from the other ships. Alpha Two, piloted by the eager Ensign Kira Voss, sped ahead of Terry and was the first to lock on. "Fox two!" she called, unleashing a pair of micro-torpedoes, followed by phaser fire. They streaked ahead, detonating against the lead tricobalt. The explosion bloomed silently in space, shredding the torpedo into a cascade of molten fragments. Unfortunately, Ensign Voss's eagerness caused her to be too close to the explosion. Her fighter was destroyed. Terry cursed into the comms, "Alpha Two is down!"

Aurilia brought her fighter around and launched a volley of micro torpedoes before she veered off for another attack vector, her blood pumping and pure adrenaline shooting through her veins as she saw fighter after fighter head into the fray and go down.

Lieutenant Commander Jonathan Carter gave a woop and vectored his fighter on a parallel with Voss and his eyes went wide when he saw the explosion tear her fighter to shreds. He yanked the stick hard and flipped the fighter over, but felt something hit it. The fighter began to roll and tumble end over end in space and then a micro torpedo from another fighter intercepted his and his craft went up in an explosion.

Bravo Flight's tricobalt was next.  As the team tried to dodge enemy fire, Terry and Alpha Lead provided more cover. Bravo Lead, Lieutenant Michael Kenmore, zeroed in for the initial attack. "I have it targeted. Firing in...." Kenmore didn't even have time to scream; his fighter's shields overloaded, and the craft exploded in a brief fireball. A Confederation ship had landed a perfect hit. Ensign Mia Torres, who was on his wing, tried to roll away. But the explosion ripped into her engines, causing damage that was overloading them. Her fighter drifted for a few seconds, powerless, before an explosion tore it apart.

"Son of a...!" Terry shouted. "Bravo Lead and Bravo Two are down!" panic briefly creeping into his voice. "We've lost three pilots!" The squadron pressed on as the mission wasn't finished yet. Terry's fighter led the charge, phasers spitting rapid-fire bolts. "Stay on it!" The squadron combined fire on the last tricobalt. It shuddered and then exploded, catching the fighter piloted by the veteran Chief Warrant Officer Lars Gunnarson. The fighter spun wildly before erupting in a shared inferno, debris scattering like shrapnel.

The last two tricobalts had been taken out, but the cost was too much. The squadron reformed and headed back to the Black Hawk amid the firefight. "Rocco to Actual," said Terry quietly over the comms, "threat neutralized, but we lost four people." There was sorrow in his voice that would settle even deeper in the coming days. "Returning to base...what's left of us."


* * *

Harvey wanted to mourn, but the fire within his soul still continued to burn. With the last tricobalt now removed from the playing field, trillions and trillions of lives were now restored to safety,, and would never know the hundreds of Starfleet personnel who laid down their lives for them.

"Come on home, Rocco," Harvey said over the comm, his tone absolutely firm. "The nest is nice and warm."

Then, for the first time, Harvey turned around and looked at the woman who'd been unwillingly crafted from his wife's genetic material. Just a week ago, he'd thought the soul behind that face was the same it had ever been. Instead, he now saw her for what she truly was. The clone was not an aberration or an imposter. No, she was someone who'd made the best of a life she didn't ask for, something she'd been bred into.

Three weeks undercover aboard the Black Hawk had awakened something else within her, whether it was time with the crew or time with Harvey. Deep down, Harvey knew the real reason, and it had nothing to do with the ship or him, but the two young souls who'd he'd just left resting in their real mother's arms down in sickbay. Harvey's eyes lingered for a moment more, ultimately deciding that he pitied the clones. He had no idea the future that waited the dopplegangers, but that was not up to him to decide.

Harvey broke his gaze and turned back to the helmsman. "Bring us about," he ordered. "All ships to intercept the Confederation vessel."

The viewscreen displayed the stars as they moved before they recentered on D'rimo's distant vessel. There the Challenger and Pinnacle danced around D'rimo's erratic vessel, utilizing Clone Joey's recommendations to poke through alien shields to disable weapons batteries and engines. As the Black Hawk approached, the last fire in the alien vessel was snuffed out, and the large starship began to list in the emptiness of space.

"Open a channel," Harvey ordered, tugging at his uniform jacket to straighten it. "It's over, D'rimo. Your stolen tricobalts have been intercepted. Your ship is disabled. Prepare to be boarded and relinquish command of your vessel."

The viewscreen flashed, revealing a static-infested image of the once-clean command center aboard D'rimo's ship. The Karemma from another universe had seen better days, a fact easily ascertained by the bloody gash on his cheek and bloodied left arm. Behind him, consoles sparked and fires raged.

"Harvey Geisler," D'rimo hissed, his tone full of rage. "Three times you have bested me. Once in my universe, and now twice here."

The Commodore made no movements and held his posture still. "Cooperate now, and we will find a way to get you and your people home."

D'rimo chuckled. "Ah, yes. The Starfleet way. The way of pity. Mercy. The same attitude that allows the shapeshifters to maintain their Dominion. Your pity will lead to my death in a Starfleet cell." Another console exploded behind the Karemma, and the fires in front of his camera began to grow. "I've made my stand, Geisler. I leave you to make yours."

The transmission ended. A heartbeat later, the forward quarter of the Confederation vessel exploded, destroying the bridge, computer core, and any last bit of intelligence one could gather.

Clone Joey flinched as the Confederation vessel erupted in a blinding flash, the shockwave rippling across the tactical display. Her lips pressed into a thin line as she shook her head slowly, her eyes narrowing at the irony of it all.

D’rimo had gone out on his own terms—defiant, unyielding, unwilling to surrender to Starfleet mercy. It shouldn’t have surprised her; he would never have allowed himself to be taken captive. And yet, seeing it happen, seeing the Confederation’s leader consumed by fire and ruin, left her with a hollow ache she hadn’t expected.

Her gaze drifted to the wormhole, untouched for now, and then back to the officers around her. They were relieved, even emboldened, but for her the explosion carried a different weight. With D’rimo gone, the Confederation fractured, her purpose as a clone had evaporated in an instant. She was no longer an infiltrator, no longer a weapon in someone else’s war. She was just… here.

And now, her true fate hung in the balance. Joey lowered her head, the restraints at her wrists suddenly heavier than ever. She had watched her master fall, and now all that remained was the question of whether she would be allowed to rise.

For it to end with a whimper instead of a bang felt like it took something away from Camila, but the losses among the fighters and all the other ship[s just made her numb inside. There was absolutely nothing that she could do that she hadn't done. There was no plan that ever survived contact with the enemy. There was no defense against the unknowable. She was lost and defenseless on the inside, but had to present a hard facede on the outside. There was nothing else to do.

Harvey took a moment to close his eyes. He exhaled, allowing his shoulders to droop just for a second. In that moment, he allowed himself to feel everything, a cacophony of unsorted emotion. It was the most he could afford in this instance. The worst was now officially over. It was time for the clean up to begin.

He opened his eyes and turned around to face those on the bridge. In a heartbeat, his eyes moved from left to right, scanning each face. His lips tightened, pulling to the left in a moment of thankfulness. A new breath was brought in through his nose, then he said, "Thank you all. Stand down red alert. Set a course for Gamma Command."

It's finally over, Shay thought as she took Clone Joey by the arm. "It's time to return you back to your cell," she said, then with the other two security officers falling in step, they left the bridge.

Camila ended the red alert and stood down the phaser banks and torpedo launchers, her eyes looking down at her console and wondering if it was worth it anymore.

Frex slumped his shoulders as he sat at his station. He sat back and prayed to whatever gods allowed them to save the days before looking back at the viewscreen for a brief moment with a smile.

Harvey returned to the center seat. The moment he touched the cushion, he finally allowed himself to exhale. Now he could only hope that calmer waters were ahead for them all.

Experience, on the other hand, tugged at his subconscious. Life in the Gamma Quadrant was like a mythical hydra. Cut off one head and two more would appear. Only time would reveal the dangers that lurked in the shadows...

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