“The sorrow comes. But all will be as it should be. Oh, Ben....”

“What did you say?”

Kasidy opened her eyes. It took a moment to reconcile the darkened bridge with the ... lack of darkness she had just experienced. She felt bewildered, meeting Vinj’s grave, nearly black eyes.

“What—?” she asked.

“I said, our scanners show something approaching. You replied that sorrow comes. What did you mean?”

She realized somebody was supporting her shoulders, and turned her head. Cartier was holding her up; Pokel was clutching her hand, looking anxious. Sindelar and Murtin were both leaning back in their chairs to see if she was all right.

“The sorrow....” She tried to blink herself back to reality. “What are the scanners showing?”

“A ship approaching,” Vinj repeated. “Doesn’t match anything we know. But spectral analysis is the same as we picked up when we first entered the belt.”

She felt like she’d been punched — or maybe it was the baby, kicking again. “They found us....”

“Please, Captain Kasidy, will you ask the Prophets to save us?” Pokel gripped her hand painfully tightly.

“They just told me—“ She came up short. She wasn’t really sure she knew what the Prophet had said — and she wasn’t sure she wanted to discuss it here, at a time like this. As it was, she heard gasps, and saw expressions that meant they were all making mental connections.

“They spoke to you?” Pokel squeaked, her eyes wide in her pale round face.

“Never mind,” she said firmly. “Aenko, do we have any maneuverability?”

“No,” he replied tersely.

“So there’s nothing we can do.”

He shook his head.

“We don’t have to,” the girl said, suddenly calm. Her eyes were lustrous and absolutely certain as she smiled at Kasidy. “The Prophets spoke to you. They heard. They will answer.”

Kasidy already suspected she wouldn’t like the answer.

“Colonel,” Kaoron announced calmly from his position at the scanners, “I believe we have located the Xhosa.”

“Thank the Prophets!” Kira muttered under her breath. Aloud, she asked, “What’s their condition?”

“They appear to have sustained damage. Still scanning for extent, but there do appear to be life signs aboard.”

She sucked in an anxious breath. “Kuhlman, can we contact them?”

“Negative, Colonel!” the ensign reported. “There’s something ... some kind of jamming....”

“It’s the same kind we encountered during the war,” Alden interjected tonelessly, his eyes strangely glittering and focused.

“Get us to the Xhosa — now! Nog, I want you at tactical. Arm all weapons. Warn the Trelmanin about the jamming, to watch out for attack. They don’t have the firepower we do, have them fall back, let us take the lead,” she gave a quick succession of orders.

The Ferengi quickly switched stations, intent as he touched controls and examined power levels. Other personnel scurried to back-up positions. Under their feet the crew could feel the change for just a second as Alden increased speed.

“Photon torpedoes on line, all phaser banks charged to full capacity,” Nog reported in just a few seconds.

“I believe I have located the source of the jamming,” Kaoron announced; the small bridge went silent, all attention focused on him. “There is a ship in the midst of the asteroid field, approximately twelve thousand kilometers to our fore starboard, off horizon eleven-point-two degrees.”

“Any other readings? Is it powered for attack?”

“We can’t tell, Colonel.”

“Best guess, then.”

“If they’re jamming, I believe it fair to assume their intentions are not benign.”

Alden was the only one to laugh at that understatement, but there was no humor in his tone.

“Still closing,” Vinj reported flatly. In the red lights, his face took on a spectral cast.

“There’s something else out there, too,” Sindelar added with a certain serenity, resigned to his first space voyage being his last.

“Another ship?” Kasidy asked.

“Yes. Also closing on us. If this equipment is working. There are now two of them.”

Pokel snuggled a little closer, refusing, now, to leave her side; Kasidy put her arm around the young woman’s shoulder. Then she glanced over at the entry hatch, where Cartier was again working on the door, his movements urgent but controlled, the hand torch held between his teeth to illuminate his work. She expected it was Starfleet training and a refusal to sit around and wait to die that kept him working when it looked as though they had no chance and no time.

“The Prophets will act,” she heard Pokel murmur. “You saw them. They spoke to you. They will save us.”

“And if it not their will,” she heard Murtin say in the dimness, “then we will go to them at peace, with the Emissary’s wife to lead us.”

She couldn’t help groaning.

Ben, if there’s anything to this....

“Confirmed!” Kaoron reported. “From their course, they’re closing on the Xhosa!”

“Warn them off, Kuhlman!” Kira ordered tensely.

“They’re not acknowledging,” he said, seconds later, shaking his head.

“Nog, fire a warning shot across their bow. Kaoron, do we have confirmation of their identity?” she demanded. “Is it Breen, pirates, someone else?”

“Negative. Lieutenant Commander Alden’s information still suggests Breen to be the strongest probability. But at this point, we cannot be certain,” Kaoron admitted. “The configuration is unfamiliar, and they remain ... unknown. Their engine is shielded but its signature suggests it may have a new power source.” The large man cast a sideways glance at her. “If possible, it would be very useful to capture that ship for study.”

“They’re shooting at us!” Nog suddenly shouted.

They all gripped consoles and chairs as the ship rocked under a hit. The stranger had shifted its target from the freighter to themselves — and the enemy ship had power. Alert klaxons went off all over the ship.

“Energy discharged through our oblative armor. Shields down ten percent.”

“We’ll not try to capture it at risk to ourselves or the Xhosa!” Kira ordered. “You’ll have to study the pieces afterward, Lieutenant. Nog, fire at will! Do what you have to, but stop that ship!”

“Aye, sir!”

Nog took his commander at her word, and opened fire, unleashing a fusillade of torpedoes.

The entire ship rocked, and it sounded as though someone had flung a mountain of pebbles against their hull. On the bridge, a half-dozen throats gasped and a dozen hands grabbed for purchase as the gravity went out on the Xhosa.

“Where’d it go?” Kira demanded, staring at the fore viewscreen, vainly searching for the ship in the storm of rubble and bits of dying fire.

“Impossible to say,” Kaoron replied. “Scanners are no good — the debris is making it impossible to find anything.”

She jumped out of her chair. “We’ve got to—“

Something hit the Defiant; the bridge crew grabbed their consoles and braced themselves. Kira was flung forward, barely catching the arm of the commander’s chair to stop herself from tumbling.

“Nog!”

“I’m sorry, sir, I’m trying to find them,” he apologized, trying to locate something he could manually target.

“If they’re Breen, their next strike should be from behind us and ten degrees up,” Kaoron suddenly announced, turning away from his useless scanners.

“What?”

“My father was Romulan — he studied the Breen, understood them as well as anyone does. I remember him describing the Breen as tending to follow certain tactics. They prefer to come from behind, swooping down to attack, just enough off the horizon line to avoid a direct rear shot if their target gets off a shot, firing as they pass. With the debris around us and the jamming, I wouldn’t expect them to change that pattern.”

Kira glanced at Nog.

“Torpedoes to our rear and off horizon, full spread,” he replied, promptly complying with the unspoken order.

Two seconds later, they knew they’d scored a hit. The scanner suddenly cleared, just soon enough to catch the dying explosion of the enemy ship.

The Xhosa was rolling. Kasidy could tell that, even without gravity on her bridge.

“Keep hanging on to whatever you can!” she called. “Sindelar? Aenko? Do we know anything?”

Her new scan officer went flailing slowly past her, his lack of space experience all too evident. Her exec, however, was hanging onto a console by one hand, handling controls with the other, while his lean body was airborne and his legs floated above his head.

“Nothing,” he replied briefly. “Everything’s out now.”

“Then just keep hanging on....”

It wouldn’t have to be for long. Any second now, she expected the enemy to take another shot at them. If she were lucky, she wouldn’t have that fraction of a second’s realization that her poor little freighter was opening to space in a fireball.

The shot didn’t come.

For an eternal couple of minutes, they waited in tense expectation.

Nothing happened.

Then three figures materialized on the bridge.

“Kasidy? Are you here?”

“Nerys!” She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so elated and relieved to hear her friend’s voice. “Careful, our gravity’s out!”

Kira bounced cautiously toward her. The other two spread out through the bridge.

“Any injuries here?” Monrow asked in general.

“We’ll get gravity back on as soon as we can. What other damage have you sustained?” was Nog’s question.

“We don’t know, we lost communications when we were first hit,” Kasidy informed them as Kira caught the arm of her chair and carefully curled herself on the deck beside her.

“We’re standing by,” Kira said, reassuringly. “We’ll start beaming your crew over to the Defiant immediately. Are you all right?”

“Yes, I’m fine, but we might have people hurt—“

“Sick bay’s standing by,” Monrow assured her, efficiently kicking off from the wall to reach Cartier by the entry hatch. “We’re prepared to handle just about any emergency.”

“Thank the Prophets you’re not hurt...,” Kira breathed, touching her hand.

“We knew the Prophets would not desert us,” Pokel said calmly. “We had faith in them.”

“The Prophets....” Kasidy sighed and closed her eyes.

The Defiant’s sick bay bustled urgently as the Xhosa’s crew were brought aboard and examined.

Kasidy looked around, feeling a little out of place while she waited for a report on her crew. She and the baby were uninjured; Monrow and her nurse were performing triage on the members of her crew who appeared hurt, as fast as they could be beamed over from their ship. Many had an assortment of bumps, bruises, and scrapes. She saw one of her people taken into surgery, groaning in pain until they gave him an injection of something.

Then she saw another figure beamed directly to a bio-bed. She tried to step closer but a nurse interjected herself.

“Just wait, Captain Yates. We’re doing everything that can be done, getting in the way won’t help.”

“My crew ... my friends....” Kasidy tried to push past the nurse.

Then she froze, her breath caught in her throat, as she saw the doctor shake her head and move to the next bed. One of the crewmen gestured to another; together they moved the limp body to a stretcher and carried it away.

“Rosha...,” she moaned, feeling tears well up. “Doctor?”

Monrow paused. “Radiation,” she replied with quiet brevity. “She was already dead. I’m sorry.”

Kasidy swallowed. “How many...?”

The doctor hesitated just a second, then replied, “From the crew roster from your computer, fourteen are accounted for, some with injuries. There are two confirmed dead. Zimbaret, here, from radiation. According to Nog, there was a partial shield failure in engineering. And McKennitt, who suffered spinal and head injuries in the attack. Then there’s Torm.” She hesitated again. “I am presuming he is dead because he is missing, and his last known position was in the cargo pod that ruptured.”

“We’re ready, doctor!” a voice called.

Monrow licked her upper lip. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to go. I’m needed in surgery.”

The day caught up to her. Unable to stop her tears, Kasidy blundered her way out of sick bay. * * * *

“Have the Trelmanin take the Xhosa under tow back to Deep Space Nine; we’ll handle escort in case there’s more of those ships out there,” Kira ordered briskly.

“Aye, sir,” Kuhlman replied just as briskly.

“And notify the station, and Bajor, that we have recovered the Xhosa, and that the Emissary’s wife — Captain Yates — is all right.”

“Yes, sir.”

As the ensign handled his orders, the colonel crossed the bridge to join Kaoron.

“Well, Lieutenant?”

The half-Vulcan, half-Romulan officer spoke efficiently. “I have brought aboard as many fragments as could reasonably be anticipated to be useful, for decontamination and study. Preliminary spectral analysis suggests a number of the compounds used in the ship’s construction do correspond to substances used by the Breen. I am hopeful that we can reconstruct the engines and the jamming equipment to learn how it worked.” He tilted his head. “Our scans show no evidence of survivors or life pods. I do not believe any of the crew escaped.”

“No one to question, then.” She rubbed the side of her neck, the tension of the day finding release in a muscle ache.

“We did discover ... organic residue among the debris. I believe it will conclusively prove there were Breen aboard that ship, although it will not rule out the possibility of other occupants.”

“I see,” she said quietly. “Very well, send a report on everything we’ve learned, to Bajor and to Starfleet. Any insights you may have will be useful.”

Kaoron nodded. “I’ll include Commander Alden’s information. If for some reason their data on those attacks did not reach Starfleet Command during the war, it will reach them now.”

“Good. Do that. Any sign of additional ships?”

“Negative. I would of course apprise you at once if we spotted any.”

A little distracted, Kira nodded. “Yes, good. Thank you, Lieutenant.” She glanced around the bridge. Everything seemed to be running fine.

“I’ll be in sick bay,” she announced, and left.

There was no chapel on the Defiant, no place where crew could go to be alone or to try to find spiritual comfort of any kind. Kasidy wound up wandering the corridors.

“Kasidy?”

She jumped. “Ezri....”

“I wondered where you’d gone.”

She sighed deeply. “There’s not very far to go, on this ship.”

Dax smiled, and her eyes twinkled a little. “I’ve noticed. A person can’t even get decently lost on the Defiant.” The smile faded. “I understand that you lost some good people.”

“Yes.” That didn’t sound like enough to say, but she couldn’t get other words out her throat.

“If you’d like to talk, or if you need a place to cry without being disturbed, you can use my quarters. Such as they are.”

She blinked. “I—“

Stay.

She stared at Dax. “What did you say?”

The Trill counselor looked puzzled. “That you could use my quarters, if—”

“No, I thought you said....” There had been nothing specifically identifiable about the voice in her head, but it had been familiar. And it hadn’t been Ezri. Ben, she thought. The baby kicked; Kasidy reflexively ran her hand across her belly to soothe her. She realized there was somewhere else she needed to stay, too.

“I may take you up on that offer later, Ezri, thank you. But for now, I think I should get back to my crew.”

“Okay.”