There was a moment of almost blissful blindness as her tiny craft passed through the gray-white cloud of microscopic particles - all that remained of her enemy - but it was short-lived. They emerged at last, only to see another of the innumerable vessels angling towards them.

"Oh my God, Ro...!" Cheryl Masters screamed in warning, and Ro's heart skipped a beat.

Stupid girl frightens me more than the Jem'Hadar do, she thought contemptuously. Even as the Bajoran skillfully dove under the onrushing attacker, she could hear her co-pilot's harsh breathing next to her.

When the immediate danger of collision had passed, Ro chanced a quick glance behind her to the third member of the three-man fighter's crew, a Vulcan engineer named Soren. As always, his expression was unreadable as he fought to maintain the fighter's systems under continual enemy assault.

Ro sighed and turned back to the task at hand, thinking, How could I have so offended the Prophets that they would see fit to place me alongside these two? One reacts too much, and the other, not enough.

Her musing was cut short by the appearance of yet another Jem'Hadar fighter moving onto an attack vector with a beleaguered Miranda-class starship.

Ro quickly angled in behind the enemy as it fired. Its first blow here would be its last. Even as the vessel's polaron beams struck their target, those guns - along with the rest of the Dominion ship - were destroyed by the pulse cannons of Ro's Viper-class fighter.

The Shras, now free of its tormentor, turned its own weapons on the closest enemy craft, finishing it as well.

Ro skimmed over the tactical display, assessing the immediate threats and planning her next move. 

Not good, the Bajoran woman thought.

Pulling the little Viper around in a quick, brutal turn, she began accelerating towards the besieged Starbase 88. Three waves of Jem'Hadar vessels were converging on it. She noted with relief that she wasn't the only one who'd seen the new threat. Four starships and one of the four Federation fighter squadrons were placing themselves in the enemy's path.

Or, in harm's way, as Chief O'Brien used to say.

The T'Kumbra, a Nebula-class cruiser, took the lead, firing into the onrushing Dominion assault group and destroying three of them before it was forced to evade the remainder - or risk being rammed.

As she moved away from the flood of Jem'Hadar ships, the Sovereign-class Excelsior took the point. Dodging as best she could the nigh-endless volley of polaron beams, she answered with her own weapons, a combination of phasers and photon torpedoes that eliminated another six of the enemy.

Ro noted that as she'd passed through the Dominion fighters, the Excelsior had taken several direct hits. Had she not been one of Starfleet's most advanced new vessels she might not have survived. As it was, she was able to sweep through the exchange without any appreciable damage. 

Either the captain is cocky or stupid. Actually, the two go hand-in-hand...

Using her fighter's top impulse speed, with additional coaxing from Soren, Ro was able to move behind the attacking Dominion ships unnoticed.

Or at least ignored, she admitted. For now.

As she maneuvered under the oncoming starship Excelsior she noticed that her wingman, a human pilot named Sinclair, had rejoined her. She'd lost contact with him a few minutes earlier when she'd given him authorization to pursue two enemy fighters that were harassing a Steamrunner-class starship, while she continued to provide close support for Starbase 88.

Unfortunately, her own foes had managed to draw her and much of the squadron away from their charge, allowing even more of the enemy to close on it in their absence.

Ro was grateful that Sinclair had survived; he thus far seemed less annoying than most of her other human subordinates. As a squadron commander, she was forced for the sake of optimum efficiency to endure the idiosyncrasies of the people under her command. Such little patterns and games kept humans sharp, she'd been told.

Unfortunately, they did little for her nerves.

Ro let loose at one of the enemy fighters, piercing its starboard shields and shearing away a portion of its wing. 

Suddenly, the pulse-enhanced phasers ceased firing, and the familiar voice of the on-board computer came to life.

"Pulse cannon power has been temporarily depleted."

"Damnit!" Ro shouted, watching in impotent fury as her target, potentially seconds away from destruction, veered off and away from her. "Whatever happened to 'Pulse cannon power will soon be depleted?'

"Please restate the inquiry," the computer politely replied.

"Shut up!" she snarled. "Why doesn't this damned thing have more punch?"

From behind her, Soren answered, and only succeeded in making her angrier.

"Additional weapons were not possible using the existing design of the standard Danube-class runabout. I thought that I sufficiently explained this potentially fatal design flaw during our initial training period."

Ro scowled but did not reply, suspecting that the young Vulcan was attempting to distract her until the weapons recharged again. Mollifying the crazed commander, eh, Soren? 

"Lieutenant Ro," Ensign Masters suddenly announced. "Some of the Jem'Hadar have gotten through our fighters and are on course to ram the Starbase."

Ro shook her head, thinking, They've outsmarted us, again.

Instantly, she sent the Viper into a steep dive, under the slower Dominion ships and towards the Starbase. Her own tactical display told her that those she had been pursuing were only a diversion. 

"They've pinned in our other fighters," Masters continued. 

The Bajoran shook here head infinitesimally, thinking, Now she's calm.

"I need more speed," Ro stated flatly, knowing the response before she heard it.

"Our impulse engines are already at 112%," Soren replied. "I cannot recommend further...enhancement."

Ro glanced again at her weapons loadout, knowing that the twelve quantum torpedoes her fighter had carried were long gone.

There must be something, Ro thought.

Suddenly, a torpedo flared to her right, sped towards the closest enemy fighter, and destroyed it as it struck its mark.

Sinclair.

The power indicator on her Tactical panel switched from red to green, indicating the phaser coils had recharged; Ro stabbed the firing controls.

This bogey followed its mate as the blasts hit home, sending it careening into a third and destroying both in the exchange.

The remaining nine attack ships focused on a single point and began firing at the Starbase in unison, causing its shields to flare and pulsate from the assault. 

Ro suddenly saw the strategy behind the attack, as some of the beams slashed through the section's weakened defenses. 

The Bajoran cut into another of the fighters as it attempted to join its fellows in diving through the momentarily neutralized screens of the Federation base. She, fortunately, finished it before it could either evade her or slip through. Sinclair follow suit, and another of them disappeared in a brief explosion.

The Starbase's screens suddenly regained their polarity, and the trailing fighter imploded instantly.

Six ships, though, had passed through unscathed.

Instead of ramming the Starbase, as Ro thought they would, they broke formation, evading the base's defense systems - and beginning to systematically destroy them.

Ro watched helplessly for a few seconds longer as the Dominion ships continued their coldly efficient excision before she was forced to change direction or risk striking the base's shields herself. She knew six Jem'Hadar fighters couldn't destroy all of the heavy weapons emplacements. 

They could cause enough damage, though, to allow the Dominion cruisers currently engaging the bulk of the Seventh Fleet to move in as well, without exposing themselves to the big guns of a Starbase.

With no other alternative, Ro moved away, and back towards the main battle alongside Sinclair's fighter.

That shouldn't have happened, Ro thought angrily.

Her remonstration was cut short as a blast from a Jem'Hadar attack shiprocked her small craft.

"A group of fighters has maneuvered behind us," Ensign Masters informed her nervously.

Ro silently cursed herself again for getting distracted from her mission.

"Are they headed towards the Starbase?" she asked through gritted teeth.

Masters shook her head, a little too vehemently.

"No. It looks like they've decided to pay more attention to us."

"That would be a wise decision for them," Ro muttered, as she sent the Viper into another steep dive, momentarily pressing her and the rest of the crew back into their seats as the ship's inertial dampening field struggled to compensate.

"I think I'm going to be sick," Masters gurgled weakly.

Ro ignored her young co-pilot's remark as she continued to evade the deadly weapons fire from the Dominion ships.

She brought her fighter around into an attack vector with one of the ships pursuing her, hoping to even the odds. However, as several more blasts shook her and the other occupants of the fighter she came to the realization that she was in serious trouble. 

"Our aft shields are fluctuating," Soren stated pointedly.

Ro jerked the flight stick erratically, using every trick she had learned from the Bajoran resistance and some she had picked up from the Maquis, but her attackers were not giving up - or losing their weapons locks.

As Ro thought desperately for a way out of their predicament, she saw the same Miranda-class starship she'd helped to protect earlier coming straight at her, firing its phasers, with a fierce volley of torpedoes thrown in for good measure.

As the Bajoran flew under the passing starship the enemy weapons fire suddenly stopped.

"The Shras has destroyed three of the Jem'Hadar fighters, and the rest are breaking off," Masters announced happily.

Ro didn't know if the girl was more grateful for the Shras' rescue, or for the flying that had permitted it - but the young Bajoran silently admitted she too was thankful as her own stomach began to settle.

She brought the Viper around and managed to destroy two of the Dominion attack ships before they retreated out of range.

Let them go, Ro thought, there are plenty more were they came fr...

She watched, momentarily paralyzed with fear, as the Shras flew past towards the Starbase, on an apparent collision course. She stared in awe as it passed through the base's shields, completely unharmed.

"How did they do that?" Masters asked, her lower jaw gaping open.

"It appears that they have attenuated their shields to the exact frequency as those of the Starbase," Soren informed her matter-of-factly.

Ro frowned, watching as the century old Federation starship moved off after the Jem'Hadar fighters that were within the base's shield perimeter.

I should have thought of that, the Bajoran mused. He's good.

"We are receiving a priority signal from the starship T'Kumbra ordering us to regroup with her," Soren suddenly announced. "The rest of Epsilon Squadron, with the exception of Commander Sinclair, are moving away from the Starbase."

"Where is Sinclair?" Ro asked quickly, alarmed.

"He is preoccupied with three Jem'Hadar attack ships," Soren replied, keying several controls on his console and switching Ro's tactical display.

She quickly assessed the readout as she turned her fighter towards the small battle.

"They're pinning him!" Ro raged at the cowardly tactics.

"The T'Kumbra is the only ship in range to assist Commander Sinclair, but it doesn't seem to be making any attempt to render aid," Soren observed.

Ro slammed the communication controls without hesitation.

"U.S.S. T'Kumbra, this is Lieutenant Commander Ro Laren, commanding Epsilon Squadron. One of my fighters is in distress and you are the only vessel in range to assist."

Ro waited for a response to her request but none came.

"Is our communications system working?" Ro demanded.

"Comm systems are functioning within normal parameters." Soren stated.

"U.S.S. T'Kumbra, that ship requires immediate assistance!" Ro shouted. Even as she moved towards her wingman's ship, she knew they'd be too late.

"If Sinclair dies, you're going to pay," Ro whispered.
 

Lieutenant Commander Jeffery Sinclair fought to maintain control of his Viper-class fighter as his three Dominion tormentors continued their assault.

Chancing a quick glance back, the sight of a figure slumped over the Engineering station confirmed his fears. 

Sinclair set his jaw and jerked his flight stick hard, sending her into a sharp starboard turn and, he hoped, out of his attackers' weapons range. 

Then, instinct told him to dive.

Seeing three simultaneous polaron beams cutting into the space that his fighter had occupied only instants before gave him a little satisfaction.

Maybe I can still pull this off, he thought.

Just then, another blast punched through his brave little ship's shields and struck the delicate hull.

His co-pilot's console exploded for the second time in the battle, sending more metal and plastic into the limp body of the young Andorian ensign.

Angrily, Sinclair sent the Viper into another, even sharper, dive. This time he was able to bring himself behind one of the Jem'Hadar fighters. Instantly, he fired with his remaining pulse cannon, striking the shields of the Dominion ship. Ignoring another hit to his fighter's aft section, Sinclair continued to focus on his mark until the bogey's shields failed and it exploded.

Before he could celebrate, another enemy weapon struck.

"Warning. Damage to impulse engines," the ship's computer emotionlessly droned.

Sinclair's luck had just ran out.

He felt the ship begin to slow even before he glanced at the engine output screen.

Sixty-four percent, he thought grimly.

Sinclair quickly transferred the remaining shield power to the aft screens as he pulled back on the flight stick and gamely attempted to evade the two remaining enemy vessels. For all his skill and ability, though, he was unable to keep the damaged ship from further attacks.

Smoke from the shattered consoles stung his eyes and made breathing difficult as they continued their systematic assault. He was seconds from death, and knew it.

Sinclair frantically searched his damaged tactical display, hoping against hope for another fighter or starship to aid him. There were none within range.

Another blast from a Jem'Hadar fighter overloaded and collapsed his ship's weakened shields.

He was defenseless.

Sinclair stubbornly continued to evade the enemy as best he could, remembering his wife, who'd been killed only five months before - another casualty of war.

He also remembered the part of him that died the day he struggled to explain to his three-year-old son why Mommy wasn't coming home.

Tears filled his eyes as he thought about the stranger who would now tell the boy the same terrible thing - this time about Daddy.

His breath came in labored gasps - life support was nearly gone.

"No, not like this," Sinclair begged.

Starboard, a whisper told him.

As he wrenched the fighter around, the space outside the port side of his ship was suddenly filled with the energy from over a dozen pulse cannons. They illuminated all of space with their incandescence as they provided cover for the crippled Federation fighter.

With the last of his strength, Sinclair brought his Viper around towards the source of rescue, and saw the two remaining Jem'Hadar fighters disappear in bursts of flame and metal. However, as beautiful as the destruction of the enemy ships was, it didn't even begin to compare with the words on the side of the starship that had saved his life.

U.S.S. Liberator.

As he slumped forward into his seat, he thought he heard the whisper again.

"Carole," he murmured, before the darkness claimed him.