Arrival on IO and a Hasty Rescue
Posted on 2025, Thu Aug 21st, @ 1:28am by Rear Admiral Jacob Hawks Esq, SMH PMV & Lieutenant Jep Fallo & Vice Admiral Jack Reacher Jr & Commodore Travis O'Rourke & Commodore Bowen Parton & Captain Joral Taran & Commander MOO Richardson IX & Major Yadira Tristan & Lieutenant Commander Tiyame Igrut & Lieutenant Ariana Tessaro
6,161 words; about a 31 minute read
Mission:
Episode 1A "Shadows of the Empire"
Location: Various
Timeline: 1 week before Halo disappearance- Present Day
Built into to the side of Io, the frozen moon of Jupiter, oposite Jupiter station, was the Star Fleet Section 31 research facility, now remanded to the control of SF Intel R&D. It was here that project Saint George was brought to life, and it was here that she would be brought back from the dead.
Three dry docks rested in orbit, each one was massive, yet concealed from sensor sweeps, and sub space detection. the whole facility ran on radio communications to hide from the ESD sub space antenna, and the Jupiter Station communication's aray. One dock was empty, one housed a space from, the final one, it had a completed ship, hull number NCC-4001, USS Chronepsis.
Named after a mythological dragon who brought the end of days, and saved creation through rebirth by fire, this was a Draco Class Exploratory Escort Cruiser, that was a defacto S31 Battle Cruiser designed to do dirty deeds behind the Federation’s back while Star fleet kept their nose clean to be a beacon of hope to the milky way. Now, under the orders of Fleet Admiral Pat Lovell, she was to be reborn, and Captain, now Commodore Bowen E. Parton was bringing together his team to get this done.
"Joral, look at her." Commodore Parton began, him and his cheif engineer doing a fly by of the still dark and slumbering dragon. "Isnt she beautiful"
Joral stood at the viewport, eyes tracing the graceful but predatory lines of the Chronepsis as she hung in the void. The hull plating was dull, lifeless — sleeping metal waiting for a reason to breathe again.
“She’s more than beautiful, Commodore,” he said at last, his voice even but carrying a note of pride. “She’s dangerous. Stubborn. And if the past has taught me anything, she’s got a mind of her own. This ship wasn’t built to follow orders — she was built to rewrite the rules.”
His gaze lingered on the trinary core housings barely visible under the armored belly.
“We wake her up, and she won’t be the same as she was before. That’s the thing about rebirth by fire — you never know what the flames will change. But… if you want her ready to burn bright again, I’ll get it done.”
"My friend, I have a bad feeling that she will wake from her slumber, before she's ready. Do what you can, we must save the Halo." Bowen said this, a cold, calculating assurances that he believed himself right, and it broke his heart knowing he might loose her again.
On a dime, the situation had shifted. Earth Space Docks subspace receiver had picked up what was initially thought to be deep space static. Issue was it seemed to be on a different universal frequency. Once cleared up, it turned out to be a message sent in on a quantum subspace ban width from the Mirror Universe. Just as Commodore Parton and Fleet Admiral Pat Lovell had thought, the U.S.S. Halo had been sent to the mirror dimension, and according to the message, they had made it safely to the Sol system.
As soon as the subspace beacon had been set off, a small fleet of Terran Empire ships had detected it, and were now on their way to the Halo's location at maximum warp. They had been infromed that a Federation ship would be somewhere inside the galaxy, yet they were stunned to find out it had managed to breach the very heart of the empire. Luckily, the Halo’s crew had thought of this eventuality, and had managed to embed coordinates for a near by nebula. It wouldn't take long for the Terrans to figure this out though.
In an instant, Pat Lovell declared a system wide red alert, and had contracted the base on Io to inform the commodore that ready or not, it was time to put the Draco class into good use.
"Admiral, she's not ready. Even if we had till next Tuesday, she still wouldn’t be ready." The Commodore protested.
"Bowen, you have your orders, go get Jack and his crew home" Pat responded.
They would have several of Starfleets brightest minds aboard to calibrate and operate the red wave generators, and has been able to dial in on the location of the Halo and allow a rescue attempt to be made.
Within 30 hours of the orders being issued, the ship raced out of the Sol system . It was on its way to an anomaly near the Kuvato system, Halo’s next stop after sending out the transmission, knowing the Terrans would pick up on it. That system would serve as their doorway to the mirror universe. It would also give them a chance to get close to, and hopefully save the Halo. The mood onboard was tense, but they were all the very best at what they did. If anyone could save the Halo, it was the Chronepsis.
After arriving at the anomaly and calibrating their instruments the ship engaged its red wave generators and headed off to the mirror universe where the Halo was trapped. The federations top 'dimensional mechanics' scientists were onboard helping the ships crew operate the experimental device. Eventually they were able to use the data from the beacon to lock onto a temporal and dimension location of the Halo, and within 20 minutes they had sent a probe through and after another 3 minutes, Parton had ordered the ship to enter the portal.
When they emerged on the other side, they were met with chaos. The mirror universe Terran Empire had chased the Halo into the nearby nebula and had them surrounded with a force of 15 capital ships, and numerous smaller vessels. The Halo had proven herself a beast, 2 of the 15 capital ships had been disabled, this was proven by the Chronepsis’s probes, their wreckage being seen in the nebula.
The Halo had been a surprisingly powerful ship in comparison to the outdated vessels of the mirror univere. She was truly holding her own, yet not without taking blows of her own. The Halo was an exploration ship first, and formost, but this was a battle against a group of brutal military minds, and that brutality wasn’t letting up, laying on barrage after barrage. The terrans responded with offensive might whenever the Halo temporarily lost a round of this macabre game of hide and seek around the nebula.
Lieutenant Commander Igrut had not made many friends, allies or compatriots of any kind in the three months she had been aboard the Halo. This was not made better by travel through a dimensional portal. To be a subjugated species of the Terran Empire added a certain fear of capture that would not have otherwise been present, and frustrating to her duties, it meant the Terrans had effective counters to her telepathy through their intrinsic training and brutal approach to all life, to all things. And what thought patterns she could read were so rudimentary or so overcomplex a quick scan could truly give her very little. So, different approach, pull up classified starfleet records regarding this alternative universe, information usually reserved for a truly "need to know" circumstance, and this was one such occassion where she did, in fact, need to know. The surface information allowed her to disassemble attack patterns and develop countermeasures, keep the ship alive enough that they could return through a dimensional portal if one were made. And provide recommendations to their approach.
Tiyame was constantly frowning as she looked over her LCAR at the converging ships disappearing as they entered the clouded nebula. They were completely outmatched and these terrans knew it and were primed to destroy them. Quick thinking had bought them time in the nebula, a necessary sacrifice of her capabilities, she could not feel through this nebula. She began to run tests using known Terran configurations of various scanning techniques and accounting for the known parameters of this parallel universe. With her suspicions confirmed she looked to her superior officer, and spoke aloud so that all members of the Bridge could hear. "Rear Admiral their technology does not allow them to detect us in the depths of the nebula, but all previous reports indicate they will attempt to enter if not given bait, distraction, or proof that we have been destroyed. They will not be satisfied simply waiting for us to starve, one commander will wish to claim the kill."
Moo Richardson stood at the Tactical station in his gold uniform. His primary job was security. Secondary was Tactical. While Moo was on the bridge, at his station, his assistant, a brand new Bajoran Ensign named Ensign T'ren, was responsible for the security of the ship. This covered everything from quelling food fights on the mess decks during movie night to repelling hordes of tribbles. The throwing of popcorn painted with synthetic animal fats was just blowing off steam in his opinion, but the captain insisted on a little decorum during the in-flight movie, as he called it. The more deadly threats like tribbles, well, he insisted that all security personnel were highly armed and trained to remove pests like tribbles immediately, if not sooner. Part of his security drills was using the ship's holo matrix to simulate invasions of different pests. From simple insects to the deadly tribbles. Engineers were notoriously hard to get to play along with his security drills. That was until his remote-controlled tribble remover ate half of their tricorders and most of their padds. Having the holo-tribbles sitting on their padds and tricorders made their singing of a different tune more accommodating to his ideas of participation in the drills as a good Engineer. The Chief Engineer was not happy with the results of the drill. But the Fallout was worth the grief he received from department heads. Plus, the rest of the department heads sided with him, claiming Engineering should play the games just like everyone else. So Ensign T'ren could handle the nourishment fights on the mess decks. It suited his temperament just fine. So far she had not injured any of the contestants, but the week was not over yet.
Yadira never played games at work and
was always with serious face. Flying is a serious business it doesn't make friends easily, and they performed their duty well.
"Open a channel to the Halo, Now!" The commodore barked, he knew the situation was about to get dire.
"Halo, This is Commodore Bowen E. Parton of the U.S.S. Chronepsis of the United Federation of Planets. Admiral Reacher, Star Fleet has sent us here to bring you home, if you can hear me, please respond". The Commodore said over the channel with the conviction of a romulan and the passion of a Klingon, this man was clearly ready for the battle to come. Yet he also knew his ship was not ready, for this battle, especially not against the Terran Ambassador-class vassels they had turned to engage him. He quickly barked at the Tactical officer to shift his fire to them.
The answer finally came back "Chronepsis this is Halo, we can make half impulse, we've taken a beating here though" It was Jack himself speaking, and Parton could faintly make out the silhouette of the Halo off in the distance, deeper in the nebula trading blows with a Terran constitution class vessel.
" Admiral Reacher, You’ll need to follow us to Coordinates 7152812.8x6719028.7x8889212.4 . Helm, Bring us about to the port side, Tactical show any Terran ships that attempt to follow the Halo out of the nebula what we are capable of. Port Torpedoes full spread, phasers fire at will." The Commodore said, now well beyond playing it safe.
"Aye sir" rang out from consoles across the bridge. As the Chronepsis came about.
"Halo Copies," Reacher replied, It looked like he had been through hell.
Within 5 minutes, the Halo breached the edge of the nebulae. She looked like she had been through hell and back, but she was still making good speed. She was sending fire behind her, into the inque cloud of star dust. Suddenly, 6 of the Tarren ships came out of the nebula in hot pursuit. They fired back, sending wave after wave of phaser fire on the Halo.
Bowen stood up "Fire, full broad side, take those Tarren dogs out!" with that , the Chronepsis sent a full barage of quntum torpedoes, 10 in total, shot out of the port side like a tall ships cannon fire. each one found their tagets. 3 of the six ships instantly found themselves turned into space debris. The final three remained. "Lock on phaser cannons, hold off on deploying the drones, we cant risk loosing them. Defend the Halo at all cost!"
Surprised, the Terran ships halted, making repairs and scanning the obsidian bohemath. The Chronepsis had taken them by surpise. But they would soon rally and reengage. The Halo took a hit to her starboard impulse engines causing her to slow down as she unleashed another slave of torpedoes at the enemy, perforating the saucer section of one of the Ambassadors.
As the Halo made its way out of the Nebula they had been seeking cover in, Joral’s hands flew across the engineering console, the deck plating trembling under the fury of Terran weapons fire.
“Inertial dampers are compensating at one-twenty percent,” he called out, voice steady despite the rumble of the hull. “But structural integrity’s dropping on the dorsal midline — those pulse phasers are hitting just above the tertiary core conduit.”
"Joral, I saw the lights flicker with just a torpedo berage. Is everything alright? " The Commodore asked his cheif engineer.
"Executing attack pattern Delta 3, I'm trying to cover the Halo, but sir, she's starting to act up" Fallo reported from the helm.
A fresh impact lit warning glyphs across his board.
“Red Wave coils are holding, but the phase–harmonic alignment is drifting point-zero-eight percent per second from weapons feedback. If it slips past point-two, we’re going to lose dimensional cohesion on re-entry. Diverting auxiliary from shield grid three to core-C isolation to stabilize the feedback loop.”
He glanced toward the main viewscreen just as another Terran volley rattled the ship.
“Shields at sixty-four and falling on the port arc! I’m pushing power from the secondary EPS trunks and rerouting through the dorsal ODN relays — tactical, you’ve got twenty more megajoules to play with, make ‘em count.”
The console chimed as the tertiary core came into balance.
“Red Wave alignment is back inside tolerance. We’ve still got a way home when you’re ready, Commodore — assuming the Terrans don’t turn us into a cloud of ionized plasma first.”
The Terrans had shaken off their shock and awe, and had diverted fire on to the Chronepsis.
"More targets exiting the nebula sir, in total we have 3 Defiant class ships, 2 Ambassadors, and 1 Sovereign on sensors," The Tactical officer informed the brigde. The Sovereign was what had the commodore worried. That ship wasn't a match for the Draco class, on paper, but right now, it was a juggernaut, and the Chronepsis had a glass jaw a mile wide.
Lt. Fallo didnt even wait for a direct order, he knew what needed to be done. They needed to go, and ride the red wave home to their own dimension with the Halo, and quickly. "I can't keep us in between the Terran ships and the Halo for much longer sir. I think its time to head home sir. Permission to punch it?
"Tactical, divert all sheilds aft, Helm, Red Wave Projectors set and locked on Universe of Origins. Engineering, prepare for a bumpy ride, because we are going home." The Commodore stated, his eye focusing in on the primary view screen. " Jack, if you can still here me, we'll set up in your wake, matching speed at approximately .5 seconds after my mark. Mark." At this, the ship began to rumble as a Blue Portal was projected out from the deflector aray.
The 6 Tarren ships followed. Suddenly, in a pincer maneuver, the 3 Defiant class ships cicled the Chronepsis. "Tactical, Close the deflector and neceel doors."
In an instant, the Defiant ships opened fire. The Chronepsis began to fire back, now surrounded. Plasma cannons and phaser banks roatated. Each burst of engery sending shock waves through her haul plating, lights flickered as the EPS system suffered under the strain.
The Defiant class swarm had chosen their tagets, the Chronepsis' aft necelle. One shot after another, yet the ablative armor held.
The Chronepsis opened fire taking out one of the enimie ships, all the while the nacelle continued to take damage until, out of no where, the Halo circled back and opened fire on the enimy. Taking out both ships in a few blows.
"Commadore Parton, the Halo is now capable of warp, ready to leave when you are." Admiral Reachers voice came across the coms.
The Chronepsis took up in the Halo’s subspace wake, and then activated the red wave generators. "Mark" The Commodore said, and in an instantly, both ships hit warp 8.2.
That is when the Sovereign took one shot at the Chronipsis, right at the panneling on her underbelly. The Chronepsis had not been using her shields in an attempt to prevent an overload. This was a mistake.
The Terran ships attempted to follow through, but the Chronepsis had closed the portal after the Halo, meaning no trailing ships could follow. Yet, midway through the return trip through the spiraling purple corridor, the worse happened as the EPS trunk to core B erupted into flame in main Engineering.
“Seal off Deck 28, portside! We’ve got a hull breach through the EPS trunk— reroute all power through the dorsal grid!”
A flash of white-hot plasma erupted from a ruptured power manifold, throwing him hard against a bulkhead. Pain lanced through his left side, and he could already feel blood running warm under his uniform, but there was no time to think about it.
“Core-C containment field’s slipping! Get a level-seven forcefield around the antimatter pods, now!” he shouted, dragging himself upright and staggering toward the primary control station. His vision swam, but the numbers on the display were burned into his mind.
“Commodore, antimatter containment is holding at ninety-two percent, but if we don’t get out of this space soon, we’re going to lose plasma flow to the trinary manifold. That means no warp, no Red Wave— nothing. I need us out of her, now.”
Another blast, this time from within the ship, shook the deck, and Joral’s knees nearly buckled. He slammed one hand onto the console, the other pressing against the growing warmth under his ribs.
“Stabilizing plasma injectors three through six… rerouting coolant from the slipstream chamber… there! Containment field’s back to ninety-eight!”
An engineer slid to his side. “Sir, you’re bleeding—”
“I’m aware,” Joral cut him off, eyes locked on the board. “Get back to your station. This ship doesn’t fly without us, and I’m not letting the Chrono die on her first real fight back.”
As the portal’s event horizon engulfed the ship, Joral’s hands moved in a blur, coaxing the wounded dragon through the flames.
So as it turned out, back in their home dimensional, the Halo who barely made it through the portal due to the damage recieved, was forced to beam over damage control parties to help save the Chrono. After a frantic effort, the Chronepsis was indeed saved, but was still in bad shape. The Halo, though battered was still operational.
As Admiral Reacher was about to order the recall of his damage control teams, his tactical officer informed him another vessel had dropped out of warp nearby. It was 3 blacked out Starlfeet style ships. Starfleet style meaning they werent actually starfleet. These were S31 ships.
The Halo came out of the Redwave portal with dignity and grace, She was clearly beaten up, but her main Engineering crew had definitely preformed miracles in the heat of battle. On the other hand, the Chronepsis came out as if spat up. She was flung through subspace and dropped out of warp almost instantly. 0g fires had sprung up along her belly, plasma venting into space. The Gidora power plant system once again failing.
Thats when it happened. "Commodore" Tactical spoke up "4 unidentified vessels on sensors, all star fleet, no response to hails, sir, they are locking in on us"
There were on 2 of them vs the 6 s31 vessel. It wouldnt be enough, 3 section 31 ships, stolen from Star Fleet after the organization had gone rogue a year ago, moved in and engaged. They where here to destroy the Halo and the Chronepsis to start an interdimensional war with the Terran empire. This had been their doing from the beginning.
Suddenly, these three vessels opened fire withought mercy, attacking the same nacelle that the terrans had.
"Shut those doors!" The Commodore ordered.
"Sir, they aren't responding, not even to manual override." By this time, the EPS system in had collapsed enough to prevent back wash into the warp core. At this point, all the Chronepsis could do was limp and shoot, and pray their armor would hold. One more barrage of torpedoes, one S31 ship going dark, the others seemingly unphased.
When all hope seemed lost, the Halo burst into action, slowly moving to cover the Chrono and unleashing another Salvo of torps. He magazine's were nearly empty at this point. In response on of the S31 shifted fire and unleashed on the Halo with her cannons.
"Commodore, This is the Halo, we will need a rescue party if you can mannage." And with that, the Halo fired everything at one ship, and rammed itself into the other at full impulse. Both section 31 ships were destroyed and the Halo went dark.
After this, the section 31 ships vanished in several explosions , self destructing, wiping away all evidance they had been there. Meanwhile the Chronepsis began the rescue operation.
((Bonaventure Bridge))
The USS Bonaventure suddenly dropped out of warp 300k away from the battered scene, it was mayhem. Their was 5 vessels in a swirling furball of phaser and photon fire. Hawks immediately ordered his ship to engage the vessels that were firing on the Halo. He didnt recognize the vessel that the Halo seemed to be screening, and he ordered his operations officer to figure who that was.
"Fleek! Tri vector assualt mode, now, targ..." Just then a spread of torpedoes whipping out of the Halo's tubes and absolutely smashed one of the blacked out ships that was making a strafing runs on her, that Halo then rammed one of the smaller s31 ships, vaporizing it in a ball of flame. The S31 vessel that was firing on the Chrono then exploded as it careened past the Halo. The Chronepsis, which Hawks still didnt know the identity of then shot forth several phaser volleys that knocked out the engines of another of the attackers...before the Bonaventures 3 sections could even enter the fight the remaining S31 ship decided that discretion was the better part of valour, and quickly vectored away from the battle zone and went to warp.
"Get a trace on that ship Fleek. Thompson, send a signal to the Halo, tell em were coming in hot to finish off that third ship."
Thompson replied "Looks like the Halo is already on it sir. Signal sent sir....the Halo's responding, its garbled sir, but it sounds like they're asking for damage control teams...no wait, there talking to eachother sir. The other vessels that the Halo was defending, its identifying itself as the Chronepsis sir, it sounds like they're both heavily damaged"
Hawks stood and performed the Picard maneuver and straightened his tunic "have our damage control teams assembled in the transporter rooms. Signal both vessels that we are standing by to assist them."
They still had to perform some emergency repairs just to be able to lock onto the Chrono with tractors, and tow the nearly crippled secret ship back to SB 113. But within another hour, the 3 ships were underway.
The low hum of the Leonidas’s engines was a steady undercurrent to the subdued chatter across the bridge. Commodore Travis O’Rourke stood at the center, hands clasped behind his back, eyes fixed on the streaking stars ahead.
The latest report from Starfleet Command still echoed in everyone’s ears: The Halo had been found. Rescued. And the Chronepsis had come back with her.
“Helm,” O’Rourke said, his voice carrying that calm-but-urgent weight the crew had come to recognize, “bring us to warp eight. Let’s not keep them waiting.”
“Aye, sir,” replied Lt. T’Vera Rahl from the flight control station. Her hands danced across the controls with practiced precision. “ETA to Starbase 113: three hours, twenty-two minutes.”
At Ops, Lt. JG Talrin raised an eyebrow. “Three ships limping into dock — one of them a Draco Class fresh out of mothballs. Starbase 113’s engineering crews will have their work cut out for them.”
“Not just the engineers,” added Lt. Cmdr. Kaela Renn from the medical station. She was scanning the incoming casualty reports. “Halo reports fifteen injured, two critical. The Chronepsis…” She exhaled softly. “Multiple injuries, including their Chief Engineer. Looks like their engineering crew kept that ship together by sheer force of will.”
O’Rourke gave a small nod at that. “I’ve known Joral Taran a long time. Force of will is his specialty.”
At Tactical, Lt. Cmdr. Corin Taves glanced up from his board. “They went up against a mirror Defiant and walked away. I’m buying that crew a drink the moment we hit port.”
“Make it two,” Juno Atala said from the secondary tactical console.
O’Rourke allowed himself the faintest smile before turning his gaze back to the viewscreen. “All right, people. We’re not just there to meet them — we’re there to make sure they know the Federation still stands behind them. Keep the comms clear, keep your uniforms sharp, and let’s make sure they feel welcome… even if the welcome is in a repair bay.”
The Leonidas surged forward through warp, a sleek predator making for the rendezvous — ready to meet the 2 ships that had stared down the mirror universe and made it home.
The Leonidas slid into her assigned berth with the smooth, effortless grace of a ship fresh from refit. On the opposite side of the massive docking ring, two very different Starfleet vessels were secured — the USS Chronepsis, hull plating blackened and warped along her port quarter, and the USS Halo, her once-proud frame a patchwork of gaping wounds, twisted girders, and shattered hull sections. She drifted in dock on emergency power, her registry scorched beyond recognition. Even at a distance, it was clear: the Halo would never sail again.
Commodore Travis O’Rourke stepped off the Leonidas’s docking umbilical, flanked by Lt. Cmdr. Corin Taves, Lt. Cmdr. Kaela Renn, and Lt. T’Vera Rahl. Behind them, a small honor detail in dress uniform formed up, the gleam of polished combadges catching the station’s bright lights.
The air smelled faintly of scorched duranium — a scent that followed ships fresh from a fight.
From the Chronepsis’s docking hatch, two crewmen guided a limping Joral Taran down the ramp. His left side was bandaged under his gold-shouldered uniform, his gait uneven but his expression sharp.. His eyes met O’Rourke’s, and the two exchanged a firm handshake.
“Hell of a homecoming,” O’Rourke said, glancing past him toward the ship’s wounded flank.
“You should’ve seen the other guy,” Taran replied, a tired but defiant grin flickering for a moment. “Both of them.”
O’Rourke stepped toward him. “I hear you kept the Chrono in one piece.”
Joral managed a half-smile, wincing as he shifted his weight. “More or less. She’s got teeth, Travis… but she’s not bulletproof. Give me a week and I’ll have her purring again.”
Kaela Renn gave him a pointed look. “You’ll be doing that from a biobed for the next forty-eight hours. Minimum.”
“I’ll take it under advisement,” Joral said dryly.
From the Halo’s berth, her commanding officer approached, his shoulders heavy with the loss. Repair crews and salvage teams swarmed the two vessels — one bound for a long restoration, the other for the scrapyard.
O’Rourke looked between the three captains — one hale, two exhausted — and nodded. “You brought them home. All of them. That’s what matters. The rest…” He glanced back at the smoke-streaked flanks of the Halo and Chronepsis. “…the rest we can fix.”
The four of them stood in the bustle of the docking concourse, the unspoken weight of what had been risked — and what had been saved — settling in the space between them.
Jake came sauntering up to the group of senior officers, oblivious to the somber moment they were sharing. He had been getting to know each member of the group over the past few months. Hawks looked at his old friend Reacher and exclaimed "They promote you to Rear Admiral, and the first thing you do is get tangled up with S31 and lost in a mirror universe...you always had a flare for the dramatic Jack. Glad we got you all home" he reached out and gave Jack a brohug handshake then shook the other officers hands in turn.
Jack smirked as Jake playfully patted him on the back, pulling him into a friendly embrace known as a "bro hug." It was a familiar gesture that spoke volumes about their camaraderie, forged over years of shared experiences and challenges. "You know, I always had that confidence," Jack said with a chuckle, memories flooding back to their days as ensigns. "Even back then, when you were my commanding officer, I never hesitated to speak my mind." The hug reminded Jack, of the bond they had built throughout their careers.
Hawks laughed 'No you did not...so, whats the word? How bad is the damage on the Halo? I know the Chrono is gonna be layed up for a while. Is Halo a write off, or is command gonna try put her back together?"
"Yes, Bowen is probably pissed," Reacher told Hawks. "Now the Halo...She's Done For, I have put in a request for the Jamestown Class ship that just completed construction over at arksen because it hasn't been named yet or given NCC number"
"Oh, youre going to take that new gura coming off the slipway. Sounds good sir, I think I seen she's going to be ready to launch in a few days...planning to just reassign the whole crew Jack?" Reacher nodded and Hawks continued "Sounds good boss, just let me know if you have shortfalls in any department, I can always shuffle some of my training staff over if you need them."
"Yes, And I don't need Training Staff, Heck they might end up out the airlock" Jack told him.
O’Rourke lingered a few paces back, hands clasped at the small of his back, letting the others have their moment. Reacher, Hawks, and the battered survivors of the Halo and Chronepsis had earned that reunion. The easy camaraderie between them — the “bro hug,” the laughter beneath exhaustion — was something O’Rourke respected but didn’t intrude on. He was still the newest voice among them, and he knew enough to listen first.
His eyes traveled from Reacher’s weary face to the scorched plating of the Halo beyond the viewport. A ship that had carried her crew through hell only to give her last ounce of strength getting them home. On the other side, the Chronepsis — scarred, but alive. Defiant. That dragon would fly again.
Finally, he stepped forward, his tone calm but carrying that unmistakable steel.
“You’ve all brought them home,” he said, nodding to Reacher, then to Taran. “That’s no small thing. Ships can be rebuilt or replaced. Crews cannot. Whatever else comes of this, that’s the legacy of what you did out there.”
He paused, letting the weight of the moment settle before adding with quiet resolve:
“The Leonidas will stand ready to back you — whether it’s Halo’s crew finding their footing aboard a new command, or the Chrono finding her voice again. The Federation’s stronger tonight because of the hell you just walked through. Don’t forget that.”
With that, O’Rourke fell silent again, returning to his place slightly behind the others. The moment belonged to them, but his presence was a reminder: they weren’t alone, and Starfleet still stood with them.
It was a good speach and a good point, Hawks thought to himself. Travis was right, getting back out their and on the frontier was the goal now. "Well I'm just happy you're all back
, I should probably get back to the Bonnie, Ill be drowning in paperwork for the next several days Im sure." Hawks said as he nodded and shook each of the fellow officers hands again before turning to depart and head back to his ship.
"I'll send you all an updated Ops report for the Task Force in a few hours...considering what just happened, Ill have to rewrite several sections" Hawks chuckled a bit as he walked away. The rewrites were for a good reason this time, the current report which he hadn't sent out actually had O'Rourke becoming the CO and himself slotting into the XO roll, but with the Halo making it home, he could delete that section entirely.
"Understood" Reacher replyied.
The lights in the ward were bright, too bright for Joral’s taste. He preferred the half-lit glow of Engineering, consoles alive with readouts that told him the truth in numbers. Here, the numbers were his own — biosigns scrolling on a monitor above the biobed, and none of them steady enough to satisfy Dr. Kaela Renn.
“Lie still,” she said firmly as she passed a dermal regenerator over the angry line at his ribs. “Your body isn’t going to mend if you keep twisting to look at the doors every time someone walks past.”
“I’m not worried about who’s coming in,” Joral muttered, shifting slightly despite her scowl. “I’m thinking about what’s out there in drydock.”
Kaela arched a brow. “Your ship is being seen to. You’re not.”
He gave a humorless chuckle. “That’s the thing, Kaela. The Chrono isn’t as bad off as she looks. Hull scorched, nacelle twisted, sure — but the Draco was built to take hits that would snap a Galaxy-class in half. Redundant ODN relays, tertiary EPS grids, multiple power cores… she bleeds on the outside, but her heart’s still strong.”
His eyes grew distant, voice softening as if speaking to himself.
“Pulse phasers tore through the dorsal plating above Core-C, but the armored isolators held. Containment fields never dropped below ninety-two. And that nacelle—” he winced as he drew in a shallow breath, ignoring Renn’s glare “—looks like hell, but structurally it’s still intact. Ninety percent of what they’ll be repairing is skin. Superficial damage.”
Kaela’s regenerator clicked off with a sharp tone. She set it down on the tray a little louder than necessary.
“Funny thing about ‘superficial damage,’” she said evenly, “you’re bleeding out from a cracked rib because you took a plasma manifold blast to the chest. Your ship may hide her wounds well. You don’t.”
Joral finally let his head rest back against the biobed. His lips tugged into the ghost of a smile.
“That’s the difference, isn’t it? She was born from fire, built to take it. Me? I just keep her heart beating long enough to make sure she remembers.”
For the first time since he’d been dragged in, his hands stilled — not chasing phantom console keys in the air. His gaze drifted toward the ceiling, the exhaustion settling in at last.
“She’ll fly again,” he murmured, eyes half-closed. “Sooner than they think.”
Kaela glanced at the monitor, then back to him, her tone softening.
“And so will you. But only if you stop trying to out-stubborn a starship.”
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