"Now, Marcus!" Bronikowski yelled from the corridor below the hanger control centre where Marcus sat, trying to finish the download of the data dump.

His visor kept steaming up from the amount he was panting and sweating, and nothing would clear it other than holding his breath, but that only made things worse in the long run. The screen read 98%. Come on, come on.

"I'm not normally one to be prone to panic," Hamasa said from beside him. "But we really have to go." Two Alliance warships were approaching the station.

"It's on 99%! I can't speed this up."

"What difference will 1% make?" She looked over her shoulder at some invisible enemy.

"Aaybe all the difference if what we need is in that packet." He tried to wipe his forehead only to hit the visor. Again.

The console chimed--the download was complete. Marcus grabbed the drive he had been loading the data on to and jumped up. "Let's go."

Hamasa slid down the ladder to the corridor below. He tried to do the same but ended up hitting the deck much harder than he had planned. It was a miracle he didn't crumple down in a heap.

"Took you long enough," Bronikowski said. "Hamasa we've got a problem. We can't breach the central core--the blast doors are down tight, and the hoppers couldn't get through the plating. We can't blow the station."

"Blow it?" Marcus rounded on Hamasa. "That's the plan?"

She ignored him. "What about from outside? Can the Vengeance get through?" For the first time she looked worried.

Bronikowski shook her head. "They've been trying since the crews ran into trouble."

"Shit." Hamasa steadied herself with a hand on the wall.

"Shit," Bronikowski agreed.

"Come on, back to the hanger." Hamasa set off at a run.

His visor now obscured, Marcus tried to keep up, but he kept hitting the side of the corridor. What a sight he must look, hands stuck out to feel his way forward at this of all moments.

A hand grabbed his arm and dragged him forwards, into the destroyed hanger. "We've got to jump," Hamasa said, matter-of-factly.

"Jump? Jump where?" Marcus' voice came out much higher than he intended.

"The Vengeance is waiting outside the hanger, but it's too large to land. We can't make it back to the hopper, but don't worry--Marcus, I can throw you."

"No, please don't, I can--" he couldn't see, but the sensation of being grabbed and tossed was unmistakable, as was the weightlessness that came over him. He screamed and shouted over the radio as he spun and tumbled in zero gravity.

Pure animal terror gripped him. He couldn't think straight, couldn't speak, couldn't hear anything anyone might have been saying over the radio. But as the tears came, the familiar pull of gravity grabbed him again and the sobs changed from despair to relief. With a crash, he clattered onto the deck. He had never been so overjoyed to have a solid surface below him.

Someone fumbled with his helmet, and a moment later the fog lifted. He gasped in air, filling his lungs over and over, and rubbed his face with his gloved hand. When he opened his eyes, he caught sight of Hamasa drifting gracefully through the field into the hanger and landing on both feet.

A technician rushed forward to take her helmet off. "Told you I'd sort you." She winked and wiped the sweat off her shaved head.

Bronikowski by now had the vacuum suit off. "I don't have time to make it back to my ship."

"No matter. Let's get to the bridge." Hamasa set off at a run with Bronikowski just behind.

"Wait!" Marcus shouted and ran back towards a confused looking technician. Marcus fumbled around in the pocket of his vacuum suit and fished out the drive with the precious data on.

Jenkins was in command when they arrived. The viewport showed the Vengeance coming about to face the narrow gap in the clouds that they had come through to reach the Forge. There was no way back that way though--the two Alliance warships now blocked them in.

"What's happening?" Hamasa said as she sat down. Marcus took his usual spaces to one side of the bridge, while Bronikowski stood to Hamasa's right..

"Two Alliance vessels, the Spirit of Villanueva and the Henan, are preparing to fire. Most of our crews are back, but there are still some on the Forge," Jenkins said.

"Leave them," Hamasa ordered. "We can't afford to wait. Get the fleet in position."

The viewport split again to show the three larger remaining ISC vessels, with the largest proportion of the screen devoted to the Alliance ships. This is bad. Marcus tried to control his breathing to save from hyperventilating.

"Put me on to the fleet," she continued.

"You're on, Chief."

"This is Hamasa. Stay mobile, keep them guessing, and above all protect the Vengeance. We can't afford to lose our cargo." She paused. "Let's go."

Marcus patted his pocket to triple check the drive was still in there. Not that it would make much difference if they were vaporised. The viewport showed the Alliance warships growing larger as they drew nearer, before the Independence dived and around to take a shot at the underside of the Henan.

He struggled to keep track of the battle much past that, such was the dizzying arrays of twists and turns. One thing was clear to him though--they were losing.

The ship shook from a direct hit from one of the Alliance ships. Red lights flashed a warning at the state of systems across the ship. One member of the bridge crew was thrown into a bulkhead and collapsed on the floor in a heap.

"I don't understand," he said to Bronikowski as he clung to the seat through another sharp dive. "These ships made light work of the Phoenix Rises and the Mandrake."

"Allison gave us a helping hand with that so it was never really a fair contest," she said. "This is something else."

The ship rocked again with another impact. The lights flickered but remained on, the smell of burning electrics filled the bridge.

"We've lost the Anastasia!" someone cried out.

"Shielding is failing, Chief," Jenkins said through gritted teeth. "We can't take many more hits."

"I'm not dying in a ship to someone pressing a button across the void," Hamasa said. "So someone better do something."

The Vengeance levelled out, showing the two Alliance warships in front of them. At least they now looked like they had been in a fight. The marks from the beam hits made it look like someone had cut long black lines over the hull of both ships, and there was an enormous chunk that had been torn out of one of them showing the decks beneath.

"The New Haven is disabled," Jenkins said, her voice quiet now. "Sorry--make that destroyed. They destroyed an unarmed ship."

Bronikowski swore under her breath. That had been her ship. "How many left?" She asked.

"One large cruiser--Pierce's ship, twelve smaller attack ships. It won't be long now."

"Have the smaller ships set collision courses for the warships, six for each."

Marcus jumped up. "You can't be serious!"

"We need to get that drive out of here, and if we don't sacrifice a few pilots we'll lose everything," she shouted over the din of another hit. "This is the price of freedom, Marcus. You want to keep Sophia safe? This is the cost."

Is this what we're reduced to? Are we so much better than the Alliance? They destroy an unarmed ship, we send pilots to their deaths for the 'greater good'?

If he was to make a stand, it would have to be now. His conscious screamed at him to stop Hamasa somehow, but he stayed silent. Hamasa was right.

"Order sent, Chief. Ships are starting their run now," Jenkins said. The bridge crew were quiet, watching the ships inch closer to the Alliance warships. There was no sound when the impacts came, just the silent images of their ships exploding. One of the Alliance ships--the Spirit of Villanueva--spun, still intact but damaged. But the other--"Alliance ship targeting us now!"

Before Hamasa could respond, the ship rocked with a massive impact. He was thrown into the bulkhead as the bridge plunged into darkness. There were screams and the sound of smashing glass. Everything was fuzzy.

But death didn't come.

He tried to open his eyes, but all he could make out was flashing light out of the viewport. Belatedly he realised it was beam fire, but it wasn't aimed at them, and there weren't enough ISC ships left to cause that level of fire, so who was it?

Jenkins answered the question for him. "Captain," she breathed. "It's the Mandrake. He's saved us."

With a blinding explosion, the Spirit of Villanueva shattered in front of them. The Henan tried to flee into the clouds, but the Mandrake followed and it wasn't long before they too split apart from a beam that sliced the stricken ship in two.

They had done it.