Barron leaned back in his chair, his eyes moving toward Darrow. “Let’s get the display centered on Commander Jamison’s force, Lieutenant.”

“Yes, sir,” Darrow snapped back. A few seconds later the holographic display morphed slowly, showing a region of empty space…and a line of small blue dots. Dauntless’s last line of fighters.

Darrow was covering Atara Travis’s station. Dauntless’s first officer was down in engineering, monitoring the status of repairs.

Driving Fritzie crazy, that’s what she’s doing.

Fritz was a fine engineer, and one of the hardest workers he’d ever seen. But Travis was smart, probably the most intelligent officer Barron had ever met…and he included himself and his famous grandfather in that calculation. His first officer somehow kept track of every detail, every reading on every device. And she could make the snap decisions that might be the difference between life and death for them all.

Barron had a trick or two up his sleeve, stratagems he hoped might pull victory from the jaws of defeat, but he knew the battle would still be won—if it was won—as much in the engineering spaces and access tubes of his ship as on the bridge.

The primaries…if we can get the primaries back online we still have a chance.

Barron didn’t know if that was possible. But with Travis and Fritzie on the job, he believed there was at least some hope. He wanted to believe it, at least.

Barron’s com buzzed.

“Captain, we’re all set down here.” Stu Weldon was one of Barron’s oldest friends. He was also Dauntless’s chief medical officer.

“Did you set up the aid stations?” Dauntless was a big ship, and men and women could die before they made it to sickbay, especially if systems like the turbolifts and intraship cars stopped functioning. Setting up aid stations in remote locations was something he remembered from his grandfather, one of the things the great admiral had done during his battles. It would almost certainly help save lives. But there was a colder, more mercenary take as well. It was a way to show the captain’s concern for his crew, to squeeze that last bit of fanatical loyalty from the men and women in Dauntless’s compartments and at its stations.

“We’re all ready, sir. Six remote locations…that’s all we could staff without crippling sickbay itself.”

“That’s good. Hopefully they’ll save some lives.” Barron’s voice was somber. The risk of losses was bad enough, but he knew even in the best case scenario, a lot of his people were about to die.

There was a long pause. Then: “Tyler…how many stims have you taken?”

“Stu…not now…”

“You may be captain of this ship, but you’re still just a man. There’s only so much your body can take. Have you gotten any sleep at all?”