“If anything, Captain,” Chekov replied, “it’s very unlucky that it hit a populated area at all, with most of the planet’s surface being empty. Not to mention all the volume of space around the planet where it could’ve—”

The alert klaxon sounded. “New surge, directly below us!” Beach called.

“Evasive!” Terrell barely had time to get the word out before the microflares penetrated the ship. The lights flickered and consoles sparked, and a clatter of loud bangs went off inside the bridge like firecrackers as the tiny but ultrahot pinpoints flash-heated the air like lightning bolts.

Chekov screamed as a microflare passed through his right shoulder. Through the agony, he vaguely noticed a number of the science station’s displays and control panels sputtering and blowing out. A keening eagle cry pierced his already ringing and popping ears, and he realized Azem-Os must have been hit as well.

It took a few moments for Chekov to rally his focus through the pain. Fortunately—or unfortunately—he was no stranger to dealing with pain and injury. Sulu and Uhura joked that he was the unluckiest man in Starfleet, getting injured with alarming frequency—though he countered that the unlucky ones were those who didn’t survive. He wasn’t sure he agreed with the saying that the things that didn’t kill him made him stronger. But at least they no longer surprised or overwhelmed him.

Still, he found himself wishing for a Deltan empath to ease his pain right around now.

Once he refocused outside himself, he found the bridge in a sorry state, ruddy under the emergency lighting, with multiple holes burned in various surfaces and the majority of the consoles damaged or inoperable. Azem-Os’s left wing hung limp from her back as she struggled to raise herself from a crouch, while Terrell comforted her and tried to keep her from overstraining herself.

Still, the captain’s primary focus was on the viewscreen, which was awash with static, but in its clearer moments showed the planet surface drawing closer than it should. Chekov should have seen that coming. Reliant had been keeping station above Midoren at well below synchronous orbit, so with propulsion no doubt disrupted by the flare impact, they were moving too slowly to maintain altitude.

“Beach, stabilize our orbit!” Terrell called, clearly recognizing the same thing.

“Impulse engines won’t respond, sir! Trying to reroute!”

“Thrusters?”

“Partial thrusters only.”

“Use the gyros, then. Try to get our nose up. Skip off the atmosphere like a stone.”

Beach stared. “You sure, sir?”

Terrell grinned and clapped his shoulder. “We had a few memorable crashes on the Sagittarius. I’ve thought about this kind of thing a lot.”

“If you say so, Captain. Computing new attitude.”