"Copy that. I'll—"

"Admiral Wolfe to the bridge! Admiral Wolfe to the bridge! General Quarters, General Quarters! All crew to stations, set ship to condition 2SS!"

Pike's eyebrow raised at the blaring shipwide intercom, but he said nothing.

"Report, Captain," Jackson said into his com panel over a channel that went directly to the bridge.

"The six ships we were expecting just arrived, Admiral," Ellsworth said. "Captain Risher is running silent and trying to catalog them now. We should have type-identification and possibly an engine signature match within the next few minutes."

"Acknowledged, Captain. I'll be up monetarily." Jackson killed the channel.

"Looks like your day just got a lot more exciting," Pike said. "You want me to let CENTCOM know the Alliance just breached B-1171's space?"

"Go ahead and do that," Jackson said after a moment's thought. "I can hardly run this up the normal chain and someone needs to know one of our most classified installations just had an Alliance strike force navigate directly to it."

"I'll handle it. You go do Admiral stuff, and I'll let you know what I find out about Kohl." The channel closed, and Jackson secured the transceiver before rushing out of his office. The only thing he knew for certain at this point was that the base going dark and an Alliance fleet showing up at the same time could not be a coincidence.

8

"Who do you think they are, Sergeant?"

"Since they aren't us, I'd say they're them," Enders said.

"Huh?"

"How the fuck should I know who they are, Corporal? They aren't wearing any uniforms or insignia. Just keep recording."

Sergeant Enders and Corporal Hann lay prone on the maintenance walkway high above the vast arboretum in Hab Complex C. Normally, the lush green space would be filled with the sounds of people enjoying themselves during their downtime but, at the moment, it was dead silent.

It wasn't empty, however, as a group of nine people in ubiquitous coveralls moved crates of equipment through the space. The reason they stood out was that all of them were armed with both sidearms and a tactical carbine. The weapons weren't Fleet issue, either. Whoever they were, they sure as hell weren't part of the force trying to defend the station.

"This is Echo-Two-Two," Enders said, keying his radio. "We have eyes on a group of armed unknowns. Nine total with small arms carrying equipment cases."

"Acknowledged, Two-two," Lieutenant Pritchett's voice came back. "Location?"

"Damnit," Enders muttered before keying the radio again, embarrassed at his oversight. "Hab C arboretum. We're on the maintenance catwalk near the south end."

"Maintain position, sending a squad to intercept. Echo Two, out."

"I can't tell if they're just passing through or if—" A sharp ping cut off Corporal Hann as something struck the rail above them. Enders had never been under fire before, but he knew what it sounded like when a projectile struck a steel pipe.

"Get back!" he hissed, shoving himself backwards. Hann, whose harness had snagged on the edge of the walkway, pushed himself up to disengage it. The next round sent their way hit the young corporal right at the top of his nose, splattering Enders with gore and blood.