“I want everyone in rescue pods, now.” Captain Lazar stood, caught the eyes that rose to meet his, directed the chaos around him with quick gestures. In the fray, he turned back to Faith, gently touched her shoulder. “That includes you, Admiral.”

“Someone has to be here to make sure the drive detonates.” She shot back, shook her bandaged head. “I’m staying.”

“Admiral...”

“No, Jared.” Came the immediate response. “You go. I’m not leaving.”

“I can’t leave my ship, Faith.” He smiled gently, ironically. “Besides, isn’t it the Captain that’s supposed to go down with the ship?”

“Only when there isn’t a dying Admiral there to pull rank on him.” Faith grinned lopsidedly back. “Go on,” she gestured loosely. “I’ll be lucky if I live out the month, considering the dose of radiation I took in the core. You’ve got a life and a future.” She shook her head, ignored the way her heart constricted, hardened at her own words. “I’ll watch things here.”

Lazar swallowed, searched her bandaged face, the edges of twisted flesh around her odd smile, the sightless eyes, and remembered what she had been like, the way her features had defined and sharpened the strength that burned so brightly, so infallibly within her. He nodded once, reached out again, took one frail hand in his.

“Okay.” He breathed, offering her a soft smile, knowing she couldn’t see the way his eyes crinkled at the edges, took on the cast of sadness and loss. “Thank you, Admiral.”

“Consider this your second chance.” She smiled back. “Don’t waste it.”

“I won’t.” He nodded, face creasing at the edges as his smile spread, turned ironic. “And I won’t forget you or your sacrifice, Admiral.” He swallowed, hesitated for the barest instant. “I’ll write such a damn good report that the brass Earthside won’t have any choice but to give you a medal.”

“Won’t do me much good where I’m going.” Faith managed a loose grin in response. “But I do appreciate the sentiment, Captain.”

“It’s the least I can offer after all you’ve done.” He smiled in return. Behind him, the last of the Operations staff trickled out and into rescue pods, some lingering, weaving last bits of data, finalizing settings on consoles. Harrison was the last to sprint up from his display, stopped a moment to salute the two Commanding Officers.

“That’s everyone, Captain, Admiral.” He glanced at both, met eyes, exhaled nervously.

“Good.” Lazar gave Harrison a quick, friendly tag on the back, nodded. “Get to a pod. I’ll be right behind you.”

Harrison nodded once, glanced at Faith, at Panem, then broke into a sprint again, darting for the door, the lift that would take him to the rescue pods. Lazar’s eyes dropped to the deck for an instant, just for the space of a breath, and then he looked up again, met the Admiral’s unseeing eyes, shifted uneasily.

“I feel like I should say something,” He hesitated, swallowed. “I– uh, can’t think of anything.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Faith reached out for him, smiled gently as he took her hand. “You don’t need to say anything. Just go, live through this.” She grinned. “There will be new ships, new crews and pilots to command. I’m sure you’ll get the chance to kick the Coralate back even harder than they kicked us here today.”

“Here’s hoping.” He grinned softly back, patted her hand in one last caring gesture, and then let her go, half turning away, a reluctance clinging to his otherwise firm, decisive steps. “Goodbye, Admiral.”

“Goodbye, Lazar.”

Closing his eyes, the Captain hesitated for only a moment more before he turned and walked away, lowering the brim of his hat half out of respect, half to hide his eyes. In the silence, Faith lowered her own eyes almost instinctually, hung in the sad silence like a specter of loss, the remains of some saint ravaged by the cruel, shaping hand of elements and time. As the door whisked shut behind the Captain, Faith managed another smile, a sad, ironic twisting of the lips that hung there for a moment before she spoke.

“I’m glad he finally grew some balls.” She managed. Panem grinned instantly, looked away as she continued. “Maybe he’ll learn something from this, really get his bearings on what it means to be a C/O.” She turned vaguely toward Youseff, smiled that twisted smile. “You should go too, Panem. There are more than enough rescue units on this boat.” She paused, reached for him, found his shoulder. “It’s time you got to one.”

Panem swallowed, looked down, studied the deck plating. “I can’t, Admiral.” He looked up, forced himself to meet her blind eyes as the smile faded slowly from her face. “You need someone to help you with the sensors, the controls.”

“Panem.” She breathed. “No. I can’t let you stay. You’re still young. Hell, you’re younger than Lazar. You’ve got so much still to experience, so much to do, to live for.”

“I know.” He nodded once. “But I can’t leave my Admiral.”

The smile she offered back was soft, hurt, the smile of someone who cared too much to say no, cared too much to say anything but no. “Are you sure?” Was all she could manage, and even those words came on a reluctant breath, a bare hope that he might suddenly change his mind and save himself.

“I’m sure.” He nodded once, smiled back. “This isn’t like the reactor core. You won’t be able to change my mind this time.”

Faith nodded, swallowed, hesitated. For a long moment she just sat there, waiting, uncertain, then closed her eyes and breathed a tired sigh. “Very well.” She said finally, forcing the edges of a smile onto her face. “Then, in light of the fact that this entire area is about to turn into a mini-supernova and we’re the only ones planning to stay aboard, I think one last promotion is in order.” She grinned, made a firm gesture. “Take the helm, Acting Captain Panem!”

Youseff’s smile broke into a grin immediately, spread wide. In an instant, he was on his feet, clacking the heels of his boots together and offering his Admiral a firm salute. “Yes sir! Thank you, sir!”

“That’s the spirit!” She shot back, grinning as Panem crossed the deck to Harrison’s console, cracked his fingers in hollow anticipation. Gallows humor. “What’s our status!?”

“We’ve lost contact with eighty-seven percent of the ship at this point.” He glanced over at the console next to him, moved fingers through it’s holographic display, sorted data. “I’m seeing five Seindrives still in the fighter bays. Only one is occupied, and he’s on the ramp.”

“Anyone else left?” She asked.

“It’s impossible to tell, Admiral.” Panem shook his head. “We’ve lost too much of the internal sensors to whatever it is the Coralate is doing to the ship.” He glanced back. “But it, uh... looks like most of the crew got out, judging from the number of rescue pods missing.”

“Good.” Faith nodded once, firmly. “How much time to detonation?”

“Two minutes, forty-five seconds.”

She nodded again, pulled in a deep breath. “Any way we can give them hell before the big bang?”

Panem’s fingers moved through the console, poked and pulled at strings of data. “Well, uh... there’s always the sensor probes.” He glanced back. “Each one has a tiny fusion reactor on it and a remote-activated killswitch. I could fly a couple of them into the enemy vessels, soften them up a little.”

“I don’t see any better use for them.” Faith nodded. “Besides, it’s better than just waiting around to die.”

Panem nodded once in response, turned back, dug his fingers into the console anew. It was just a matter of a quick series of signals, bursts of thrusters– the red blinking frame of an urgent display window strobed into the holographic interface, demanded attention.

“Admiral!” Panem turned back to Faith, one hand still in the light beams of the console. “I’m picking up multiple gravity disturbances about fifteen kilometers out!”

“That close?” She pushed herself to her feet. “Drive waves?”

Panem glanced back, sorted through displays lit with data, swallowed. “Yes, ma’am.”

“How many?” She asked quickly.

“Lots, and they’re big.” Panem shook his head, worked quickly through the data. “It’s a huge distortion, Admiral– a cascade– Jesus.” He pushed aside more strings of holographic telemetry. “This reading is off the scale! I’ve never seen such a massive gravity distortion...”

“Pray that they’re all Coralate, Panem.” The Admiral said gravely. “With a little luck, maybe we can take half their fleet with us when we go.”