Cascading Echoes

Away Team

The toxic winds of Galorndon Core howled like a dying beast, whipping up abrasive dust clouds that scoured the barren landscape. Michael Burnham and Sylvia Tilly trudged forward, their bodies aching under the weight of loss and duty. The jagged obsidian spires loomed ahead, casting long, ominous shadows over the shuttlecraft that awaited them. The Cepheid transmitter, strapped to Michael's back, felt heavier with each step—not just a piece of equipment, but a symbol of the sacrifices made along the way.

Tilly surged ahead, her hands flying across the shuttle's controls as she initiated the pre-flight sequence. Michael remained vigilant, her phaser at the ready, eyes scanning the horizon for any sign of movement. The eerie quiet of the landscape betrayed nothing, but Michael knew better than to trust the silence. The Romulans were out there, lurking, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Ash's team hadn't been at checkpoint one, and now she wondered if they would make it before she was forced to depart the planet without them. 

"Shuttle systems online," Tilly reported, her voice steady despite the tension hanging in the air. "I'll initiating the uplink to the Cepheid Matrix. We should establish a connection with Discovery in under twenty minutes."

"Make it happen," Michael said, her gaze locked on the horizon. "We're almost there."

As if on cue, Ash Tyler, Dr. Quilik, and Lt. Jo'til emerged from the shadows of a narrow ravine, their faces etched with grim determination. They moved swiftly, knowing exactly what was at stake.

"We have company," Ash growled, removing his backpack and handing it to Quilik. "Romulan scouts—six of them. We spotted a patrol party while in route to checkpoint one." 

"They're setting up a portable photon cannon on the ridge," Lt. Jo'til added, pointing to an outcropping of black hills in the distance. "We've got twenty, maybe thirty minutes before it's operational."

Michael's stomach clenched. A photon cannon would obliterate the shuttle on takeoff, sealing their fate. She exchanged a quick, pensive glance with Ash, calculating their options.

"We can't let that happen," she said, her voice as hard as steel. "Tilly, Quilik—how much time do you need?"

"Fifteen minutes, tops," Tilly said, fingers flying as she bypassed the shuttle's security protocols.

"You have ten," Ash cut in. "But we'll try to buy you more time."

Jo'til, ever the warrior, nodded. "We split up, flank them from both sides?"

Ash's expression focused, "I'll draw their fire," he said reaching for his phaser. "You and Burnham take the ridge from behind. We box them in."

The three officers moved without hesitation; the weight of their mission heavy on their shoulders. Navigating the jagged terrain with practiced ease, Michael and Jo'til split off, leaving Ash to take a lower position behind cover.

Sprinting in unison, Michael and Jo'til circled around the large rock formations. Jo'til, swift and sure-footed, pointed out handholds in the dark stone, plotting their ascent. His Andorian physiology gave him an advantage—enhanced musculature, heightened agility, and superior sight. Reaching the top of the ridge, Michael watched as Jo'til scaled the rocky outcroppings, positioning himself above their enemies.

From her vantage point, Michael saw the Romulan scouts working diligently to assemble the photon cannon. Their captain barked orders, pushing them to finish the weapon. It was sleek, deadly, and nearly operational. The harsh Romulan language echoed in Michael's ears, and Jo'til, fluent in the enemy's tongue, whispered what they were saying.

"They're almost ready to fire," he warned. "We need to move now."

Michael nodded, her heart pounding. "On my mark. Three... two... one... now!"

Their phaser shots were precise and devastating, catching the Romulan scouts off guard. Two went down instantly, disintegrated into ash as Michael and Jo'til's beams struck true. The remaining Romulans scrambled for cover, but Ash's frontal assault forced them back toward Michael and Jo'til's position. Caught in their crossfire, the Romulans sought to find cover. Their commander returning fire as he took up a position near the photon cannon. 

Jo'til moved with lethal grace, his phaser finding its mark with every shot. The Romulan captain, realizing the trap, barked orders, but it was too late. Jo'til leaped down from the cliff, closing the gap between them as the remaining scouts screamed and cursed.

"They're going to detonate the cannon," Jo'til shouted over the comms, his voice desperate. "Commander, you need to get clear!"

The words had barely left his mouth when the photon cannon exploded in a blinding flash of green light. The shockwave hit them like a sledgehammer, sending Michael sprawling as debris rained down from above. The ground shook violently beneath her, and for a moment, she was disoriented, her helmet's sensors scrambled from the blast.

Ash's voice cut through the haze. "Burnham! Get up! Michael, get up! I need you alive!"

Grimacing, Michael pushed herself to her feet slowly, her body screaming in protest. Her HUD scanned the wreckage and smoke, searching for Jo'til. What she saw made her heart sink. The ridge where he'd been was gone. In its place, glowing through dust and haze, was simply a smoking crater. The enemy and Andorian's position had been obliterated.

There was no time to grieve.

"Commander, the uplink is complete!" Tilly's voice crackled through the comms, tinged with urgency. "I'm sending the signal to Discovery now!"

Covering her as she descended the hillside, Ash waited. Helping as Michael stumbled back toward the shuttle, he held her up. Their steps were heavy, every muscle aching from the battle, but they couldn't stop. The mission wasn't over yet.

"Good work, Tilly," Michael said, her voice hoarse with emotion. "Let's make sure this wasn't for nothing."

Ash, his face grim but determined, helped Michael secure the Cepheid transmitter aboard the shuttle. Despite the devastation they had witnessed, there was no time to reflect on their losses. There was only the mission.

As the shuttle lifted off, Michael activated the comms, her voice sharp with resolve. "Discovery, this is Commander Burnham. We're en route with the package, prepared for upper-atmosphere transport testing."

Captain Pike's calm voice came over the comms. "Acknowledged, Commander. I suggest you remain within the planet's mesosphere. We have company. Dr. Asana assures me the transmitter will make that easier."

The shuttlecraft shuddered as it pierced the planet's lower atmosphere, buffeted by the fury of the storm raging below. But Michael's focus was unwavering. Too many had been lost, but the mission would be completed. For Vothi'Cha. For Jo'til. For the Federation.

The shuttle leveled out, and the familiar sight of the USS Discovery filled the viewscreen, the ship glowing like a beacon of hope in the chaos.

For the first time in what felt like days, Michael allowed herself a brief moment of relief. They weren't home yet, but they were one step closer. Every sacrifice, every loss, had brought them to this moment. And she would ensure that no life had been lost in vain.

As the shuttle's systems synced with the Cepheid transmitter, Michael knew one thing with absolute certainty—they would succeed. They had to.