When Erik and Ulrich arrived on the bridge, Alsin was holding on strong to survival, but looked worn. Through the view screen, Erik could see the shredded remains of the Cambrian. It was a dark and ghastly sight, reeking of death and decay. It was once a majestic ship that had served as the Dreadnaught Mercury's right hand for quite a long time, and seeing that time come to such an obvious and disturbing end cast a brief wave of nostalgia and emptiness across Erik's senses.
"I don't know how much longer I can keep this up, Captain. The ship's hull might not take much more strain," Alsin said.
“Have we taken any direct hits?” Erik asked.
“No, Captain. I’m good at what I do.”
Erik noticed that K’rah and Mun’gale had taken up positions to assist Alsin in her
evasion of the Ministry vessels. They were seated in bridge crew positions, performing various tasks such as tracking the other ships and managing engine power. To Erik’s added amazement, they were doing it all without any verbal communication. That is, until Mun’gale began making a low, gravely grunting noise. Once he had everyone's attention, he indicated something in the near-field radar.
"It's a small shuttle," Ulrich said, standing over Mun’gale's shoulder to look over the information he was trying to convey. Mun’gale pointed toward the shuttle's radar blip, then at himself and K’rah. His message was obvious. Nobody had to voice it for all to understand. The Rostran boarding shuttle had dislodged itself from its forced airlock.
"Who's on that shuttle?" someone asked, sounding perturbed that someone had taken with them the only means of escape.
They watched as the shuttle appeared on the screen. It was an agile little craft- able to dodge hunks of metal that could slice it into pieces cleanly if hit. It came around the Hellbender and made its way away from some of the debris. The acid in Erik’s stomach began to churn and the blood drained from his face. The Hellbender had become an island.
K’rah, who was occupying the position of emergency first officer, acknowledged an incoming message on his console.
"It's funny that you think you can escape from me, Captain Mal. Of all you know about me, I can't believe you never saw this end coming," the message taunted in Ran Akwai's voice.
"I am aware that part of your crew has abandoned you,” he continued. “Do you know which part? Are they lone renegades, unsure of your leadership when times become harsh? Or, possibly, our sweet Yuriel, leaving you to die alone while she seeks the comforts of a man not cast out by his entire culture."
There was laughing on the other end of the line, which made Erik's face turn from white to red.
What if she went to the shuttle? What if they talked her into escaping with them? he thought. It was troubling.
"Either way, Captain, you and your crew are all enemies of the state. We are now at war with the Rostran, due to their lack of cooperation. You were guilty of treasonously disobeying orders, but now you are also guilty of aiding and abetting an enemy. Either way, you face death. It's simple, really, so please don't take any of this personally. I
believe I will begin with the shuttle craft."
It was becoming clear although Erik wished it weren’t. At’hala must have run to the shuttle. He must have panicked, taking Yuriel, Nahko and Ursa with him. He had said earlier that the Rostran would grant asylum to anyone on the Hellbender that would request it, so he was taking them away. He must have perceived time was running out. He wasn't wrong. Erik ducked his head, closed his eyes and began to say a little prayer. It felt silly. In the UFAR, the existence of any sort of higher power had been disproven, or at least in some circles had fallen out of favor, but it felt like the only thing to do so he did it. He prayed to the nameless collective deity that had been once eradicated. The one the Eye of the God must pray to. The one here to deliver the Rostran from the clutches of the UFAR. With eyes closed, he prayed for it to bring Yuriel back. He prayed for At’hala, Nahko, and Ursa, too, but it was no use. A gasp from the bridge, a quick blast from the Dreadnaught Mercury, and in an instant what once was a desperate rogue shuttle craft was no more.
