“DETACH from the airlock! Now!”

The order came too late as, despite the Enterprise’s inertial dampening field, Picard felt the starship roll with the asteroid. The massive hunk of rock shifted on its axis in response to the outpost reactor’s detonation, taking the mining outpost and anything attached with it. While he was sure his ship could handle the stress of the sudden movement, the same could not be said for the more primitive structure of the outpost, let alone the fragile conduit connecting them.

His worst fear was realized an instant later as, displayed on the main viewer for all to see, the transfer tunnel sheared away, ripped from its moorings as easily as a banana might be peeled of its skin.

“The outpost has sustained a massive breach,” Data reported from the ops position. “They are suffering atmospheric decompression.” The damned reactor had overloaded faster than anticipated, Picard realized. What had happened to cause the accelerated results? Where were La Forge and the rest of the away team?

Then there was no more time for such thoughts as something on the main viewer caught the captain’s attention. Horrified, he watched as the metal cylinder that had been the tunnel spiraled away from the mining outpost. Falling apart as it did so, its disintegration revealed dozens of bodies flailing in the vacuum, people who had been in the tunnel when disaster struck. At least one appeared to be wearing a Starfleet uniform.

“Picard to transporter room one,” Picard said as he tapped his combadge, “lock transporters on the people outside the ship and beam them to cargo bay four.” He knew that Commander Riker was coordinating the influx of new arrivals from there, and that Dr. Crusher and her medical team were already on site, treating the wounded Dokaalan miners who had safely made the evacuation from the outpost.

“Captain,” said the voice of T’Bonz, the transporter chief currently on duty, “that will require our shields to be lowered, and transporters are still being recalibrated by the engineering staff. They have not been certified for humanoid transport.”

“I’m aware of the risks, Chief,” Picard snapped. What choice did he have? Those people were dead if he stood by and did nothing. “Lock on and transport, now.”

“Aye, sir,” came the Vulcan’s cool reply. “Energizing.”

Knowing the interval of time required for a successful transporter cycle to complete, Picard silently counted off the seconds before prompting, “Bridge to cargo bay four. What is the status of the new arrivals?”

The lack of an immediate response filled his heart with dread, a feeling cemented a moment later when the voice of Commander Riker came through the intercom.

“Twenty-seven people have just materialized here, sir.” There was another distressing pause before the first officer continued, and when he did Picard could hear the barely controlled trembling in his voice. “I’m afraid none of them survived.”

Silence engulfed the bridge, broken only by the sounds of control consoles and computer interfaces dutifully processing their various instructions. Picard could only close his eyes and shake his head in momentary despair.

He had gambled, and lost.

It was not the first time he had given orders that resulted in the deaths of others, be they enemy combatants, members of his own crew or, on rare and horrifying occasions, even innocent bystanders. In all of those instances he was able, sooner or later, to divorce personal feelings from his command responsibilities. He knew that, after a time, even the pain he was feeling now would also pass.

Soon, he knew, but not now, and deservedly so.

“Thank you, Number One,” he said after a moment, struggling to keep his own voice level. “Please keep me apprised of any new developments.” As the connection severed, he stared at the viewscreen and the rapidly expanding cloud of debris cast off from the ruptured outpost airlock.

“Captain,” he heard Troi say from behind him. Her voice trailed off, but he could tell from the inflection behind the single word that she wanted to say something to him about the tragedy that had just occurred.

That he had caused.

“Not now, Counselor.” There would be time enough to examine and criticize his incorrect decision later. Now, somewhere beyond that turmoil depicted with cold indifference on the bridge’s main viewscreen, people were still in danger. His people.

“Open a channel to the away team,” he said. He had to know what was happening over there.

Still holding the guardrail, Vale managed to wrap her left arm around it and clasp her hands together before she felt herself pulled off her feet as the rapidly escaping atmosphere dragged at her body. Screams of terror echoed in the corridor as people were dragged through the air toward the jagged metal maw which was all that remained of the transfer tunnel on the other side of the airlock.

Hanging on for dear life, she had been powerless to do anything except watch as Ensign Melorr succeeded in securing his own hold on the airlock hatch’s control lever, only to be struck by the flailing body of a Dokaalan miner. Both of them vanished through the open hatch, swallowed by the dark airless void.

They had been so close! Fewer than half of the miners remained to be evacuated when the tunnel had ruptured. Some of them had been lost to the hull breach but many were still here, holding on to anything that would support them.

The air was still rushing to flee the confines of the corridor, telling Vale that no emergency hatches or bulkheads had closed deeper inside the complex. How much time did they have before this entire section of the outpost was completely without oxygen? No more than a minute, she guessed. Probably less.

“Enterprise to away team!” the voice of Captain Picard called from her combadge, but even his commanding tone was nearly lost amid the screaming wind. “Lieutenant Vale, are you all right?”

Vale ignored the call as she decided on a course of action. Her eyes already ached, the moisture in them beginning to freeze from the rapidly dropping temperature inside the corridor. Her pulse pounded in her ears and her lungs cried out for more oxygen. She had at most a handful of seconds left, and for certain only a single chance.

The hatch.

Twisting herself around so that she was now facing headfirst toward the open airlock, Vale released her hold on the guardrail. She immediately felt herself pushed toward the hatch by the force of the rushing atmosphere. Darkness beckoned beyond the open doorway, but she focused instead on the section of bulkhead just to the left of the hatchway. That, and the lever which would seal the hatch shut, the same lever that Melorr had grasped in a frantic yet futile bid for survival.

She felt the fingers of her left hand swipe across the cold metal of the bulkhead plating, sliding along its surface until they contacted the rough metal of the lever. Closing her grip around the protrusion, Vale swung her body back toward the wall, this time absorbing the impact with the soles of her boots. Now she was anchored to the bulkhead by a two-handed death grip on the control lever.

Already growing fatigued from the lack of oxygen, Vale ignored her increasingly blurry vision. She drew one final deep breath from the dwindling atmosphere around her before heaving down on the lever with all her remaining strength.

The lever slid down, and her effort was rewarded with the whine of the motors controlling the hatch as the reinforced metal door cycled shut. Only once it had closed completely, stopping the frantic flight of air from the corridor, did Vale release her grip on the lever and allow the outpost’s reduced gravity to pull her to the deck.

Okay, let’s hope we don’t have to do that again anytime soon.

“Is everyone okay?” she called out, hearing her own raspy voice and realizing for the first time that her throat was parched, another effect of the sudden decompression. Voices shouted from farther down the corridor, and only then did Vale realize that someone had opened the other hatch, the one leading back into the main part of the outpost. Looking in that direction, Vale was happy to see so many faces, mentally patting herself on the head for her decision to keep that door closed during the evacuation process. With the exception of those nearest to the airlock when the tunnel had breached, it looked as though most of the remaining Dokaalan miners had survived.

The lucky ones, she mused.

“Enterprise to away team,” Captain Picard’s voice called out again from her combadge. “Report your status if you are able. Do you require medical assistance?”

The security chief tapped her communicator. “Vale here, Captain. I need a minute, sir. We’re still picking ourselves up off the deck over here.” Turning to look back up the corridor, she called out, “Alpha team, report.”

A male human and a female Andorian wearing Starfleet uniforms, two of her four-person team, emerged from around the corner at the corridor intersection. Both of them looked haggard, no doubt as beat up and relieved to still be alive as she.

“We’re missing six of the miners, Lieutenant,” Ensign Zelev th’Chun reported, pausing a moment to wipe blood from a cut along her forehead. “The others have a variety of bruises and lacerations, along with a few broken bones. Nothing serious, though.”

Standing next to Zelev, Ensign McPherson regarded Vale with an expression of dread. “What about Melorr…and Graham?”

“I saw Melorr fall through the airlock,” Vale replied. “Graham was escorting the last group of evacuees to the ship when everything went to hell.” She shook her head. “I don’t see how he could have…I’m sorry.”

McPherson and Graham had been teammates since the former’s arrival aboard the Enterprise nearly five months earlier. Vale had paired them after it had become apparent during training exercises that the two worked exceedingly well together. Such cohesiveness and trust were vital components in developing an effective security team, but they also meant that the pain ran even deeper than normal when a member of that team was lost.

Placing a hand on the young ensign’s shoulder, she said, “It’s hard, I know. We’ll pay our respects to Melorr and Graham when the time’s appropriate, but right now we’ve still got the rest of these evacuees to get to safety.”

She indicated the remaining Dokaalan miners who stood quietly a discreet distance down the corridor, regarding the Starfleet officers with expressions of pain and empathy. These people also had just lost friends and perhaps family members, but Vale was sure this was not the first time they had faced tragedy.

Maybe our being here will bring them some unexpected joy, Vale thought grimly as her people turned their attentions back to the task at hand, but so far we haven’t given them much to be thankful for.