Cortez was promoted only 10 years ago to captain and was given the ship, USS Victory. He never married, but took on many lovers. His job came first, nothing else. He wore his uniform with pride, never breaking the prime directive. He obeyed every order to the point, not taking short cuts. He was the epitome of a Starfleet captain.

A crewman walked up to him, "Captain, here is the report you requested."

Cortez politely took the report and started looking over it. At the time he was probing his memories, trying to figure out what was going on. He was not in the mood to be played with by Q, but he also knew Q would not let him go until he was finished with his plan. He looked to his first officer, "I'll be in my ready room, John, if you need me." John? How natural to call a man you don't know by his first name. But he did know him, for 10 years he's known him.

Jonathan Ransom, Commander and executive officer of the Victory, took his seat at the captain's chair and began reading the report Cortez set down before he left. He decided it was time for a random check on the ship's systems so he tapped the intercom. "All stations report." Just as the phrase was stated, his panel to the right began to light up "ready" along random intervals beside each deck and station.

The helmsman, Jacob Collinge, turned around and reported, "Commander, we have finished patrolling Nav Point One."

Responding, Ransom gave the order to proceed to Nav Point Two.

In his ready room, confused and discouraged, Cortez spoke "Q, I do not have time for your games! I am needed more on the Concorde."

In a flash of light, Q stood there in his undeserved Starfleet uniform with his ranking pips of captain on his collar. At closer look, Cortez saw that the uniform did not look standard issue, at least not in his time, and upon looking at himself, his was the same. "Q! Put me back where I belong"

"Would you like to be where you belong, or where you are needed?" Q replied.

"I have no time for your games, Q!"

"No games this time commander. You are getting what the Continuum calls 'A second chance.'"

"A second chance? In the future where I have not had a first?! What is this supposed to mean?"

"In the Continuum," Q spoke, "time is nothing, but at the same time, it is everything." And with that, Q vanished as pronounced as he came.

Deep in thought, Cortez pondered these thought to be wise words said by Q. He was interrupted yet again by an incoming beep. "Captain, there is a distress call coming from inside Romulan space. And sir, it's on a Federation channel.

Tapping his comm badge, Cortez replied, "I'll be right there." And with that, he exited his ready room to the bridge. "Let's hear the distress call, Lieutenant." He looked up to David Pate sitting at Ops.

"I'm getting out some of the static, playing sir." Pate responded. "Here it is! Playing."

"To all Federation vessels, this is the USS Concorde deep within Romulan space. We are under attack. We do not wish assistance while we are in Romulan territory. Wait along the borders for escape pods. This is an order by Admiral Sarkadov, Commanding Officer, USS Concorde."

Collinge turned around, "Orders, sir?"

Cortez pondered, but only for a second. Defy an order, or wait for debris to float across the border.

The decision was simple, even with his new memories tempting his judgment. "Helm, engage cloak and proceed across to the origin of that transmission, maximum warp!"

"Coordinates already set in sir, warp 13."

"Proceed." An order Cortez used on the Concorde instead of the usual 'engage.'

With that order the Victory fizzled out of sight and entered warp speed.

Ransom looked up, "Captain, it is my duty to point out that you are in breach of Romulan/Federation treaties and you are defying a direct order by Admiral Sarkadov."

"Thank you Commander, your note will be made in the log."

Admiral Sarkadov stood over his Ops officer at his station working. "Have you scanned everything yet?"

"No sir." The officer replied.

"We are running out of time." The Admiral responded. He turned to the Helmsman and looked at him sharply. "The return course is set, correct?"

The helmsman nodded checking once more.

Sarkadov paced to his chair, looked at it and walked back to his tactical officer's station, wondering if he'll make this one with the skin on his teeth. "What would you do here, Kyera." He said himself pacing back to his chair.

His first officer looked at him worriedly. "Admiral, all stations report combat ready sir."

The admiral once again nodded, feeling more assured than before. But that was shortly brought to an end.

"Admiral, we are just not penetrating the shielding around the building." The Ops crewman frowned as he gave his report.

Sarkadov looked up a little upset. He looked to the bridge, "Any suggestions?" He waited patiently for any suggestion that might come to him.

"Admiral," his first officer spoke up "We can send a team down. Even bring you back a sample."

Thinking this over, he decided it might be the best way to complete the mission. "At the first sign of trouble, you get out of there."

The first officer nodded as he picked from the bridge crew to go down with him. The Tactical officer and the Ops officer walked to the turbolift and exited the bridge.

Admiral Sarkadov knew this was the greatest risk he has ever taken. He was alone in the middle of Romulan space sending an away team to a Romulan infested planet.

"Report Commander!" Sarkadov shouted over the intercom.

Static.

Sarkadov looked at the ensign that replaced the tactical station, then at the ensign that replaced the Ops station. He doubted again that they would make it out alive.

The Ops ensign spoke up, "Admiral, 24 minutes until intercept."

Nodding, the admiral confirmed walking up to the Ops post and looking on the terminal. He wiped the sweat off his brow as he returned to his chair, this time to sit.

"Admiral," the new tactical officer's voice broke his concentration, "We must consider them dead or captured, maybe worse."

It was Sarkadov's worst fear, losing an away team and not knowing if they are dead or not. "We cannot leave them there! Man your post, ensign."

Shocked, the ensign quickly jumped back to his work keeping the Concorde battle ready.

Silence.

"Admiral, incoming message from the lab on the planet." The Ops replacement officer reported sharply.

"On screen!" remarked the Admiral in return.

The screen changed from the planet's orbital view to a familiar face. It was his tactical officer on the away team. "Admiral, they have found out about us. Hunting us down like dogs. Give us 20 minutes to get out. We found something new, far advanced than what we were looking for. Admiral it is…" The screen cut out.

"Admiral," the Ops officer spoke up, "14 minutes till intercept."

"Battle stations!" Sarkadov slowly commanded.

"We just took a hit off the port nacelle!" The chef engineer reported over the comm system.

"Keep firing, ensign." Admiral Sarkadov ordered the replacement tactical officer.

"Shields down to 53%, Admiral." The Ops officer kept track of each hit.

"Come on away team, come on," the admiral repeated to himself. "Helm! Keep those evasive maneuvers up!"

"Shields down to 47%!" The Ops officer looked again at the sensors, "Admiral! Another Warbird decloaking off starboard!" That made three Warbirds attacking the Concorde.

"Comms open!" Sarkadov ordered

The beep signaling the comms was open chimed.

"Away team! We cannot wait much longer!" With that, the signal closed.

"Incoming message from the planet, sir! Audio only." the Ops officer reported.

"Let's hear it." Sarkadov replied.

"We're ready for beam up."

Sarkadov smiled as he nodded to the Ops officer who began the beam up procedure from his terminal. "Helm, engage warp and cloak!"

"Sir!" Helm replied. "Warp drive just went off line!"

"Engineering report!" Yelled Sarkadov.

"Admiral! We just lost the plasma flow through the warp core. We are about to lose power"

The Ops officer cut in "Shields at 14%."

Admiral Sarkadov frowned; he knew this was it for him and his ship of 20 years. "Ops, open a distress comm channel."

"Done." He replied.

"To all Federation vessels, this is the USS Concorde deep in Romulan space. We are under attack. We do not wish assistance while we are in Romulan territory. Wait along the borders for escape pods. This is an order by Admiral Sarkadov, Commanding Officer, USS Concorde."

"Time to intercept?" Inquired Cortez.

"One minute, sir" Pate responded.

"Battle stations." Cortez ordered throughout the ship. "Pate, how is the Concorde doing?"

"Not well, sir. She has taken a beating, a sitting duck according to the scanners. Three Romulan Warbirds are pecking at her without rest."

Cortez nodded knowing the situation for the Concorde was grim. "Tactical, lock onto the weakest ship, we'll just narrow down the odds."

The tactical officer did what he was told and was ready to fire upon command.

"We are in firing range, sir." Pate noted.

"Good." Cortez smirked the smirk in which he knew something was going to go his way. "Decloak, shields up and fire at will."

"Admiral, shields down to 9%." The Ops officer reported once he got back to his post. "Sir! I am reading another ship decloaking. Admiral, it's the Victory"

"What?!" The Admiral yelled in confusion and excitement. "On screen."

As the screen changed, the Victory was flying in formation with the quantum torpedoes it just fired. Phasers shot out off the saucer and star section. Phasers shot off all three nacelles. It was only a second before the weakest Romulan ship was destroyed.

The Ops officer spoke up, "Incoming message from the Victory."

Cortez's face appeared on the screen. "Admiral, why do I always have to bail you out of trouble?" The admiral gave a smirk as the screen cut off.

As the screen cut off Cortez ordered the attack on the second ship. "This is what they get for attacking a 20 year old Sovereign Class Vessel."

Suddenly a voice shot from nowhere. "The same thing is happening a second time!"

Cortez replied to the voice with haste. "Q! What is the solution?! How do I win?"

"The choices are before you, it is time for you to pick the correct one." The voice then disappeared.

The Ops officer shouted, "Captain, the Concorde's warp core is going critical, we must get them out."

The Tactical officer replied, "We can not beam them out with our shields up, and there are still two more ships that are attacking us."

Cortez sat in his chair thinking, keeping an eye on the battle before him.

The voice returned "At least you thought it over this time, last you were quick to judge." The voice faded with a hint of cynical laughter.

A thought came to Cortez's mind as he stood from his seat. He looked over "Commander, if we..." An explosion shot from the commander's terminal knocking him unconscious. Cortez walked to the Ops terminal. "David, if we vent the plasma from our manifolds we can lose them from their sensors, correct?"

Pate responded with a nod. "Yes, but only for a second, their computers will readjust to compensate for the plasma."

"Yes," replied Cortez, "Now if we go to warp and cloak at the same time, we can sling shot around the planet, pick up the Concorde's crew, and get out of here."

"In theory, yes Captain, but with our shields down we can be hit while retrieving the crew."

"It's a chance we'll have to take! Open a comm channel to the Concorde."

"Open"

"Admiral, we cannot save you with these ships after us. I'm sorry." Cortez looked to his Helm, "Proceed."

"On screen!" The Admiral shouted over the fires and shouting.

Captain Cortez was on there looking as pitiful as ever. "Admiral, we cannot save you with these ships after us. I'm sorry." The admiral frowned as he watched Cortez give the order to proceed in retreat.

"Admiral," the Ops officer shouted. "All power just went off line, shields just collapsed, warp core breach in 2 minutes. We cannot launch the escape pods since the power was drained from them as well." He paused for a second, "Admiral, it has been a pleasure serving with you."

The admiral felt the life support system go off line and knew this was it for him. He cleared his head so that he my die peacefully. He closed his eyes and felt the sounds of the ship leave him. Trying to keep that concentration, he heard an order from an unfamiliar voice. "Sir, please step off the pad, we have more to transport." Quickly he stepped off the transporter pad to allow his crew to be beamed aboard.

"Captain!" Pate shouted. "The Romulans figured us out. They have targeted the Concorde."

Transporter rooms!" Captain Cortez ordered, "Get as much as you can!"

The Concorde was fired upon by the Romulan lead ship and was destroyed.

Captain Cortez watched as the Concorde exploded with a flash of bright light. "Helm, get us out of here, maximum warp."

Ensign Collinge put in the coordinates and set the ship moving at warp 13.

"The Romulans are not following, we seemed to have lost them." Pate noted.

The Captain smirked knowing he won and started to go see Admiral Sarkadov. "Just get us home Mr. Collinge." As he stepped onto the turbolift, the doors closed. When they reopened he was at the bridge on the Concorde. No damage, old uniforms. Cortez smiled thanking Q in his head. He walked to his seat to the right of Captain Sarkadov and sat down. "Captain, nice day isn't it?"

Captain Sarkadov looked back at Cortez and smiled. "I owe you one, Javy, I owe you one."