USS
Galaxy:The Next Generation Sim Log Stardate: 50211.22 - 50211.29 |
"I've got a real bad feeling about this." Ensign Little said, the face plate of his helmet starting to fog over, ever so slightly.
His grip tightened ever so slightly upon the phaser rifle slung over his shoulder.
"Relax, kid. Stay loose. There ain't no such thing as bogeymen " Lt. Koontz said, nodding in the direction where the USS GALAXY's Assistant Chief of Security squatted, tricorder in hand.
"Who else would you want to be down here with but him, eh?"
The younger officer laughed a nervous laugh. "The Gorn..Zonhieb. Seriously now. Something isn't right. My parents always said I have a way about me, and everything I'm feeling is telling me if we stay on this ship, we're going to be in trouble."
Lt. Koontz placed a gloved hand upon the ensign's shoulder. "It's away team jitters. We call 'em the 'spooks'. Everyone gets them. Now don't let it effect you. Just keep an eye on the hallway here like he wanted us to. Don't be thinking about things that go bump in the night."
Ensign Little wasn't convinced.
"I'm telling you man. Something ain't right." he said before the large Indian motioned the pair over to the only door in the small hallway. As trained, each officer took a position on either side of the door. Still squatted in a position that seemed partially defensive and partially like that of a mountain lion ready to strike, Darkstar activated his comm relay.
"Team three to Galaxy...We are in position out side of the mess hall...No life signs registering...Copy..."
A crackling hiss of static could be heard over the open channel.
"Team three to Galaxy..Copy.." the Indian called out again.
Still there was no reply.
Behind the faceplate of his helmet, Darkstar's face seemed to darken.
"M..M..Mission O.Ops. they are supposed to monitor a..away teams and tricorder telemetry. There's always an officer at Mission Ops during away teams. T..This is bad. I knew this didn't feel right." Ens. Little said, before Darkstar's smoldering glare quickly quieted him.
"Team three to Team One...Copy." he called out. The garbled, yet recognizable voice of Commander Von Ernst could barely be heard. Koontz strained to hear what she was saying but failed.
Darkstar nodded and said "Acknowledged. Team three out."
"What are we doing now?" Koontz asked, phaser squarely in the palm of his hand.
The Indian stood.
"Continuing with our mission." he said matter of factly, then activated the doors to the mess hall.
The doors to the mess hall swooshed open with their tell tail squelch noise to reveal pitch blackness. Darkstar stepped inside first. He had snapped on his hand held flashlight and begun moving it in big, sweeping arcs. Little and Koontz followed suit and gingerly stepped inside.
The doors snapped shut behind them, sealing off the hallway lights and leaving them bathed in the ruddy glow of their flashlights.
A low moaning seemed to fill the room. It's pitch soft and barely inaudible one moment then loud and revertabrating through their chests the next. The trio held their positions for a moment until the noise passed.
"W..What the hell was that!?!" Little shouted in a panicked voice.
"Echoes." Darkstar replied, with less conviction than he usually spoke. He held up his tricorder and once again checked his readings.
"Didn't sound like any echo I ever heard." Koontz said.
"Call out what you see..." Darkstar ordered as he began to make his way through the large room in slow deliberate steps.
Ensign Little was first to speak, hoping that would calm him down a bit. "Tables. chairs. Some pulled out. Some in. Food still on the tables. Half eaten."
"You guys should see this..." Lt. Koontz said pointing to a glass of amber liquid on one of the tables. Tiny little beads of condensation covered the half empty glass. Inside there were a pair of ice cubes floating about.
"T..They w..were just here!" Little said breathlessly.
Again Darkstar consulted his tricorder. "Still no life signs."
"Nothing on thermal images either.." the science officer said checking his tricorder in one hand but keeping his phaser and flashlight in the other.
"This don't feel right, man. We're being watched. I'm telling you we're being watched.." Ensign Little said as he shouldered his phaser rifle and swung its flashlight around the room.
Nothing but chairs and tables could be seen until...
"THERE!!" Lt. Koontz cried out as he trained his flashlight beam towards the kitchen.
The doors to the kitchen were closed and through the circular windows, only more darkness could be seen. Slightly to the left of the doors was a large open counter where food could be directly laid upon by the cooks and then picked up by those eating.
All three flashlight beams shown through the large bay window.
Hanging pots, ovens and cooking implements cast wicked shadows when hit by the palm light's unflinching glare. Then suddenly and without warning.....one of the shadows moved.
To Be Continued.
"Deck Four! Commanding Officers' and VIP Quarters," Ens. Manley said,
as the turbolift doors opened.
Cutter was the first to step out into the corridor. He looked down at the scientific tricorder he held in his left hand for a moment before turning back to his fellow team members. "There's a near toxic level of carbon dioxide on this deck."
"We should keep our EVA suits on, then," Manley stated.
Cutter nodded, then swung his arm, gesturing that they move forward. Lt. Marsh quickly moved to the lead, keeping a few steps ahead of Cutter and Manley, alert for any sign of danger.
Cutter glanced around at his surroundings. The design that prevailed during this era was very simplistic, and rather unappealing to Cutter. The walls were flat, straight up and down, and coated with grey-white paint. The ceiling was bright red, broken up by white fluorescent lights. The doors alternated between the same red as the ceiling and soft sky blue. The was no decoration beyond the broad swathes of color and clearly marked labels.
"How's your suit," Manley asked, interrupting Cutter's observations.
The Fruna'lin turned to look at the doctor through the glass of the EVA helmet, "Fine. A little back-heavy, but not significantly so." His suit was specially modified to fit him, with an attached section to house his large wings. They were bound together behind him, and held in a large sheath. The extra cloth was causing a slightly uneven distribution of weight, forcing Cutter to lean forward slightly.
"It looks like you're carrying a log post on your back," the ensign replied, smiling.
Cutter only shrugged in response, "The captain's quarters are this way."
"Wasn't the captain found dead on the bridge when the ship was explored by the Enterprise Crew?" Marsh asked. The voice rang through the speakers of Cutter's EVA helmet, surrounding him from all sides, yet still coming from no where. It was a very odd sensation, hearing the voice of someone a few steps ahead of you, yet having no indication it was uttered from their lips.
"That is what the official logs say. However, Donovan Black is exploring the bridge, and he reported not finding any bodies. No one has found any signs of life at all, so far."
Manley started to laugh, "So, we're exploring the possibility that a dead man walked from the bridge back to his quarters, eh?"
"I doubt we'll find the captain, however, if there are survivors aboard as Commander VonErnst suspects, then someone will likely be living in the Captain's Quarters. They are the nicest aboard." Cutter said.
He turned back to his tricorder. Nothing. There were no life signs, in fact, it didn't even read a ship. It still read an atmosphere surrounding them, but there was nothing beyond that, as far as the tricorder was concerned. No metal hull plating, no gravity, no nothing. Very perplexing. Cutter knew that there was gravity surrounding them, as their boots' magnetics were offline and they were still attached to the floor. He reached over and tapped on the hall siding. Solid, there was a wall there. He could see it, he could feel it; he could sense it, but the tricorder couldn't.
"Um, why is the floor wet?" Manley's voice asked from within Cutter's helmet.
"There are fresh water storage tanks on this deck, perhaps they sprung a leak," Marsh offered.
"Aren't individual decks normally sealed off from one another? If the tanks had sprung a leak, all the water would still be on this deck. We'd be wading right now," the doctor argued.
"Maybe its a slow leak," was Marsh's reply. "Here's the Captain's quarters."
The security officer stepped to the far side of the door and leaned against the wall. He held his weapon in one hand, and with his other, tapped the Defiant's security codes into the wall panel. The doors complied and opened, and Marsh immediately ducked inside. "Its clear," he called out, a few seconds later.
Cutter and Manley followed Marsh inside the dark room. Cutter stepped towards the wall panel and pressed several buttons. Eventually, the lights switched on. Actually, they didn't switch, it was a much slower process than that. He watched the fluorescent tubes in the ceiling panels slowly glow to life, a slow, steady increase in brightness. It was as if time had slowed down, and a process that was near instantaneous was stretched out over several seconds. The shadows in the corners of the room were also acting sluggish, disappearing long after they should have, like the light from the bulbs was crawling out to illuminate the room.
"That was odd, I've never seen lights do that before," Marsh said in awe, letting his weapon sink down to his side momentarily before he realized and jerked it back up.
Manley was looking at his own medical tricorder, "There are no life signs."
The room was still rather dark, despite the lights. The room was as poorly decorated as the outside corridors. The walls were the same color gray. There was a lime colored sofa against the back wall, flanked by two metal end tables, highlighted with black and red. A gray colored table sat in the corner near Cutter, surrounded by the oddly shaped 22nd century chairs. A gold screen wall separated the dining/sitting area from the bed and bath beyond. And the floor was wet, like out in the hall.
Cutter stepped towards the table, intrigued. There was an open book on the table, a plate with a bagel and cup of coffee. The bagel was half eaten and there was no mold or bacterial growth of any sort. Even the cream cheese smeared across its toasted side looked fresh, no crust or visible film had formed, like it was made this morning and forgotten about. The coffee was untouched, it was probably still too hot when whoever had made it had left. Cutter knelt down, so that his eyes were on the same level as the top of the cup. Ka! Steam! Steam was ever so slowly rising from the cup and diffusing out into the air. He reached a dipped a finger in the liquid. He couldn't feel anything of course through the EVA suit material, but he watched the brown liquid drip from his finger tip back into the cup. The liquid didn't splash at all as the drops fell back in. The book looked brand new, even after a hundred years.! Cutter peered over to see what book it was and suddenly became very disoriented. He squinted at the words printed upon the page, closed his eyes, shook his head and tried again. It was gibberish. The letters were Federation standard, but there was no order to them; they appeared to have been thrown randomly into lines.
"What are these?" Manley asked, distracting Cutter.
He looked around to find the ensign was staring at several large bowls off in the corner of the room. Cutter stood back up and walked over to the doctor. "What are what?"
"These." Manley said again, pointing to the bowls. They were large stone pots, capable of holding several gallons of material, and were filled with dirt.
"They look like plant potters."
"That's what I thought. There's even a watering tin, half full, I might add."
"So, what's the problem?" Cutter asked, his feathered brow raised in curiosity.
"Where are the plants?"
Manley was right. It didn't even strike Cutter until the ensign had pointed it out, but there were no plants. Not even fallen leaves on the dirt or surrounding floor. He looked closer; there was a curious hole in the dirt in each pot, like someone had drilled in, or like the plants had disentigrated, leaving only space in the dirt where the roots were before.
"There's no one in the bedroom or bath. The bathroom is sparkling clean, but the bed is unmade, and there's a pair of pants lying on the floor," Lt. Marsh said, stepping back into the room.
"Well, no one's home. Can we move on, now? I'm starting to feel uncomfortable here," Manley said, looking at the door.
Cutter looked at Marsh and nodded. The security officer quickly took his place in the lead, and the group moved on the quarters next door, the XO's.
"Look," Manley exclaimed, as they approached the door. He walked up and pointed to the seem between the door and the wall. "It's leaking water. That leak - I think its in here."
Marsh nodded, and stepped again to the far side of the door in a maneuver similar to before. He tapped his code into the wall panel, and upon pushing the final button, the door opened. It suddenly hit upon Cutter that this was a bad idea, and he jammed himself against the wall, bracing himself for the oncoming flood.
But, it didn't come. Cutter opened his eyes to the sight that had already transfixed Manley and Marsh. Before the three men, filling the door frame was a wall of water. It stood there, rippling slightly like the top of a pond, held still by some mysterious force. It was like looking into an aquarium, but there wasn't any glass.
"Force field?" Manley asked, transfixed.
Marsh responded, still staring at the phenomena himself, "A force field wouldn't let any water through. The hall should be dry if it was a force field," he said, confident in his knowledge and experience.
Cutter stepped forward, while the other two discussed what they were seeing. His movements through the air was causing small gusts which created dimples in the water. The lights were on in the XO's quarters, and Cutter could see inside through the wavy liquid window. Feeling nothing but amazement and curiosity, he slowly raised his right hand. His finger, the same he had dipped in the coffee, jutted forward and he slowly pushed it forward into the vertical lake.
"Ka!" was all he could express as he slowly pushed his finger in, until the water surrounded his knuckle, and then the world collapsed. The equilibrium was broken, and the water flooded out into the hall. Cutter was shoved back against the wall and onto the floor, while Marsh and Manley were carried away on either side by the raging current. His eyes were locked open in horror, and Cutter watched the water flood by his helmet, trying to break in, and throw various possessions of the XO at him. Fortunately, nothing hit, but he could hear and feel the thud as books and other objects rammed into the wall next to him. The rush was quick, and was over as soon as it had started.
"Is everyone all right?" Cutter called out. The EVA suit had kept him dry in the suit. He stood in the now waste deep water and waded to his left, in search of Manley.
"Yes, I'm fine," Manley said, as he struggled to stand against the waves sloshing from one end of the circular hall to the other. He gladly took Cutter's hand when it was offered.
"Same here," Marsh's disconnected voice said. "What the hell was that?" he asked, wading around the bend. It would have almost been easier to swim.
"I don't know," Cutter said. "I want to go up to the science decks on Deck Three. Maybe I can learn more there."
“Just a little bit more…” James grunted under the strain of moving a large, blocklike, and extremely heavy desk out of the security office’s entrance. The nearly immovable object didn’t yield until the combined strengths of a Vulcan, and Andorian, and two Humans pushed the heavy object towards the inside of the office. The desk legs squealed against the floor, like a hellish scream.
With a grunt of strength, the desk was pushed far enough to open a crack in security’s makeshift wall. The crack was widened with another push, far enough so that one person could fit through. Miscellaneous debris rained down from above the pile of junk used in the makeshift defensive position.
“…there…” Commander Corgan panted as he leaned up against the desk, relieved to see an opening to Security. He and the rest of his crew (plus one Mission Ops representative) panted heavily from the strain. In spite of their exhaustion, James took his first look into the Defiant’s security office.
And what other people saw was James Corgan widening his eyes.
“What… is going on?” Lexa asked inquisitively.
James answered in a gasp, “Check this out, Lex. Looks like a fraggin’ mess in here.”
Lexa peered over James shoulders, and was equally gripped in shock. Security, or what was left of it, appeared as if it was caught up in a whirling dervish. Office litter was everywhere, finding it’s way on almost every space on the floor. Thrown electronics equipment, scattered 23rd century electronic writers smashed to pieces and strewn about, disks scattered like candy sprinkles, and police gear liberally thrown about and discarded. The floors and the walls looked scratched up, and thick, boa like lines of scorch marks crisscrossed and circled on the walls.
“Not… normal.” Lexa commented.
”You said it, Commander. Looks like a siege here.” James replied as he squeezed his way through the desk, “But what I don’t get is how this happened? The place was locked up.”
“It was… overwhelmed?” Lexa threw the first theory.
“Then who would put up the barricade again?” James rebuted.
“Who knows. We must… secure the area…” Lexa spoke dreamily.
“Aye sir. Taro… T’lan… search the offices. I’ll search the main office.” James ordered.
“I will investigate the brig.” Lexa sighed.
“Right… we won’t be too far away. If there is any trouble, don’t hesitate to holler. T”lan… is the air breathable?” Commander Corgan asked.
“Affirmative, sir. The air is breathable.” She confirmed.
“And those burn marks?” James asked another question.
T’lan waved her tricorder over a burn mark on the wall, and then came up with the answer. “The burn marks were caused by phaser fire. Type two phaser pistols, Mark 1 variant. The same standard sidearm of the Federation in that era.”
“Jeez…” James sighed. Federation weapons fire inside security? Wasn’t great news in any situation, “Well… you and Taro search the offices.”
“Sir.” Taro and T’lan complied, squeezing their bodies through the small gap in the door. As soon as the last away team member entered the ruined security office, the main door shuttered and slowly slid shut, grinding debris out of it’s way and complaining of old age. The slam of the door shutting echoed in the office, like the maw of hell closing shut.
“Doors… automatically… close. They work… similar… to our own.” Lexa re-assured. To herself, or to the rest of the group, nobody knew.
The away team paused to look around at their chaotic surroundings. The main desk that was occupied by the duty shift’s watchman was in a shambles. The guts of the machinery inside, the computers, input devices, monitors, and other electronic instruments were torn apart, the wires ripped out and left hanging like disemboweled organs. The entranceway to the brig was pitch black , the lights momentarily flickering, but then dying out and succumbing to the darkness. The offices of the other security officers and the security briefing room was on the opposite end of the room, and it too was plunged in darkness. The burn marks on the walls and the litter everywhere reeked of violence and madness, but the cause was unknown, and unfathomable. They were caught up in a word of darkness, flickering lights and scratches on the wall.
There were gouges in the far wall, and James bent close to inspect them. The words seemed illegible, scratched in by a shaking hand wielding a blade. James couldn’t read the letters even with his good eye, and so ignored them promptly. He removed his helmet, a hiss of compressed air escaping the edges. He breathed in the musky scent of ages past. It was like breathing in a choking dust.
James heard the seeping of mist, and a eerie noise that sounded like the rushed shuffling of feet close to him, while another similar noise, farther away and in larger numbers, felt like it was coming from the other side of the wall.
“Jesus Christ! They’re coming, sir! A dozen of them, armed with phasers!” James caught in the corner of his ear. He grunted, “Huh?” as the same voice of a panicking young officer assailed his ears, “Sir… what do we do? SIR! They’re COMING!”
Another voice came from a shadowy corner of the room, “Throw whatever you can in front of the door! I’m not letting them take us!”
“Commander!” T’lan urged for James Corgan’s attention. That instant, the voices were gone. There was only T’lan, Taro, and Reece, searching the room for signs of life, as devastated as the room appeared. The voices were gone, the noises were gone, all that was left was the ruined room, and the officers who inhabited it.
James shook the cobwebs out of his head, wondering what or who he was hearing. “Oh… what? Mea culpa, Lieutenant. I… was thinking for a second. What do you need?”
T’lan handed to James a large, slablike electronic notebook. It was black and gray plastic case, with a clear plastic viewing screen that was cracked like a spiderweb. A few rudimentary buttons were lined up on the bottom of the electronic notebook, and scrawled beneath the buttons was a black plastic plaque, and written in gray it said ‘Security Log, USS Defiant’.
“Thank you, Lieutenant. You may continue with your search. Find any other evidence of what happened here. Lexa! Sir! Come over here!” James felt the cracks in the log’s viewing screen, “I think we might find and explanation for all this!”
Lexa viewed into the darkness of the brig. In her moment of silence, she looked deep inside, but couldn’t find herself to go nearer. The darkness was neverending. There was no bottom, no top, or no end though there was, for some reason, a beginning. She stepped back, afraid of the darkness and what was inside.
“Lex! Are you with us?” She heard James call impatiently, and to her embarrassment, she found herself zoned out of reality for a moment, her mind caught up in the darkness beyond. As he gained hold of her senses, she flushed a bright red with embarrassment, and then walked towards James.
“Yes?” She asked.
“Commander, we recovered the Chief of Security’s log book. Might give us some answers to why his office is such a mess. But first…” James finger pressed against a button on the log book, “Looks like it took a hit from a blunt object. Let’s hope this thing still works.”
“I… want to… see it.” Lexa extended her hand. James willingly handed over the notebook to the Ops chief, on time to watch the electronic device flicker back to life, for the first time in what must have been years.
The screen flickered once, twice, then stabilized as it only flickered gently. The words ‘Security Log, USS Defiant” were large on top of the screen, and scattered by the broken pieces of viewing screen, making some of the smaller writing more difficult to read.
“I am… accessing… the logs.” Lexa’s svelte fingers flew over the buttons, and in a flash, the first log appeared.
************
Security Log: Stardate 2/0806
Lieutenant Commander Robert St.Mark, Chief of Security, USS Defiant
The USS Defiant has been exploring this sector for three days, and already the security staff is becoming restless. Though the science department notes some interesting sensor scans, to security, empty space is just that… empty space. There are no planets within sensor range. For that matter, there’s nothing worth worrying about in sensor range. Nothing at all.
My department has become restless. We haven’t had a mission in months. Even an away mission to a peaceful planet would do plenty to break up the boredom. But with nothing in this sector, we’ll have to pace ourselves for a little while longer. Maybe the 3D-Chess tournament tonight will help. At least I’ll win another game against the Captain.
The department is at full readiness. Target range trials, one of the few things we can do to pass the time, have yielded some results. Accuracy has gone up five percent in one month alone. Needless to say, we are very bored.
There are no incidents to report, the last being a missing Talarian Demon Slug from Exobiology one week ago. No violent crime since we came on board. Like I said before. Absolutely nothing. Hopefully, it will stay that way. As much as my men want some action, I don’t want to temp fate.
End Log
*************
“Nothing… yet.” Lexa scrolled to the next log, as James read over her shoulder.
*************
Security Log: Stardate 2/0207
Lieutenant Commander Robert St.Mark, Chief of Security, USS Defiant
The Defiant has stopped in this section of space. Nobody knows why, or what’s happening. The Captain is reluctant to disclose any knowledge of this sudden stop. All he told me was that we weren’t moving. That could mean a lot of things, and all of them worry me.
Security is on yellow alert. I guess I should have been quiet about the lack of action on this ship lately. Now it looks like we’re going to get it. Some of the younger officers are excited. Dreams of fighting off Klingons and becoming Medal of Honor winners, I guess. I can’t stop them, but I can tell them to keep frosty and stop daydreaming.
All security stations have been occupied. We are ready for anything….
************
The screen on the electronic notebook crackled and popped. A plume of oily smoke spat out of the cracks and coiled in the air like serpents. The screen flickered on last time, then died out.
“No…” Lexa weakly objected to the crapped out electronic pad. She rapped the screen once and watched it flicker again, but that final, light blow jump started the electronics, then died again. A second hit, and it never came back to life.
“Sh… crap… I… darn…” James hissed under his breath, “This is not cool.”
“You must repair… this log.” Lexa ordered as she handed the pad to James, “This log knows what happened… to this ship. We must find out.”
“Lexa… the only way I’m going to be able to repair this is if I go to Storage and requisition a new electronic log… that is… if the data storage unit is not damaged.” James pointed out, but then added, “But if I have to, I will. There should be some supply storage nearby.”
“Go, and take Ensign Taro with you.” She ordered, “Lieutenant O’Rourke’s team will be fine in the armory, and I’ll have Lieutenant T’lan to assist me.”
“Yes ma’am.” James complied, “I’ll be back in a second. Taro!” James waved to the Andorian Ensign, “Come with me.”
NRPG: Takes place immediately following "The Needs Of The One." *winks at TP* I'm very sorry for the break in continuity here, but Robert and I both felt it was better to take our time on this log to set a better foundation for future character development than it was to throw it together. Many of you know RL for me has been awful the past few weeks and school had to take priority. Please note this is a flashback to last mission. ~Lori
****
Armed with the rather cryptic message from Dr. T'Lan and more than a bit of frustration, Counselor Karyn Dallas made her way to sickbay to see the injured Victor Krieghoff. For reasons she had yet to understand, the security officer himself and Dr. Malgin had taken steps to ensure the true extent and the nature of his injuries remained a secret, causing the commander to wonder what was going on.
If this had to do with the murder investigation, why hadn't she been contacted? Her department had been working closely with medical and security to profile the wolf in their midst, so what possible reason had anyone for keeping her out of the loop? The one thing Karyn kept coming back to was Dr. T'Lan's characterization of Victor's injuries as resulting from a 'severe beating' from one or more assailants. Vulcans in general, and this Vulcan in particular, had no reason to exaggerate, so even if it was something completely unrelated to the murders, why the falsified injury report? An embarrassing bar brawl? A fight with a significant other? If this was about male pride, why would Victor refuse to be examined and treated as quickly as possible?
The entire scenario couldn't explain why the Chief Medical Officer had to be dragged out of bed to treat an injured officer when a perfectly alert (albeit female) physician was available, or why Victor had to site-to-site transport himself. Any way she looked at it, regardless of the incident surrounding the attack, one could not expect to go through something like that and be declared fit for duty the next day without a talk with a counselor.
***
With an almost imperceptible toss of her head, Dr. T'Lan indicated the biobed on which Victor rested, although from the looks of things, he probably hadn't been resting too comfortably.
Naked from the waist up, Victor's torso was obscured by a wrap-around osteoregenerator, the light patterns reflected from its operation casting his face in shadow, almost hiding the bruises and cuts there, and those across his upper body. Another regenerator was working on his left arm, and the bandage strapping about his right shoulder told Karyn that it was immobilized until yet another regenerator could be applied there. Vladimir had obviously just finished wrapping.
Aware that this was a potentially embarrassing and awkward moment for the junior security officer, Karyn tread lightly. "Hello, Victor, I'm Karyn Dallas." She moved closer to the biobed and kept from wincing at the result of the beating he'd sustained, "I heard you were injured and I thought perhaps you needed to talk about it."
~ Mein Gott, a counselor. I knew the Vulcan was going to call one, I knew it. ~ Victor closed his eyes for a moment, glad that Malgin had given him the pain shot. ~ I'd be screaming at her otherwise - bad thing to do. Not her fault. ~ "Don't you mean, *you* want to talk about it?" he replied, his voice a deep rasping growl thanks to yet another bruise on his throat.
Karyn met his eyes, not wishing to make Victor any more uncomfortable than he already was, but at the same time committed to helping him cope with a reality he had yet to really absorb. "What I want is irrelevant, what you need, however, is not. I'm not here to point fingers, Victor, and if you don't want to tell me the whole story, that's fine, but what I do know is you were brutally attacked tonight and everyone seems to want to bury that fact. I know from experience that emotionally suppressing stuff like this never works in the long-term, and I want to help you before anyone gets hurt, especially you. That's my obligation, to be here for you and everyone else, and that's all that matters to me."
"Counselor," Victor rasped slowly, meeting her gaze openly. There was a hint of the pain he obviously still felt in his eyes, but no sign of deception. "If there's one thing that anyone who knows anything at all about me can tell you, it's that I'm not repressed. Or didn't you read my file on the way down here? They must have covered that in there somewhere." He thought for a moment. "Try the summaries by the Counselor from the Leonidas, I don't recall her name, but she was a Betazoid. She certainly had a lot to say - I think there was something in there about that."
Karyn smiled wryly and cocked her head. "You should read your files more often, Victor. That counselor's evals were highly prejudicial, and once the following counselor saw that, and how she treated you, they were thrown out. Besides, after what happened here, I wouldn't blame you for being livid, and filled with other emotions that you may not even realize. I'm just here to be a sounding board, someone to help you deal with how you're going to cope and react to it. Dr. T'Lan wasn't trying to ignore your wishes, I think she wanted to make sure your needs were met. Your refusal to be treated seemed illogical to her I suppose."
With that comment Karyn left her own concern and curiosity hanging unspoken in the air. He had no reason to trust any of them yet, and for some reason she wanted this man to trust her. The most reluctant to trust her always brought that out in her. Maybe Victor was unorthodox, even violent, but at some point the bouncing around from assignment to assignment had to be taken into consideration when evaluating his behavior. No wonder he kept to himself!
~ They scrubbed that review? ~ Victor blinked, trying to concentrate. ~ Hell , guess I ought to try and crack the codes on the file again and see what changed. ~ He closed his eyes for a moment, as a knitting rib shifted position and sent a stab of pain through him. "And, of course, you agree with the good Doctor?"
"I prefer to form my own impressions of people," Karyn said with a smile. "I know from experience what it's like to be judged before I even open my mouth, " she looked down at her gravchair, "so if you don't feel like telling me what happened, fine, but please don't avoid it simply because you think I'm going to use it against you in some way."
"Counselor," he sighed, wincing as he shifted under the regenerator. "Why don't you try looking at this in a different way, and see if that answers part of your question? Ask yourself 'Why would Lt. Krieghoff not want an official report made about this?' and see where it takes you. You've got that report that she," he nodded towards T'Lan, "copied off before the official record was logged, you've got my file and assignment list, and you' ve obviously got the time or you wouldn't be here."
For a moment Karyn felt like sighing in exasperation. She was a counselor not interested in playing games, but with a pause, she realized she had been so focused on the 'what,' she had lost sight of the 'why.' He was not avoiding her, he was however, avoiding something else, and unfortunately for Victor it was something she had very little patience for these days. "Diplomacy? You're protecting the Klingons, why?"
Victor merely looked back at her, waiting for her to figure it out on her own.
She took some time to calm her own sea of anger, somewhat surprised at the intensity of her own emotions toward these particular Klingons and diplomacy in general. Gods, how could she have missed it! "You could give a damn about interstellar politics, but you won't give them the satisfaction, will you? Male pride, hell, it makes more sense than that and I should have known better." Karyn shook her head, smiling at the man's gumption. It didn't change what happened or the fact that Victor could retaliate in his own way, but at least it made some sense. Someone else was looking out for the fleet in a way she had forever discounted. Showing up bruised and bloody intent on getting revenge was no help to Starfleet or for the Security department.
"Very good, Counselor - hypothetically speaking of course,"
Victor smiled thinly. "If that was what happened - again, hypothetically
- then it might make sense that I'd want the physician who was both best able
to get me back on my feet and looking like nothing happened and capable of handling
any unfortunate records issues to treat me, wouldn't it?" ~ Well, this
one at least meets my eyes when she talks - that's an improvement over most
of them. Just wish they'd drop something I the file telling them to let me be,
so they wouldn't keep trying to 'fix' me like I'm a broken toy or something.
~
"Of course," then it dawned on her, "you can't be planning to go to work so soon? I mean I understand your reasons for not wanting to appear weak or daunted after this, but your injuries are quite severe. The physical pain alone will be staggering. I know you're angry and you want to show them you're not afraid, but maybe you should give yourself some time." As a counselor, she knew what he was capable of, and although the goal was not to cause a diplomatic mess now, who knew what would happen if he were to come face to face with his attackers now?
His response was simple. "Doesn't matter if *I* look weak, doesn't matter if it hurts *me* - I have to be there in the morning, looking like nothing's wrong for another reason." He closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened then, the pain was better hidden, but still there. "Hypothetically speaking, if I wasn't there or I looked like I'd been run down by a shuttlecraft, then *we* look weak." His smile was unpleasantly like a predator's defiant challenge. "We can't afford to look weak in front of them. Not now. If I have to walk around hurting to stop that from happening, then I'll pay the price, simple as that. Or," he added, "it would be that simple if something like that had really happened. Which, of course, it didn't."
Karyn crossed her arms, not entirely sure what to make of Victor Krieghoff. She could understand where he was coming from, but it still seemed damned risky not to mention arrogant of him. "As long as we're speaking purely in hypotheticals, suppose you can't pull off this charade? Aren't you putting your entire department in jeopardy by asking them to trust you're 100 percent?"
"They don't trust me to begin with, Counselor," he observed calmly, as if talking about a gravball score. Some of them would go to the wall for me out of instinct, but if they had time to think. most wouldn't. I'm a monster, remember?" He blinked once, disturbingly revealing the only pain in his eyes to purely physical, as if he had stated a fact that he'd dealt with until it simply didn't bother him any more. "But no, there's no risk. If something had happened - and it didn't - they won't try anything as long as I'm there in the morning looking like nothing was wrong. The statement is what's important, and the ones that might need it would understand it. If," he added, "I was making one, which I'm not."
"Of course you're not," replied Karyn dryly, feeling trills of warning up and down her spine, "but what's to say that statement hasn't already been made, Victor? Prior psych evals aside, I find it hard to believe that you would react so intensely to a Klingon hurting another during a ship's tour, and react so passively when you're the target?"
"Completely different things, Counselor." Victor's voice was still calm and open. "It's my job to get hurt, not his. Someone wants to come after me, that's just part of the job. But it isn't part of his, and I get paid to make sure it doesn't happen to him and all the people like him, even if I have to die doing it. Just like it's part of my job to be there at the start of my shift."
She shook her head, "Before I'm going to even consider letting you go with the additional caveat that you come to my office to talk to me later, I need to know what your intentions are, and you'd do best to give it to me straight. Given the opportunity, would you retaliate?" It was a direct question from a straight-shooter. He could always try to lie to her, but she doubted he would want to do that. She was banking on the fact he would want to be as honest with her as she had been with him.
~ 'With the additional caveat.?' Now there's something I haven't seen in a while, not since Dr. Solek back at the Academy - a Counselor willing to *tell* you what you're going to do instead of ask. ~ Victor considered the woman next to his bed for a moment. ~ I like that. ~ "What I intend on doing is going back to work, Counselor, nothing more. As for any hypothetical issues, would it help if I - hypothetically, of course - gave you my word as a Starfleet Officer that I intended to just that, and not go looking for any hypothetical individuals who might have hypothetically done something I hypothetically resented?"
"It might have." replied Karyn reasonably, deciding to change topics for a moment. "Are you familiar with my nursing background, Victor? Not too long ago I decided to expand my horizons as they say, and now I've become rather proficient with all sorts of medical analyses. So you see, I might at one time have accepted your word at face value were it not for the fact that I know you're lying through your teeth right now." Her voice went from singsong to deadly serious in a heartbeat. "Scans show some of your injuries were aggravated after the initial attack, which makes absolutely no sense since you requested a site to site as confirmed by the logs.... Truth be told, I find it hard to believe you could emerge from a second attack with so few fresh defensive wounds, but hell, I suppose adrenaline is a wonderful drug. Now, before I go rip one of our people a new one for letting you near the Klingons in the state you were in, care to nix the mind games?"
"No." The naked word hung there for a minute between them while something new and unpleasant moved behind the drugs and pain in Victor's eyes.
<maybe a thought from Karyn here? Not necessary, but it might be interesting to see what she's thinking when it looks like he's going to refuse to deal.>
"No," he repeated with a growl. "I haven't lied to you Counselor." ~ Tell her everything, what difference does it make? She'll either understand or she won't. At least it'll be on *her* head if she wants to start the diplomatic incident, not yours. ~ His eyes never left hers as he continued, "I've talked about hypothetical situations, Counselor because I don't want some stupid, well-meaning person coming along and filing a report that will start a diplomatic incident and get someone killed - that's all. If I'd said something like: 'The Klingons that attacked me are sitting around a table right now, knocking back bloodwine and planning which crewmen they're going to attack next; then *that* would be a lie."
~ He wants to avoid a diplomatic incident? He must not have read my file...or maybe he has. ~ she thought wryly. She exhaled impatiently. "In case you haven't noticed, Victor, I don't give a damn about your lies, only the truth, which you STILL haven't told me."
"You want the whole deal? Okay, you got it." He shifted position, frowning as the medical gear strapped all over him impeded him. "You take one Klingon with a grudge, add three of hi friends, some bloodwine from the diplomatic stores that wasn't replaced with synthehol, stir in some personal and racial pride, and let stew for a while. They talk, someone suggests that they ought to do something about the way their friend was humiliated, and everyone agrees. They pack up and go looking for evens."
He paused, the recitation disturbingly calm, like he was relating an ice cream recipe. "I stepped off the turbolift, and there were four Klingons waiting for me with a batch of painsticks all charged up. I never saw them. Not really. Don't even recall much past the first hit - just a whole lot of pain and then nothing. All I managed to do was wind up lying on a painstick somehow. Once they got me on the ground, they just started kicking until they got bored with the fact that I was just lying there."
"The next thing I know, I'm looking at this petty officer, trying to understand why throttling him is a bad thing. I have no idea where I am or how I got there. By the time I get that worked out, and he explains where I am, I have it sort of figured out. I bullied him into telling me who'd just come in." he stopped. "You really ought to take it easy on the kid, Counselor. He tried to talk me out of it but I wasn't listening." He looked thoughtful for a moment. "I think I was angry. Really angry. It was hard to think, and everything seemed. red."
He blinked. "Anyway, I get him to turn the painstick on, and go in after them. I remember." He thought for a second. "I remember the door opening. I could see them standing around a table, arguing about something. I think I said something. I must have, because they all looked at me. From their expressions. they thought I was dead, that they'd killed me. They didn't expect me to be breathing, much less moving." He frowned, thinking harder. "I stepped into the room. and nothing. I can't get anything after that. It's all. red."
"The next thing I remember, they're all over the floor. One's in the corner, another over where he tried to crawl away." He shrugged. "They were all alive - and in better shape than me - when I left. The petty officer. he tried to call Sickbay, but I wouldn't let him. Tried to make it on my own, but. I couldn't. That's why I called for the beam-out." He blinked again, and looked at her. "Is that what you wanted, Counselor? I hope so, because it's on you now. You get to be the one who decides if this blows up in the Federation's face now, not me."
Karyn crossed her arms, aware of the emotionless recitation and his confusion over the anger he felt. It was the typical security officer mindset, just the facts. But the truth was, he had reacted as anyone would have in the same situation, and as long as he refused to acknowledge that, she was concerned. In response to his seemingly matter of fact recitation, her voice grew quiet. "And you get to be the one who decides whether this blows up in *your* face, and whether you will allow yourself to be helped."
~ I guess it was too much to hope for. Why do they always think there's something wrong with me that needs fixing? Why can't they just accept what I am and move on? I have. ~ Victor studied her for a moment, trying to concentrate past the fuzziness the drugs had filled his head with. ~ She'll make it all for nothing if I don't agree, I can feel it. So. I agree. A few meetings with her are a small price to pay for keeping this out of the official reports. I've suffered worse - at least she isn't a Betazoid. ~ "How about this then, Counselor?" he asked. "I show up for your sessions and you let me get back to work in the morning - deal?"
"Deal." she replied agreeably, perfectly willing to chase him down when the time came, "Get some rest. I don't want you sneaking out of here before Malgin has discharged you." she added with a wink.
Ella ran her hand along the console, marveling again at it's condition. Her yellow glove came back spotless, with no trace of dirt or dust. Not even their Engineering was that clean.
Once again, she looked around her but the Defiant's Main Engineering was empty. Beisdes, herself, the only ones in the room were her engineers, who were in the process of changing the air filters.
Even though the ship looked like it had been lived in by Mr.Clean and Martha Stewart, it's air seemed to have absorbed all the filth. It was dry and musty. But at least it was breathable, Ella thought as she inhaled. She was glad that the helmet could come off now. It had blocked her perhipheral vision while they were walking to Engineering, and the corridors had been nothing but flickering lights and lingering shadows.
Not that she really expected anyone to come jumping out of the dark, and a hundred year old person at that, but it never hurt to play it safe. One of the more valuable lessons she had learned from her youth.
A slight irritation rose as she remembered her talk with Karyn Dallas but she pushed that aside as she played with the controls. The ship had little power. Boosting it might prove to be difficult and she was hesitant to try something drastic with a ship as old as this old.
But, then again, it didn't hurt to know how she might go about it, if the need ever arose.
Which it will, no doubt, Ella told herself. A ship of legend,
heralded by weird fluxuations of power, found floating in "bad" space
by a military-crazed captain and his relatively new crew.
How could it not?
After dropping her daughter little Karyn off at day care Lt. Commander Rose Isis MacAllen ran into the transport room while putting her jacket.
"He ready to be beam to the ship ma'am?" the young transport chief answered while looking at the young Betazoid.
"Let him wait an an few minutes I have to make sure I'm perfect." she told her with an little grin while playing with her two diamond wedding rings. She put her gentle, soft fingers into her now short blond hair and took an deep breath.
"The Runabout USS Colorado reports they HAVE to energize in the next two minutes, or they'll have to breakoff and return to starbase 112. They've been matching our warp course, but can;t energize until we drop to sublight." the Chief pressed, her hands dancing across the board.
The young officer bit her lip so she won't say anything bad about the Chief and looked towards the transporter pad, "You may beam then to the ship now, Chief."
The Chief sent the mesage, and the Transporter deck shimmered with the light of the transport from the Runabout, as USS Galaxy dropped to impulse, and then accelerated to Warp again.
It was weird, that Galaxy was getting not one, but three Engineers this time. It was weirder that the Colorado had taken the time out, to travel this far.
"Ma'm.. the ship's biofilters are...nevermind." The Chief snapped, going glassy eyed for a a moment.
Three humanoid forms shimmered into view. Rashid was he first, and behind him, two more burly humans.
"Rose! My beloved! It has been... far . . . far too long." Rashid said, stepping off the dais of the transporter, arms open and the smile Rose adored playing across his swarthy face.
"You are all cleared to report for duty. Welcome to USS Galaxy." the Chief said, in a dull monotone voice. She briefly shook herself, and went back to her duties of re-setting the control board. She logged that the biofilters had momentarily showed Nausicianns coming aboard... but somehow she also deleted the log notation and the malfunction report. The Chief then promptly forgot about even thinking the outlines of the two burly human engineers looked odd...and forgot everything except that the transport had been 'by the book' and normal.
No one noticed that the box, the other two human Engineers carried, as it glowed and flickered with an unnatural light.
After her breakdown aboard Stardock, Bhrode had relieved his Betazoid Yeoman of duties. Which left Rose, pretty much the only telepath aboard. So the Medusan criminal in the box had no problem controlling exactly how Rose or the rest of the crew perceived itself, or it's companions.
Including the man who now wore the face of Rashid ibn-Corina.
With an smile but alittle uneasy look on her face the young Commander kisses her husband very passionate and then whisper in his ear in Betazoid, "My Asst.Chief is taking care of little Karyn for an few nights and we have the time to ourself so you can do anything you like with me my love."
The tall man chuckled, the sound not quite as she remembered.
"Oh.. I have plans for YOU my love...a very wise man once said to me "Always have a plan..." he giggled in her ear.
"Thank you Chief, you did an great job." the young woman said as all four of then exited the transporter room.
Rose looked back and saw that the two men was still following then she was an bit puzzled as while they was following Rose and her husband.
"I got some new Betazoid nightgowns, I been waiting for you to come back to me." she told him in Betaziod while kissing his neck alittle.
"humm... perhaps we can do without those..." Rashid was saying, as he waived the oteher two behind him.
"Thank you Chief, you did an great job." the young woman said as all four of then exited the transporter room.
"Hold on Ma'm..." the Chief snapped... as Yellow Alert suddenly sounded.
A gaggle of EVA suited Engineers came jogging down the corridor, with armed security guards on their heels.
"You Rashid? Structural Engineer?" the lead Engineer demanded.
"Yes. Isn't it costomary for me to report to the Chief Engineer, and not ..." Rashid began, his dark eyes cold with annoyance.
RED ALERT suddenly sounded, cutting him off.
==five minutes to rendevous. ALL Search and Rescue teams report to Transporter rooms 1 and 2== the voices told them.
"Get into EVA suits, same for you Commander. Mister Corina... you're with me. Lt. Sousa,By the Way. Welcome to Galaxy." The Engineer snapped.
A large uniformed security officer was blocking the rest of the Engineers. a tubby figure was behind him.
"MOVE it, you big lug! Raven! Yo! A little speed with the tushie?" Leo Streely screeched.
A tiny EVA suited figure wriggled her way past Raven Darkstar with an impatient sigh.
"Corina? Team two. EVA search and rescue." Rebecca announced.
"He's with me, smegging well need another Engineer on MY team! Too many of Corgan's people! YOu smegged the rosters up but GOOD!" another red and black suited Commander insisted.
"I just GOT here! I wanted to see my bride a bit before..." Corina announced, too loudly, a pale expression on his face as he studied the looming figure. "Do I know you?" he asked it.
The huge figure just stared, silent and impassive behind its helmet.
Rebecca arched one tiny red eyebrow.
"So?" she coldly demanded, impatient to do her job and get this clownshow on the road.
"So I'm married.. I just got here and I want to see my wife!" Rashid insisted.
"Oh! Bloody good congrats and all! He's married Red! You know, whjen a man and a woman get together and they... " Lysander babbled.
Rebecca was flummoxed. Icky emotions...so what if he was married. There was a mission.
"YO! Raven! I need a gun! And a spacesuit! HElllloooooo! Whatcha lookign at? Another Suicide? A nekkid Chick? Helllloooooo? What about ME? The fans want ME! " Leo demanded.
Rebecca turned from the angry Engineer to deal with Streely.
"You're not going, Deputy!!" she insisted, glad that Streely never brought all the emotional baggage that Lysander and the others did.
"What? WHAT? You're gonna trust Raven without me to look out for him? What if he gets in trouble? What if there's Borg? Yo Raven? MOVE it ! I gota get a gun!" Leo was screeching, trying to press past the huge Indian blocking the hallway.
"Commander Darkstar. Remove your Deputy and get back here." Rebecca announced with a certain relish, as Raven's armoured hands grabbed Leo's Scruffy neck and the Deputy was removed shouting and kicking from the scene.
Rashid eyed the menacing form with a smirking grin.
"Darkstar....??? I think I might enjoy this little trip after all. Of ourse I'll suit up...COmmander.." he announced , reading Rebecca's rank from her EVA suit.
"Darkstar, take your group out of here." Rebecca announced, mentally putting the problem of the Engineer away.
"VON ERNST! Send Boy Wonder back up to the Bridge!" Bhrode bellowed over every suit's com link and making the whole mess of people wince.
Rebecca went back to sorting people into the two groups she wanted.
"That Guy took my Phaser!" Leo was screeching, as the heavy doors cut he and Raven off.
Victor/Rashid smiled and juggled the Phaser II as he opened an EVA suit locker.
Paybacks and THEN fun with his beloved Rose....
Cutter waited impatiently for Lt. Marsh to break in the physics labs on Deck
Three. He slowly input the code on the side panel, then dashed in alone when
the door opened. It was what he was trained to do, it was his job, but it was
still annoying. Cutter had come to the conclusion that there would be no one
inside, like every other searched room, and began to move through the door when
Marsh surprised him.
"Hello! Who's there?" the security officer screamed out through his glass faceplate and the speakers in Cutter's helmet. "Hello! Answer me!"
Cutter slipped in the room, behind Lt. Marsh. He began searching the wall with his gloved hand, and quickly found the panel he was looking for. The lights in the room quickly came on, and Cutter turned towards the room's silent occupant.
"There's no one here," he said looking around for any movement. The physics lab was as large as a lounge, and twice as cluttered. Large bulky tubes ran laps around the room, most of them running through a large antiquated spectrometer. Several others split off into side reaction chambers or smaller less clearly defined instruments. There were tanks of various gases attached to the experimental network lining the walls between tables and computer terminals. Nothing was clearly marked, some of the labels on the tanks appeared to have been scratched off. There were loose wires, some of them sheathed, some not, running from the walls to instruments, and from instruments to other instruments.
"So, are there any survivors?" Ensign Manley asked, entering the room. Water from Deck 4 still dripped from his EVA suit onto the metal deck plating, causing faint tings.
"I saw something, I know I saw something. I have good eyes!" Marsh explained to himself. He was obviously confused.
"There's no one here, Lieutenant," Cutter stated, irritated. He unlatched his helmet, and a quiet hiss of air snuck out as he removed the bulky object from his head. Ens. Manley had reported that there was breathable air on this deck. Marsh lifted his face plate and continued searching the room, muttering to himself, convinced he had seen something inside. Manley, too, removed his helmet, and set on a table near the entrance, as he scratched through his brown hair. He ducked under the tubes and began exploring the room from the inside out.
"So, you never explained, Lt. Kara'nin, how that water could stand still like it did," he said looking over one of the more tossed-together instruments.
"I told you, I don't know. We're in an area of space overlapping another dimension aboard a ship that moved completely into another dimension, as far as anyone can tell. The Defiant, and everything aboard, has had time to adjust to the dimensional properties of this other universe. There's every reason to believe that we were witnessing an effect of this adjustment," Cutter explained, while trying to activate the computers, "Any experiment I run here will tell me about the properties of this alternate universe and how the Defiant has changed."
"What is this?" Manley asked.
Cutter sighed and turned to look at the object of the junior officer's attention, "That's an EM field imaging scanner. Look, ensign, just, uh...., don't touch anything, all right?"
"Oh, right, sorry," he said, looking back at Cutter. He nodded his apology and continued to explore, moving back to the far side of the room.
Marsh backed up next to Cutter, still looking out across the room. "You don't think they would have cloaking devices, do you?"
"I doubt it."
The security officer shrugged and turned to the scientist, "Do you need any help, sir?"
"Not at the moment. I'm trying to figure out what this setup was designed for, then hopefully run some simple subatomic experiments to see if I can determine some of the properties of the dimensional structure of the Defiant's universe."
"Okay," Marsh said then got up and stood behind Cutter, reading over his shoulder. A few minutes went by quietly as Cutter read. The experiment was indeed a make shift particle collider, as Cutter had expected. There were lots of things he could do to learn about the Defiant's recent residence, unfortunately, none were as simple as looking at the dimensional structure itself. He would have to run experiments, redetermine properties of atoms, particles, forces, etc., and construct a picture. It was going to take time and work, but if he could start the process, then he could bring over other scientists to help him finish it. The Defiant's crew apparently had some idea of the type of space they were in. They had been running the same experiment over and over, a simple hydrogen-hydrogen collision and tabling the results. Cutter brought up the results graphically and studied them. The energy output of the atomic fusion sh! owed a slight increase the longer they remained in the....
The shearing crack of brittle metal breaking and hissing scream of air broke Cutter's concentration. The high pitched squeal ripped through to Cutter's spine like a banshee's cry, and it was quickly followed by a lower pitched yell, a human cry. His head whirled around in search of the commotion and he saw in the back of the room a slightly opaque cloud slowly spreading out; the scent punched his nostrils and tickled his lungs.
"Get your helmet on! NOW!" Cutter screamed at Marsh while reaching for his headgear. Marsh only had to lower and reseal his face plate; he made his way over and under the device that filled the room to the source of the scream; Cutter was only moments behind. The sight which greeted them was not pleasant.
Manley lay on the ground, motionless. A jagged metal shard stood in his chest, stabbed through the plastic polymer chest plate, stuck like a flag pole in the ground. His face was melted in a stew of blood, puss, and flesh. The ensign's chin had disintegrated away, the jaw bone and his lower teeth glimmered white, a snow capped peak in a range of red blisters. The rest of the flesh on his face was still there -- to some extant, it in no way resembled a face below the nose. The left eye lid had burned away, leaving the ball exposed, swelling with puss and optic fluid.
Cutter looked at the ruptured container. The label was partially ripped off, leaving a circle and another curve, the top of a second symbol. O3, Cutter assumed, ozone. That would explain the ensigns injuries, ozone severs the bonds of organic material, burning flesh, ultimately disintegrating it. His lungs were most likely in a state similar to his face. The tissue down his throat and the alveoli in the lungs was surely destroyed. Manley would suffocate before he'd bleed to death.
Lt. Marsh began to act on instinct. He gripped the ensign under the arms and began to drag him out of the lab. Cutter followed the lieutenant's lead, and took Manley by the legs, lifting the injured man fully off the ground. They quickly got him outside the lab, down the corridor and into the turbolift. Cutter grabbed the handle and twisted, "Sickbay," he yelled.
"Deck 7," Marsh suggested.
"Deck 7," Cutter repeated, and the turbolift finally started to move. Their efforts were futile, Manley would not survive.
With a soft “oof!” of exertion, Commander Rebecca von Ernst stacked the last of the Away Teams survey gear in a neat little pile at the corner of the Defiant’s hangar bay.
She had chosen the expansive bay as the primary base of operations for the away team, and now with the last of equipment unpacked and sorted, it was finally starting to look ship-shape.
Most of the others were off scouting the ship, but she had recruited one team member to assist her with setting up ‘camp’.
Glancing back over her shoulder, she could watched the figure of young Ensign Bill Red arranging the rod-like array of Transporter Pattern Enhancers in a neat little ring. Given the problems the original Enterprise Survey Team had with their transporters 100 years ago, it was already taken into consideration that the Galaxy team would have similar difficulties.
The precisely configured array of Pattern Enhancers would serve to overcome the natural energy-scrambling nature of the dimensional Interphase, and would be key in recovering the team if necessary.
~~If necessary.~~ Rebecca mused to herself.
Ideally, the mission parameters called for friendly contact with the Defiant survivors, and restoration of ship’s systems to the point where the venerable old starship could fly itself out of the interphase rift where it had spent more than a century like a fly trapped in amber.
The historical value of a fully recovered Constitution class starship was incalcuable, so saving the ship was clearly an objective.
At worst the enhancers were a backup measure in case recovery of the ship proved impossible. A loss to the science and historical departments perhaps, but contact with and recovery of the crew was paramount.
~~Speaking of which. . . .~~ Rebecca nudged the chin-mounted Comm switch in er foggy EVA helmet, wishing not for the first time that Engineering could do something to improve the quality of air aboard the Defiant.
It wasn’t that there was no air. . . in fact he ship was fully pressurized at 1.01 atmospheres. . . .it was just that the precise balance of oxygen, nitrogen, and other gasses were sorely out of kilter producing a very unhealthy mixture for anyone interested in the long term efficiency of their lungs.
Technically it WAS breathable after a fashion, but the Medical Attaché had advised EVA suits nonetheless. He had warned that anyone who went off suit air would be in store for a very long. . .and very uncomfortable lung-suctioning procedure at the hands of Dr. Malgin whenever they returned to Galaxy.
Wisely, the entire Away Team had shuddered and elected to keep the helmets on.
Idly Rebecca wondered how the Defiant survivors had managed to cope. Perhaps children growing up in such an odd atmosphere would adapt to. . . . . .
“Ensign Red reporting Ma’am.” The crackle in her ears interrupted her thoughts. “Pattern Enhancers are aligned and charged. Our escape route is secure..”
“Acknowledged Ensign.” Rebecca replied when she realized Red couldn’t see her nodding in her helmet. “Run a diagnostic and lets test fire the field just to be sure.”
Snapping a salute the Ensign bent to his task, and Rebecca nudged a new chin-switch to flip to a different frequency. “Von Ernst to Galaxy. . . . Comm check.. How do you read?”
A loud squeal of static in her helmet caused the redhead to wince and she quickly reduced the volume with a flick of her tongue.
“Come in Galaxy. . . Defiant calling.”
=/\= Gal. . . .call. . . .trans. . . mission. .. . .van der Puls Hawks. . . . status report?=/\=
Frowning at the interphase interference, Rebecca walked over to the Pattern Enhancer ring and detached a small cable from her belt. Flipping open a small panel on the side of one of the enhancer rods, she plugged one end of the cable into a matching receptacle in the side of the rod.
While primarily designed for transporter enhancement, each rod had a flip open panel to allow direct hook-up to an Eva suit (or tricorder) to also provide signal boosting of standard subspace communication frequencies.
Only the fact that Rebecca had to stand still, remaining literally joined at the hip by a three-foot power cable made the setup awkward at best.
“Defiant calling” she repeated “. . .. rerouting signal through pattern enhancers. . .how do you read Galaxy?”
=/\= Good morn.. .Princess.=/\= the much improved voice of Commander Hawksley crackled from her helmet speakers. =/\= We were. . .. be. . ng. . .. to think you’d nev. . .r….call.=/\=
Rebecca chewed her bottom lip and re-examined the cable running from her suit to the rod. Still some static on the line, but better than nothing.
“Copy Galaxy. . . .We have established a base of operations out of the main hangar deck, and have broken into several smaller search teams conducting a deck by deck survey of the vessel. Tricorder readings are. . . well. . . . frankly readings are non-existent, and so far no visual confirmation of ship’s survivors either. Transporter Pattern Enhancers are aligned and online.”
=/\= Roger that.=/\= Hawksley replied a bit distractedly, =/\= Listen up. . . .Comma. . ..drr. . . .e. . .g. ot a situation here. Long range . . . . indicates . . . .ss. . . .Tholian starship on direct intercept for this position. No clear idea . . .. intentions yet, but we may. . . . .st. . for quick evacuation of Defiant if nec. . .. sary.=/\=
~~Tholians!!~~ Rebecca grimaced.
“Have you thought to try using a Pierson’s Reverse . . . .” she began.
=/\=. . . Pierson’s Reverse Envelopment Maneuver. . .yes Princess. I sat through the . . …class as you did. . . .orry about your team, and let. . . .deal with the Tholins myself.=/\=
Chagrined, Rebecca almost smiled. “Copy Galaxy. . . .We’ll stand by for possible evacuation, but until then I’m going to continue our search. . . .for . . . what was that noise?”
A distant low rumble and a vibration that set the deck plates beneath her to shaking distracted Rebecca.
=/\= Last. . .garbled. Say again Defiant?=/\=
The rumbling continued, seeming to come from all directions at once reminding Rebecca slightly of a metal-on-metal scraping sensation. The dim Hangar Bay lights overhead flickered a bit as if power were being shunted away for some other purpose. She wondered what could be causing the noise.
“Uh . .. standby Galaxy,” Rebecca glanced around in the flickering shadows. “I think engineering got some of the ships systems functioning. . . . . I can here some sort of machinery moving. . . .grinding actually. . . .and the deckplates here are vibrating a bit. Power seems to be dropping off for the overhead lights as well.”
10 kilometers away, hunched over a LCARS display, Commander Lysander van der Puls Hawksley frowned at the semi-garbled reports coming in from the Defiant.
“Sorry Princess, lost that last bit.” he said, “Mind repeating it for me?”
=/\= . . .ont’t call me . . .rincess first of all.=/\= Rebecca’s irritation came through the static loud and clear, =/\= I said. . . got some sort of power. . . .diverting. . . . .lights flicker. .. ing. . . .ossibly some sort of machinery rumbling the whole bay.=/\=
Lysander furrowed his brows. The Away Team Engineers were supposed to be restoring ship’s systems, but he thought it would be a little too early for them to have come up with anything so soon. Machinery on a Starship wasn’t supposed to vibrate the deck either unless it was smegging huge.
=/\=Weird vibration. . . .sort of like . . .dunno. . .. srt . .st. . .to . .. . grinding metal or something. =/\=
“Copy that, “ Lysander replied, “Stand by while we check up on something.”
Technically Lysander should have been worrying about the incoming Tholians, but something in Rebecca’s voice worried him a bit so he quickly pulled up some schematics from the library archives. Ancient bluprint schematics played across the screen and he quickly scrolled through them.
~~Lets see. . . .Constitution class. . . . . Hangar bay. . . Possible Heavy Machinery. ~~~
Thumbing down through the list, the Alpha Centaurian checked off any possible source for the odd noises his little redheaded Princess was hearing.
“Okay listen up for some possibilities. . . . .What about Landing Tractor beams?”
=/\=. . .dnt. . .ink so. Wouldn’t cause the floor to vibrate.=/\=
“Okay. . . .Port or starboard Cargo doors?”
A brief pause.
=/\=No. . .uh. . .. those actually seem to be firmly latched shut. . . .now . I hear some hissing. . .odd=/\=
“Copy that. . you hear hissing. What about the Shuttle elevator to the Maintenance bays?”
=/\= No. . .I’m standing on that with my suit plugged into the . . .trns. . . .pattern ..hancers. hissing getting real loud. . .=/\=
“Roger that.” Lysander idly tapped the switch to scroll down to the next item of heavy Machinery on the list.
He wondered what could be making the rumbling and the hissing like that. He glanced at the next display and his blood froze.
~~~Did she say hissing? In the Hangar? . . . .THE HANGAR DOORS !!??!!~~~
“Holy Smeg!!” he slammed his fist down on the Comm switch, “The Hangar doors are opening!!! That’s escaping air that’s hissing!!! Get out of there Rebecca!!! Get out right now!!!”
=/\= What the . . . OH MY GOD. . . . NOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!! . . . .=/\=
A terrified shriek echoed across the Galaxy bridge buzzing with static, and was suddenly cut short.
“Transporter Room One!!! “ Lysander cried out switching channels faster than he had ever done in his life, “Lock onto the Pattern enhancers and pull her out of there before. . . . “
“Too late!” the Duty OPS officer interrupted from his forward bridge station. “The Decompression has already emptied the bay, I’m zooming in the viewscreen on the Defiant’s aft portion. Commander . . . look!”
With a chill of horror Lysander stared at the screen that rapidly expanded to reveal a tight view of the Defiant’s Cigar-shaped secondary hull. The great clamshell hangar doors were already half open, and a hazy puff of atmosphere could barely be seen jetting from its rear. Various cartons of tools and equipment tumbled out into the void spinning crazily, as well as several unmistakable rod-like shapes that could only be the Pattern Enhancers.
=/\=Transporter Room One reporting=/\= The ship’s intercom crackled. =/\=I don’t have a lock on anything sir. . . .I lost a focus on the pattern enhancers, and cant seem to zoom .=/\=
Lysander didn’t reply. The Enhancers were gone, and as he watched in stunned silence, a solitary space-suited figure went spinning out of the hangar bay, arms and legs kicking wildly in a vain attempt to grab onto the nothingness of space.
~~Princess. . .no!!~~
The figure rapidly receded from view being pulled further into the interphase rift, until finally with a last spasm of limbs it simply vanished over the dimensional Event Horizon disappearing into he multiverse forever.
“Dear god.” Breathed the Ops officer. . . .”She’s. . .she’s.”
“Gone.” Lysander finished the sentence with a wheeze, collapsing like a lump into the chair beneath him.
“She’s gone. . . . .”
Donovan and his team had been some of the last to beam over, as per Commander Von Ernst's orders. Tactical wasn't an immediate nessesity, but in the event of any hostile action, having Defiant's weapons online and having an officer familiar with them would be important. With the Defiant so close to Tholian space, it was better to be cautious. Donovan had elected to beam over, leaving his wife on the bridge since Dan Livadhi was in sickbay with some sort of virus.
He brought with him Lieutenant JG Remur, since she was the most experienced on the technical side of his department, and she had elected to bring two of the techs along with her. Warrants Applebaum and Metz were the both competent officers who had just been hired by the fleet to work technical tactical on the USS Galaxy. They needed field experience though, and so Chase elected for them to accompany the away team to tactical planning.
Standing in the shuttlebay, Donovan Black looked over the old shuttlecraft, Lawrence and Dern. Everything was in such spotless condition that he couldn't help but think of the old saying "If a tree falls in a forest, and nobody is there to hear it, does it still create sound?"
"Of course it does. Sound is a series of vibrations." Donovan muttered a basic understanding of sound. Remur, who had been inspecting the inside of the craft, appeared at the aft door.
"Did you say something, sir?" she asked him. In her hads was an imager. He smiled back. Her naivete was showing again, as she was taking pictures of the inside of the ancient ship. Being on a Constitution-Class Heavy Cruiser had been a dream of hers since was in the third form, she had confessed to him earlier.
"Not at all? Having fun, Chase?" he chucked, nodding at the imager. She flashed a quick smile.
"Of course. Are you ready to get up to Tac-Planning so we can get started on the real work." she asked. Eager as always, she was itching to get her hands on the Defiant's computers.
"As soon as I clear it with Commander Von Ernst." Black said, "Go round up the techs while I call it in." he said. She nodded, brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes, and hurried off to find Metz and Applebaum.
Tapping his communicator, Donovan suppressed a smile at his colleague's enthusiasm. He remembered being that green. "Black to Von Ernst."
[Von Ernst here.] the familiar, icy voice replied.
"Requesting permission to begin my inspection of tactical offices." Black said, then waited for the reply.
[Go ahead, Lieutenant, security says that deck is clear.] Von Ernst replied. [And Lieutenant... it was the Grayson Theorum. The one about the Tholians that you asked me earlier.]
"Thank you, Commander. Tactical out." Black said, then cut the link. Having a pair of tactical geniuses on board as the executive officers was a pain sometimes, but occasionally it paid off.
Lieutenant JG Remur was back, and behind her were the technicians. "Are we cleared to move on to tactical planning?" she asked.
"Yes. Commander Von Ernst just told me. You know the plan, follow me." Black replied, turning and heading for the turbolift. "And one more thing, don't take off your helmets. You can open the visors, but don't remove your helmets. We are in potentially hostile territory."
"Aye sir." Remur replied. They silently boarded the turbolift that would take them up to tactical planning. Metz and Applebaum, the towering German and the tiny Jewish girl, each carried a case of tools and a phaser 2. Black and Remur each carried a tricorder and a phaser rifle.
Arriving at tactical planning, they keyed in the codes that had been provided to them by Major Bolivar. The door slid open and they stepped into the spotless room.
And stopped.
"Visors down." Black said.
All around the room there were notepads and PADDs and other objects, including a plate with food on it. Black glared down at the ham sandwich. It reminded him eerily of one he had left by the arch the other day. Dan had grabbed it for him the following shift.
"What's wrong, sir?" the much smaller Remur asked from behind his left shoulder. Black heard three visors shut.
"This place looks like it was just used. I don't like this." Black said. "Something about this entire situation is wrong. After so many years, the USS Defiant shows up on the border of Tholian space, looking like it has just been lived in. Something smells, and it isn't the sandwhich."
"Perhaps there are descendents of the crew alive, somewhere onboard." Applebaum supplied, hopeful.
"Doubtful. If they were still alive, they would have realized by now that we're starfleet and shown themselves." Metz said sharply. Applebaum gave him a dirty look.
"Maybe they would, maybe they wouldn't. I think that maybe they're too scared to come out into the open. And we're so close to Tholian space that there's no telling about the bioscan readings." Tzietel said.
"You're wrong, plain and simple...." Metz started to correct her again, but Black cut him off.
"Cut the bickering, we have work to do." he said, "Remur, log into their computers and begin downloading their tactical library. Metz, log into their computer and pull the files on their tactical staff. Applebaum, log onto their computer and get into the files on their weapon system." Black ordered. Something still didn't seem right, but an answer wasn't presenting itself.
A trio of "Yes sir." followed and Black himself moved over into the room, glancing over the papers and PADDs that were scattered across the room. Most of them seemed to be information on defense plans as well as Tholian vessels, though a few of them troubled him. Some of the information seemed to recent, considering what little was known of the Tholian Assembly. Hopefully his mind was just playing a trick on him, he decided.
"I have the information you wanted." Applebaum said.
"Okay, I want you to send a copy to my PADD, then familiarize yourself with it. I'll need you to be my relief officer should we have to take Defiant into combat." Black replied, then began to read over the extensive information that was beginning to come through to his PADD.
"Download in progress. I had a little problem getting past the tactical core's security, but I think my last code got past it." Lieutenant Remur said.
As Black turned to face her, he could have sworn that he saw something move out of the corner of his prosthetic eyeball, but assumed that it was A-bomb or Metz.
"Good. Having the tactical core of the Defiant will give the analysts on Galaxy something to do for a while." Black chuckled. "Monitor the ship's systems, will you."
"Sure thing, Donovan." she replied, turning back to her workstation. Then she turned back to him. "Did you see something move?" she said, looking worried.
"Yeah, why? Did you?" he asked, cocking his head to one side.
"You tell me, Lieutenant. You're the one with the enhanced eyesight." she said. Her brow furrowed.
"I thought I did, but Metz and A-bomb are behind me." he replied.
"Don't call me that!" Tzietel Applebaum piped up.
"Shush." Metz snapped at her as he typed at his workstation. For their part, Black and Remur ignored both outbursts, as they were quite used to Metz and Applebaum arguing.
"I don't know, never mind, it must have been.... wait." Chase's voice got deadly cold. "I'm reading explosive decompression in the shuttlebay. The doors opened for some reason." Chase managed to sound confused and worried at the same time.
Black was already on his feet, and his hand shot to his communicator badge. "Black to Von Ernst."
Silence. The most painful force in the universe.
"Black to Von Ernst."
Silence.
"Black to Von Ernst, damn it, Rebecca!" Donovan emoted. "Chase, can you bring sensors online and focus them aft of the shuttlebay? Applebaum, use internal sensors and try to find Commander Von Ernst. Metz, damn it, close your bloody visor!"
As his staff scrambled to do so, Black himself took over a set of sensors, focusing the viewscreen at the main table's terminal. On it was a picture of the aft of the shuttlebay. Searching the debris, he recognized a pattern enhancer as well as a few other random engineering tools.
"Commander Von Ernst is not registering on internal sensors, sir." Applebaum reported quietly. She remembered the story of a certain ensign on the original USS Galaxy who had tried to approach a certain commander and convince her of the error of her ways.
"She's not on external's either. It's as though she disappeared. I can't even get a read on her suit." Remur said.
Black hung his head quietly. Rubbing his hands over his temples, he shook his head. She was gone. "Blast it." he said, tapping his communicator again.
"Black to Hawksley."
Silence. Again with the silence. Black began to wonder whether communications were online or not.
"Black to Galaxy."
And then they were alone.
* * * *
The USS Defiant's shuttlebay was now a flurry of activity. A pair of the Engineers was argueing over one of the two shuttles, apparently trying to decide if it was functional or not. Two redsuited figures were clumsily sorting the mountain of equipment that had beamed in with the team. The other had scrambeled out the hatch to various points within the ship. Through it all, Corgan's Security teams escorted various parties to their individual targets... under the sneering and watchful eyes of the two Marines flanking the Bay's sole access hatch.
"Ya'all have a NICE day now, don't let no alien bite you." Rifleman Dahlquist sneered at every passerby, making sure his laser aiming indicator played over sensitive portions of their anatomies as they passed,
"Yeah. Bite me!" tittered Corporal East. half listening while perusing the latest centerfold of PLAYBEING on his PADD, his ass parked on a packing crate he'd dragged over..
The pair was so engrossed in their fleetie baiting, they never even noticed the enormous figure looming in the shadow of a stack of crates. Without a word or sound, the shadow seemed to flow forward..detaching from the pool of ebon blackness with only a whisper. Soundlessly it crossed the four meters seperating it from the pair. It extended one inky pseudopod slooowwlyyyy behind East...who was still engrossed in the centerfold and her tertiary mammiliary development...
::CRACK::
Easts' PADD clattered to the deck. Dahlquist spun at the noise, his assault weapon at the ready...the shadow seemed to surge forwards from East's location. Without a whisper, it LOOMED over Dahlquist.
"Eiiirrrrgghhhhhh!!!!" Dahlquist screamed, as he dropped his weapon with a clatter.
"Point that at me or anyone else again and you're gonna eat it." a voice told him harshly over his com channel.
"Sorry Major!" Dahlquist and East breathed out in chorus, fumblng their possessions off the desk with sheepish grins.
Major Log heaved a long suffering sigh and glared at the Marines.
"The Commander said 'Guard the door' not 'tease my crews' didn't she?" he demanded, with a jerk of his head to where the two redsuited figures were humping equipment around.
"YES SIR" they snapped off.
"Then why you screwups are...nevermind." Log replied.
"Awww...who wants this old crate anyways.?" demanded East, fondling his assault weapon.
"Some Admiral." Log grunted.
"Yeah, but there were -better- Constitutions made. Lookit the ENTERPRISE or the KONGO with the Mark Three Molyberellium alloyed deckplates! The Defiant was a Mark II and didn't have the..."
"Dahlquist. Shut up." Log grated out.
"Trivia geek! You should have been an engineer!" hissed East.
"Your momma was an Engineer" shot back Dahlquist, feebly.
"The next one of you to open their pieholes is gonna BE a dead Engineer." Log promised, flexing his doubly oversized powered armour gauntlets. He reached over and slapped down Easts' helmet visor.
"Stinks in here. Stay buttoned up." he told them.
"Commander Von Enrst says that the engineers should have the atmosphere back normal levels within ten hours." a thin, piping voice told them.
"Really? Because if they cross shunt MORE power to the scrubbers AND they dumop a bottle of 'Gro-More' (Available at finer gardening stores Galaxy-wide! Another fine Hawksley Chemicals Product, from the makers of PIP-Shine and Joe's Ammo Wax!) in the hydroponics labs, they might be able to do it within eight hours! I remember that one time, on the EXCELSIOR they.." began the one marine.
"Dahlquist.. shut UP!" moaned East.
Samantha Widdlestein sniffed haughtily and drew herself up to her full (Aged 10) height.
"My Mummy says that if you can't say anything nice about a starship, you shouldn't." she informed the universe at large.
The Universe at Large digested this information and went back to it's business much the wiser.
"Guard the door." Log grunted and disappeared into a handy shadow again, as the lights flickered.
"How does he DO that?" asked an awed Dahlquist.
"Indian secret?" ventured East, looking around for something to shoot.
"You feel something rumbling?" Sam demanded.
"Yeah.... I do.... HEY! Get out of that!" Dahlquist snapped at Samantha.
"What? The NICE Commander said I could look around." Samantha replied, closing an access panel.
"God only knows what those damn old engineers stuck in there." snapped East, who was mad he couldn't oogle nude women OR shoot anything.
"Some controls...b-o-r-i-n-g! " Sam enunciated with a sigh.
"Hey, did the lights just flicker? Maybe there's gonna be a show!" entheused East.
"There ARE no strippers in space!" groused Dahlquist.
Neither noticed Samantha carefully gripping the yellow and black emergency Ladder bolted to the bulkhead.
"There are SO strippers in space! What about Streelys' Sextopia Planet near Risa? I hear THAT planet has sub-orbital rides where the girls literally can...errr.." East noticed the Samantha, semingly for the first time.
"They what? she asked sweetly.
"Nothing." East muttered.
Then , all hell broke loose.
With an audible 'pop' the containment field disappeared. The atmosphere of the shuttlebay suddenly expressed a desire to be elsewhere.
Crates, bodies and loose objects swirled in a maelstrom of confusion.
Samantha Widdlestein hung onto the ladder for literally dear life. Major Log, appearing from nowhere again, as was his woint, mighty feet mangetically clamped to the deck, held East and Dahlquist anchored, the scruff of one Marine held tight in each mighty fist.
His sinews straining against the force of the Universe, Log grated and held on tight. It was Mano versus Universe. Irrestiable force meets Unmovable Indian. Looks like Log was winning too.
The Engineers had luckily been INSIDE one of the shuttlecraft, and so were saved.
Not so lucky was Ensign Reed, who hit part of the clamshell doors visorfirst, his precious atmosphere joining that of the Bay.
Emergency Red Lights flashed and a synthesized voice was heard.
++Decompression Incident. Main Shuttle Bay. Emergency doors closing++
In a moment, it was over. The atmoshpere bubble was gone and space ruled in the Shuttle bay. Gravity was halved, some lighter objects still floated around the gaping clamshell doors. Log relaxed, and the Marines settled to the deck, their boots making automatic connections.
Log eyed the mess in the Shuttle bay. He grunted.
"Be less work for them to clean the air now." Dhalquist ventured.
[Grunt]
"You want me to get that body?" East asked Log, indicating Reed. The spray of frozen blood in a sacrlet fan-like arc from the cracked visor was a clear indication that recesuitation attempts wold be futile.
"Nope."
"Yeah, time later on Sir. You think them Pattern Enhancers are gonna work?"
"Nope. Gone."
"That sucks!"
"yep."
"You mean, we're STUCK on this ship?" demanded Dahlquist.
"Yep." Log glanced around again.
"We're gonna DIE here!" moaned East.
"Nope." Log grunted again.
"Anyone see that Commander Lady?" Sam asked from the ladder.
"Nope." Logs eyes swept the Bay one more time.
"Good. Bitch!..." Sam muttered under her breath.
"Better get you five somewhere else." Log growled, indicating the two marines, two engineers and Sam.
"Mummy said this was going to be a bad idea..." Sam groused.
****
"They say we're clear to check out Medical." Shelley O'Rourke pronounced the words with all the enthusiasm of someone about to receive a performance review from Captain Bhrode after she signed off with Commanders Reece and Corgan. "Interference is starting to pick up too - Commander Reece said proximity was the best defense."
~ Well, that wasn't *quite* like pulling teeth. ~ Victor nodded, glanced over his shoulder to where Hanley and So'ka were examining several of the old-style phaser rifles racked in the deserted Armory, and keyed over to the private channel he'd set up to O'Rourke's suit communicator. "Then we stick close to each other, no wandering off to explore around corners. If we keep visual contact we ought to be all right even if the interference gets worse."
"What the hell is it with you?" she snapped back. "One minute you're treating me like a child, and the next you're going out of the way to be polite and beaming me text messages to not have me look like a fool in front of the Commanders."
"Confusing, isn't it?" Victor replied calmly. ~ If I told you the truth, you'd laugh in my face, and call me a liar, O'Rourke. ~
'You are the most arrogant, brutal, sick..." she paused, trying to find the right words.
"I've always been partial to 'vile' myself," Victor offered pleasantly.
O'Rourke's face turned red. "Damn you, I'm in charge of this team and..."
"You're standing there, red in the face, berating me and not thinking about what we're here to do, O'Rourke," Victor finished for her. "You can sit around in your little coffee klatch back on the Galaxy and speculate about my purported mating habits, or whatever the topic of the day is another time. Right now you need to concentrate on what we're here to do."
She turned scarlet and stared at him. "I..."
~ That was a direct hit. I wonder what else they're saying about me that she now thinks I know? Should I enlighten her that the one time was enough? No... best let that one go. ~ "I mean it, O'Rourke. Pay attention to what we're doing now. You can hate me all you want later."
With a shudder, she drew herself up in the bulky suit and nodded once, her eyes flashing angrily. "You are the biggest..."
"Possibly," he interrupted. "Maybe even probably. But that doesn't have anything to do with this," he waved a hand at the ship in general, "does it?"
"No," she admitted grudgingly, obviously hating every second of the admission.
Victor nodded, "All right then, let's talk about something that does. Can you do that?"
"Yes." The single word came out no less forced than the previous one.
"Do you understand why we need to go to Medical?"
"Yes," she repeated, somewhat less reluctantly. "The records there will tell us what was happening to the crew."
"Why is that important?" ~ Come on, O'Rourke, you're smart, you can figure this out! ~
"Because that's why we're here, to find out..."
"No," Victor cut her off. "That's why we're here, but that isn't why it's important. Try again." ~ *Think* dammit! ~
Eyes flashing, she opened her mouth to deliver an obviously telegraphed scathing response... and stopped, her eyes going wide with understanding. "Because with the Defiant drifting it's going to happen to us, too, if they can't get us out of here."
~ Good girl. ~ "Correct." Victor nodded towards the racks of powered down weapons. "And we came aboard with as much firepower as they have in this Armory spread out among the teams. This time out, it won't be hand-to-hand if we start to go mad."
O'Rourke looked at the walls of the Armory. "If some of the Marines start to go crazy..."
"Don't spend all your time worrying about the Marines, O'Rourke. There are lots of things to worry about besides them."
"Such as?" she challenged
"For one, we've got engineers crawling over centuries old warp cores and fusion piles that haven't seen maintenance since James T. Kirk was a captain - the first time," Victor pointed out calmly. "That's not counting all the crewmen wandering the halls with itchy trigger fingers and phaser rifles, getting jumpier by the minute. Or..."
"You made your point."
"Gotta think about these things, O'Rourke. Remember, we get paid to be paranoid so they don't have to."
"They?" she frowned. "Who is 'they'?"
"The sheep, O'Rourke."
She stared at him suspiciously. "Sheep?"
"Sheep," he confirmed. "The crew, the officers - the ones that we're here to protect, O'Rourke."
"You think that people are... sheep?" she asked, shocked.
"You mean you don't?"
Eyes wide she shook her head. "I am not listening to this. I'm not. They are not *sheep* dammit, they're *people!*"
"Same difference, O'Rourke."
"There is all the difference in the world! People aren't helpless animals that stand around eating grass and waiting for someone to tell them when they need to move to another pasture. They think, they feel, they..."
"They stand around in herds, helplessly waiting for someone to protect them, O'Rourke. They look at you blankly when you try to explain that there are people that want to hurt them for no reason other than the fact that they're there. They run in circles and bleat helplessly when a predator shows up. They're sheep, just without the wool to make them useful."
Mouth open, she stood there and looked at him for a moment. "You... you really think that...?"
"What I think doesn't matter, O'Rourke. We're burning oxygen that's better spent doing the job." Victor pointed to the armory doors. "I think you need to scramble the codes when we leave. Put something new in, so no one's coming in after us without talking to you first."
She blinked at the sudden change of topic, her eyes still regarding his suspiciously. "Scramble the codes? Why?"
Victor sighed. "Think about it." He reached out and picked up a pair of Phaser 1's from the rack nearest them, holding them up. "Do we really want these things running around?"
"They're powered down," O'Rourke pointed out, looking confused and suspicious at the same time. "Why worry about them."
~ Are we going to do this every time? ~ "Dropping one of the phasers back into the rack he held up the other one. "Okay, O'Rourke, try this: these things date back over a century. When they were made, there were no tracking circuits, no global override safeties built in, no centralized computer control; they work on a different set of frequencies than the phasers we use now do, one that the computer doesn't scan for normally." He tossed the phaser in his hand once, and then slipped it into an exterior pocket of his suit, where it vanished. "We've got a ship full of souvenir-seekers, and that's how easy it is to pick one up and take it back to the Galaxy - if we de-suit, it'll be even harder to find. We'd need full strip searches on everyone to be sure."
O'Rourke's eyes lost their confused look. "They wouldn't be controlled by the centralized security system - anyone could charge it up and use it lethally at any time and we couldn't stop it from happening." She looked over at the bin. "And with the older frequencies, it'd be harder to pinpoint them when they were used without reconfiguring the whole internal sensor net."
"Exactly so." Victor did another scan and beamed the results back to O'Rourke's PADD. "There's a final count for your log. "Hanley," he called out, switching back to the group frequency. "Get us an exact count on those photon grenades for the log. So'ka, check everything else - we need to know exactly how many of everything there are." He turned back around, and began making an inventory of a drawer full of old-style survival knives. "I'll get the things up here."
"I'm on it."
"Working on it now, sir."
O'Rourke looked at the data scrolling across her PADD as the other three linked their tricorders to it and beamed their scans to her as they made them, frowned, and nodded reluctantly. "I'll change the codes," she conceded sourly to Victor on the private channel, "but I'm giving a copy of the new ones to the Commander."
"The more people that know, the less secure this place is, "Victor pointed out without looking up from his inventory.
"So now you think he's not trustworthy? That he'll tell the whole crew what the codes are?" Her voice was growing brittle.
~ She's not dealing with this well. I wonder if it's me, the lack of her usual support network, or something else? I thought this was a bad idea when Corgan announced it. ~ "Never said that, O'Rourke. All I said was that the more people that know, the less secure it is."
"But that's what you meant, isn't it? You don't trust him. So who do I give the codes to? Commander Reece? You?" The last word was spat out scathingly.
"Who I trust isn't the issue, O'Rourke - it's who you trust. Commander Corgan, Commander Reece - I don't care. You can keep them all to yourself if you want. I don't want the codes, O'Rourke. There's nothing in here that I need that I haven't already got, or can already get. Give them to whoever you want - just make certain that they know not to give them to anyone else." Victor straightened up and turned around, his survey done. "All done here," he announced, flipping back to the group frequency
Hanley and So'ka walked back up out of the dimly lit recesses of the Armory. "We appear to be finished as well, Lieutenant," So'ka reported to O'Rourke. "Is there anything else we need to do here?"
For a moment O'Rourke looked as though she were going to say something else as she stared at Victor, eyes flashing angrily, but the moment passed and she just shook her head. "No, I've got it all logged in - we're done here. I just need to reset the Armory locking codes and we can head back to Sickbay."
With a minimum of maneuvering in the EVA suits, So'ka and Hanley got out the door and covered both sides of the hallway while Victor watched O'Rourke program in the new codes to the Armory racks and the door. ~ That's one problem down, anyway. No idea how many more we'll run into though - there are all the drugs in Sickbay that'll need to be secured, and then there are... ~
His thought was interrupted by O'Rourke looking over her shoulder, seeing him standing in the doorway, and shifting position so her body blocked the console where she was inputting the new codes. ~ Good girl. You're starting to think now. ~ He turned to check on Hanley and So'ka, crossing his arms to disguise his check to make certain that the phaser 1 he'd pocketed in his demonstration earlier was still secure. ~ As long as you don't think *too* much. ~
"All done," O'Rourke announced a minute later, picking up her PADD and moving to the door. "The new codes take effect as soon as we close the door."
Victor stepped back, allowing her to pass into the corridor as he made a final sweep of the room. ~ Just as empty as... what was that? ~ He frowned and brought up his tricorder, scanning the room again. ~ Nothing there... but I know I saw something, like a shadow flickering between the racks. ~
"Something wrong?" O'Rourke's voice crackled over the private channel. "Not starting to see things are you?" She made no effort to conceal the mocking tone of her voice. "Getting a little jumpy maybe?"
"Just making a final check," Victor replied, checking the tricorder scans again before moving out of the way and letting the door close. ~ Must have been nothing - my imagination."
"If we're all ready then?" O'Rourke was back on the open channel.
The ensigns nodded, and without looking to see if Victor did, she turned and started back the way they'd come from the turbolift. The walk back through the corridors was done in silence until they reached the turbolift they'd exited.
"Where to from here?" Hanley asked, looking around nervously.
"And can we open suit visors, Lieutenant?" So'ka asked.
Victor raised his tricorder and ran another scan. "The air's breathable," he conceded. "I don't think we ought to depend on it more than we have to though - I'm getting some readings that suggest the gas mix is slightly off." He looked over at O'Rourke, who was staring at him expectantly. "I'd suggest leaving the helmets on and just opening visors if you decide to do it."
O'Rourke waited a moment longer, as if challenging him to say something, but Victor just returned her stare with a pleasant and open look. Finally, aware that the ensigns were looking at her, O'Rourke nodded. "Take a few more readings in different spots just to be sure, and if they come up clean, we'll open helmets to conserve on air," she decided.
Victor nodded, and started a slow walk around the inner perimeter corridor that connected Sickbay together, scanning as he went. O'Rourke watched him for a moment, before waving waved Hanley after him. "Stick with him, Ensign. So'ka and I will start with the Chief Medical Officer's office and see what his logs can tell us. We'll explore in teams - no one goes off by themselves."
"Aye-aye, ma'am." Hanley jogged off after Victor, catching up in short order. "Lieutenant O'Rourke says I'm supposed to stick with you, sir," he reported, eyes darting from side to side nervously. "No one goes off alone."
Victor nodded approvingly. "Good decision," he observed, looking up from the tricorder at Hanley for a moment. "You all right, Hanley?"
"Yes, sir," the ensign responded reflexively. "I'm just..."
"Nervous?" Victor suggested. "A little spooked, maybe?"
The ensign struggled for a moment, embarrassed to admit it, and finally nodded wordlessly.
"It's all right, we all are," Victor offered, adjusting the tricorder and running another scan. "Have the shadows started moving on you yet?" he asked after a moment.
"The what, sir?"
"The shadows." Victor nodded back towards the Armory. "For a minute as we were leaving the Armory I thought I saw the shadows moving under their own power. There was nothing there of course, just my imagination, but you're not the only one that's jumpy. Just keep your head and you'll be fine."
The ensign looked at Victor for a moment, and then nodded once. "I'll try, sir. And... thank you."
"No problem, now let's get these readings done so we can see about opening the suits up, shall we?' Victor replied with an answering nod.
Walking the inner perimeter corridor brought them back around to the Chief Medical Officer's office where O'Rourke and So'ka were busy working on the log computer. "Inner corridor's clean," Victor announced. "I'll check the outer one and call back."
O'Rourke waved him on, absorbed in her study of the logs.
Doubling back around the turbolift shaft, Victor walked the outer perimeter, stopping at each door to run a scan. ~ There are some mold spores, and a little particulate matter, but I can't identify them specifically. Maybe with a Sciences-configured tricorder it'd be easier, but I haven't got one of those. ~
"How does it look, Sir?" Hanley asked as they stopped in front of a door marked 'Obstetrics.' "Is the air okay?"
"For short-term use, yes. Looks like there's some spores and things that might be a problem if we try to breathe it too long though - and it probably won't smell good after all this time."
"I can deal with the smell as long as it's air, sir. The suit just makes me feel so... confined."
Victor nodded and keyed up the group channel. "The air looks all right for short-term use, O'Rourke. If we're going to be stuck here for a while the engineers need to do something about the filters though."
"All right," her reply crackled back. "Open up - but keep the helmets on and check your decompression monitors to make certain they're on. Captain Kirk's report talked about portions of the ship just phasing out and exposing rooms to vacuum at random."
Hanley eagerly juggled his phaser rifle over to one hand and reached up, releasing the seal on his helmet visor. The transparent visor rose up and clicked into place, and he took a single deep breath - then gagged, turned green and retched.
"What is it?" O'Rourke's voice snapped over the communicator. "What's wrong?"
"Hanley's having some kind of reaction - wait a moment." Victor unsealed his visor and took a single sniff of the air. ~ Oh. That's it. ~ "Nothing toxic, O'Rourke," he replied, bending over to check on the ensign. "Just a smell he wasn't ready for."
"Smell? What kind of smell?"
Satisfied that Hanley was all right, Victor straightened up and looked at the door labeled 'Obstetrics' they were standing next to - the source of the smell. ~ Odd dichotomy there. ~ "Death. It smells like death, O'Rourke."
"THERE!!" Lt. Koontz cried out as he trained his flashlight beam towards the kitchen.
The doors to the kitchen were closed and through the circular windows, only more darkness could be seen. Slightly to the left of the doors was a large open counter where food could be directly laid upon by the cooks and then picked up by those eating.
All three flashlight beams shown through the large bay window.
Hanging pots, ovens and cooking implements cast wicked shadows when hit by the palm light's unflinching glare. Then suddenly and without warning.....one of the shadows moved.
The Indian security officer immediatly crouched, his gaze never leaving the kitchen area. He holstered his tricorder, then held out his hand palm down, and ran it across his head once.
Cover me.
Little and Koontz trained thier phasers on the shadows moving in the kitchen and moved into proper position to protect Darkstar who was now covering the gap between himself and the doors in long, powerful strides that reminded Koontz of a panther he had once seen in a zoo back on earth.
The large man pressed himself into the wall next to the door, seeming to meld into the shadows. He held out his hand once again, this time wide open.
Ready...
Little peered down the sights of his phaser rifle while Koontz, to his left took a deep breath and aimed his hand phaser. Lt. Darkstar's hand clenched into a fist.
Go...
In a blur of motion contrary to the mans size, the Indian surged through the kitchen doors using his shoulder as a battering ram. Koontz and Little rushed to keep pace behind him, adrenaline surging through thier veins, fingers on the triggers of thier respective phasers.
The kitchen was empty.
"Oh shit, this ain't right!" Ensign Little said nervously. His chest began to heave. "I can feel..I can feel.."
Lt. Koontz looked over at the young man. "Settle down kid. It's Ok. We're safe."
Little just shook his head. " can..feel...can..feel..." he said between gasps. His face plate had almost fogged over completely. Darkstar turned his gaze from the tricorder he held. He seemed to be looking at something standing next to the panic stricken officer.
Little fell to the floor clutching his torso.
"Get...off...get...it...off..g..get.." he stammered, clawing at his chest.
"He's hyperventalating! " Koontz shouted to Darkstar.
The indian was looking at the wall where Little's fallen flashlight silhouetted the Ensign's form on the bulkhead.
There was a second shadow hammering at the fallen man's chest.
Turning his attention back to the Ensign, Darkstar's eyes widened as he saw the man having an apparent seizure. There was nobody near him, but Lt. Koontz.
Swearing in his native tounge, the indian sailed through the air expecting to connect with something but instead he found himself landing violently into a pair of chairs. Looking back at the fallen officer, he noticed that Little had fallen unconscious.
"He's alive..Pulse and breathing all back to normal." Koontz said, snapping shut his tricorder, wondering why Darkstar had reacted like he did. "The kid was nearly scared to death."
"We're not alone." the massive security officer announced, his head tilted ever so slightly as if he were listening to something only he could hear. He hoisted Little across his back nearly effortlessly.
He then grabbed the officer's phaser rifle.
"Let's get out of here." he rumbled and the pair turned to the doorway...
...to find that the doorway was no longer there.
"Something tells me we're hip deep in shit right now." Koontz said staring at the grey painted wall that now stood where once was the double doors leading to the hallway.
What was beyond the darkness?
Lexa Reece, the once confident and cool Chief of Operations, was stuck in the ramshackle ruins of what was once the security office, on board the USS Defiant. She was surrounded by the debris of what was once a chaotic confrontation, but it’s true purpose and intentions were shrouded even to the usually attuned Terran. To her, she was surrounded by chaos and madness, the burn scars and the incomprehensible scratching on the wall, the scattered remnants of electronics and the foul, damp, decay ridden air were the signs of being landed on the shores of hell.
But what was beyond the darkness?
Lexa wanted out of security. She felt it as strongly as she felt one of her vision attacks. This place was chaos, madness and hell. Not the essence, or the scene, but the very thing.
But what about her escape?
She looked into the entrance of what was labeled ‘The Brig’, but she couldn’t see beyond the doorway. Though the door was half way opened, probably lacking function due to the damage in security, the light from the main security office should have illuminated the inside. The very idea of the brig being pitch black was ludicrous. The laws of physics demanded that some light penetrated the darkness of the brig. But such was not the case. It was still pitch black, and Lexa Reece was deathly afraid to enter.
On one side, she was surrounded by frightening violence. She was afraid of what could happen to her on a sub-conscious level. Whatever… THAT was that caused the phaser burns and the scratches was not normal, and she didn’t want to be confronted by that madness. She wanted to escape, be away from her surroundings, and come somewhere more at peace with it’s surroundings, the opposite of her feral surroundings. But to go into the darkness, to escape from the frightening security office was to invite another level of fear into her psyche. She wasn’t yet willing to sacrifice one bad situation for another. The alternative was to plunge herself into the brig, to go into the place of darkness and hope her mind could handle the strain.
But she had been there before. Not the brig, but the darkness, and she didn’t recall it as a pleasant journey.
~”What am I so scared of? It’s only a little darkness. A lack of light… that’s it. I don’t have to be afraid of it. I should just go in. Or, maybe not. I don’t know. What should I do? What should I do? What should I do?”~
She held her breath, closed her eyes…
And her arm moved forward, into the darkness. She opened her eyes and watched it disappear, like she plunged her arm into a dark portal. She withdrew the hand, and like pulling it out of a dark film, it was back and fully visible. But when she moved the arm back in again, it was as if her arm slowly disintegrated.
Fearing what could happen next, but knowing how important her task was, Lexa braved the unknown, then threw her entire body inside.
***************
~”Lieutenant T’lan to Commander Corgan.”~ T’lan communicated over her comm.-badge, ~”I have completed the search in the second office. Nothing to report so far.”~
Feeling the Vulcan equivalent of ‘disappointment’ (though a Vulcan would never admit it), T’lan searched two offices out of three, and there was nothing that gave a clue to the Defiant crew’s disappearance. It was the same chaotic mess of strewn objects and electronics, smashed equipment, and phaser burns accompanied by indecipherable scratches on the walls. No clues, just destruction. It defied Vulcan logic, calm, and sense of order.
Her comm.-badge crackled as James communicated back. Communications problems were becoming more troublesome. Contact with the ship was difficult at best, even with T’lan electronics expertise. At this point, the ship couldn’t be reached and the other away teams were even more difficult. Another problem on the list that aggravated the Vulcan female’s need for order.
=/\=”Good w***rk, …. ‘lan. How mmhh… office *#^ are left?”=/\= James voice, distorted by squealing interference, spoke over her badge.
“Sir, there is one office remaining, and the Brig. Lieutenant Commander Reece has expressed interest in exploring the Brig.” She replied.
More crackling interference disrupted communications. =/\=”*#(*ome… agai*! Wha&^^ … you say?”=/\=
T’lan repeated, slower and louder, “I am searching the last office. Commander Reece is searching the Brig.”
=/\=”C**t… &ear you! Inter*srrrhhhhhhrrrrrrrrrrrr*”=/\= His voice lost it’s co-herency. The interspatial interference was more than enough to test the young Vulcan’s nerves. It frustrated her that Terran physiological weaknesses were not as well adapted at listening and piecing together sentences as Vulcans, though she could barely blame the Commander. She was having difficulty understanding each communication.
“I am searching the final office. Reece is searching the Brig. Do you copy?” T’lan spoke loudly.
A second pause, then, =/\=”C&%p that, Liet*$@. We’ll me#t at the B$%^g. Can’t talk over *@###%tion ch@@@ls. Corgan out.”=/\=
The comm.-badge went silent. T’lan was left alone in her damaged surroundings. The rooms were all the same, busted up, littered, and left to ruin.
But as she entered the third office, which was just as ruined as all the others in Security, her logical Vulcan mind started wrapping itself around the problem. The parts of the ship they have passed through were relatively undamaged by whatever events transpired. Yet security, supposedly the safest place on the ship, looked sacked and overrun.
Logically, T’lan considered the possibilities as she lifted and put back into place an overturned desk. Security was the last fortress inside a starship. Besides the bridge, Security had to be the most secure place. Security was always set as a rallying point and a base of operations during inter-ship actions. While the Defiant was in interspace, events transpired where a hostile ship boarding was possible. Logically, she thought, Security was the scene of a ‘last stand’. Her theory, if such mattered, was that officers shut themselves in security and held off intruders.
But what defied her logical theory was the intact barricades at the main entrance. It made no logical sense to storm security, capture or kill the officers, and then re-erect the barricades for future use.
To put it in a un-Vulcan like manner, something was not right. It annoyed her, like so many other emotional reactions. She didn’t like mystery, or the lack of control. And she was confronted with it every day.
She temporarily ignored the shadow of emotions she felt, and saw on the ground an object that caught her eye.
~”Finally, an item invoking curiosity.”~
T’lan blushed over the show of emotion (then catching herself in an emotional response to an emotion), she turned ice cold, and picked up the item, inspecting it with a detached interest.
The item was a curved knife in a leather sheaf, approximately a decimeter in length. The knife showed the markings of an ancient Earth religion called ‘Sikhism’. It was a symbol of maturity and manhood to bare the knife, and quite against Starfleet regulations to carry it around.
T’lan withdrew the knife from it’s scabbard, and felt the cold, hard steel of the blade against her finger. She felt the sting of the blade cut shallowly into her skin. She pulled her hand away, she watched in rapt inquisitiveness as her green blood slowly beaded on her lithe finger. The blade didn’t feel quite right. The edge was sharp, except for a few flaws on the edge reminiscent to slashing. The tip of the blade was also worn down by a few millimeters, an indication of scratching. She looked at the wall, and saw that strangely enough, the scratching on the wall ended approximately where the blade was dropped.
The illogic of it all vexed and aggravated her. Using sheer Vulcan willpower, she forced herself to re-gain control. The excuses ran though her head: she was young, she was inexperienced, she had difficulty with emotions, and she was mentally unstable… everything the priests have told her. In addition, as much as she examined the problem, she was reminded of the frustration, and how emotional it was to be frustrated, thereby keeping her in an endless loop of futility.
“I am not in control, am I?” She asked out loud, and damned herself again for the quiet emotional outburst, and chastised herself for cursing her reaction.
But then, like a shot in the dark, a voice said, “No… my child. You are not.”
***************
Commander Reece was surrounded by the darkness, and the welled up panic in the pit of her stomach was threatening to erupt. She flailed and felt around in the darkness for the wall. Her grasping hands felt a smooth surface near the door, and once she found the wall, she pulled herself towards it. Feeling along the wall, she spread her hands out and searched for the light switch. Her hands felt a box like extension on the wall, the size of her fist and very sharp cornered. Lexa pounded the box in a panic, urgently waiting for light to engulf her.
The box did nothing.
Her frustration and fear of the dark was starting to mount. With added urgency, she slammed the box like projection on the wall with blind fist blows. She was scared, afraid of being lost again in the darkness. She cursed the light switch, begged for it to activate, before she was lost in the darkness forever.
A flicker appeared. One flicker, followed by the sporadic sputtering of electricity through illuminecent panels on the roof. It illuminated the entire room, which held the appearance like its predecessors. Ruined with phaser burns, scratching marks, and tossed about electronics, the room had the look of a disorganized rabble executing a jailbreak.
There were three separate cells, lined up in a row, side by side and close to each other. Two of the cells were completely destroyed, the entrails of the forcefield system ripped out and tossed on the bunk and the floor. But out of the two cells, one was still intact. The insides of the cell was not damaged like the room itself, but kept in neat order. It’s lighting was perfect, it’s bunk unfolded, and its lavatory activated, with the seat up. The sheets on the bed were ruffled, as if they were recently slept in.
Curiously, and sensing dread, Lexa’s hand floated towards the bunk.
*Bwamp!* Her hand recoiled as the tingly sensation of energy coursed through her arm. The brig’s forcefield was still activated, and placed on a low setting. The indicator lights were not functional, and the panels that controlled the force field was ripped out and torn apart, but she thanked God that Federation force fields were never lethal.
“So…” She stuttered out loud, “Somebody was here… who?”
She went over to the brig officer’s desk and searched its ruined remnants for a list. She found a large tablet like PADD, just like the one Commander Corgan found, and activated it. It read:
=/\=Stardate 2/0208=/\=
Brig Occupant Report
By Lieutenant Balwinder Jandu Singh
Brig Number: 1
Incarcerated Officer: Ensign Mitch Voica, Engineering
Arrest by: Lieutenant Commander Robert St.Mark, Chief of Security
Period of Incarceration: Until further notice
Notes: Was arrested and sent to the Brig after reportedly striking an officer. Subject appears to be suffering from paranoia, delusions, and madness. Awaiting psychological examination from the Chief Medical Officer. Has charged force field on numerous occasions. It is my opinion that the incarcerated Ensign Voica should be considered dangerous while in current mental state.
=/\=End Report=/\=
Lexa felt the coming creepy dread overwhelm her. She felt feelings of madness and mental decay when she read the letter, and the images of herself, and others under the madness was hard to ignore.
“Stars…” She gasped.
The lights flickered again, and faded. She looked up and felt the panic strike her tenfold. The lights were disappearing. She was going to be plunged in darkness again!
Lexa bolted for the brig entrance, but as she came closer, the doors slammed shut with a forboding slam.
Then, the last of the lights died…
****
"So how bad is it?’ Shelley O’Rourke’s voice sounded a bit shaky over the private channel.
~ Sounds like she was hoping that because we hadn’t seen any bodies, there weren’t going to be any. Silly idea - dead people don’t go anywhere unless someone moves them - but at least she’s not rushing down here to toss her cookies with Hanley out in the hall. ~ "Pretty bad," Victor observed, surveying the room as his breath steamed in the frigid air.
The Obstetrics Ward had obviously been pressed into service as a makeshift morgue back when the killings had started, extra tables having been moved in to help accommodate the press of bodies that rested on them. Originally covered with white sheets, the bodies’ decay and accompanying liquefaction had left the sheets stained in ways and places that were disturbing to contemplate. Several of the coverings had succumbed to time and torn away in places under the pull of their own weight, partially exposing the remains beneath them; a skull was exposed here, a skeletal hand there, and in one case a whole leg lay exposed to the air.
~ Something’s not right here. I don’t know what it is - not yet - but something isn’t right…. ~ "There aren’t enough of them to be the whole crew though - there must be others somewhere else." Victor looked back out into the hallway, checking on Hanley, who was now merely green as he sucked on processed oxygen inside his resealed suit. ~ Don’t want to be sick inside there, son, that’s for sure. ~ "Hanley’s getting better since he went back on suit air, but I don’t think you need to come down unless you really like this sort of thing."
"I… I think I’ll pass," O’Rourke agreed.
"Good plan, O’Rourke. The room’s been sealed for a long time. Looks like they set the environmental controls on the lowest temperature setting to refrigerate the bodies, but with life support still on, even if at minimal levels, that didn’t hold things for long. At least a few of the bodies have skeletonized, and…"
"Enough, I get the idea." She sounded like she was holding down her breakfast with some effort.
~ Must have a pretty good imagination. Okay, different topic, something to get her mind off of this. ~ "What have you got on the CMO’s logs? Anything there?"
Obviously grateful to have something else to talk about, O’Rourke launched into a description of what she and So’ka had garnered from the logs, starting with the point that the Defiant was trapped in the interphase and working forward.
Victor, still studying the bodies in the makeshift morgue for a clue as to what about them was bothering him let the words flow over him as O’Rourke spoke, paying little attention to them until something leapt out at him. "Wait - back up there. You said that the Defiant’s Medical Officer figured out the theragen derivative? They *knew* about it?"
"Yes." O’Rourke sounded better, as if talking about the records had done what Victor wanted it to and distanced her from the bodies in front of him. "He managed to anticipate Admiral McCoy’s research and create an almost identical treatment."
"That doesn’t make any sense." He looked around the room. "How long did it take him? The casualties must have been terrible."
"Not really - the logs only show it took him two or three days to get the treatment figured out and start inoculating the crew. They only had…" she paused, obviously looking something up in the logs, "…three casualties in that time."
"Three?" Victor repeated, looking around the room, counting. "You’re sure about that?"
"Yes," she answered sharply. "Do you think I can’t read?"
"O’Rourke," Victor said slowly. "I don’t care if you can read or not - I asked because I have *twelve* bodies in here, not three."
"Oh." She went silent for a second. "Let me see what I can find out about that."
"Why don’t you?" In the meantime, I’m going to take a look at what we’ve got in here - just keep the channel open and call out when you find something, all right?" Victor glanced back at Hanley again. "Hanley’s back on his feet, so I have some backup if something happens."
"You’re in a room full of dead people," she snapped. "Backup is the last thing you need. Stop trying to scare people and get some work done."
~ You mean ‘stop trying to scare me’ don’t you O’Rourke? ~ Victor thought as he moved forward, motioning Hanley to remain at the doorway. He looked at the rows of still forms, their state of decomposition following exactly the progression from left to right as they were laid out. ~ Oldest first, then. I don’t know what I can get from the really old bodies, but I’ll make the effort. ~
The sheet covering the first body tore away into strips of crumbling fabric as he started to lift it, the ruined fabric falling apart into pieces that slithered across the skeletal form and onto the floor like a wave of fleeing worms, retreating from their feast now that nothing was left to devour. The revealed form was that of a human male, the skeleton showing signs of blunt impact trauma in several places, most notably on the right side of the cranium.
~ Pretty obvious what caused death here. ~ Victor examined the injury for a moment, and then shook his head. ~ Nothing unusual. If he didn’t die immediately from this, then he didn’t spend a lot of time waiting around after receiving it. From the missing bone matter, I’d guess it was driven into the brain itself. Not something that we could do much for even today if any time was allowed to pass. ~ He straightened up, checked Hanley in the doorway - the ensign appeared to be okay, or at least no less okay, with the skeletal remains - and moved on.
Bodies two and three were both female humans, one exhibiting the dense, slightly squat bone structure of a heavier than standard gravity upbringing. ~ Must have been from one of the mining colonies they set up on high-g worlds back in the mid 2100’s before they automated the retrieval of high density elements. ~ The normal skeleton bore signs of impact trauma in the form of a broken arm and several shattered ribs, and a series of crushed vertebrae at the neck hinted at the final cause of death. The high-g dweller, unsurprisingly, had no broken bones, and it took Victor a few minutes to decide that her cause of death had been a soft tissue injury of some kind. ~ Knife between the ribs or through the eye - something like that, I guess. I’d have been surprised if she had any skeletal damage with her bone strength. ~
Closing his helmet’s visor for a minute to draw in some less frigid air, he looked at the rest of the bodies. ~ So far nothing unusual. If they were manually tagged, the tags have long since gone the way of the bodies, so I have no idea who these people are. I wonder if there was some sort of correlation as to what department they were in and where they worked in the casualties? ~ "O’Rourke? Any luck with the logs?"
"No." Her tone was frustrated, though whether from having to speak to him or being unable to locate the information was impossible to tell. "They just show the casualties I already found."
"Can you give me a rundown on the bodies in the records? We can at least match these to the ones they had, and that might tell us something about the others."
She didn’t respond for a moment, then sighed. "All right. It’s at least something constructive. So’ka can keep digging for anything else. How do you want them?"
"Chronologically, oldest to newest." Victor moved back to the first skeleton. "First one I have is a human male, maybe mid-30’s. Cause of death looks like cranial trauma, but there are other impact trauma injuries apparent to the skeleton."
"That would be… Lt. Jerome Kennedy, Sciences. The report says that his injuries were caused when another crewman attacked him from behind during an experiment in the Physics Lab. That would have been… about eighteen hours into the interphase effects on the crew."
"Okay, wait a second." Victor tagged the image of the body on his tricorder with the name she’d given him. "Okay, he’s flagged. Next two are both women. Number Two appears to have some impact trauma, but cause of death looks to have been caused by a crushed trachea and vertebrae."
"Yeoman Elise Lawson. The logs say she was killed in a fight with a Chief Petty Officer Helene Kosmatos in an argument over which one of the two the Defiant's Chief Engineer was romantically interested in at about the twenty-seven hour mark into the interphase. Body Three should be CPO Kosmatos, who died of injuries inflicted in the fight before medical attention arrived." O'Rourke paused, and the whir of the log reader carried through the com. "Looks like the Yeoman stabbed her several times with a knife and she bled to death from internal injuries."
"Was Kosmatos from a High-G colony?" Victor asked as he tagged Lawson's body.
"Hold on, let me check her file... yes, one of the mining colonies in the Deskili System."
Nodding, Victor turned to the next corpse in line."I thought so. I met a construction chief at my last duty station that was descended from one of those colonization attempts. Not a tall man, but very, very powerful." Unbidden, the memory of the struggle at the computer core flashed back to him, the spot on his back where the Chief's improvised spear had impaled him during the struggle with the Borg tingling. Unable to shake the feeling that there was someone behind him, about to do the same thing to him, Victor surrendered and swiveled about to end the phantom sensation. ~ See? There's nothing back here - stop acting like a child and and get back to work! ~ He started to turn back then stopped as the shadows playing across one of the walls shifted unnaturally. ~ Someone's here! ~
Spinning back around, one hand dropping to his phaser, he froze, the weapon half drawn, when nothing more threatening than Hanley's concerned look greeted him. "S-something wrong, sir?" the ensign asked nervously, tightening his grip on the phaser riflein his hands and looking from side to side.
"Just shadows, Hanley," Victor muttered, turning back tothe bodies in embarrasment. "Nothing to worry about." He took a breath and let it steam out slowly around the edges of his helmet's open visor. "Okay, O'Rourke," he spoke up, moving forward to pull at the next sheet and watch it collapse as the others had done. "Next up is a human male, maybe late 50's. He's in pretty bad shape but still intact, not skeletonized. Looks like some kind of chemical accident involving acid, or maybe a plasma...."
"That's odd...." O'Rourke's voice observed, interrupting him and then trailing off into silence.
Victor stopped in his examination. "What's odd, O'Rourke - is something happening there?"
"No, no, nothing like that. I was just looking at the list of casualties and realized something - those first three were the only casualties mentioned *before* the CMO figured out the effects of the interphasic radiation and worked up the theragen derivitive."
Victor straightened up and looked around the room. "Before? The first three bodies were the only ones before the theragen treatment? That doesn't sound right."
"That's what the log says - Kennedy, Lawson, and Kosmatos werethe only casualties from interphase madness before the theragen treatment was distributed. I don't understand that part - if they were the only ones, where are the other bodies from? What happened?" Her voice began to grow uneasy. "Do you suppose that the treatment didn't work?"
"No, it worked, O'Rourke - Admiral McCoy's logs document that clearly." ~ Hold it together, O'Rourke. Come on, hold it together. ~
"Yes but..."
"No buts, O'Rourke. The treatment works. If it didn't we'd already be at each other's throats, right?"
Silence answered him.
"O'Rourke?" Victor frowned. "Answer me, O'Rourke - are you there?"
"Ahhh... I'm here." Her voice was shaky, uncertain.
"What happened? Is everything all right?"
"Yes... no... I don't know."
~ Oh this isn't getting any better. ~ "Pick one of the three, O'Rourke - which is it?"
"Yes." she didn't sound like she believed it, but her voice was stronger. "I was just... seeing things."
The spot on his back started to tingle again, and Victor tried to push it aside as he asked, "Seeing what? Was it the shadows?"
"Shadows?" O'Rourke seized on the word like a lifeline, her voice uncharacteristically desperate and seeking confirmation. "Did you see something too?"
~ What do I tell her that isn't going to make this worse? Admit to seeing things, anyway, but tell her that... dammit! ~ The itching at his back too powerful to ignore any longer, Victor looked behind himself again. ~ Nothing. You're losing it - get a grip on yourself! ~ "Yeah, I have - twice now. Once back at the Armory, and once here, just a minute ago. I think Hanley saw something too." He looked towards the ensign for confirmation and got a nod of confirmation. "He says 'yes,' so there are at least three of us - it isn't just you, O'Rourke. There's never anything there when we look, but it's like we're seeing shadows reflected by people that aren't there or something like that."
Her voice steadier, O'Rourke replied, "Okay, just as long as it isn't just me. So'ka didn't see it and I was starting to worry."
"It isn't just you, O'Rourke. Just ignore it. It's probably just some side-effect of the interphasic radiation on our optic nerves." ~ Hell, that sounded plausible, anyway. Got to get her mind off shadows and ontop something else. ~ "You were telling me about the casualties and these three being the only ones from before the theragen treatment was used on the crew?"
"Theragen treat...? Oh, yes." Her voice strengthened. "You could see it in the logs, the effects of the interphase madness I mean. They start out clean and straightforward, and slowly get more and more disjointed - and then snap back as soon as the theragen treatment is applied. The CMO dosed himself and one of his nurses first, and then the rest of the senior officers before starting on the crew. There's a note about the Captain remarking that the shot was like a cold shower.... That can't be right."
Victor's frow deepened. "What can't be... wait, you said the Captain *got* a shot?"
"Yes - and so did the XO."
Victor mentally ran back over the log entries he'd read before the team beamed over. "But Kirk found the two of them at each other's throats on the Bridge - they killed each other."
'That's right... but they had the shots, that shouldn't have happened." The uncertainty was back in her voice.
"What do the logs say? Anything?" ~ Maybe they drifted into a section where the interphasic radiation was stronger? That might explain it... that, or something else happened. But what? ~
"I'm looking - wait a minute."
~ O'Rourke isn't sounding so good. Come on and hold it together, kid. Don't make me relieve you, that'll cause so many problems that neither of us want that i can't count them. ~ Victor looked over his shoulder to check on Hanley. The ensign was looking down the hall back the way they'd come, but his rifle wasn't aggressively ready, just watchfully so. ~ At least Hanley is holding it together, and it sounded like So'ka was. Maybe I won't have to relieve her. ~
"Okay, I've got something - or So'ka does." O'Rourke's voice, while still shaky, sounded more like her normal self than before. "He says that all the logs are fine for about a day, maybe two after the theragen treatment - and then they just stop. No warnings, no signs of a problem - like the crew was here one moment and gone the next. One of the nurse's logs ends in the middleof a sentence, just... stops. There weren't any more casualties in that time, so it looks like just the three were caused by the interphase madness."
"Then why are there twelve bodies in here?" Victor counted again, coming up with the same number each time.
"I don't know!" she snapped back. "I'm not a clairvoyant."
~ That sounded more like the O'Rourke I know. ~ "I'm not either, O'Rourke," he answered back calmly, running his eyes down the line of bodies from the skeletal remains of the first three to the more solid-looking ones at the other end of the line. "All I know is I'm looking at twelve bodies under sheets in here and.... damn." ~ I'm an idiot! Why didn't I see that sooner? ~
"What?" Her voice rose sharply.
"The bodies, O'Rourke - it's the bodies." He started forward, towards the opposite end from the one he'd started with. "The first three, the ones that died before they had the theragen shots worked out, they're all skeletonized - but the others aren't."
"They're not... what?" She didn't sound like she wanted to know the answer.
"They're not skeletonized, O'Rourke. They're still... solid. That means they're newer than the other three - and so is the refrigeration in here. If it had been on the whole time, the first three would be mummified, not reduced to skeletons. They were in her long enough to decay to that state *before* the temperature was cranked dow." He reached the fartherest body in line and grabbed for the sheet over it, moving back without looking at the revealed corpses as he pulled sheet after sheet off until he was back at the fourth corpse he'd uncovered, and then and only then looking back at what he'd revealed. ~ Damn. ~
"Krieghoff? Answer me dammit, that's an order!"
"Keep your suit on, O'Rourke, I'm here. I was just looking at the other nine bodies, that's all."
"And?"
"And we have a problem - they're all too new." He leaned forward an looked at the fourth body in line again. "All of them. No more than a year old at the longest."
"A... year?"
"A year." Victor brought up his tricorder and made a visual record of the newly-revealed bodies. "It looks like they were put in here when the life support was dropped to cool the room down - some of them still have uniforms on." ~ Well, parts of uniforms, anyway. ~
"What happened to them? One big accident?" The shock of the discoverywas starting to fade and O'Rourke's voice was stronger, less uncertain again. "Or something else?"
"Well, leaving aside the whole problem of how they got in here in the first place, it doesn't appear that they all were killed at the same time." Victor moved down the line of bodies, making a more detailed image of each one. "I'm seeing lots of different injuries here - the only thing in common is that none of them appears to have died in their sleep. Violent deaths, all of then."
"Violent how?"
~ You asked for it O'Rourke. ~ Victor paused to look at the bodies again. "Anything you can thing of. I've got a man with what looks like acid or plasma burns on the front half of his body, but with the back half totally untouched. There's another one here, a Tellarite male, that looks like some kind of animal killed him - an animal that took precise, almost mathematically perfect triangular bites out of him." ~ And what the hell kind of animal does that? Not one *I'm* familiar with, anyway! ~ "There's a woman who's missing one of her arms, the shoulder it was attached to, and part of her head." He bent closer, brushing several strands of her long white hair back. ~ Not an alien species - probably a colonial variation caused by diet or environmental factors. ~ "No ragged edges or signs of tearing - it's just gone, like it was bisected off with a force field of some kind, exposing the tissues and organs. Looks like a medical specimen."
In the background, Victor heard Hanley gagging again at the calm recitation of the injuries the corpses had recieved in their last minutes of life as he moved to the next corpse. "There's an Andorian male who was cut in half at the waist..." Victor touched the corpse, and jerked his hand back as it separated along the lengthwise axis as well, opening to reveal that after the first inch of frozen blue flesh the body was completely hollow. "No, he was quartered into four pieces... and he's been hollowed out."
O'Rourke's shrill response stabbed at Victors ears. "He was *what?"
"Hollowed out. The corpse is just a shell. If it weren't frozen, I think it would collapse like a deflated balloon." ~ What does something like this to you? An internal parasite? Some kind of medical experiment? ~ Hanley gagged again behind him, and Victor checked to make sure the ensign was only vomiting and not under attack. ~ Even those bugs that tried to take over the Federation back before the War didn't do anything like this. ~
"A deflated... stop." Her voice had gone flat. "Just stop. Make your records, but don't tell me anything else, not unless it's important. I don't want to know it uness it's important - you understand that, Krieghoff?"
"Understood." Victor kept moving down the line, examining bodies. "They're all different... no, wait, here's another one with the same bite marks - that makes two of them that died the same way." He reached the end of the line. "Just two. Some of the others are similar in general ways, but not identical. Those were the really weird ones, the rest all appeared to die in combat of some kind - and with other humans. Cuts, stab wounds, strangulation, the sorts ofthings Kirk's logs mentioned. And none of this is in the logs?"
Her response was short and clipped. "No, none of it."
"So how did they get here, then? They were alive as recently as a year ago, at least most of these people were. Where are the others? Why haven't we seen them? The peopledid *not* walk in here under their own power."
"If I knew that, I'd tell you, but it isn't here. The log entries just stop at the point we found. After that there's nothing."
~ I don't like this. Where are the people? What happened? Why were some of these people killed the ways they were? What... ~ The tingling sensation at his back returned, and Victor looked up just in time to see the shadow of the hollow Andorian reflected on the wall settle back down as if it had sat up, looked around the room, and then laid back down again. ~ I did *not* see that! I didn't! That was impossible! ~ As he watched, the shadows cast by other corpses shifted and moved as if they were stirring in their sleep. "O'Rourke..."
"What?" Her tone revealed that she'd heard the uncertainty in his voice. "What's wrong?"
"The shadows are moving in here."
"Moving? Moving how?"
"Moving... like they were alive." Victor started to back slowly for the door, the tingling at his back growing stronger and stronger with each step he took, but he refused to look away, the tricorder in his hand recording visual images forgotten ashe tried to keep allthe shifting shadows in sight. "They look like they're waking up, like they were all asleep and I've woken them up from it."
"The bodies or the shadows?" It was plain that she didn't consider either one of the options a good thing.
"The shadows." The tingling grew stronger, the temptation to look away even stronger as he approached the door. "Is everything okay there? You two are all right?"
"We're fine - and if I find out that you're doing this just to scare me, I swear to God I'm going to make you wish you'd never been born!"
"I have better things to do with my time than scare you, O'Rourke, trust me on this." The tingling grew stronger still, almost a physical sensation of pressure now as the muscles of his back twitched. "If nothing's happening there - stay there. Do not come here after us." One of the shadows - the one from the girl with the missing arm from the looks of it - slithered off the makeshift gurney and stretched, running hand through it's long, swinging hair. ~ Okay, that's it - I'm out of here! ~
"What are you going to do?"
"Run away." Victor steped back a final step - and ran into Hanley who was standing square in the door, his phaser rifle held at the exact height to touch Victor in the center of the warning tingle at his back.
"Gyahh!" Victor arched forward, memories of the pain from the Chief's improvised spear flashing through his mind, then whirled and slapped the weapon aside, shoving the fear-paralyzed ensign back intothe hall roughly. Following on Hanley's stumbling heels, Victor cut to the side and whirled back around, unslinging his own rifle to cover the door as it slid closed. "We're out, O'Rourke," he panted, over her demands for information. "Nothing happened - I just backed into Hanley and we got tied up at the door. Everything's all right... for now."
"Make sure you're not being followed and get your ass back here, ASAP."
Victor looked back over his shoulder towards the CMO's office, where So'ka could be seen in the doorway, ready to provide covering fire. ~ We're no more than twenty meters away down the same corridor, O'Rourke. Get real with this 'don't be followed' thing. ~ "Right - I'm going to check on the shadows. If they're still moving, I'm welding the door shut to slow them down."
Without waiting for O'Rourke's reponse, Victor motioned Hanley to one side of the door and waved his hand to trip the sensor. The door slid open as he brought the phaser rifle up, aiming it at... nothing. The room was just the way it had been before the shadows started to move, the corpses all lined up, sheets on the floor in varying degrees of tatters. Nothing moved except his lone shadow on the opposite wall, mimicking his movements normally.
"Krieghoff!" Obviously deciding that the radio wasn't getting results, O'Rourke had leaned out into the corridor to yell in person. "What are you *doing?* I said to get back here!"
"We're fine, O'Rourke - no need to yell." Victor stepped back and let the door close again, flicking the switch to manually lock it after it closed. "They've stopped moving around - if they ever were."
Stepping out into the corridor, she snapped, "If they were? What does that mean?"
"It means that I don't know if what we saw was real, or if it was the interphasic radiation messing with our heads," Victor explained as he and Hanley approached. "I don't feel particularly homicidal, so I have to assume that the theragen shots we got are still working. There wasn't any report about the theragen making the Enterprise's crew see things - that just leaves the interphase to be doing it. There's no such thing as a ghost. Shadows do not move around independent of their casting bodies. The fact that we all seem to be seeing the same sorts of things - except for So'ka here - makes me think it's something to do with the way our brains percieve light that's being affected."
"Why can't So'ka see them then?" Hanley asked.
"Maybe his brain processes light reception differently," O'Rourke offered, glad to have a plausible scientic explaination to work with. "We're all human," she glanced at Victor, "more or less, anyway. We'd all see light the same way. That would explain why this problem isn't affecting him."
"Okay," Hanley argeed tentatively. "But how did those bodies get into the room, then? Who put them there?"
"Survivors." Despite feeling it, Victor tried not to leave any hint of uncertainty in the word.
So'ka spoke up. "So where are they? Why haven't we seen them?"
"I don't know," Victor conceded. "Part of the problem is that tricorder readings are unreliable except at very close range because of the interphasic radiation. Their could be fifty people on this deck and we'd have to literally be in the next room to scan them - if then. I know where we need to look next though - if we want to check for survivors, that is."
"Where?" O'Rourke asked guardedly.
"Easy - the Recreation decks, Eight and Twenty. Survivors would need food, and the parks on those two decks are the best place to grow it. They're also the largest open spaces on the ship except for the Shuttlebay, and people would tend to gather there to try and forget they were trapped in a sardine can."
She blinked. "That's... a good idea," she reluctantly admitted. "All right, we'll transmit a report to the Commander and then... What's that?"
"The turbolift," Hanley pointed. "Someone's exiting at the main sickbay doors."
"Then let's see who they are," O'Rourke decided. "Maybe it's some of the survivors. No chances though - stay sharp,and keep each other covered."
With a wave, Victor put Hanley and So'ka on the flanks and followed O'Rourke down the hall. ~ One thing's for sure - shadows don't use turbolifts. Whoever they are, they're alive.
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