Star Trek: Outerzone
Invasion
Part 2
by Peter Wildash
(PWildash@Channel4.co.uk)

Invasion - Part 2

EP 2 PROLOGUE

THE VEKARIAN SYSTEM, OUTER ZONE

Rebbik came to with a start.

"What happened?" looking at his smashed up cockpit he could hear a fire crackling in the deck below without having to smell or see it.

"Hit by second shockwave, taking us down!" was all Christian afforded him.

Rebbik remembered the initial wobble of the vessel indicating the wormhole's demise, but that was only the subspace tremor. The normal space shockwave had hit a few seconds later, sending them careering forward into the Vekarian system and the midst of many military ships, most either engaged in combat or damaged and adrift.

The Pod's current trajectory was straight down toward the charred and pitted surface of Helub. Across the semi-darkness of the powerless megacityscape, Rebbik could see plasma and other energies crackling around the surface of bizarre frills of twisted metal and plastic. The uppermost layers of the spaceport had been flattened as far as the eye could see, its many domes, towers and other structures were now a twisted mess of devastation.

Although most of the debris had been incinerated during the initial explosions, some tumbled into the vacuum of space above. Rebbik, still not quite conscious, watched as the Captain skilfully employed shield variation techniques to manually swerve the ship from side to side avoiding them during their steep descent - a Starfleet emergency technique for appearing weak while reserving main drive systems for when they were needed.

The shock wave of the wormhole's explosion had totally dissipated the magnetic storm. Minutes before, Qovakian forces had been trying to draw the battle away from the port in an effort to spare lives when the wave suddenly hit, causing a number of ships to collide.

From what Christian and Rebbik had seen the K'Tani vessels were relatively unaffected by the shockwave. From the pod's side windows, in the view receding above and behind, they could now see the smaller, faster and more agile insect-like K'Tani craft moving quickly around Federation and other vessels to assume boarding positions. A single Qovakian patrol craft and a Norsican Warship were managing a slow limp away, but were soon surrounded, the patrol vessel vaporising instantly, the other disabled in a flash of energy. However, other non-military ships on the fringes of the main concentration of vessels were slowly restoring power and moving away unharmed.

"They're not firing at any civilian ships," Rebbik said.

Christian made a quick sideways glance. "For the moment."

Christian had seen his fair share of destruction before during his Starfleet career - more regularly than he had wished, in fact. If this military race were like the others he had encountered, it would only be a matter of time before they secured themselves from any opponent and turned their attention to 'controlling' the civilians now under the power of their command.

Christian saw light coming from several large openings in the wreckage of the port, exposing the transit tunnel system beneath that led to the docking areas. It looked fairly intact - presumably the space port was built to withstand major disasters, though probably not of this nature. "I'm going to take us in."

"What?! Are you crazy?" Rebbik lashed at his own flight controls, trying to override the Captain's programming. He started to turn the Pod into a climb, but his wrist was smacked away.

"Think about it, Ferengi!" Christian shouted, almost possessed, and said the latter word more to get Rebbik's attention than cause insult; "the wormhole's gone. Our fleet has been all but destroyed. What would you have us do, turn and run away?"

Rebbik wanted to reply in the affirmative, but stopped himself. Yet his eyes said it all and behind the reproachful exterior, he felt a little shame.

"Frankly, I don't care what you think," Christian said as the younger pilot averted his eyes, "there must be Starfleet personnel still within the base, and civilians who need our help."

Christian levelled the small ship to enter the port at a steep but perpendicular descent, and through the skylight above, from the murk of battle, they saw about fifty or so larger and bulkier ships moving into position above the moon and around Vekaria. They were similar in colour and markings to the K'Tani attack craft, but clearly built for a different purpose.

"What are they?" Rebbik wondered aloud.

"They look like troop carriers," he almost wished he hadn't said it. The K'Tani were clearly not wasting time in securing Qovakia's ruling world and its space port moon. While their smaller craft destroyed or disabled and secured their adversaries, the bulkier troop carriers made a slow descent to pre-designated landing positions. Christian also noticed that they still seemed unconcerned with civilian vessels making their way out of the port and away from the Vekarian system.

EP2 ACT 1

VULCAN SHUTTLE, ABOVE HELUB SPACE PORT

Lirik and Professor Karnak together heaved the large piece of twisted console off of the Ambassador. As soon as it was clear, the Yeoman had his fingers on the Andorian's antenna.

"He's alive, help me move him, will you?" Lirik was looking out of the viewports, one of which looked mightily cracked in the corner, though the defense shield was holding it intact for now. The shuttle was adrift, falling toward the space port. While Qovakian and Federation vessels continued to be fired upon by the K'Tani fighters, the shuttle and several other civilian and non-military vessels seemed to be spared, he noticed.

Several minutes ago, drawn into the chaos of battle, Narli had been waiting for a suitable opportunity to pilot the Vulcan science shuttle aboard the USS Remmington. Lirik then said he had 'sensed' the wormhole had been destroyed and that a massive energy wave was approaching at great speed. If Narli hadn't acted upon this information, they'd have been slammed into the side of the Starfleet frigate, but as it was, Narli had moved the ship far enough away so that when the shockwave hit, they were merely flipped over several times without making any collision. Power relays had then dramatically overloaded.

Now, what power that remained seemed to be failing fast and they were rapidly approaching the Vekarian moon out of control. With Narli groaning in Karnak's arms, much to her silent discomfort, Lirik clambered over wreckage to the co-pilot's chair. Thankfully, this console was intact and still linked to the shuttle's main systems. The two Vulcan attendants in the cockpit were busy putting out fires where the FSS had failed, and seemed to trust the Yeoman's ability to pilot the vessel unaided. Either that, or they were still fearful of coming too close to his ambient Medusan energy, for fear of it rousing emotions within them.

"I've regained control, but we won't last long up here," the Yeoman said, more to himself than to the others, "I'm going to have to take us into the port. I can see several openings dead ahead."

Lirik deftly nosed the shuttle downwards and into one of the main entrances to the port - now made bigger and gaping by the attack. Many small ships were making their way out of the port and into space, but no K'Tani seemed to be either targetting them or following him down.

Passing through the entrance, Lirik could see the extent of damage to the upper sections. He glanced around to get a bearing from the tunnel's signage as Narli came to.

"Where are we?" he managed, looking up into Karnak's beautiful face. The Professor turned her head away and heaved herself out from under him.

"In the space port. I know this tunnel - I've been here before, it's one of the main transits to the Visitor area." Lirik glanced at the shuttle's damage readout. "We should be able to make it to Starfleet's Outer Zone Headquarters..." his voice trailed off as the shuttle turned a bend. Ahead, large pieces of the station had been pummelled into the transport conduit from above, blocking much of the path. It was clearly going to get worse before it got better. He added: "...or what's left of it."

* * *

STARFLEET CRECHE

In the lowest level of the complex assigned to the Federation and Starfleet, a woman stirred from unconsciousness. Water from an overhead pipe was dripping luke warm onto her cheek, and she moaned, letting some of the nutty flavoured fluid into her mouth. Taste buds jolted her into movement and she opened here eyes, squinting from dust gathered in her lashes.

"Ow!" she flinched, as she moved her left arm to raise herself to a sitting position. Not broken, just bruised, she thought. Contusions in shoulder - ow again!

Hair fell unceremoniously out of its once tightly formed bun as she looked about the room. Most ceiling plates had fallen onto the room's occupants, exposing conduits now ripped - steaming, bubbling fluids falling into the room. Lots of whimpering, crying and moaning noises now filled her ears. Only one emergency light on the wall behind her was working, casting a dim, eerie blue light about the twisted and broken metal and plastic heap that had been designated the Starfleet creche.

Nurse O'Hara carefully rose to a standing position, and saw that most of the children had gathered at the far end of the room, around the unconscious form of Crewman Lee. She crouched low, ignoring the pains in her body, her hands flailing around the sharp, dark mess on the floor for her medical kit. The still-open medical tricorder shone out to her and she called to the children.

"Everyone listen to me," she waved the colourfully lit device to get their attention, "I want you all to move to the doorway over there." O'Hara pointed to her left, then seeing that a group of older children were already there, trying to get the door open manually, unsuccessfully.

If there were any kids trapped under the debris, they were her first priority. "Is anyone hurt?" she asked, methodically scanned the wreckage for life signs. The faded vital signs of two small humanoids did not satisfy her. The Lieutenant picked up the debris and heaved it carefully aside as fast as she could, but when she reached them, brain activity had fully ceased, their small bodies broken beyond repair. She hung her head low, but only briefly, reminding herself there were still dozens of other children alive here, and that they would be counting on her to get them out.

"Miss?" It was a young Bajoran girl who indicated the still form of Crewman Lee. O'Hara reached her quickly, and made a scan. Lee's leg was badly broken in several places. She could treat the pain, but not the injuries - not here, anyway. Looking up, she saw that the steam had changed density. It was coolant.

Grabbing a hypo, she jolted Lee into consciousness, following up with another hypo for the pain. It still chafed. O'Hara called over to the children by the door, "Hey, kids, bang on the door loud as you can, see if you can get someone's attention."

The children shouted in unison, though it seemed to make the younger ones more fearful. O'Hara saw many minor injuries that could become major if she didn't treat them.

"Damn," Lee could hardly move herself, "what happened?"

"I don't know, perhaps something crashed into the space port." O'Hara scooted the Bajoran girl over to the other kids and lowered her voice. "Two of the children are dead."

"Oh, no..." Lee welled up and slapped a hand over her mouth.

"Come on crewman, keep it together. We have a coolant leak, we've got to get out of here right away." The Lieutenant put Lee's arms over her head and hoisted her up, causing the crewman to yelp and pass out.

With the unconscious crewman over her shoulder, fireman style, O'Hara stumbled over the debris to the door. "Come on everyone, we need to get out of here." She joined in the shouting and kicking. It seemed to go on for too long, coolant tickling O'Hara's nostrils and filling the entire room with its lethal fog.

Suddenly there was a noise. A slight movement and a thin crack appeared where the doors were joined. The long, sharp claw of a Bat'Leth slid through and began to prise the doors apart. In seconds, three Klingon warriors had the doors pulled back and were scurrying the children out. One of them, the largest of the three, deftly took Lee from O'Hara and led the children down the dark and smokey corridor toward the open section where the bar had been.

"Thanks," O'Hara said to the other men, one older and the other younger than the first man, "what happened?"

The old man responded first. "We are betrayed by the Qovakians, the wormhole is gone and the space port is all but destroyed by aliens."

"What?!!" O'Hara couldn't believe it.

"The K'Tani invade as we talk, and our comrades lay dead and burning in the docks," the other chimed in, sounding slightly mad as passionate Klingons often did. He was a thin, wiry man with wild, almost evil eyes. Yet his body language seemed genuine. "I am Kluless."

"Lieutenant O'Hara, Starfleet Medical," the nurse responded, supressing an untimely laugh at such a ridiculous name. She had learned to maintain a sense of humour, even in the most dangerous and unfunny situations, as a marine - where she had served as a field medic before changing careers and joining Starfleet. "And you?"

"Kidron," the older, fatherly Klingon spoke, staring down the blackness of the corridor. "My comrade Karless has taken your children to the people we saw gathering along there."

O'Hara looked into the messy, dust clouded corridor toward the vague noise of far off crowds, and then wondered about the bodies of the children in the room beside her. There seemed little point in moving them. If their parents were still alive, it was her duty to find them and tell them. Not something she relished. Casting a glance back at the crooked doorway and the little ones' final resting place, she followed the Klingon men toward the gathering throngs with heavy feet.

BENEATH STARFLEET HQ

Souveson felt sick again. The large piece of wire sticking out of her thigh was less painful now, but the thought of how far it penetrated was making her feel queezy. She lay on her side, legs outstretched, back against the wall with her phaser pointed at the Orion woman who sat calmly opposite her. Around them, debris lay scattered, but there were no more fires, the two had put them out when they gathered their senses after the explosions above.

"Look, we can't just sit here," Hedrik didn't want to rile the security woman.

"Someone will come," Souveson swallowed hard, her eyes fluttered.

Hedrik made a move toward the Canadian but the young Ensign snapped herself awake and pointed the phaser closer to the thief. Hedrik ignored her.

"This is ridiculous," she said, "you're wounded, you need a medic."

Souveson half smiled. "What, you think I'm going to let you go.. and get.. go.." she passed out.

Hedrik regarded the still young woman for a moment and carefully considered her next move. Ordinarily she would have bolted for freedom, but she couldn't leave the younger woman here amid this chaos. Taking the phaser and putting it in her own shoulder bag, Hedrik examined the girl's wound and took a decision. Gripping hard onto the wire she wrenched it out.

Souveson's eyes popped open as she screamed in agony - Hedrik instinctively embraced her, the young Ensign sobbing with pain and a heavy woeful feeling.

"Shh," Hedrik comforted her assailant, and helped her to her feet. Slowly, the two made their way toward the exit.

"Why didn't you just leave me?" Souveson asked when her sobbing subsided.

Hedrik replied with an unemotional expression: "You're my ticket out of here."

Souveson wasn't quite sure she understood, but then, she only knew about Orion women from what she had been told or what she had overheard from male colleagues.

* * *

FERENGI POD

"Captain Christian to Starfleet Headquarters, please respond," Christian had been trying repeatedly to raise someone since entering the spaceport tunnels, fiddling with the communications frequencies between each transmission.

Rebbik concentrated on piloting the pod safely through the labyrinth of fallen girders, wiring and caved-in roofing. In the outermost tunnels, they had passed some ships along the way, none of which were known to them, and none of whom wanted to stop and chat.

Moving toward the centre of the spaceport, however, things got a lot worse. There were no vessels passing them here, although a few ships had been ditched and abandoned on the floor. Damage to the tunnel structure was also more pronounced. Most disturbing, a number of bodies floated in the zero g vacuum of the transport conduits where bulkheads had breached.

Christian had pointed out some survivors within the space port, moving ominously behind windows that lined the walls of the enormous tunnels and although some had waved for assistance, there was little they could do without a docking port, and with no transporter aboard the Pod.

A conveniently placed sign indicating the location of Starfleet HQ had been spotted by Christian at one of the main junctions - a huge list of Visitor locations were there, including all the races present from their side of the wormhole.

Light faded as they moved ever on, the tunnel finally turning to total darkness. The nature of the debris towards the Visitor docks area indicated more severe damage - surface structures had fallen into or through the levels above. Clearly the K'Tani had targeted every point of possible resistance, including military headquarters and the docks that contained military (and Starfleet) vessels.

Rebbik hit the navigation lights which cast white, clinical circles of light on the path ahead.

"Captain Christian to anyone who can hear me," Christian tried again, sounding almost desperate.

A fuzz of static responded, as if someone were trying to get through. Rebbik turned to an almost elated Christian.

"Please repeat, your signal is weak," but Christian couldn't raise them again. Rebbik brought the Pod to a standstill - the tunnel in front was completely blocked by debris.

"Perhaps they're on the other side of that?" Rebbik suggested.

Christian reached behind the pilot seat, fumbling in his holdall. He retrieved a peculiar pair of binoculars of alien technology. Rebbik frowned.

"They were a gift from my last posting," Christian said, "ornothology is one of my hobbies."

More than that, the binoculars had tricorder capacity and a computer logic centre for deducing probabilities of the images it scanned.

"There!" Christian pointed at the high ceiling to the tunnel's right. "The barrier is weakest at that point, we might be able to nose our way through."

Rebbik was aghast. "Not with this Pod you won't," he resisted.

"Dammit, mister Rebbik, do you think I'm concerned about scratching your Pod's precious paintwork? Take us through." Christian didn't like pushing Rebbik, but there seemed little choice.

Rebbik snorted. "I'm not in Starfleet, you can't order me around. The deal was I bring you this far, and I think I've gone quite beyond what was required of me as it is. And don't think that I -"

He was cut off by Christian's raised hand. The Captain cocked his head, listening to the communication device still wedged in his ear. Without explanation, Christian hit the rear-view display and rear floodlights. At first, they saw only the tunnel walls disappearing around a bend. At first they noticed a heat haze, then a faint light which grew steadily brighter.

"Uh-oh," Rebbik powered thrusters and brought the Pod about to face the tunnel to their rear. The air was rippling with heat, distorting their vision.

As the light grew yellow-white hot, a massive wall of flame turned the far corner and came thundering toward them. Rebbik hit the accellerater advancing the Pod toward the flame. Christian gripped his seat. Just in the nick of time, the half-Ferengi turned the Pod in a sharp arc and flew back toward the barrier of debris.

"Where'd you say it was weak?" Rebbik asked above the thunder of engine and firewall, still accelerating.

"There!" Christian barely had time to indicate.

At just short of half impulse, with weakened shields, the Pod barely managed to punch through the wall of debris, tumbling low and continuing away from the wall lest it cave in and crush them. Thankfully, the barrier withstood the assault, its thickness fusing together in the intense heat, though a hefty plume of flame followed them through the opening they'd made like a jet exhaust.

The Pod was relatively undamaged - internally, at least. The burnished bronze was now a battered, dark, scorched hue. Ahead of them, the tunnel was a dead end, but below their position, to their left and right, ran smaller tunnel conduits. Holding position at the mouth of the tunnel to their left was what looked like an old-style Vulcan shuttlecraft.

"This is Yeoman Lirik, Starfleet Diplomatic Corps aboard the Vulcan shuttle craft T'Nass, identify yourself!" The English voice with heavy London accent came over the main speakers. It was the first friendly voice they had heard.

"Thank God," Christian whispered.

"Don't thank him yet, Captain," Rebbik replied, pointing up at the roof of the tunnel. It seemed the wall of fire had weakened the structures holding off who knew how many tonnes of debris.

"Vulcan shuttle, this is Captain Christian, Starfleet. Yeoman, I strongly advise you ask your pilot to proceed immediately through the tunnel to your rear, the structure above us is about to collapse," Christian nodded to Rebbik, indicating him to move forward. Reb needed no prompting.

* * *

Inside the shuttle craft, Narli was propped up at the engineer's station, conscious, but in some pain. Karnak and two aides stood silently to the rear of the cockpit. Lirik, dirt-smudged and sweating in the co-pilot's chair raised an eyebrow at the Captain's words and regarded the souped-up Ferengi Pod with contempt.

"Thank you Captain. I'll ... let him know."

EP2 ACT 2

HELUB SPACE PORT

"She's coming around.."

"Finally.."

"Wha..?" Commodore Jackson's mouth was dry. But her hair it seemed was not. Water was being applied to a head wound that began to smart as she opened her eyes and looked around through the dim and dusty air.

She was being cradled by Lt Commander Leonard on one side and a Vekarian woman on the other. Another Vekarian was sponging cold water into her hair. Streaks of watery blood had already stained her face, neck and uniform. She smacked her commbadge.

"Jackson to Ops, Commander Inaami, please respond!" An awful feeling was welling up inside her.

"We tried, there's no response," said Leonard, softly. "From anyone. Most of the levels above us have been flattened."

Jackson pouted and rudely tugged away from Leonard's embrace. "Damn you, I should have been there." She scolded herself - she should have been in Ops at such a delicate time, not down here sorting out the likes of Lt Cmmdr Leonard. If it hadn't been for him, she thought...

Jackson's mind raced, thoughts of Inaami, her other colleagues and her son, all caught up in this mayhem somewhere. The rest of her body began to feel pain - bruised legs and arms, her cheek where she must have inadvertently bitten it. A figure blocked her light, and crouched to face her. A Human woman in her early twenties, blood on her face, hair singed. She was cradling a newborn baby and Jackson then noticed the high proportion of women and children present.

"Commodore," the woman's accent was a toothy, Southern drawl, "what are we going to do?"

Jackson looked up at the crowds who surrounded her, with sudden realisation that they were all looking to her as the person who would know what to do. As a Command officer, Louise Jackson was used to making big decisions, and taking responsibility for others. But nearly always it was within the framework of Starfleet and Federation regulations - rarely without the support of Starfleet Command or the back-up of the Ships of the Fleet or the local authorities.

As Base Commander on Ferengi, and again on Cromis Prime, she had faced difficulties in dealing with alien cultures - even conflict in the latter case. But responsibility for many civilians in such a desperate situation as this was a new thing altogether. As her roaming gaze landed upon a group of children, huddled around the athletic Starfleet nurse of her son's acquaintance, most of them balling their eyes out and crying for their absent mommy, she told herself to stop thinking and start acting.

"Nurse!" she called out to Lieutenant O'Hara. "There are many injured here, you know the drill. Use whatever means necessary to treat them."

"Yes, Commodore," O'Hara disliked being referred to as a nurse. Technically, that was what she was, having completed only two thirds of her MD training. Starfleet nurses were well respected, it was true, but as a field medic in the Marines she had been regarded as a lesser soldier by her peers and even now, though recently promoted to Lieutenant, she felt 'nurse' didn't quite capture her true abilities.

"Listen! Everyone listen!" Jackson bellowed. She leaned on Leonard to stand. The groaning and murmuring quietened. In her raised position, Jackson could see further down the long, wide corridor they had gathered in. It was a mess. Smoke and the smell of burning pervaded her senses.

Thankfully the structure above was holding off what must have been many levels of debris - unless of course the sections had been exposed to space or the environment system had failed and on the other side of the ceiling above there was nothing but vacuum.

"You're probably aware there has been a military attack on the space port. Please try to remain calm, I'll do my best to find out what's going on. It might take a while, so in the meantime, please be patient and co-operate with the Starfleet officers. For now we should try and find a way down to the lower levels - if the Vekarians could please lead the way."

As she finished speaking, O'Hara was standing beside her, flushed but calm. "Aside from my injured colleague over there, I can find any other medics. In fact, I can't even find any other Starfleet personnel."

Jackson glanced around the gloom - it was true, she could see no uniforms - of any kind. "Ask the civilians, then. Some may have medical training."

O'Hara nodded and turned to walk away. Movement caught her eye to her left - an Orion woman, supporting a hopping security officer.

"Looks worse than it is, Ensign," she said after a quick scan of her tricorder, "I'm afraid I can't spare any painkillers, I only have a limited medkit." Souveson nodded and gripped on to the appalled Orion.

"This should seal the wound and repair the most damaged tissue," O'Hara used her small tools with ease. "It'll be painful for the next day or so."

The Orion woman, seemingly annoyed at not even being addressed, aided the short woman in her first few repaired steps, then released her and snuck away as the Ensign sidled up to the Commodore.

Jackson, patiently gleaning information from the civilians who had arrived with stories of horror, heard a small "Ahem" behind her and turned. Leonard.

Halo-d by a crimson light, Jackson suddenly noted how attractive the man was, albeit rigidly angular.

"I'm told the docking ports were heavily targeted. Emergency bulkheads have sealed them off, though by the sounds of it there wouldn't be any ships left even if we could get through."

"There's been no word from the government or the K'Tani, though some people said they saw K'Tani troop ships landing in the less damaged areas," Leonard reported.

Jackson frowned. "We need to get some order around here. Make our way to the Federation medical facility for a start-" she was rudely interrupted by Leonard's frantically shaking head. "What?"

"Commodore," Leonard moved close to her ear and dropped his voice, "with all due respect, there could be further attacks on the way. And with foot soldiers coming to round us up, I think we need to act fast to find a way off Helub."

"With all these people?" Jackson couldn't be sure, but decided there were hundreds here, and those were only the ones she could eyeball. "Besides, I just told you there are no ships."

"I think I might know of one," Leonard said, and fumbled in his uniform for his personal Padd.

* * *

"Could you please hurry it up?" Christian shouted.

"Quiet, willya?! I'm trying to concentrate here," Rebbik shouted back at the man. They both concentrated on the long, precarious looking grabber arm protruding from the front of the Pod. Hovering half way up the tunnel wall, they were attempting to use the arm to open a manual override panel and drop the bulkhead doors. A plasma fire was now raging in the tunnels they had come from. The folks on board the Vulcan shuttle had advised them that this massive internal bulkhead door would buy them a good deal of time, only they hadn't expected it to take this long, such were the colourful protests of the Pod's owner and pilot.

Finally, after much lip-tonguing, the arm hit the lock grip, twisted and opened the panel. Rebbik clicked his fingers at Christian. "Your bi-knockers."

Christian slapped them into his hand. "It's pronounced bi-noculars."

"Yeah, yeah," with one hand Rebbik focussed the device onto the panel and located the emergency button, with the other he rotated the grabber arm around to its thin probe rod and eased it forward. A breath later the warm orange warning light began to flash. Slowly, the half-metre thick bulkhead plate rolled up out of the under-housing and silently locked into place.

"Good work," Christian smiled.

"Captain," it was the English voice over the hail again, "there's a marina dock about three hundred metres along this sub-transit wall. It backs onto the underside of the area below the old Fortress."

"Let's go then," Rebbik replied. He flashed a look at Christian, who looked strangely sad. "What's wrong?"

"The tunnel hits a dead end further on," he said.

Rebbik didn't understand. "So? We're not going that far."

"True, but that was our only way out," Christian thumbed at the sealed bulkhead. "Once we're moored, we won't be leaving."

Rebbik's face dropped. "Aw, no. This ain't happening to me, dammit." He slammed the wall, then his chair, and then kicked violently, causing his ponytail to finally give up and collapse about his shoulders.

* * *

Once moored in the empty and poorly lit marina, Rebbik was busy thrusting useless belongings into a number of designer bags. Christian thought about leaving his own holdall behind, but then decided for the moment it could come a bit further - he could always ditch it later on if need be. Christian popped the airlock door open and jumped down onto the generous walkway. The air felt warm and smelled of burnt rubber. As he walked around the oval-shaped marina, nine figures emerged from the side airlock of the Vulcan shuttle - including several almost naked males. 'Interesting,' thought Christian.

"Rebbik, come on!" Christian urged over his shoulder.

"Just a minute, please!" whined Rebbik half angry, half pleading. "This is my whole life I'm leaving behind here."

"It looks like you're planning to bring it all with you," Christian quipped.

"Just a few essentials, that's all," Rebbik heaved at the overladen bags and emerged from the Pod looking like an overworked bell boy. He stopped on the steps and looked lovingly back inside. "You'll never know the hardship behind my getting this baby.." he caressed the ship, slightly tearful.

"Hey, I'm sorry, okay? But I didn't exactly plan on this either," Christian was in no mood for sentiment. Already in his mind's eye he had seen the ghosts from the wreck of the Firefly, all the smiling faces and names he'd scanned on his padd. The small but unusual delegation approached him; at the head of the party, a portly 30 something tall, broad man with receding hair, and what looked like a shimmering environment shield active about his body.

Christian wondered if the man had a communicable disease, or was too sensitive for normal Human environments. He wore a white sweater under his grey/black uniform and his commbadge had a red slash across it - this was clearly Yeoman Lirik of the Diplomatic Corps who had been speaking to them.

"Yeoman," Christian outstretched a hand, then hesitated.

"Captain," the Yeoman smiled and then turned expectantly to Reb, brows raised.

"Er, the name's Rebbik," the renegade replied as the Yeoman too-obviously looked at all the luggage he was heaving.

"Planning on staying a while, mister Rebbik?" the Yeoman joked.

"Not if I can help it," Rebbik frowned.

"That's the spirit," the Yeoman beamed. He was coming across as eccentric, almost a pre-requisite for the Diplomatic corps, Christian mused. He wondered at the rudeness of not taking his proferred handshake, then thought it must be for whatever reason he was wearing the environment shield. The Yeoman gestured to the people behind him. "This is Andorian Ambassador Narli, Professor Karnak of the Vulcan Science Academy and her staff."

Christian's heart almost skipped a beat. The woman was stunning and reminded him of someone once very close to his heart - though the Professor was clearly not Vulcan, despite her trappings. "Ambassador. Professor." Christian swallowed his thoughts, focusing on the matter at hand. "You know the wormhole is gone?"

Lirik nodded. "From what we saw the Fleet weren't holding out too well."

"Troops are already landing," the Captain said. "By the looks of it, we'll be lucky to get out of this mess with our lives." Christian saw that Rebbik had turned pale green.

"Well, with the wormhole gone, there's little hope of a rescue." Narli observed. "We should all get used to the idea that we're stuck here in hostile territory."

"I wouldn't argue with that, Ambassador," Lirik said, and Christian wasn't sure if it was sarcasm.

"What do you suggest our immediate action should be?" Professor Karnak asked, her accent indeterminate Meditteranean or Middle Eastern.

"We should proceed directly to the Federation complex," Lirik said before Christian had a chance. "Captain, you should know that with the exception of Ambassador Narli here, all the other delegates attending the trade conference were brought here to Helub in secret last night."

"Then the Qovakians knew of the imminent K'Tani attack?" Rebbik uttered his first sensible suggestion to Christian's mind.

"Perhaps, though I suspect it was someone else who found out and tipped the Qovakians off," Narli said, and Christian noticed Lirik's jaw drop.

"What do you mean by that?" Lirik enquired.

"I think you know who I'm talking about," Narli hinted, though Christian was confused by the exchange.

"Ohhh..." Lirik replied in wide-eyed realisation. Christian was more annoyed than baffled at the innuendo and secrecy underlying the spoken words - typical diplomatic fluff, in his opinion.

"We had better get moving. Yeoman, if you could lead the way," Christian drew a phaser.

To his surprise, both Lirik and Narli reached beneath their clothes and also drew weapons.

"Certainly," was all Lirik said with a vague smile, as he took the point and led them into the dimly lit passage beyond the marina.

* * *

Souveson was familiar with the pain in her leg as she climbed over the twisted staircase and hauled herself into the corridor level above. Jackson had remained with O'Hara and those too injured to be moved while the Ensign and Leonard had followed the Vekarians into the depths of the space port.

Surprisingly, only several levels below, after a sluggish journey through long access shafts and down emergency stairwells, there appeared to be full power and little evidence of the carnage above. They found only a few people en route, none of whom seemed any wiser about what was taking place above them. Most Vekarians, it seemed, had fled toward the docking areas just prior to the attack; emergency bulkheads had then dropped and sealed, cutting off any hope of retreat.

Leonard had assembled the hundreds of survivors in a wide transfer area around a couple of cargo elevators, and was preparing to take them in batches to the lowest level of the port. He had explained there were transit tubes located there which ran under the moon for hundreds of kilometres, a network which linked the port to several remote buildings, one of which contained a ship that he said could aid in their escape.

Upon hearing this, the three Klingons had immediately pushed their way forward and entered into a verbal fracas with the engineer, talking of his cowardice and how they should rather be regrouping in order to fight off the massing invasion force above. Some of the other civilians had chimed in similar accusations while others expressed concern over wasting time. A heated debate ensued. Souveson had taken the paused opportunity to return to the Commodore who had beeen assisting O'Hara in the absence of anyone with sufficient medical knowledge. It was Souveson's intention and duty to ensure that the Commodore return with her to the escapees gathered below. Some partners and family members to the injured had also remained with the Commodore, but there were far too many casualties for the inexperienced few to cope with.

In fact, approaching Jackson, she noticed more than a few now were covered over with items of clothing, having lost the battle for life.

Souveson coughed gently. "Excuse me Commodore, all civilians are safe several levels below. There's power there, and full life support." O'Hara raised her head. "I'm afraid we found no medics or medical facilities." O'Hara didn't respond, impassively returning to treating a nasty head wound.

"Any news as to what's going on up there?" Jackson asked, rubbing her sore eyes.

Souveson hung her head. "No, Sir, but we found an internal public information screen broadcasting images of the port," she lowered her voice. "Commodore, I doubt there are many survivors in the upper levels. And from what we saw, the invasion forces have indeed already landed." The young Canadian recalled the nightmarish images of the pitted surface of the port with the hefty, multi-pronged alien vessels strategically positioned every few kilometres or so amid the debris. She had tried in vain to access communications through the same terminal.

Without warning, as Souveson waited for Jackson to give her next order, a crashing sound to their right caused all those conscious and capable of movement to jump. Souveson reached for her phaser, but she panicked to find it had gone. She and Jackson waited in trepidation for the dust cloud to dissipate. The Ensign's heart was pounding, wondering if the invasion forces had already reached them.

Thankfully a handsome Human male with four pips on his command sweater emerged, hair tossled and uniform scorched, torn and dirty. Another humanoid male, with a shimmering Starfleet uniform followed, along with a Human woman in Vulcan clothes, a half-Human/half- Ferengi, an Andorian and a group of nearly naked, burly Vulcan males.

"Captain Christian, isn't it?" Jackson said, amazed. "I recognise you from your transfer file."

"Commodore," Christian looked at the dozens of people strewn about the floor. "Where are your staff?"

* * *

After Jackson had brought the group up to speed, Christian began to get worried.

"With all due respect, Commodore, I think Commander Leonard is right. We should join the others below immediately," Christian noticed Rebbik, who had remained silent, (and carrying only two bags now), was nodding in furious agreement. "If there's an opportunity of getting the civilians away from Vekaria, we should take it."

A scolding voice rang out from the shadows. "We can't just abandon these people here, Captain." The mid-Atlantic accent denoted O'Hara who had been briefly introduced on his arrival.

"Lieutenant," Christian's tone was plain and authoritarian, "you'll do as ordered."

To his surprise, O'Hara suddenly strode toward him. She was a couple of inches higher than him, and her freckled, flame hair framed face uncomfortably close to his as she spoke.

"Look, I don't know what tight-assed whizz-kid command training you've had, CaptainSir, but in my Starfleet it's my duty as a medical officer to take care of these people and I won't-" her speech was interrupted by a firm grip on her shoulder.

"That's enough, Nurse!" Jackson spun the tall woman toward her, something in the back of her mind asking what her son had seen in this firey woman. Jackson's booming voice had clearly had the desired effect as the Lieutenant was still open-mouthed. "The Captain and I know only too well the purpose of the Hypocratic Oath and all the responsibilities that go with it. But you are first and foremost a Starfleet officer, Mister. And frankly, you're the only medic we have. We need you with us."

A young Bolian man, tear-stained, came up behind O'Hara. "No, you're wrong. These people need her help. You can't just turn your backs on them. My best friend," he glanced over to an unmoving Bolian female, "she's in a bad way. Don't desert her, I beg of you."

Before Christian could reply, from her nearby makeshift cot, Crewman Lee beat him to it. "Sir, I know how you feel," she smiled. "But, I mean, look at me. I'm hardly in a fit state to go anywhere now, am I? None of these people are." Lee turned to O'Hara, fixing her gaze on the Lieutenant's welling eyes. "It's just the way it is. Surely, if the people down there, all those children we were caring for ... have any chance of survival, they're going to need you with them. And the Captain, and the Commodore."

"Lee," O'Hara dropped to the younger woman's bedside, "you're asking me to leave you here to be captured. Or worse."

Lee was shaking her head. "We're out of options. At least you - and the others - have a chance to help all the civilians below. Have a fighting chance to get away. Who knows, maybe you'll even get word of our plight to the Federation and come back with the rest of the Fleet."

O'Hara, in her previous role as a marine, had been forced to leave her comrades behind before. But in those circumstances, she was secure in the thought that they, like her, had known the risks involved. It was the same for Lee, yet the thought of leaving these badly wounded 'civvies' to just die or suffer at the hands of the invaders - it was too unprincipled. Too cold.

"Mary, you know I'm right," Lee almost whispered.

O'Hara bit her lip and stood. Facing Christian, with a passionate scowl, she noticed the firearms Lirik and Narli carried. "At least leave them with a means to defend themselves."

"There would be no point," Narli said coldly. "Arming them may only cause their demise."

O'Hara half cried and half laughed at the response, but Lee's weak grip on her ankle steadied her from socking the Ambassador.

Lirik was appalled at his former comrade's attitude, but not surprised. Narli was Andorian after all. "I should stay," Lirik was surprised at his own words. "My duty is with the Federation delegates."

"They could be anywhere by now," Jackson said. "You're coming with us." Christian noted that the diplomat didn't argue.

"Okay, let's move out," Christian slapped Reb on the arm, jolting him. "Anyone not wishing to stay ... please, make your goodbyes brief."

The words almost choked Jackson and some of the others - although not the scientist or her crew, of course. Most of the civilians elected to remain with their loved ones. O'Hara kissed Lee on the forehead and whispered: "I'll be back for you crewman. That's a promise."

Lee just smiled and mouthed 'good luck' as the troupe, with just a couple of civilians, disappeared out of sight to the levels below.

EP2 ACT 3

HELUB SPACE PORT, SUB LEVEL 12

Joining the last group to be ferried to the lowest level, Christian was beginning to realise just how many people were making the exodus. Families clung to each other, while other individuals were in shock, sobbing at their loss and distress. In the tight confines of the overcrowded elevator, he thought he heard a nearby 'boom', as if a bulkhead had given way or an unexploded shell had finally detonated. Perhaps the K'Tani had penetrated the levels above.

As the elevator swiftly descended more than two hundred and fifty levels, Jackson pulled on Christian's sleeve and hauled him closer. She'd been wondering about this since Leonard had first put his proposal forward - now she saw a solution, though it was a bit unconventional. Jackson reminded herself that pride came before a fall.

"If we do find a ship to take us out of here, you realise my experience as a base commander doesn't qualify me to take the centre seat don't you, Captain?" she spoke so that others could not overhear.

"You're asking me to take command?" he asked.

Although the question was matter of fact, Jackson took a moment to absorb the implications of what she had asked of him. She decided to refine her proposition. "I most certainly outrank you, Mister Christian, but I do not possess the skill to command a space vessel, whereas you've been trained for it."

Lirik's environment shield fizzed against Christian's back and the Captain moved slightly, giving him an opportunity to change the subject. "What's with this diplomat's shield?" Christian asked, not able to resist his curiosity about the odd man any longer.

Jackson looked to a far away place before she replied. "I'm surprised you don't already know of him. But it can wait for now.. we're here." Call it the instinct of experience, but recalling the detail about Christian's parents she decided to put off the inevitable for the moment.

The elevator bounced and the large elevator doors swung into their housings to reveal hundreds of people in a high ceilinged junction between several tunnels, all clambering aboard some kind of open-topped shuttle train. A forward command vehicle was tethered to half a dozen rectangular carts loading up with the assortment of lifeforms. The whole vehicle hovered a few feet off the ground.

Leonard ran toward them. "The young Orion lady over there discovered transports in yonder sheds," he said to Jackson, looking at the Captain and the more familiar sour-faced Yeoman. "It shouldn't take us long to reach the ship at all."

"Sir," O'Hara pushed forward, "using these transports and the elevator there, we could go back and collect the injured-"

"No way, Lieutenant," Christian said, "I'm sorry, but everyone keeps going forward from now on."

Jackson backed the Captain up once again. "There's nothing we can do for them now, Nurse. It's just too dangerous to-" but O'Hara, disgusted, stormed off toward the platforms where she could see some walking wounded.

Christian observed this and called after her. "Lieutenant!"

"Leave her," Jackson said, seeing the man's contempt and adding. "Not now, okay?"

Lirik tapped Leonard on the shoulder and the German felt the tell-tale tingle of static. "Well, well, well, Mister Leonard. Becoming quite the hero now. Who would have thought it?"

Leonard half smiled and pushed his spectacles up his nose, flicking his hair slightly back. Lirik wondered if he were trying to appear cute or harmless to deflect Lirik's intent. If he was, then the man was a fool. "Yeoman, I'm sure you're wondering what happened yesterday. Where we are heading now, it's where I took the diplomatic runabout - a huge storage facility containing hundreds of ships, including some from Federation space. While I was there, the runabout was stolen from right under my nose, and I don't have any explanation as to how or why."

Lirik wiped his hands on his uniform - they'd become clammy since facing Leonard. "You know, given the last 24 hours, I'm willing to believe anything." Leonard was about to turn away when Lirik added: "Maybe when we're free you'll help me fill out the Lost Items Report - like why the hell you were there in the first place, and why you didn't inform me of your situation?" Lirik smiled.

Leonard felt sick - the Diplomatic Corps had a single-rank system, where everyone was treated the same, whatever their designation was when entering the Corps. As representatives of the Federation Council, they had the power to order any Starfleet personnel up to (and sometimes including) the Admiralty - although the higher up the ranks, the less powers they had except in extreme circumstances.

Everyone aboard the precariously loaded hover 'train', Leonard, Rebbik, Christian and Jackson squeezed into the front compartment of the antiquated transport. There were a few minutes' pause as the engineer consulted an onboard flight chart, trying to work out the correct path to the storage facility. It was hopeless, the celluloid was in code.

"Isn't there a voice interface?" Jackson asked.

"No, Sir," Leonard said, wondering if he should just follow his nose. He could feel the intense gaze of the party behind him - Lirik, Narli, Karnak, Souveson and the two civilians who had accompanied them. Particularly the Yeoman, whose vessel he had mislaid. O'Hara and Hedrik were among the crowds massed behind, the latter in an attempt to steer clear of the security officer.

Christian suddenly became aware of the volume of noise from the people assembled here. As Leonard passed the plan back to see if a Vekarian could translate for him, Christian leaned forward, around Rebbik (now only embracing one large holdall), to speak to the engineer. "How many of us are we?"

"Last estimate, around 500," Leonard said, fiddling with the flight controls. He could hear Lirik quietly 'humph' and 'tut' watching the engineer's activities.

Suddenly, Christian became aware of a large group of people gathered on his left.

"Who the hell is in command here?" a tall, bulky and rather resplendant looking Tiburonian stepped forward.

Jackson looked to Christian who swallowed and rose to address him. "I am, Sir."

"We demand to know why we are leaving! My family is back there somewhere, probably in need of our help. I insist we turn around and go back!" he was flushed, and his facial feathers bristled. "These people, and many more I suppose, agree with me!"

Christian had expected some resistance following the earlier confrontation with the Bolian. "I'm truly sorry, but we have no choice."

"Of course we have a choice. Rather than abandon everyone we could choose to go back and help them!" The crowd rumbled a supporting murmer.

"Sir, as we speak, an invasion force is moving into the space port above. From what we know the aggressors will most likely take all those they find prisoner - and from what we've all seen, the K'Tani make no qualms about killing without mercy." This was a difficult situation. If circumstances were to change, Christian realised, there would be too few of them to resist mob rule. He should select his words more carefully, he decided.

"You know what I think?" the Tiburonian spread his hands, a gesture of confrontation in his culture. "You are a coward."

Christian smiled (a Tiburonian put-down in the face of a challenge) and in a movement which surprised Jackson, leapt over the side of the vehicle to land in a squat facing the taller man. He slowly rose, still smiling.

"For your information, a coward is someone who runs and hides. What we are doing is making a strategic withdrawal. You know what that is, don't you?" Christian stepped close to the man, whose feathers suddenly swept back in trepidation. He raised his voice so others may hear him. "I have no intention whatsoever of abandoning our friends, colleagues and loved ones. We will be back, I promise each and every one of you that. But today, we must choose to walk away, so that we may live to fight another day." He turned back to the man. "Understand?"

"Gah! It may be too late then!" an old Rigellian woman piped up.

Jackson decided to deal with this one herself. "Open your eyes, Madam, and look around you. All the people here are innocents and don't deserve to die. Which is exactly what could happen if we went back."

"That's right," Christian echoed, "I'd be doing no-one any favours by turning around now, least of all your loved ones who we're leaving behind. At least with us still alive they have hope of a rescue."

Slowly the crowd began to dissipate and the Tiburonian made his last jibe before climbing back aboard: "Perhaps, Captain, all you're doing here is delaying the inevitable."

"We'll just see about that," Christian managed, but his words felt hollow. Jackson offered her hand to help him aboard as Lirik passed the map back to Leonard.

"This isn't a map of the tunnels," Lirik said, glancing at Narli ironically, "it's some sort of recipe."

Leonard realised that, in the end, he would just have to follow his nose. Everyone aboard, the transport lurched and moved into the darkness of the transport tubes.

* * *

It was the smell that had finally put Leonard on the correct course. Less than thirty minutes later, the sledge and its many inhabitants arrived at the underground station.

The masses made their way up to a large, empty observation room on the ground floor of the vast hangar. Everything seemed as it had done to Leonard the day before.

"This is it," Leonard gestured beyond the viewing windows.

"Bloody hell!" Rebbik said, "We could almost have one ship each."

Leonard stepped between Christian and Jackson pointing at the huge, submarine-like vessel floating high above them. "That's the ship," he said, "the SS Fantasy."

"A passenger liner?" Christian asked, looking at the glistening black monolith.

"It was originally the secondary hull of a 23rd Century Constitution Class Starship, hence its Starfleet registry," Leonard said, "but of course since then it's been added to greatly."

"It's certainly big enough," Christian added.

"I'll say," Rebbik said. "How the heck did it get all the way here?" It was a question Leonard couldn't answer. An immediate sense of nervousness pervaded all those within earshot.

Narli was the first to make a statement. "Forgive me for asking," he cradled his fingers, a Vulcan-like action, "but is this a K'Tani building?"

"I believe so, yes," Leonard said, "but it's been empty for years. Well, having said that we did find a K'Tani flag out there, which was not that old, but I don't believe it was the K'Tani who put it there."

For the second time in as many days, Leonard began to feel his interpretation of events was being disbelieved. A small bleeping sound diverted the tension. Lirik fiddled with a wrist-mounted control device, hidden beneath his sleeve.

"It's okay," he said, observing those who knew him watching him intently, "the shield's just running low. My Medusan energies are still quite intact."

Christian swooned, hearing the word echo in his head. Suddenly the penny was dropping. He remembered hearing mention of a Medusan-Human, but had assumed it was the person his father had been taken to see. He had no idea that he had been in the creature's company for all this time without realising.

"Erm," Rebbik was fiercely looking around the many ships in the hangar beyond the thick glass, "so won't this be one of the first places the K'Tani come to?"

Jackson watched Christian staring at Lirik, who appeared oblivious for the moment to the current situation. "We had better get aboard," she said.

"Yes..." Christian said, then, "I mean no, not yet. We'd better make sure the ship is space-worthy before we get everyone on board."

"I'll stay here with O'Hara and the others," Jackson said. "Try to hurry, Captain."

"Leonard, Ensign, assist me," Christian moved away to the small personnel turbolift which would take them to the upper levels and the gangway attached to the Fantasy.

"I'll come, too," Lirik said, having finished reconfiguring the power outage of his shielding.

"No," Christian ordered. Lirik thought the Captain's tone had suddenly changed. "You stay here and help the others."

"Er, to do what, exactly? I'm more use-" Lirik wasn't used to being kicked into touch over an offer of assistance.

"I said no, Yeoman. Do you have a problem hearing?" Christian was aware his voice had risen an octave.

"He may be useful, Captain," Jackson said. As he was about to question her she tilted her head back in a movement of superiority and the Captain swallowed.

"Rebbik, you come along, too," Christian called over his shoulder.

"Me?!" Rebbik dropped his last bag and followed the others to the turbolift doors.

* * *

The journey was silent. Christian stood dead opposite the Yeoman, staring the man out. Lirik, having served in awkward and undercover situations before, was a master of controlling his own body language when required. Instead of feeling uncomfortable, he merely stared back at the American and wondered what the hell this sudden attitude was all about.

Checking the observation windows overlooking the hangar, the group eventually made it to the open airlock to the gangway attached to the port side of the top of the layered turret perched on the uppermost part of the ship's aft. From their high position, they saw the long, sleek black vessel sweeping off to the left and right, though it was shorter in the aft.

"You're familiar with this vessel, Commander?" Christian asked.

Leonard looked at the others briefly. "Not totally, no. But I reviewed some of its history through the Starfleet database last night. It's had quite a colorful history."

Souveson held out a hand for Lirik's phaser. Once gripped firmly, she thrust a tricorder she had repossessed from a fallen comrade into the dark gangway and fired a low level energy burst down its length. Checking her tricorder readings she confirmed: "Corridor is secure. No force fields or booby traps. Phaser pulse shows no anomalies."

Rebbik poked his head in alongside hers and grinned at her, attempting to be charming. She merely grimaced and pushed him aside. Fiddling with a wall panel, she had the gangway lights on in seconds.

Christian urged Leonard forward and thanked the Ensign, much to her pleasure. Lirik entered last of all, looking out of the gangway at the ship beneath them. It was huge, and he noticed bits of it were either broken or missing. "I don't remember any Federation passenger liner being black like this," he said.

"No," Leonard called over his shoulder, "there wasn't. This is a substance that seems to have been added more recently, perhaps after it arrived here."

Christian stopped in his tracks. "The K'Tani did this?"

"I don't believe the material will affect the performance of the ship. Considering the nature of the K'Tani, it is logical to predict it is an enhancement rather than of detriment to the vessel." Leonard finally reached the black airlock door and at last got his chance to study the material up close.

While he did, Christian popped the manual override panel next to the two metre high circular hatch. Beneath the pitch-like substance, he could see the vague outline of the iconographic bird which had been the Fantasy's last owner's emblem. Studying the panel, he realised this was a computer-controlled lock.

"Try Federation codes, Sir," Leonard said, "they should work." The German continued his analysis, finally 'aha-ing' to himself. "As I suspected, I'm getting no readings whatsoever. This is a reflective substance with properties I believe would resist most conventional scanning devices. In short, it's a cloaking substance."

"Fascinating," Lirik commented. Again, Christian wasn't sure if the comment was serious or sarcastic.

Christian wasn't having any luck, much to Lirik's inward pleasure. "May I try, Sir?" Lirik chose to address the man respectfully, play along obliviously to Christian's clear distrust or dislike of him.

Christian couldn't immediately think of another way to cope with the lock short of blowing it, but even that could fail. Lirik delicately approached the lock, a movement which made Christian cringe. He was beginning to think that from now on, everything the Yeoman would do would annoy him in some way.

Suddenly the airlock hissed open, much to Lirik's delight. And Leonard's.

Christian held the weapon Narli had possessed and edged into the airlock. He released the two sets of inner doors and a shaft of brightness shone through.

"Light," Souveson observed, "that means power." She held her tricorder up. "And a breatheable atmosphere."

"What, no fanfare?" Rebbik muttered.

"Ensign, wait here. If we're not out in five minutes, go back to the others," Christian ordered, and led the way in.

Over the threshold, Leonard read from his tricorder. "The hull is impervious to scans, as is much of the interior structure."

A large corporate sign opposite the door read 'SS Fantasy, formerly USS Fantasy, NCC1595' with the strange dedication 'Over the Rainbow'.' Next to it there was another, smaller sign which Christian read aloud; "Deck zero one." He turned to Leonard, "The Bridge?"

Leonard read from his padd. "The ship is divided into three main sections; largest is the Passenger Section - that's forward of here, corridors 65 through 501, and levels 14 to 47. The Command Section is the block at the rear - where we are - corridors 1 to 64 and levels 1 to 47."

Rebbik frowned. "What's the third part?"

"A Command Yacht," Rebbik replied, "embedded within the command section, levels 1 to 19, corridors 10 to 28 by thoroughfares 20 to 30."

Turning left, the four men moved forward, around a short corridor, passing a small, 3 person transporter housed in the wall. The gubbins had been removed, as had the control board on the panel opposite. Continuing around, they passed an opening which dropped away, down to their left into darkness. Further round the bend, they finally reached a door with the elaborate sign-written word across it 'Bridge - Authorised Personnel Only'.

"I guess this is the bridge, then," Lirik said.

"Can it, will you, Yeoman," Christian chastised, and once again Lirik swallowed.

Rebbik turned and looked around. "Don't take this the wrong way, but if this ship has been here for years, isn't it a bit odd that there's light and power here?"

"Perhaps our entrance triggered life support?" Leonard depressed an oversized button, and the doors slid apart.

Beyond the doors, overhead lights flickered on. If the forward viewscreen was described as being at 6 o'clock, they were making their entrance at 1 o'clock, to the rear of the bridge. Its design felt familiar - a circular layout with crew stations around the outside, and a few in the middle. Only on this ship, where helm would normally have been there was a short staircase leading down to a further circle where the group could just make out what looked like a helm station, and two corridors leading off either side of the viewscreen.

Most striking of all, the bridge had been crafted out of a combination of a combination of materials - wood, metal, glass and the more conventional plastic. The overall varnished wood effect gave the ship an antiquated, bright feel, yet the gold fittings and glass and black panelling gave it a lot of style; this was indeed true luxury.

As they entered the bridge area, they all noticed at once that the carpet underfoot was a lot thicker and softer than any of them had experienced on a ship's bridge before.

Leonard walked around the bridge, anti-clockwise: "It's an old-fashioned command deck layout. This is Science," he swept his hand right, to the rear-most station; he swept his other hand left and regarded the high chair in front of a long workstation with the second best view of the forward viewscreen with a quizzical look "Er, Tactical?" Passing another set of doors (at 11 o'clock) he continued around the bridge; "Gravity, Environment - ah, Engineering." The latter station was at 7 o'clock from the centre of the bridge, and one of two flanking the steps to the lower bridge level.

Lirik stood at the 5 o'clock station, opposite to Leonard and gave his report; "This looks like communications, but I've no idea what that is," he thumbed to the station next to it, between 3 and 4 o'clock.

Christian had walked to the centre of the bridge, where three seats were positioned on a raised platform below and forward of the Tactical station. He looked down at the grand, bulky workstation in front of the viewscreen. "There's the Helm," he said.

"Really?" Rebbik skipped down the steps and began looking at the flat, blank surfaces.

"So where's Operations?" Lirik enquired.

Leonard was busy trying to activate the engineering station. "It's a passenger vessel, Yeoman, Operations wasn't part of the regime. Infact," he looked over, "that station there is probably for the Chief Purser."

"If there's power for life support," Christian sidled up close behind Leonard, smelling fresh, clean soap on him, "why are none of the bridge stations active?"

"I'm not sure yet," Leonard referred to his padd, but only had limited information on the vessel. "Hang on."

The German walked to the lower level, just in front of the engineering station, and opened a panel near to the floor. Christian followed him, while Lirik made for the 11 o'clock doors; "I'm going to check through here."

Christian locked eyes with the Yeoman and nodded slightly. Lirik flashed a brief smile, but lost it as quickly as it came, as if realising he was doing the wrong thing. He turned and walked off the bridge.

* * *

As Lirik disappeared, Souveson appeared through the other doors. "Captain!" She was excited, flushed an perspiring. "I saw movement. A light, some shadows. It was some way off, but I'm sure it was coming toward us."

Rebbik swallowed and rose, gripping the helm's head rest. "K'Tani?"

Christian ignored him. "Return to the others, ask the Commodore to get everyone aboard immediately." He turned to Leonard; "We can't delay any longer, it's either this ship or nothing."

"Aye, Sir," Souveson spun on the ball of her foot and ran out, just as sparks showered from several placed around the bridge and the consoles came alive.

"Well done, Commander," Christian felt a little more relieved. The main lights of the bridge dimmed as the now operational section adjusted the ambience for its working inhabitants. Cooler air began to rush in, causing Rebbik to shiver.

Christian's eyes darted around the Engineering board as Leonard rejoined him on the upper level of the bridge. Curiously, some touch screen panels had transformed into push-button panels. A shimmering sound behind them caused the two to whirl round in time to see a console materialise in front of the Captain's chair.

Leonard looked around the bridge, then up at the ceiling. "Holographic emitters," Leonard pointed to the cleverly disguised ribbons of emitters lining the walls and ceiling. "From what I read, the entire ship was rigged for holographic interaction. It must have been lashed into the command areas as well."

"Oh," was all Christian could manage.

"This is fraxing incredible!" Rebbik shouted back to them. The helm had transformed into a state of the art piloting console.

"But unstable," Leonard warned. "Power is fluctuating, most of the computer core has either been shut off or removed. All sensors and communications are off-line."

"Can she fly, though?" Rebbik asked.

"The readings here indicate impulse power, but we'd best check below, in Engineering. I will need your assistance."

"Of course," Christian called over to Rebbik, "stay here, tell the Yeoman to organise the civilians below. And tell him to keep them away from the bridge."

Christian and Leonard made for the turbolift next to the purser station at 2/3 o'clock, but it didn't respond. The two returned to the lower bridge and pulled aside a section of wall panel behind which was a Jeffreys tube.

* * *

The Jeffreys tube dropped for at least three levels before allowing Christian and Leonard to exit. In fact, they were both surprised to find the sign read 'Deck 9'.

"That's odd," Christian noted, "either we've descended further than we thought, or this sign is wrong."

"Or," Leonard added, "they've removed a few floors."

Christian didn't think it deemed a response. Reading a wall chart in the red emergency lighting of the corridor, and referring to Leonard's padd, they realised they were still within what would be the Command Yacht area. There was an engineering section listed for the deck, but it didn't seem to be main engineering, just the engineering section for the yacht itself.

However, having been blocked by sealed bulkheads at every turn, they had no choice but to check out the yacht's engineering section. Amazingly, they found the small control room was slaved into the main drive systems, and although it felt to Leonard a little like a virtual engine room with nothing but black computer screens, it responded when touched, and seemed to be operational, even if many systems were still off-line.

"There's deuterium in the tanks, but I can't say how much," Christian reported.

"Reaction chambers are active, EPS taps supplying power to the ship - distribution net sensors are faulty, I can't get accurate flow readings," Leonard tapped at the IPS command screens.

"I'm not reading any warp system activity," Christian was faced with over 50 blank panels throughout the room.

"The SIF and IDF generators are active," Leonard said, "as are the reaction control thrusters."

"Gravity, life support and environment seem fully functional," Christian said, "although the aircon system is set a little cool." He changed it to a more Human-tolerable temperature.

"Captain?" Leonard asked, causing Christian to stop and look over at the handsome man. "I have a very bad feeling about all of this. What if we're wrong, and the ship's not up to it? We'll be killing hundreds of innocent men, women and children. Maybe slowly and painfully."

Christian crossed the small room to face him. "What's your first name, Commander?"

"Ottmar, sir," the German felt warmed a little by his interest.

Christian reached out and shook his warm, large hand. He paused as he studied the man briefly. "Pleased to meet you Ottmar. What's your posting?"

"Deputy Chief Engineer aboard the Draco," he said, sheepishly. "While I was making my way through the tunnels yesterday, they had left orbit and were already en route out of the Vekarian system."

"The Draco, that's Stockport's ship?" Christian remembered the arsehole from his last Academy year. Leonard nodded, and Christian suspected they shared a similar feeling toward the Draco's commanding officer. "Well, what do you think? You've seen the systems here, I know they're a little unconventional, but do you think she's ready?"

Leonard looked around him again. "She can fly, without a doubt. And we're not being sucked into the vacuum, so I'd say she was pretty airtight as well," Leonard turned to an empty wall, where there must have been a master display monitor, he suspected. It was the only equipment missing, but coupled with the lack of computer interaction, it would make space travel difficult. "But we're blind in many ways. Aside from the navigational deflector, sensors are off-line, and we've no idea what condition the hull is in."

Christian tried to access the computer system again, without success. "We don't really have any choice in the matter, though, Ottmar. And I certainly don't want to turn around give myself up to the K'Tani; do you?"

"No, Sir," Leonard remembered Re Lorken's fear.

"You know, today was supposed to be my first day as Captain of the USS Firefly. My first command," Christian continued with the system checks. "I never thought my first command would turn into this."

* * *

As Lirik had passed through the second set of doors to the rear of the bridge, he found a turbolift on his immediate left. It wouldn't respond, and he turned in the bright overhead lights to face two sets of smaller doors opposite, marked with male and female icons daubed in the same signwriting they'd seen earlier. He sighed, and cast a short look toward the bridge. Smiling, he entered the one with the male icon.

Lirik couldn't stop grinning to himself in isolationary amusement as he exited the small room a few minutes later, somewhat more relieved. Emerging from the head, there was a power surge, followed by an adjustment to the ambient lighting. In this light, the corridor seemed more alluring, despite its damage; wall panellings had been stripped, network systems and power units dangerously exposed and, it seemed, tampered with.

Following the narrowing corridor further back, he found the Starboard side airlock, sealed, to his left, and on a slight bend to the right, a gaping hole leading to a room, stripped, save for a few empty cartons and packing material. The corridor ended in a further set of double doors. On either side, wall recesses were empty - presumably cabinets or display shelves of some kind.

Lirik guessed at the room's purpose beyond, and used an underfloor 'pump' lever to part the doors. He activated a light panel on the inside wall and watched as just two of the twelve or so elaborate light fixtures winked on. Centre stage in the room, a large mahogany table, surrounded by just a few broken chairs. The table was smooth to the touch, and, he suspected, real mahogany. "Beautiful," he remarked to himself.

Encircling the table along its aft-most curve, a set of windows reached up into the ceiling, each with deep recesses for more comfortable recliner seating underneath. The table could have easily seated twelve - more than that around its perimeter. Lirik turned to face the flat, inner wall and gasped at the huge, gaping hole where, presumably, replicators and display screens would have been for the briefing room-come-officers' mess. Instead, the 30 cm recess was blackened, dangling connection points revealing part of the guts that usually remained hidden on most spacegoing vessels. It was always a chilling sight to Lirik - making space travel seem more precarious and delicate than most travellers were led to believe.

To the left of the empty wall housing, another set of double doors - presumably leading back down the port side of the ship. Using a similar pump to open these doors, Lirik smiled in self-satisfaction when he saw, a short way down past a Jeffreys tube, the open airlock leading back into the complex.

Souveson was nowhere to be seen. Lirik continued on to the bridge to find Rebbik sitting in the Captain's chair. He almost jumped at the Yeoman's approach.

"Where are Captain Christian and Mister Leonard?" Yeoman stood before him.

"They're down below, freak, in Engineering. The Ensign's gone to get everyone aboard - said she saw some aliens headed this way," Rebbik rose to within an inch of Lirik's shielding, causing his nose to tingle.

As Rebbik shouldered past him to go down to the helm station in front of the still-blank viewscreen, Lirik allowed his Medusan energies to swell slightly, pushing against the environment shield. Rebbik felt a rush of nausia, and giddiness. It was a strange sensation, as it seemed to be occuring in his mind, rather than physically.

Lirik had reacted to the insult instinctively, but wasn't sure whether to be annoyed or amused by the expression. "I'm sorry, I thought you just called me 'Freak'? Did you say 'freak'?"

"Not my choice of words exactly," Rebbik said, swallowing the swell of saliva and trying to keep from vomiting. "Just something the Captain said, in his logs."

"The Captain? I don't know Christian. And I'm sure I haven't met him before today," Lirik didn't understand. "Frankly I doubt any Starfleet Captain would make such a racist comment on file. Anyway, what logs?"

"His, ah, personal logs," Rebbik wished he hadn't made the throw-away statement now but felt compelled to justify himself nonetheless. "Look, apparently one of your brethren took the lives of his parents - well, his mother's, anyway. His father's become a certified loony."

"Oh, hang on a second," Lirik's face flushed as he made the connection, "I remember a colleague pointed a news report out to me concerning this a couple of weeks ago. An accident with a Medusan ambassador."

Rebbik felt expunged. "See? So now you know. Oh, and another thing, he's ordered that you babysit the civilians - keep them off the bridge."

Lirik understood. He'd met only a couple of victims of Medusan effect before - most died as a result of prolonged exposure - and they were beyond any help. He wondered what he could say to the Captain and then wondered if he should even try - after all, it had nothing to do with him. But he knew he would be a constant reminder. "There's not enough space for everyone back there, I'll just go and check the forward section," he said, and jogged off into the port-side corridor flanking the main viewscreen.

The corridor formed a gradual arc, sloping down and passing an access shaft, a turbolift entrance and a few small, empty rooms until it ended in a pair of large, ornate wooden doors decorated with gold leaf. Beyond these, Lirik found a large, spacious area. The place was again poorly lit and in tatters, but Lirik could imagine its former function as an observation lounge.

To the front and sides of the room, huge windows stretching floor to ceiling revealed the panoramic view of other ships being held in the hangar and looked out over the enormous flat surface of the passenger section which stretched for several hundred metres to the prow a few levels below. Furniture was strewn about the room, some damaged, and again equipment had been removed from the walls. It reminded Lirik a little of the Ten Forward areas of Galaxy Class cruisers, only this had two ramps at either side of the room, leading down to the decks below. Quickly checking, Lirik found sealed bulkhead doors just a few metres down the ramps.

Following the starboard corridor back to the bridge, and passing similar rooms and access shafts along the way, Lirik saw a large crowd of people pushing forward into the bridge from the airlock to the rear.

"Okay, come this way," Lirik called to them, and waved them down past Rebbik and into the corridor beyond, "just follow the corridor to the end and make room for yourselves in the observation lounge."

As the people filed past, Rebbik stood and mimicked a sugary-sweet female voice, "Welcome aboard, would you like tea or coffee?"

Lirik couldn't bring himself to argue with the man, but did pull Narli to one side when he spotted the tall man moving sheep-like past him. It seemed he had struck up a conversation with the Orion female who followed him away from the crowds, then peeled off to look around the bridge. The first lot safely through, Christian reappeared on the bridge. Lirik felt himself blush.

"Mister Rebbik, we appear to have thrusters and impulse engines on line," Christian suddenly realised he wasn't in the company of Humans any more, "as soon as everyone's aboard we'll be moving out. I'd like you to take the helm, so please familiarise yourself."

"The first group of civilians are aboard, Captain," Lirik reported, "shall I see what our tactical readiness is?"

Christian bit a lip, an act of mock-self control, then said sarcastically. "No, you shan't, I'd like you to find anyone with engineering experience and send them below."

With that, Christian was gone again, as a second, larger number of people piled onto the bridge, many on makeshift stretchers. As they were ferried past, Rebbik was there a second time. "Hello, there, welcome aboard flight number Damnation 666, your journey into hell-"

Lirik elbowed the half-Ferengi, stopping his tactless joking, but could still hear the man tittering to himself as he walked to the helm station: "Emergency doors are located here, here and here..."

"Doesn't like you, does he." Narli stated.

"Who, the Ferengi?" Lirik was staring at the Jeffrey's tube Christian had disappeared down.

"No, the Captain," Narli smiled.

"You noticed," Lirik shared a friendly smile with the Andorian. "Apparently I'm the wrong kind of half-alien." He said this last statement loud enough for Rebbik to look over and sneer.

"You are more familiar with Starfleet and Federation systems," Narli said, "and I appear to be unoccupied, so why don't I go and find the engineers while you, er, make the bridge ready."

Lirik grinned. "Thanks - but don't think that pays me off for your going awol last night."

The Andorian left the bridge in strides, leaving Lirik to make an initial assessment of bridge system readiness. The Orion woman, it appeared, was doing a similar thing.

* * *

Souveson's heart was pounding. It had been a full twenty minutes since she spotted movement away down the hangar. Not even half the people were aboard yet. Her short journey from the airlock of the Fantasy down to the observation area, had been scarier than anything that had happened to her so far. Her senses had worked overtime, as had her imagination. Alone in the elevator, images of the carnage and destruction flashed through her mind. It wasn't so much the dead bodies, the blood, and the torn and broken limbs. What disturbed her was seeing people she knew laying dead or injured on the floor, and the children, and the crying and screams of people in agony - both physical pain and emotional turmoil.

It had taken a too-tight grip on her arm by Commodore Jackson followed by a reassuring pat on the back to bring her back to the matter in hand. Two more elevators had been found nearby, but that meant only thirty could be taken every two minutes. There were still around 150 people to go.

A large group comprised of the fitter and more desperate among the survivors had peeled off, sensing the urgency of the current situation, to look for a more conventional means of ascending to the boarding platform. Souveson had been instructed by Jackson not to go with them, saying they were doing so against her better judgement, and the Ensign was trying to understand this as she watched through the observation windows for movement. Then it happened.

Something caught her eye beyond the windows in the far distance. She looked closer, and realised lights had come on in the wall opposite. Then she saw figures in a third, maybe fourth level window. "Commodore, we're running out of time."

Jackson was ushering the next group along to the waiting elevators. "Move along there, people, try and squeeze a few more in if you can."

Finally there remained only Jackson, Souveson, O'Hara and some of the casualties who needed to be under her watchful eye - about twenty in all. The Klingon warriors had remained with her to aid in carrying those remaining who could not walk.

Jackson joined Souveson to the side of a window while O'Hara gathered the others close to the elevator doors for a speedy evac. Taking a moment to herself, the Lieutenant joined her colleagues.

"Have you seen anything?" O'Hara asked.

Souveson nodded at the figures slowly moving - almost socially, it seemed - in the windows in the distance. The more handsome of the Klingons joined them, swinging his Bat'Leth up. "We will be ready for them."

"That might not be necessary," O'Hara said, looking around their immediate surroundings. "I have an idea."

EP2 ACT 4

HELUB SPACE PORT, SUB LEVEL 12

Christian's eyes widened as Narli entered the small engineering room followed by three people. Two humans and a young, grey-black clad male, tall, thin and unmistakably a Romulan soldier. He appeared gangly and nervous.

"Captain, these three individuals all have engineering experience," Narli stepped to one side to allow them to introduce themselves.

"Er, Cally Warnerburg - I was a midshipman aboard the USS Florence in my youth," the fifty something woman said. "I know that's a long time ago, but I've always kept myself abreast of engineering developments since."

Leonard looked imporingly at Christian.

"Jaz Lepraniem," the roly-poly second man said, "entrepreneur. Although I own a large and successful cargo fleet back home now, I used to work in the engine rooms of various old ships. You may have heard of my business, it's called-"

"Good," Christian said, interrupting.

"Captain, is it true the wormhole was destroyed?" Warnerburg asked.

"I'm afraid so," he turned to the Romulan. "And who might we have here?"

The Romulan gave Narli a look of fear - seemingly a reference to an earlier altercation. Christian noticed his disrupter holster was empty. "My name is Murak. I was engineer's third mate aboard my ship, the Pemkitonp."

"Third mate, eh?" Leonard wasn't sure how qualified that was. "Are you familiar with Federation technology?"

"I know some, yes," Murak offered, though Christian wasn't prepared to trust him. He pulled Leonard to one side.

"Don't let your guard down," the Captain warned, "we don't really know who any of these people are."

Leonard felt like saying 'thanks for the vote of confidence', but kept his mouth shut. He just hoped that there would be a certain cameraderie among engineers, though an old woman, a fat businessman and a Romulan wouldn't have been his first choice for support crew.

"Captain," Narli said, "the last people are coming aboard now. Lirik has requested your presence on the bridge."

Christian ran his hands through his floppy hair, causing instant feathering. "Has he, now?"

* * *

Narli and Christian entered the bridge as the last group made their way on board. Last to pass through the double doors were three Klingon warriors, each of whom carried a casualty in their strong arms, while in front of them, walking wounded were being herded along by O'Hara. She gave the Captain a look of contempt as he walked up to the main bridge area and she made her way forward. Lirik was seated at communications, intently listening to an earpiece. Jackson stood behind him. Christian noticed the Orion female was standing to the rear of the bridge at the oversized Science console, like a modern recreation of a Cathedral organ.

"I have communications partially back on line, Captain," the Yeoman said. Christian noticed a bolognaise of wiring had been pulled out from underneath the console. "I don't know what's happened to the main array, but I've managed to cross-wire the diagnostics into the deflectors - we won't be able to send, but we should be able to pick up sub-space chatter."

Christian only said; "You were given a direct order to assess the civilians, Yeoman. Your work is appreciated, I'm sure, but I suggest you now carry out those orders."

Lirik was about to lose control as Souveson sprang onto the bridge. "Commodore, I've sealed the airlock. Everyone is aboard."

"Good work, Ensign," Jackson replied.

"Hey, what the hell are you doing?!" Souveson cried.

"Whub-wib-weerzzzzz-" the audio system on the bridge interrupted any further dialogue. Lirik whirled around to look at the Science station.

Hedrik was now sitting in the bashed-up seat in front of the banks of controls being manhandled by Souveson. She felt the presence of Jackson and Christian as they approached her Pulling free, she said: "I've hacked into the computer core. It's a mess, but I think I've got partial computer interface."

"Er, who are you?" was all Jackson could think of asking.

"No-one special," Hedrik smiled and turned around - her face visibly surprised to see Christian's. It was an instant attraction that Christian felt in response.

"Actually, Sir," Souveson chipped in, "I arrested her for stealing from our supply stores just before the attack."

"You never arrested me!" Hedrik said, and Souveson blushed, realising the woman was correct.

"Well I caught you-" Souveson was cut off by the Orion's call, directed toward the ceiling.

"Computer!" Hedrik addressed the interface. "Stand by for immediate departure."

The computer over-chimed a response, and tried to say something but failed. Christian smiled; "Looks like you have a little way to go."

"Captain, you're not seriously suggesting letting her continue?" Souveson was shocked.

"Right now, Ensign," Jackson calmed her, "we need all the help we can get. We'll deal with the matter later." Jackson's years of training made her think about all of those administrative jobs to follow: Leonard being AWOL and causing a disturbance, Lirik's lost runabout, O'Hara being insubordinate, Christian's transfer of command, her own report on events. And then there was the missing persons list to compile - including those of all the Federation delegates and all the crews of all the ships in the Outer Zone. That would involve interviewing everyone onboard. For that matter, she had even seen a Romulan - she stopped her train of thought. Disastrous situation was more important, she reminded herself, and tried to pay attention to the activities around her.

Christian turned to Rebbik, who was watching in anticipation from the Helm. "You ready, Rebbik?"

"Um, I think we've got a problem," Rebbik said.

Jackson and Christian came up behind him. "There appear to be two docking clamps, one forward and one aft. I can't seem to disengage them."

Christian checked and re-checked the display, seeing for the first time the overall shape of the vessel - long, and sleek. Two flashing stripes flashed in urgency - one at either end of the ship. He entered commands, but there was nothing he could do about it.

"We'll have to disengage them manually," Lirik said from his lurking place.

Christian was about to chastise him again, but realised he was right. He looked Lirik in the eye and the man just nodded - it was a response to a question he hadn't even asked, but realised he was instinctively about to.

Jackson said; "Surely it's too dangerous to go out there? Can't we just pull ourselves free?"

"No," Christian said, "we may damage the ship irrepairably in the process.

"I volunteer, Captain," Ensign Souveson puffed out her chest.

"That won't be necessary, Ensign," Christian said.

"You can't go," Jackson half pleaded, half ordered, "your place is here."

Lirik turned to the young Ensign: "Ever disengaged an alien docking clamp manually?"

The Ensign shook her head. Hedrik had approached from behind: "But how will you get back aboard?"

Lirik hadn't considered that - so busy was he in trying to be brave, or, he wondered, in trying to prove himself to the Captain.

"We'll think of something," Christian smiled at her.

* * *

The airlock once more secured behind them, Lirik and Christian made their way along the gangway, crouching low. Peering through the windows, they could see no-one on the floor below.

As they descended in the elevator, Christian said; "I'll take the forward pylon, you deal with the one to the rear."

Lirik only nodded. He looked at the Captain, an attractive man, and considered how he had made his rank at such an early age and his stare made Christian uneasy.

"So, where did you become such an expert on disengaging docking clamps?" he asked awkwardly.

"Starfleet Intelligence," Lirik answered matter-of-factly - at last, an opportunity to bridge the gap between them, "they often used me because of my alien heritage." Lirik swept his arms up, as if revealing the now invisible energy to Christian. The Captain just scowled and looked away.

Having rendered O'Hara and Souveson's booby-trapped door harmless, the two officers walked out onto the hangar floor in awe. The ship above them now seemed vast. The other ships, mostly in shadowy light against the backdrop of the alien walls. The darkness of the recesses of the storage facility gave the feeling of being trapped in infinity itself.

Christian sprinted off toward the front of the vessel. It was almost 400 metres from their exit point, and he ran close to the wall, jumping over boxes and trailing conduits, looking all around him as he did. Lirik made a more covert approach to the rear of the ship, climbing onto storage boxes and making his way slowly along the shadowy wall, stopping every so often to check for movement from the other side of the hangar.

Although the lights were still on in the levels Souveson had monitored across the way, there were no people there. Lirik could see his destination, a pylon reaching up and through the forcefield that contained the habitable atmosphere underneath.

Heart in mouth, sweat pouring off him, Christian had made short work of the distance to the forward pylon. Here, he saw for the first time the prow of the Fantasy - an almost flat nose which eventually curved up into a point where it touched the tethering device. He had to climb several feet to reach the pylon's control panel and began to enter commands to try and override the power regulators. It was going to take a while.

Lirik, on the other hand, had other plans. Standing precariously above the control panel of his pilon, he brought his boot down as hard as he could, smashing into the panel. The controls overloaded and exploded dramatically.

"Shit!" As soon as he had done it, he wished he hadn't. If anything was to attract the attention of the K'Tani, it was that. But he noticed the ship levitate slightly, now free from the pylon's grip.

With the rear pilon off-line, Christian's panel was working overtime to compensate for the extra power it required to hold the Fantasy steady, making Christian's job impossible. In the end, Christian decided Lirik's stupid move had at least had the benefit of being speedy. He looked out over the hangar floor - still nothing. But he could see Lirik clambering down the aft pylon in the far distance.

Suddenly, there was a sound behind him - it was the faintest of noises, but it gave the soldiers away. As Christian dropped down, energy bursts coursing past him. Christian made a break for it, running back down the length of the ship toward Lirik's position, hoping they weren't employing a pincer movement.

Choosing his timing carefully, Christian jumped and twisted in the air, sliding down into a laying position, facing his attakers. Bringing his phaser up - set on full power, he waited for the soldiers to appear. Tentatively, they made their way over the pilon junction and Christian hesitated. These soldiers were not only short, they were varying small sizes - like children. As they fired at him again, he took aim and fired at the structure in their midst. The pylon exploded, scattering the small soldiers about the place.

Christian leapt to his feet and continued to run. Several seconds later, the firing began again, though he tried to convince himself it was a good deal less than before. He noticed the Fantasy was peeling away from the wall position. Saliva white hot in his throat, he bounded over the last few storage crates and came crashing down next to Lirik.

"Hi," the Yeoman smiled and fired back at the soldiers.

Christian caught his breath and looked up at the ship. It was clearly moving slowly away, but then something caught his eye.

"My God," he said.

Lirik briefly followed his gaze - an opening in the back of the ship, near to the bottom, a long and thin shaft of light, like a shuttle bay. Its shape stood out against the blackness of the surrounding hull. Christian joined Lirik, firing at the soldiers, now pinned down against the wall of the storage complex some forty metres away. Christian looked around and behind him, his eyes falling on what could only be a miracle.

"Come on!" he called as he jumped down and ran over to a mass of storage boxes and equipment strewn next to an inner wall.

Lirik glanced around and saw three Sky Bikes, sitting in a row. Setting his phaser to automated, random fire, he perched it atop of his hiding position and leapt down to join the Captain, overstraining his ankle. It didn't hinder him, but it hurt like buggery.

Then a thought occurred to him; "Er, Captain, we don't have any pressure suits. It's a vacuum above the shielding."

"It can't be more than thirty metres to the shuttle bay," Christian was uncovering the bikes, prepping one for immediate take-off, "if we go fast enough, we should make the crossing in less than a couple of seconds."

Lirik straddled a bike of his own, watching for K'Tani, and hit the ignition. "What if we miss? Or what if your charming friend decides to turn the ship suddenly? We could splatter ourselves against the hull, or worse, miss entirely and implode in the vacuum."

Christian revved his bike, activating the anti-grav. "Yeoman," he turned to face him, "risk is everything."

With that, he took off, keeping low and heading away from the ship to gain enough distance to both hold a straight course and gather enough speed to make the vacuum crossing as brief as possible.

Lirik followed suit. "Riight," he thought the Captain was bonkers, but given the situation, there was little choice if he didn't want to be left behind.

Like two small planes taxiing for take-off, the Captain and the Yeoman slowed and turned to put themselves in line with the Fantasy. The K'Tani were still amazingly being held off by the random phaser fire. Finally, they were away.

As Christian raced up toward the ship, gathering speed all the time, Lirik's Sky Bike gave a phut-phut sound and slowed to a full-stop, pausing in mid-air. Lirik pulled on the handle bars and made small jumping movements in his seat, but despite his efforts the bike wouldn't respond. He was a sitting duck.

Christian afforded the shortest of glances over his shoulder, and immediately realised Lirik wasn't behind him anymore. He made his decision with Starfleet instinctiveness, turning the bike in a sharp arc, just glancing the forcefield, and headed back toward the panicing Yeoman. As he did, figures appeared not twenty metres away. Christian noticed these child-like characters were wearing strange, jester-like uniforms, colourful and bizarrely individual.

Energy beams lashed out from their curious head-mounted weapons, and Christian didn't waste any more time looking. Approaching Lirik, he heard the Yeoman saying "Damn thing died on me." He didn't waste any time jumping aboard as the dying bike took two direct blows, sparks showering them. Its anti-grav failed, the bike dropped to the floor.

Christian was already accelerating, trying to ignore the tingling sensation of the Yeoman's environmental shield behind him. "Exhale your breath and hold it!" Christian ordered, weaving slightly to avoid shots being fired at them.

Christian wasn't sure, but as he put the bike back onto a straight line for the shuttle bay of the Fantasy now above and in front of them, he thought he heard a poppoing sound like light bulbs exploding in his ears. Sound then stopped as they passed into the vacuum and a crushing pressure began to build in his head and groin.

The brief seconds seemed to last a lot longer as Christian felt his blood surge, his skin split. Eyes closed, he was suddenly aware of light beyond, and hit the brakes, not sure which way was up. Then he felt heavy, and the crushing mass of the bike was bearing down on him. Opening his eyes, his disorientation saw only arms, legs and some kind of netting. 'Of course!', he thought - the emergency landing net, preventing impact into the shuttle walls.

Christian hauled himself clear of the tangled mass, and realised Lirik had been thrown clear onto the deck. As the Yeoman moved slightly, he looked up and saw the bike crashing to the floor. It made the Englishman dive to one side, looking up at the Captain who appeared as some kind of swashbuckler in rigging.

"Jolly well done, Captain," the Yeoman shouted, causing the Captain to laugh slightly. Through the rear, shuttle doors, Christian could see the ship was moving away, but not very fast.

* * *

On the bridge, Rebbik was frantically stabbing at the helm controls. "This just doesn't make any sense," he said. Jackson bit her lip behind him.

"Any luck getting the main viewscreen on line?" the Commodore asked.

Narli was sitting at communications, Souveson seemed busy at Tactical, strangely again in close proximity to Hedrik who sat quietly at the Science station.

"I'm sorry, Commander, I can't get anything on line," Narli said. Jackson looked over to Souveson who merely blushed and shrugged. She was clearly having as much joy.

The bridge consoles were winking on and off at regular intervals, and the groaning sound of the ship's movements put Jackson on edge. Suddenly, Hedrik shouted from the back of the bridge: "Done it!!" Jackson and the others looked at her as she rose and walked forward, toward the command chair. "Computer, activate Emergency Command Hologram!"

Almost instantly, Captain Picard materialised into the command chair, wearing the older style uniform. Standing and facing forward, he said "Please, state the nature of the command emergency." Even the voice was Picard.

Jackson, Rebbik, Narli and Souveson exchanged looks of disbelief. Hedrik explained. "This ship was a state-of-the-art, luxury passenger liner. Any ship of this type was heavily skewed toward the safety of its passengers and cargo and this is just one of many safety features."

"But, Picard?" Jackson mused, and the hologram looked at her.

Picard walked down the steps to join her. "Actually, although I have the appearance of Starfleet's flagship captain, I have the knowledge, tactical experience and memories of over 200 captains, both Starfleet and civilian. Now," Picard turned to look around the bridge, "is there a command emergency or not?"

Jackson spoke. "We are the survivors of an invasion attack by a military race called the K'Tani. We are very few Starfleet personnel and this ship is totally unfamiliar to us. We need to get off the moon as quickly as possible, but we're not sure how to fly her out."

"You are in command?" Picard regarded her uniform and Commodore rank pips.

"I am the senior most officer present, yes, but my background is not in starship command," Jackson felt embarrassed, but frankly if this hologram could help, she was all for it. "There are two more of our people outside the ship, can you beam them aboard?"

Picard cocked his head slightly, an action aping one of his own crew, Jackson thought. "Sensors are off-line. Communications - reconfigured. Transporter systems non-operational. Computer interface, limited." He looked at the viewscreen. "I can give you an image - forward view only. Other than that, you have only my experience at your command. Man your stations."

Jackson looked at the others and back to Picard, who realised this was not currently possible. As the viewscreen flickered on, Jackson said, "We're free! They did it."

Rebbik adjusted attitude and held them steady, just as O'Hara entered from the observation corridor. "Has anyone found the sick bay yet?" She stopped in her tracks when she saw Picard.

"Emergency Command Hologram, the entire ship's rigged for holographic interface" Jackson confirmed for her. "Ensign, can you locate sick bay?"

"Sick bay is on Deck 15," Picard interjected. "However, turbolifts and transporters are inoperative. And there is no access beyond Deck 9."

"Computer," O'Hara said, "Activate Emergency Medical Hologram."

The computer bleeped unceremoniously.

"All Medical files have been erased," Picard said.

"Great!" O'Hara was seething, "I'll sort it myself." And with that she disappeared back down the corridor.

"Helm," Picard continued as if the Nurse had not been there, "set a course bearing 276, thrusters only."

As Rebbik did so, the ship lurched and lights winked off then on. Picard's image shimmered.

"What's happening?" Jackson asked.

"I'm not sure," Picard replied, "my program seems to be degrading."

Hedrik frowned. "I'm on to it," she said as she flopped into the Science chair again.

Jackson felt useless. She remembered Narli. "Can you pick anything up?"

"Just this," he pointed to a small display on the communications console which was a swirling mass of colours and lights. "I've never seen anything like it."

Jackson looked at him, then at the viewscreen, watching as the ship slowly headed through the lifeless ships and began to turn a slow corner toward a vast set of doors.

* * *

"Oh my God," Lirik raised a hand to his mouth. On the opposite side of the shuttle bay, in what looked like a standby suite, the runabout Hudson sat calm and gleaming. Christian joined him. "It's my shuttle, the one that Lt Cmmdr Leonard borrowed yesterday. But how did it get in here?"

Christian turned in a full circle. Behind them, was what looked like a repair yard. To their right, the still open shuttle bay doors and their left, observation windows and exit doors. No sign of life, he thought.

"Let's get the doors closed," Christian suggested.

It was an easy operation, the doors sliding silently together with the faintest of shunts as the seals locked. Suddenly the lights went off. In the total darkness, Lirik shimmered slightly, a ghost like effect about his person.

"Captain!" he managed to warn as the lights came on again, and the two found themselves surrounded by a group of humanoids.

There were a few moments of silence before a young, attractive woman, plainly dressed and hair tied back in a long pony tail which ran down her back as far as her thighs stepped forward.

"Please, do not be alarmed," her voice had a vague lilt as she spoke her best English.

She could easily have been human herself, were it not for the two antennae that protruded from her temples and swept back into her silky hair.

"Who are you?" Christian asked.

"My name is Vostaline, and these are my brothers," she indicated the half dozen men encircling them.

"How did you get on board?" Lirik asked, fingering his sleeve in case he needed his Medusan energy to protect him.

"We have lived on board for some time," she said - hence the power, Christian thought.

"Do you have access to the rest of the ship?" Christian asked. "The Engine room specifically."

The woman stepped forward and Christian could almost smell the youth and vitality she exuded. "You are taking the ship as your own?"

"Actually, we're trying to save our necks from the K'Tani," Lirik said. "You do know what's going on out there, don't you?"

The young woman merely smiled and nodded. "We only have access to this rear section of the ship," she said, "the rest of it is cut off."

"You're referring to the passenger section," Christian confirmed.

"Yes," Vostaline began to lead them toward the exit, "but I will take you to the Engine room."

Entering the functional corridor beyond and stepping into a Jeffrey's tube, Lirik asked: "What race are you?"

The woman called down the ladder, matter-of-factly: "We are Vintenex, from the outskirts of Qovakia."

"What were you doing living on board such an isolated ship as this? And how did you get on board in the first place?" Lirik pressed.

"Please, we will answer all of your questions in good time," Vostaline called from above, "but for now be assured that we are not your enemy, and that we wish to be of help in getting away from here."

"You opened the shuttle doors, didn't you?" Christian asked.

"We could see you required an incentive to come back aboard," Vostaline said.

* * *

Lirik had to stop climbing part way up the Jeffreys tube. As the others continued, one of the men stopped with him while he caught his breath.

"I'm not quite as fit as I used to be," Lirik panted, putting his head between his knees. He looked around the empty corridor. A sign indicated they were only on Deck 17. "What's your name?"

The younger, peach-blonde man, full-bodied and slightly docile of movement responded with a broad smile. "Fraxon. I'm Vostaline's littlest brother."

'Little' wasn't a word Lirik would have used to describe any of the men. "How long have you lived aboard?" Lirik used his warmest, most disarming tone.

"About four years, give or take," he replied. "What about you, what's your name?"

"Tix," the Yeoman replied, "Tix Lirik. Pleased to meet you Fraxon."

The younger man bowed, then threw his arms around the Yeoman, causing him to gasp. Lirik's field collapsed with a pop, as Fraxon kissed Lirik on the neck, both sides. Lirik managed to push the bigger man away. "What the hell are you doing?" He could feel his Medusan energies bubbling - the air on his skin causing a cool sensation on his shield-less body.

"It is our way of greeting a friend," Fraxon said, almost hurt, "I'm sorry if I offended you."

"No, no, I'm not offended," Lirik swapped energy cells in his wrist control, and re-activated the shield, "you just surprised me, that's all. Do you feel okay?"

"I feel fine, but I sensed the energy within you," Fraxon said.

"No sickness? No headache or dizziness?" Lirik asked again. The man shook his head and smiled. "Good. Come on, we better catch up with the others."

Lirik couldn't help but feel a little thrilled - it was rare indeed to find a species unaffected by his Medusan energy, least of all a humanoid species. As quickly as he thought it, he dispelled the line of pondering fearing where it might lead.

* * *

Christian was rejoined by Lirik and the Vintenex youth in the huge engineering space later than the Captain had expected. He gave the Yeoman a curious look, but Lirik didn't respond, he was too busy drinking in their surroundings.

Unlike most engine rooms they had seen, this one had all the luxurious fixtures and fittings they had seen in the other parts of the ship. It even had some artwork on its walls - though presumably there had been more where now only shadows remained. The reaction assembly itself was encased in a golden lattice of supports, the large lifeless funnel dropping through holes in the floor and ceiling. The entire column was situated within a larger, surrounding box room that appeared as if it could be sealed, isolating the area from the rest of engineering. The port and starboard power transfer conduits and reaction chamber were slightly out of view, underneath the floor area with a ladder to access it.

On all four open sides of the box room were control desks, equally inactive. The main floor of the engine room had the usual displays on walls, as well as recesses containing executive control suites and doorways to offices and supply areas. At the forward-most point of the engineering deck, a gigantic bulkhead was firmly in place, presumably cutting off access to the passenger section of the ship beyond.

Suddenly, from Jeffreys tubes and the side rooms, more Vintenexians emerged.

"This is my father, Ganhedra of Ikira," Vostaline gestured, then gasping as if she had said the wrong thing.

"Greetings Captain, Yeoman," the old man looked strong and fit for his years, and was clad in similar plain clothing to the others. His antennae were scarred - perhaps a sign of age in their species. "As you can see, the warp engine is inactive. Your engineer appears to have things firmly under control, however," he walked them over to a minor monitor board, displaying the impulse systems - Leonard appeared to be bringing the drive systems to standby.

"You're familiar with these systems, can you help us?" Christian asked.

The old man shook his head. "We are experienced space travellers, it is true, but we do not have anything to compare with your technology. When my people, I mean, when we came aboard some years ago, we only sought a place to live in peace. We were only concerned in having air and heat, and the ship automatically gave these to us."

Lirik rapped on a side wall, charred and black with apparent phaser fire. "What happened here?"

Vostaline stepped forward. "The ship arrived here just before we came aboard," she said, "all we know is what we found here. Much of it had been stripped. There was evidence of fighting, and also of fires and flooding. Many items had been removed, and most of what remains is integrated into the ship itself."

Christian studied the power supply boards. "You seem to have been running off an unusually large amount of battery power for years. When it began to run out, it seems the emergency systems brought impulse engines back on line in order to recharge the energy cells. That's quite an amazing emergency engineering system."

"Captain, there's something you should see," Lirik was standing beside what looked like deflector controls. Christian and the others joined him. "It looks like Rebbik has maneouvred the Fantasy successfully away. We are currently stationary in front of a large wall - presumably the doors leading out of the complex. I've gained quite a bit of field communications experience, Sir," Lirik said. "I might be able to find a way to trigger the doors to open."

"Okay, let's get back to the bridge," Christian walked over to the Jeffreys tube, and heard Lirik groan behind him. He turned, looking the plump man up and down; "You, mister, are way out of shape."

As they made their way to the bridge, Ganhedra told them of how he and his group got aboard the ship. Held back at the airlock on Deck 1, they had discovered space suits and made their way aboard through an escape hatch underneath the vessel at the rear of the ship. As well as the bulkeads to the passenger section, there was another set between Decks 9 and 10. After much time and effort, they eventually broke through the weakest of the bulkheads, but it was their only access between the upper and lower parts of the command section of the Fantasy.

Lirik took only a moment to mention in a whisper to Christian that he thought it strange why they had concealed the bulkhead so successfully that Christian and Leonard must have passed over it less than an hour before.

Reaching the yacht's engineering section, Leonard elected to remain in the small control room, having had his group familiarise themselves with the equipment there. Christian explained the situation of the main engineering area and the warp drive and both men agreed it would be wiser to use impulse now, and address the rest of their engineering issues later on.

* * *

The Fantasy, long and sleek, was indeed poised only metres from the massive space doors. As yet, the team had been unable to work out a way of opening them. Jackson was concerned. The holographic Picard was becoming less stable, phasing away and back every few minutes.

"Without re-building the entire communications array," Narli said, "I doubt we can do anything."

"Not necessarily," Lirik called over from below.

"Captain!" Jackson and Souveson seemed the most pleased to see them. Lirik trotted up to join Narli, when Souveson suddenly drew her weapon, seeing Vostaline and Ganhedra behind them.

"Lower your weapon, Ensign," Christian said, "they're with us." Christian spotted Picard in the Captain's chair, almost oblivious to them.

"The command equivalent of an EMH program," Jackson rolled out again, "only it's degrading. There's little left of it now."

Lirik called over to the group. "If this were a Starfleet vessel, Sir, I'd request a science officer for help with this problem."

Christian beamed. "I'll go get her."

* * *

On the observation deck, Christian's face became serious again. Suddenly, the situation he saw before him brought back the enormity of what was happening here. Many standing, some sitting or lying on the floor, the worried talking and sobbing was still apparent. Hundreds of people in such a small space gave the room a stale, uncomfortable odour. O'Hara looked up at the American as he entered, then returned to her work. Christian noticed one of her patients now had a shawl covering his face.

"Professor Karnak!" Christian yelled. The sleek woman stepped forward and approached him. "Please assist Yeoman Lirik on the bridge." She nodded, stony-faced, and exited.

"Captain," the Tiburonian again, "what's happening?"

Christian addressed everyone present. "As you can see, we're just sorting out these bulkhead doors. As soon as they're open, we'll be on our way. We've managed to find a way below, but for the moment I'd like you all to remain here."

"Then I can get to sick bay?" O'Hara was suddenly hopeful.

"We encountered some friendly locals below. They informed us that sick bay was gutted," he said.

"I tried interfacing with the holographic controls - apparently there's only enough matter and energy to display non-physical people and instrumentation panels. There's simply nothing there to recreate the equipment or medicines I need to keep some of these people alive," O'Hara was almost desperate. "Besides, all medical files have been erased from the computer's memory."

Christian knelt down next to her. "You're doing good, Lieutenant."

"Really." O'Hara spat. She continued to rip clothing to make more bandages.

Christian decided to say no more, but return to the bridge. He squeezed O'Hara's shoulder and left - perhaps Vostaline or the others could help her. At the last instance, O'Hara turned and watched the Captain's butt disappear through the door.

* * *

"It's a multi-channel visual signal, comprised of a whole host of complex colour and light patterns," Lirik explained to Christian who looked at the small screen's display.

"Their way of communicating?" Jackson asked.

"Undoubtedly," Picard piped up from behind. The group turned to face his almost invisible form. "I've been analysing the signal, and searching for a way to help you - I think I may have found it."

Rebbik pushed forward. "Is this the ship speaking?"

"There's a sensor node, attached to a deflector, capable of transmitting a short burst of signal," Picard disappeared, then a breath later reappeared. "If you copy the signal you're receiving, and aim it in a tight beam at that doorway, on the Frequency Delta One One Nine of the pre-set hailing frequencies, it might just work."

The image faded further as Lirik's hands danced over the panel. He cursed as he made a mistake and re-set the hail, then transmitted. Slowly, gracefully, the doors began to part. Picard smiled. "I'm almost out of time," he said, "Captain, I wish you and your crew good luck and Godspeed."

"Wait!" Rebbik tried to grab the hologram, but his hand passed through it. "You must tell us how the ship came to be here!"

But the image just turned to him and closed its eyes, fading forever and leaving the command chair poinently vacant. Rebbik looked at the others to explain his outburst. "The ship may not have come to Qovakia through the wormhole. Perhaps there's another way back home?"

Christian fleetingly thought of the USS Voyager - Janeway and her crew, stranded in another distant part of the Galaxy. "Don't worry, we may be able to recover his program."

Rebbik nodded and returned to the Helm seat, bringing systems on line. Through the viewscreen, the vista of Helub's bleak but tranquil surface, rocks and small mountains reaching into the star-studded expanse above.

"I'm taking us out," Rebbik yelled, as the rest of the crew dispersed to get the best view of the main screen.

Angling the ship sharply up and to the right, the ship screetched and juddered, as if under fire. Jackson ran to the observation deck and pushed her way through to the windows to see what it was. Below, several panels along the hull were flaking off, and she wondered if the Fantasy was coming apart. But soon it stopped - and the ship continued to ascend from the storage facility.

As the ship turned to head away from Helub, the passengers were silent. They were all looking at the Starfleet and other vessels being tractored in the diastance high above the space port by the insect-like alien vessels. They were even more shocked when they saw the vast amount of destruction throughout the port.

Jackson smacked a hand over her mouth as tears came to her eyes. It hadn't been completely evident before, but now that she saw the devastation with her own eyes, the realisation of what it implied hit her. "Oh, my God," she prayed. The others around her were equally shocked and moved. Thankfully, the images only lasted less than a minute or two.

From the corridor, Christian had entered and was watching the reaction of the hundreds of people gathered here. As the Fantasy increased speed, accellerating out of the Vekarian system, rush of paternal feelings washed over him. He knew that as of this day, everyone on board would be looking to him.

* * *