Outer Zone by Peter Wildash EPISODE 4 [ Act 1 ] [ Act 2 ] [ Act 3 ] [ Act 4 ] TEASER USS HUDSON, STARFLEET RUNABOUT (DIPLOMATIC), ON THE BORDER OF THOLIAN TERRITORY IN THE OUTER ZONE The Starfleet runabout Hudson came to an abrupt stop amid the vast, slowly moving asteroid field on the edge of Vekarian territory. "Runabout log, Tix Lirik recording. It's almost New Year. My pilot, Rebbik, and I have been travelling along the narrow corridor of space between the Tholian border and the huge Qovakian asteroid range for several days now and I feel our luck has just run out. An unknown, massive force has pushed part of the oncoming asteroid field across our path and deep into Tholian territory in all directions. With our course ahead blocked, I'm now faced with three options: turn around and go back, navigate a course through the dense field to our left, or enter Tholian space." Rebbik's hacking cough stopped Lirik's train of thought as the mercenary entered the cockpit area wearing only his shorts, which had seen better days. In the pilot's seat, Lirik craned his neck to see the scrawny, barefoot, yawning, mad-haired near-naked half-Ferengi shifting from one foot to another on the cool deck, his arms folded closely about his torso in an attempt to keep bed-warmth with him. Lirik raised an eyebrow, but the other was in shock. "What the-!" was all Rebbik could manage as he stared at the view through the forward windows. Lirik smiled, nodding at the other man's lower half. "Nice kaks, Reb." (Because both men had names that were so similar, his associate had asked Lirik to use the abbreviation.) "Eh?!" Reb turned in aggressive disgust toward the diplomatic aide. "It's colloquial for shorts, or underpants," Lirik explained. He was intrigued to see that unlike most Ferengi males, the Human half of Reb's parentage had blessed him with dark, downy body hair. Looking at his wiry body, he guessed the mercenary pilot either ate very little or had a natural, skinnifying metabolism. Feeling a pang of jealousy, instinctively the Englishman glanced down at his own, 30something stomach, and then out through the windows as Reb flopped into the co-pilot's seat. "Where the hell are we?" Reb said, looking at the dense asteroid field all around them before checking the tactical display. Lirik called up the night's flight path (they'd been taking turns in piloting the ship since leaving the magnetic planet) to show that the current position had been unavoidable. "Something weird must have happened," Lirik noticed Reb frown at his choice of words. "The asteroid field is only supposed to be active on the Qovakian side, not the Tholian side, yet this portion has recently shifted many thousands of kilometres. I'm afraid I was forced to take us in - it was either that or encroach on Tholian territory and risk running into a confrontation." Reb scanned the asteroid field ahead - it would take an inconceivably long number of hours of concentration to navigate through, and then they might not make it. Slumping back into the cool seat, then slightly sitting forward to see the face of the other man, Reb smacked his lips. "What's our next move then, boss?" Lirik smiled inwardly. Although the two of them weren't best buddies by a long chalk, barriers had nevertheless been broken down over the last few days and Reb had come to accept Lirik as leader. Still, Lirik tried to include Reb in all the decisions as a gesture of camaraderie - it also had to be said that Reb's piloting flair had certainly helped them out on more than one occasion where eddies of asteroid field unpredictably collided. In less busy times, the Yeoman had also tried to get Reb to open up, but instead of talking about himself, he only told a variety of well-rehearsed and unlikely sounding escapades, portraying himself as a dashing, rogue pilot for hire. Lirik didn't hold it against the man - he himself had opted to talk only about work, recounting past assignments rather than more personal details. Perhaps they would bridge that gap another time. Lirik hoped so. Despite their vast differences, they were both products of mixed heritage, and probably had more in common than either of them would freely admit. The only topic of conversation the two men seemed to return repeatedly to was the K'Tani, the attack, and idle gossip about the people aboard the Fantasy they'd briefly met. Lirik was curious to hear more about Captain Christian. While said captain had displayed his obvious dislike of Lirik's Medusan traits upon arrival at the Orlega One facility back on Helub, Christian's saving of the Yeoman's skin and his assigning him to taking the runabout out into space for a recon were clearly not born of prejudice. Nevertheless, both Reb and Lirik wondered what kind of reception they would get from Christian and the others if they ever managed to return safely to the ship. "We're faced with a difficult choice. If we continue on course through the spilled field it could take us days to pass through to open space - maybe longer." Lirik punched up an alternative course. "Or, we could go hard to port through the more active, but also much narrower, part of the field and cross into Qovakian space in much less time," Reb whirled his head around at this, but Lirik continued, "we could possibly make it through to the other side by tonight." Reb called up charts of the active field again and watched the seemingly infinite number of asteroids coursing past each other, tumbling, impacting and ricocheting at great speed. It stretched for many screens and at the back of his mind, Reb wondered what immense destruction must have created such a vast asteroid field in the first place. Increasingly, the nearby open space of Tholian territory seemed far more appealing. Reb shook his head. "I've never piloted anything as dense as that before." He turned to face the Yeoman, aware his body was responding to the cool air and trying to fold himself over to cover up the wrinkles (a Ferengi form of goosebump). "I'm not confident it's even possible." Lirik pursed his lips and blew long and slow while stretching his hands high above his head, his berth and a long sleep beckoning. Given the situation, he knew it was not an option. He shook his head, beginning to feel like they were in a no-win scenario. As he wondered about turning around and heading back to their original co-ordinates, he saw Reb shift the display to Tholian space and knew what the man was about to say. "Lirik, we haven't scanned any Tholian ships for the last two days. They might not even be concerned with the likes of a little runabout. Going that way, we could be clear of the field in a matter of hours and then able to continue on time in Tholian space at full impulse," Reb crossed his legs, then scratched himself in several consecutive places. Lirik subconsciously itched his own pubic, unaware what he was doing until he was doing it. Securing the helm, he stood and walked back into the aft section, taking the narrow port side corridor instead of going straight through the middle. He passed the musty smelling berth Reb had just emerged from and walked into the luxurious office/lounge space specially designed for diplomatic affairs to the rear. Reb followed him on tiptoe, slipping into his leather boots and wrapping his old, heavy leather jacket around his shoulders en route. Lirik ordered a black Trakasian coffee from the replicator and flopped into one of the velveteen couches. Drinking long of the minty-tasting, warm, clear fluid, he felt the slight heady rush that would hopefully aide in keeping him focussed for a while longer. (Normally such harmless, organic substances weren't available to Starfleet vessels because of their narcotic effect, but the Diplomatic Corps had access to most kinds of delicacies potential allies might succumb to). As Lirik's sight became sharper, the colours clearer and sounds took on more depth, he watched Reb walk in from the corridor and order a bowl of simulated crustypops and milk from the replicator. The Yeoman sniggered, then laughed out loud. "What?" Reb said, walking over to the small conference table and straddling one of the seats, munching loudly and spitting a few pops onto the floor, the milk dribbling down his chin. "I was just thinking, all you need is a rancher's hat and you'd look like a Midnight Cowboy!" his laughter continued, but Reb wasn't sure he got the joke. He didn't feel the slightest bit awkward by his appearance and wondered why the Yeoman would laugh. Reb's pondering was cut short as the computer trilled. "Alert! Subspace Message of unconfirmed origin detected," the maternal voice informed them calmly. Lirik sat bolt upright. "On speakers!" Through a haze of static, the message was unclear. It was also very short. Lirik rose from the couch and stood next to Reb, silencing his associate's munching with a sharp gesture, and instructed the computer to clear up the signal and repeat it. Just two words, and Lirik had to ask for a third repetition to catch them. Reb said; "It sounded like 'we're here'." "That's what I thought. The words were English, too, it sounded like a girl, didn't it?" Lirik fingered the tabletop lcars padd. "Computer, diagnose signal and extrapolate a theory on the sender's origin and identity." Reb was a little surprised - such covert technology was usually restricted to intelligence operatives, as he understood. Clearly there was more to the Diplomatic Corps than he had first thought. "Message received on standard Starfleet subspace channel. Origin, 1.563 light years, bearing 280 mark 243. Language English, dialect unknown. Sender is female, between the ages of 6 and 15. Race unknown. Accuracy 85%." Lirik sat down, a little surprised. "Race unknown?" He didn't understand that. "That's some smart equipment you've got there," Reb mused, missing the point entirely. Looking down at his associate, Lirik was tempted to respond with a humorous observation at Reb's attire, but understood it was only the coffee having an effect. "We haven't scanned any vessels within several light years - that must have come from the Fantasy." Reb mentally charted a course from the co-ordinates. "And we can't get to her." "Not necessarily," Lirik said, raising his eyebrows at the pilot in proposition. ACT 1 DECK ONE, MAIN BRIDGE, SS FANTASY, TRAVERSING THE 'WIBBLY WOBBLY WAY' Captain Christian scratched at his newly forming, ginger-tinged beard while approaching the centre seat of the bridge just as systems power was fully resumed. The new-spawned energy rippled through the decks of the Fantasy, fully illuminating corridors and work consoles and warming the interior spaces. It was like the entire ship came to life in one big nurturing splurge of power. Then lights flickered, the power grid adjusting to the damaged areas. In many locations circuits overloaded and shorted out, spitting sparks and blanketing rooms in darkness once more. In other systems, the air management and water reclamation plant spat, rattled and clanked to a slow shut-down as damaged machinery received a temporary jolt of power in an attempt to shake it to into life. The half dozen volunteer crew on the bridge seemed pleased enough - some even shook hands or embraced in the more enlivening near-daylight that now shone from non-intrusive wall panels around the Captain. Once power flow had been increased through all functioning systems, the dormant part of the bridge's automatic reserve computer then kicked in, and bridge consoles simultaneously flickered on. "I think the Lieutenant Commander is intent upon a promotion," Jackson mused to Christian as he sank into the main chair, pleased that for once something was going right on this trip. He turned to her, looking a little hurt; "He had help, you know." Alarms then sounded from several bridge stations, disturbing some of the volunteers. Warnerburg, who had relieved a sleepy Romulan just several minutes since, passed behind each of the workstations on the starboard side of the bridge. "Engineering shows full impulse power capability available. I'm also reading over four thousand eight hundred minor malfunctions in need of general systems repair," Cally said. Stepping to the life support stations she continued her summary. "Life support, gravity and environment nominal - no, wait. The systems are re-aligning following our re-routing of most power back to the main EPS grid. It's working, Captain, systems are adjusting. Gravity variables in twenty three sections. I'm getting no life support readings from decks 4, 10, 14, 15 and 28. Computer diagnostics are unavailable at this time." She turned her wise head to face Jackson and Christian. "We're still totally blind to the entire passenger section." 'That's most of the ship', Christian thought. "I have short range sensors on line through one sensor array, Captain," Souveson said hopping up into the high stool and scrolling herself across the broad console. "I'm reading no clear sign of enemy vessels, but I'm only getting intermittent readings due to localised magnetic and ionic interference from the asteroids." "I concur," Professor Karnak said turning from her science station. Captain Christian craned his neck the other way and smiled at the attractive young Iraqi woman, though she did not apparently react. Hedrik, crouching beside her, could not interpret the advanced scientific data that streamed across some of the active screens and the annoyance showed in her face, particularly as Christian seemed to be attracted to this sour-faced fake Vulcan rather than to her more obvious attributes. Christian nodded to Narli, the Andorian Ambassador, who was casually leaning back in the communications chair with arms folded and legs crossed. The alien was able to control his hair growth and had opted for a slender Van Dyke beard, slashes of white amid the deep blue contours of his face. Without looking at his console, Narli reported, "Subspace frequencies remain open, Captain. I scan no recognisable hails." Christian swallowed. The Ambassador had said little since coming aboard, but performed a more than proficient role at the communications station. There was clearly more to the older blue skinned man than met the eye. Narli cocked his head, as if reading the Captain's thoughts and Christian rose from his chair quickly. Walking over to the station Leonard had identified as the Purser's - behind Narli and out of his line of vision - the Captain looked at the strange configuration of display monitors. "This station shows some internal sensor readings, source unknown," he turned to Souveson. "Are you getting any of this, Ensign?" The youthful blonde French Canadian flushed a little and progressed her way across the security/tactical console, looking for the internal sensor readouts. Finally she came across a blank part of the Lcars surface that wouldn't respond. "I don't think internal security is patched in to tactical, Captain." "See what you can do about that," Christian turned back to the readings. "I detect lifeforms on several of the decks, presumably our people. This also shows some damage to the outer hull, and the sealed areas of the command section. Some lifepods are missing. That's odd, these deck plans make the command section look deeper than the actual deck space I've seen." "I think I might know why, Captain! You'd better look at this," Souveson beckoned Christian, who was joined by an equally intrigued Commodore Jackson behind the Ensign's high chair. "It would appear the bulkheads to the forward part of the vessel we found just retracted. They weren't sealing off the passenger section at all, but rather they were sealing off the computer core. Must be part of some sort of automatic isolation protocol." "They must have been released when main power was restored just now," Christian surmised. "Miss Hedrik," Christian turned to the voluptuous Orion who leaped to her feet, though a little less lucidly than usual, "is the main computer back on line?" Hedrik turned to the science station, nudging the engrossed Professor to one side with a shove of her shoulder. "The main core is indeed off-line in isolation mode. Only the local computer nets and individual user stations are active. We could probably reconnect the core at the main control on the engineering deck." She smiled, enthusiastically. Christian considered his options. "Ganhedra, what is our present position?" Down in the lower part of the bridge, the old man jumped a little in his seat, coming to life at the order as if startled. He switched on the main viewscreen to reveal a forward view from the ship which was hardly moving within the vast asteroid field. "The ship is holding course in a slow stream of the field." "Very well. Maintain heading and inform me of any changes. Ensign, Miss Hedrik, please accompany me to the core. Commodore, you have the bridge." The trio entered the turbolift, Hedrik somewhat reluctantly, and the Ensign suppressed a smile at the other's lack of nerves. Hedrik winced at the slight smell of rotting flesh that hadn't quite been dispelled from the turbolift, and opted to hold her breath and her nose for the entire short trip. * * * RUNABOUT HUDSON In the cockpit chair of the Hudson, Reb sat fully dressed and clean shaven. He was becoming exasperated with his English compatriot's lack of attention since the hail at breakfast. "Lirik, I said, are you ready?" Lirik was concentrating on something in his lap, biting a nail, shaking his head. "Look at this," he said, passing a small transparency to the half Ferengi. Reb sniffed it, then sneered at the mass of symbols on the sheet. "What am I supposed to be looking at exactly?" He held the transparency to his ears, rubbing it between his fingers, causing a quizzical look from his shipmate. Lirik approached the other man's chair and leaned over pointing at several glyphs. He was almost bowled over by the smell of fresh cologne Reb must have applied in great quantities following his sonic shower. "Did you help yourself to Ambassador Chiva's cologne?" "Why? Is he going to need it?" Reb retorted. Lirik thought briefly of all the lost Federation representatives he had accompanied to the Outer Zone. "I guess not. These are Federation symbols. Look - the Federation of Planets insignia there and the Starfleet insignia there. These look like flight plans, and theseÖ these look like the symbols of the Cardassians, Andorians and the Dominion." Reb curled a lip. "In a certain light, perhaps. To me they just look like childish scribbles." Lirik snatched the transparency back. "I found it in the Qovakian Minister's case - she was the local liaison to Starfleet, as I told you. Since I've been in the Outer Zone, I have learnt that Qovakian written language comprises iconographic symbols in conjunction with a kind of over written shorthand, just like these symbols here. I'm guessing this is some sort of official communiqué, but I don't understand why the aforementioned races would be singled out." "Really," Reb said disinterestedly, then gave a worried look at the sensor grid. No alarms had sounded, but it looked as if an object was rapidly approaching the runabout from behind. "Er, I think we've got trouble." "What-?" Lirik couldn't finish his sentence as the runabout shook violently once, then less so a second time, knocking them both off balance. Before either could speak, they watched as a gaggle of Starfleet escape pods bounced off the hull and toppled end over end above and in front of them. "Did they just ram us?" Lirik asked, shocked. Reb was too confused to respond. Indeed, the computer readout showed that the occupants of the lifepods had managed to override the runabout's proximity alarms; a canny move. Lirik punched the hail. "Attention Starfleet escape pods, what the hell are you playing at?" There was a moment of silence, then a male voice said with an Eastern European lilt. "You're Starfleet?" Lirik exchanged a look with Reb, then scanned the gaggle of five pods joined in lateral mode. "Just the two of you? What happened to the rest of your crew?" Reb watched as the computer silently confirmed two humans, one tall, broad male, and another smaller female with weaker life signs. "Can you beam us aboard? My associate is injured," the male voice said. Lirik looked at Reb, then walked over to the transporter console. Fingers pausing in front of the Lcars panel, he made a quick decision and picked up a phaser, holding it at the ready on heavy stun, only then punching in the command to lock on to the scanned humanoids and beam them aboard. Reb watched with anticipation - and a little hurt at not being consulted - as the two figures materialised on the deck. The male was over six feet tall, early thirties, and wore a command uniform with the pips of a Commander. Dark haired, deep tanned skin with a thick, black moustache that embraced his top lip and jowls to his chin, he looked more South American than European. Thick stubble ranged along his jaw and neck. At his feet, lay the familiar grey and tan/yellow uniform of a cadet at Starfleet engineering college, a pale and shivering Japanese girl. The tall man frowned at the portly transporter operator pointing a phaser at him. Lirik felt a little embarrassed. "Sorry." He stowed the phaser and crouched over the cadet. "Reb, get the medkit," Lirik ordered to his pilot. The Commander seemed temporarily stunned at the sight of the half-Ferengi, half-Human who took several gangly steps into the rear of the runabout. He came back almost instantly, the Commander blanching at the stench of cologne. "Not there, O'Hara must have requisitioned it," he reported, facing the Commander head on. "So who are you, and how did you get out here?" Lirik was amazed at Reb's impertinence. The Commander scoffed at the over-perfumed roughneck. "Don't tell me you're in command around here?" Lirik rose slowly, recognising the tone and anticipating what the Commander was likely to say in response to his next reply. "No, Commander, I am. His name is Rebbik and he is assisting me in my current mission." "Your 'mission'?" again there was that scoffing tone. "Just what kind of mission is that, skulking along the Tholian border in a Starfleet runabout? Don't you know what has happened here?" Bending over the cadet, Lirik ignored the remark and slipped his hands under her armpits. "Help me get her into the back, will you?" Hesitating at first, the Commander then picked up the lower half of the cadet with ease. Judging from his rough manner, it seemed the man was not overly concerned with the condition of his incapacitated shipmate. Lirik watched the Commander glance around the plush interior as they entered the rear of the runabout and explained: "This is a diplomatic vessel. We were assigned to accompany several Federation Council representatives to the Trade Conference on Vekaria." "You came from Vekaria?" the cadet suddenly said in short breaths. "How bad was it hit?" The Yeoman retrieved a tricorder and scanned her. "Don't speak for now, love. Just rest. We don't know the fate of Vekaria, but Helub was hit pretty badly. What is your ship?" The Commander spoke. "It was the USS Papillon. We were attacked on Christmas Eve while investigating a magnetic anomaly. The ship was destroyed and as far as we know, we're the only survivors. I'm Commander Struckchev, second officer and head of operations. This is Cadet Yip, on temporary training assignment with us." The Commander held a hand out to Lirik, who merely pointed at his environment shield controls as if in explanation. "Yeoman Lirik," Lirik introduced himself clipping the tricorder shut. "'Yeoman'?" Struckchev frowned. "Oh, it was the rank I had before I joined the Corps - everyone knows me as that," Lirik placed a hand on Yip's shoulder. "I'm afraid you've got a sprained ankle, three fractured ribs and on top of that you've caught a nasty chill, but I don't believe it's serious. Best place for you is bed." Lirik helped Yip to her feet, but as she stumbled Reb jumped to his aid. Casting a sideways glance at the stony faced Commander who seemed more interested in his own thoughts than his shipmate, Lirik steered Yip to one of the spare births on the starboard side of the vessel. He tucked her in and turned the bed heater up a notch as Reb departed. When he'd gone, Lirik reached behind a narrow recess and withdrew a small field medkit. He had several secret stash locations on the runabout for different eventualities, but didn't want Reb to know about them just yet - secrecy was almost second nature in the Corps. He applied the medication with one quick touch to the Cadet's neck, re-stashing the small box when done. Yip weakly smiled at him, feeling a burst of conversation rising - a side effect of the drug before sleep took over. "Thanks, I was so cold in the escape pods. Commander had life support extremely low to conserve energy." "Oh, dear," Lirik sympathised. "Never mind, you're safe now. Just one thing, how did the second officer and an engineering cadet end up the only ones able to escape?" Yip seemed a little cautious of answering. "We wereÖ in the same section when the attack occurred. When the hull began to buckle, we climbed into an escape pod together and ejected. The other empty pods we joined up with must have been ejected automatically." The young woman was falling asleep and Lirik gave her the gentlest of smiles. "I'll be back to check on you in a while." Lirik walked back into the aft to find neither the Commander or Reb there. Walking forward into the cockpit area through the narrow central corridor he found Struckchev had seated himself in the pilot seat and was busy tapping into the computer. Reb loitered in the rear, looking on in nervous, cowardly silence. Hearing Lirik approach, the Commander spoke without turning. "You ought to tell your Ferengi friend here that as a Commander I am the senior officer giving orders now. Damn idiot tried to stop me from scanning for other survivors." Without speaking, Lirik stepped up to the power grid control next to the airlock and deactivated the cockpit's control console power. Struckchev was dumbfounded as his work was wiped from all screens, the panels darkening. He spun around to face Lirik who stood with folded arms and cheeks sucked in, doing his best to look intimidating. "Get one thing absolutely clear in your mind, Commander. This is a Diplomatic vessel and I am in charge," Lirik was pleased with his controlled statement. "You'll make a sensor sweep only on my say so. Clear?" Struckchev cracked a sarcastic smile, flashing too-white teeth. "You.." he laughed, "a, er former YeomanÖ are assuming command???" Realising that Lirik was indeed serious, the Commander looked astonished, his expression hardening. "You're not pulling that Diplomatic Corps nonsense, are you? Not in this situation, surely?" Lirik placed his hands on his hips, then dropped them, deciding on a different approach to diffuse a potentially volatile situation. "You haven't heard our entire circumstances, Commander. When we escaped from Helub, it was not in this vessel. We were aboard an old passenger ship, the SS Fantasy, along with hundreds of civilian survivors. We two became separated from the ship some days ago while on a recon mission, now we're hoping to rendezvous further along their predicted course." Commander Struckchev perched onto the armrest of the chair, apparently willing to avoid an argument, at least for the while. "But you don't know if they've escaped detection?" Lirik didn't answer, but flipped the power back on and walked over to the communications panel on the front dash. He could smell the nearby, unwashed odour of a man who had been trapped in a confined space with limited toilet facilities for the best part of a week. But couldn't help notice how sharp the man looked for it. "Actually, we picked up this transmission just a short while ago. We think it came from the Fantasy." He played the piece several times. Struckchev checked the language diagnostics and nodded his head in agreement. "We heard it also, but as we couldn't accurately pinpoint it. We assumed it was a rogue transmission. According to these computer calculations, though, we'll have to cross through that asteroid field to reach them." "So, does this mean that we can work together, then?" Lirik slid into the co- pilot seat. "I would like to scan for other Papillon survivors first," Struckchev pushed. Lirik checked the timepiece, nodding. "Let's limit our time on this, though." The Commander bowed his head, seemingly willing to go along with the situation, though it was clear to Reb that he was not pleased about it. As Lirik walked back into the aft section, Reb followed him, not wanting to stay in the rude Commander's company. Safely out of earshot in the runabout's rear compartment, Reb spoke in an excited whisper. "I don't get it. If he's a Commander, surely he can give you orders, what with you being a Yeoman?" Reb was confused, but in a way also kind of pleased that Lirik, the person he knew, seemed to have some power over the other guy. Lirik moved quickly about the aft section, tidying up with practised ease. Clearly he was well experienced at maintaining the standards of the runabout's interior for his various top-level charges. He huffed and held Reb's breakfast bowl up. "I've told you twice already, don't leave your breakfast out - put it in the replicator. If we lost gravity that half eaten goop could get into systems and cause serious damage." As Lirik shoved the bowl into the replicator with his back turned, Reb bounced his head from side to side, aping the Yeoman's nagging in silence. Spinning around, Lirik almost caught Reb and there was a brief moment of hesitation before Lirik continued. "For your information the Diplomatic Corps is essentially an annexe to Starfleet, staffed by people specially selected by a committee of Federation Council members and Starfleet top brass. Some are chosen for their experience as a serving member of the Fleet, usually for special abilities in the field of diplomatic relations, but others are selected from other related liaison fields," Lirik explained, fluffing cushions and wiping down the surfaces with vigour. "I'd worked with many Corps members throughout my career as a Yeoman to Command Officers, as well as with Federation Council members and Starfleet Admirals. It seemed I made a lasting impression as I was selected for service with the Corps nearly eight years ago." Lirik paused at the main table's computer interface and speedily called up Starfleet personnel files on Struckchev and Yip, scanning the abbreviated details of the younger one's in a matter of seconds and reading the Commander's longer notes at speed. Reb leaned over his shoulder, noticing the files on the screen, but unable to read English so fast. Reb was intent upon a straight answer. "So? The rank thing? Why aren't you called Commander or Captain or something?" Lirik cancelled the files and walked to the replicator where he entered a special meal program. "There isn't a rank as such in the Diplomatic Corps. You may keep the rank title you had upon entry, of course - that's how everyone usually remembers you. But in terms of jurisdiction, authority, security and general Starfleet protocol, the Corps is as one. If we didn't have such wide-reaching parameters we'd never get anything done, you see." Reb frowned, watching as Lirik took the plate of steaming goulash to the table and laid it out - presumably for the Commander, Reb thought. Perhaps he was trying to win the man over? "So there's just one rank in the Diplomatic Corps?" Reb asked, leaning over to inspect the food. He cocked his ears towards it. Lirik shook his head in frustration. "Why do you keep doing that?" "Doing what?" Reb answered, surprised. The Yeoman cast his eyes upward and stopped the line of questioning. "No, there isn't just one rank. But yes, I have just as much authority in a diplomatic capacity as another Corps member who happens to be, say, an Admiral. And she the same as a Lieutenant, or an Ensign or even a civilian. There are all kinds of people in the Corps, you know. Just not all of regular Starfleet appreciate us, though, particularly Starfleet commanders due to our broad powers of veto. So I'm hardly surprised at the Commander's reaction." Reb still didn't understand fully and decided it probably wouldn't help even if he did. He followed Lirik into the cockpit area several paces behind. "Anything?" Lirik asked loudly. The Commander shook his head. "Commander, you must be hungry. A meal is waiting for you back there. Get some rest, we'll continue the scans for you." Struckchev sniffed the air that had followed Lirik forward, smirking. "You prepared a goulash?" Reb smiled - too wide - nodding to the Commander, who just stared stony faced at him. "Thank you, but I would rather continue with this. I don't need anything." "On the contrary, you need nourishment, Commander. That's an order," Lirik tried to sound authoritative. Reb hadn't been convinced. The Commander didn't laugh this time. "Don't push it, Yeoman. You're powers are limited to Diplomatic circumstances only." Raising his eyebrows, Lirik gestured at the walls then himself. "Diplomatic runabout, Diplomatic mission, Diplomatic aide - Diplomatic replicated Goulash even. Want me to go on?" Struckchev maintained his position. Lirik spelled it out in plain English. "You're whacked, Commander. You wouldn't want to miss a faint life sign due to tiredness, would you?" Reluctantly, the Commander rose and walked toward the rear section. Stopping beside Lirik, he faced the man with a flash of anger in his eyes, his breath hot and acrid. "You forgot one, Yeoman. Diplomatic bullshit." Disappearing into the rear, as the doors closed about him, Reb mouthed a big sarcastic 'ooooh'. "He knows his rule book all right." "I'll give him bullshit if he wants it," Lirik muttered to himself, dropping into the pilot seat. He checked the consoles. To his surprise, nothing was untoward - he wouldn't have put it past the commander to attempt rigging the runabout to respond only to his commands. "Well, at least he didn't try anything here. Best keep up our end of the bargain now, Mister Rebbik." Lirik gestured the pilot into the other seat and the two began their scans for signs of survivors. Just as Lirik made his first sweep, he noticed on the security panel that the Commander was attempting to log into the runabout's main systems - presumably to see what Lirik was up to. Lirik merely posted a smiley face to the console runabout screen in the rear of the vessel with the words 'get some sleep' and watched the panel as the Commander then logged off almost immediately. "Round one to me, I think," Lirik smiled, though Reb thought the rivalry to be misplaced, given their situation. He wondered if underneath it all Lirik was more competitive than he made out. * * * ENGINEERING DECK, SS FANTASY Less than a week ago, Christian had stood on the engineering deck facing a large bulkhead door in place across one of the main corridors. Now it was retracted, and standing in the exact same place as before, he saw the corridor beyond extended further down the ship. It seemed to be lit brighter than this section and curved off - as most corridors did - some metres ahead. (Because of the proportionally long, narrow design of the vessel, instead of having thoroughfares that stretched in one straight line from stern to prow, the designers had made corridors curve inward and outward along the length of the ship - with the exception of the promenade deck. This was mainly as a safety measure, though convention added to the circular, fluid design of the corridors.) The Captain and his two shipmates were joined noisily by Lieutenant Commander Leonard, sporting his own white-blonde face fuzz. Christian took point, closely followed by Souveson, then Hedrik and finally the engineer. Nameless doorways passed them on either side as the corridor curved in, and then curved out again. As it straightened once more, the walls on either side became glass. They had reached an area presumably designated for several retail outlets, as some spaces had empty rails and others shelves and a variety of alien manikins. All seemed to have been stripped of merchandise and valuable equipment. The corridor turned in again, and other corridors began to converge, the space feeling lighter and airier. Souveson read the wall signage. "We're almost there. The bulkhead seems an awfully long way from the core, though." Christian looked around, noticing clues - empty spacesuit lockers, emergency equipment hatches. "I'd say this was also a designated shelter for passengers and crew." Souveson suddenly cried out. "Bloody, hell!" Before them, the corridor had become filled with multi-coloured isolinear chips and various other kinds of data storage cards - some antique. They were strewn in great piles. Carefully stepping over them, (though having to wade through ankle-deep in one place), the shops on either side had been replaced by computer storage rooms - seemingly emptied of their memory chips. One room passed, then another - on either side. Finally, the corridor stopped, opening to a ten metre wide shaft stretching above and below them. In the centre was a computer core constructed entirely of transparent aluminium - its innards on display; it was an amazing site to behold. Yet, it appeared that even here someone had removed each and every one of the hundreds of thousands of data chips that should have been lodged into position. That there were so many levels with so much data capacity was one thing. But that it should have been designed in such an impractical way was even stranger. The core itself was accessible via transparent decking; Christian counted at least four levels above and four below, though the image blurred the higher or lower he looked. "It appears this core was something of a tourist attraction in its own right," Souveson remarked, pointing at wall-housed seating and simplistic information schematics at various points around the deck. Leonard consulted the guide on his mini padd. "You could say that. It was a one off, designed by the Daystrom Institute specifically for the passenger liner at the request of the then owners. It replaced its more outdated core just ten years ago, but I'd say those relay struts up there were only about six or seven years old, so it must have been more recently upgraded. According to the guide the computer has a unique, long and not very inspiring name, so at the opening ceremony, the then chief engineer paraphrased another of some renown, re-naming it the Big Beastie." "Big isn't the word," Hedrik said, glancing at Christian luridly and circumnavigating the core centre, looking it up and down in an almost sexual way. "The core isn't just here," she said pointing in to the middle, "it's all around us." Indeed, within the room spaces branching off the core there were more banks of less attractive, but just as powerful computer equipment - solid, grey monoliths, fused into the walls. "Why the need for so much computer capability?" Souveson said. Hedrik pursed her lips. "I assume that the main core was installed around the same time as the holographic interfaces. For ship systems to support so much potential holographic activity, I guess they needed a lot of computer memory." Leonard nodded in agreement. "That certainly complies with the nature of the engineering systems - back-ups and redundant engines to facilitate all the daily needs of a pleasure liner of this size and capability. Passenger comfort and safety would have been paramount." "I can only imagine the variety and complexity of holo-interfaces on board, Captain," Hedrik moved close to Christian, her left breast softly brushing his arm. He pulled away instinctively, while at the same time feeling a little aroused. Leaning on the inner rail and peering down through the decks, Christian sighed. "So we've got one big floating, over-powered holosuite to ourselves. Rather than scanning each of all these chips, it would be much quicker to just re-install them all. We can re-allocate data functionality as required after that." The German removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. While he and the other crew had found makeshift berths among the Helan people, as yet no one was allowed to go beyond the designated safe areas except on necessary ship business. He and others had already expressed a desire to make use of the crew quarters contained in the command section - Christian had deemed it unsafe at this time. What Leonard really wanted, however, was a long, hot, naked soak and a soft, clean bed for the night - though he suspected he would sleep for longer than that. Christian noticed the tiring engineer. "We can get volunteers to help. Commander Leonard, can you arrange it?" "Of course, Captain," Leonard said. "But reinitialising the core first may bring other command functions on line. I'd like to try that right away." "Very good," Christian nodded and wandered to the other side of the core and into the corridor beyond. Hedrik was close behind him. He was now totally aware of her apparent desire for him, and he wanted nothing more than for her to leave him alone for the moment. This was hardly the place or the time. "Ensign, come with me. I want to take a look at the true bulkhead to the passenger section," Christian turned to the green skinned woman - who had unbuttoned her blouse one button further. "Miss, you stay here with the Commander. See if you can access the mainframe and get us total computer control." Hedrik smiled and mimicked an old sailor salute. Souveson and Hedrik snarled a little as they passed each other, and Christian was a little surprised at the Ensign. Regardless, he carried on forward, noticing the Orion advancing cat-like toward the German engineer. * * * RUNABOUT HUDSON "Here, you might need this," Lirik handed a cup of steaming, black sweet espresso coffee to Struckchev as he yawned and stretched, wiping away the cold patch of drool on his cheek and neck. Suddenly Struckchev became aware that he was naked under the sheets in one of the spare berths on the runabout, and he couldn't remember how he got there. "What?! How the hell did I get here?" the Commander couldn't help but physically react to the comfy, soothing feel of the bed around his over- exerted body. Goosebumps flared from his armpits to his ankles and he wriggled slightly in the softness, stretching his feet and wiggling his toes, despite feeling annoyed. He reached for the coffee nonetheless, the sheet dropping to reveal his finely honed dark brown torso. Lirik frowned, standing so that he towered above the man, his head halo'd by the bright lights of the narrow corridor ceiling behind and above him. He hoped his silhouette would imprint itself in the Commander's brain. "Don't you remember? We beamed you aboard-" "I mean here in bed, Yeoman. And naked," the Commander peered under the covers. Crouching low so that his head was level with Struckchev's again, Lirik smirked, giving the Commander a taste of his own attitude. "Don't worry, Commander, you've got nothing I haven't seen before. You fell asleep at the dinner table and we couldn't wake you. You must have been exhausted. In fact, you've only been asleep for a few hours." Struckchev gulped the hot coffee down in two big, throat undulating motions. "What's our status?" Lirik stood again, relieving the Commander of his mug, his face turning serious. "Wash up and come forward, there's, ah, something you should see." Before the sleepy eyed Kosovan could react, the Yeoman was gone. The Commander punched the mattress in frustration at the impertinent Englishman and slumped back into the soft pillow. His head felt cradled and warm, and he almost enjoyed the feeling of being in bed while others took charge. Relaxing slightly, his eyes wandered to the corridor porthole where he saw from his prostrate position that the asteroid field had thinned. Clearly they had moved position. * * * CENTRAL COMPUTER CORE, SS FANTASY Lt Cmmdr Leonard carefully inserted several isolinear chips into the main core control. Depressing several old-style switches that lit lime green, turquoise and yellow upon activation of each. The room around him hummed gradually to life. Bronze light became golden, then white-bright as Lcars screens materialised on each of the tall, narrow walls of the control suite, and cascades of data streamed down them, overlapping in psychedelic torrents. Leonard looked around the room in awe, overwhelmed by the computer-generated waterfalls dancing light off the surfaces and over his face - he'd not seen anything like it before, and wondered at the other engineering treasures to be found on board this old ship. Hedrik stepped through the narrow hatch from the highest platform surrounding the top of the core and joined him, smiling. "Great job." 'Tszzzzzchchchc' the sound seemed to come from all around them, like a long, deep static sound, but it was not at first apparent what the sound meant. "What was that?" Hedrik asked. Leonard just shrugged his shoulders and continued to relish the quirky surroundings - it was so unlike the Draco or any other Starfleet vessel he'd served on before. The away missions he had been on in the past had excited him most when encountering alien technology, but for the most part, engineering life in the Federation was pretty much dull and uniform. Usually he and his colleagues knew what to expect. But although the technology aboard the Fantasy was largely old, and of Federation origin, there was a lot of it, and it seemed there was no expense spared on its capability as would be the case on a Starfleet vessel where everything had to be just-so. Not noticing Hedrik's hands squeezing his shoulders, Leonard leaned back into his chair and relaxed. * * * Forward of the computer core, the ambience of the space changed, becoming more functional and less luxurious again. "Science labs," the Canadian Ensign commented, "pattern buffer stores down that way and transporter rooms over there. According to this signage, the science facility and main transporter rooms cover several decks of the command section around here." The corridors curved in and out a couple more times, and as they straightened once again, the lighting - and all power in the section ahead - was off-line, darkness beginning abruptly at the next corridor intersection. Souveson activated a small pencil-like torch-cutter that she'd found during their exploration of the forward rooms. "There's the bulkhead," she said, stepping into the deepening shadows and shivering. As Souveson reached the cold, unattractive bulkhead surface and lock controls, she noticed several warning signs dotted around. "This bulkhead is indeed where separation from the passenger section occurs. There's a manual override for this door here." "Well done," Christian was peering into a power conduit, his hands covered in soot and dust. "There's no power here. This entire section must have shorted out some time ago. We should get an engineering team down here to repair it, then we can get these bulkheads retracted." Souveson nodded, looking around the shadows and back down the corridor into the light wondering how many hundreds (or thousands) of people had walked this way before her. * * * Leonard and Hedrik regarded the Lcars screens, now suddenly blank. It was several minutes since the strange sound, and neither was sure what the computer was now doing. Suddenly, all screens flashed deep red for a couple of seconds, then blanked out again. This time, the room dimmed and died, light from the now active core suddenly poured in from the observation window. Leonard looked nervously at Hedrik. * * * Behind the Captain and the Ensign the lights in the powered corridor suddenly flickered. "Oh, no, not again," Christian said, just as they were plunged into complete darkness, save for the tiny light from Souveson's small torch. "We should head back now, Sir. I'll take the point," Souveson said, taking Christian's hand and leading him back down the corridor in the way that only security officers did. Christian afforded himself a private smile in the darkness at the youngster's nurturing attitude. * * * Leonard watched Hedrik walk over to the observation window. The core itself seemed to be glowing from within, a sure sign that it was active. But he didn't understand what the red flash had meant, or why the control room's power had subsequently died. Nothing seemed to be working in the control room. Within the bright light of the core, Leonard and Hedrik could see a few sparsely placed control chips still intact at various points - like the last few colourful leaves of an autumn tree. 'Fsssss.' "Did you hear that?" Hedrik said to Leonard as she walked around the computer core control suite, curiously admiring the plush cream fur and chrome furnishings in the dim light. It reminded her of an old fashioned wooden hideaway on Orion she'd been taken to in her former employ. That too had been high up, but in the mountains, and the blinding snow outside had caused that unique white light to pour in to the small one-room building as only a white landscape could. Beside her, Leonard was busy trying to break the access code to reset the command routines. "Hear what, Ma'am?" Hedrik turned on her heel, pert and surprised. "Ma'am?" She laughed out loud. "I'm a single girl, Lieutenant Commander. Can't you tell?" Leonard peered over his glasses at her, but said nothing. Ffsssss. This time both heard the sound. "There it is again," Hedrik said, pressing her face against the glass of the small observation window and peering down through the levels of transparent flooring. Several decks below, it seemed that people were gathering, dressed in what looked like colourful wetsuits. She couldn't see clearly through the distortion of the glass flooring of several decks. Leonard noticed Hedrik craning to see something. "What is it? What can you see?" "I'm not sure," Hedrik said, then jumped as she saw a flash of phaser fire lash out from the group of similarly clad figures into the forward corridor where Christian and Souveson had gone. Several of them then peeled off and gave chase in the direction of the phaser fire. 'Fsss! Fssss!' the sound came consecutively from the core below. Leonard had glanced up when he heard the double sound and joined her. He swallowed hard as he saw the clearly armed individuals several levels below. "We're under attack," he whispered, suddenly feeling deflated - they had no weapons with them. And they had come so far. He didn't recognised the uniforms - perhaps these were the K'Tani; maybe they'd come from the forward section of the ship when the bulkheads had been removed. Leonard wasn't sure. "The Jeffries tube?" Hedrik suggested, keen to find an immediate escape route. Leonard couldn't think of a better suggestion. The old-style grill lifted off with ease and he followed closely behind her, sensing the pheromones that were naturally drifting his way from the excited Orion female in front. ACT 2 RUNABOUT HUDSON Struckchev had barely hauled his pants on as he stepped into the runabout cockpit. "Where the hell are we-" the Commander's voice trailed off as he saw the horrific scene through the forward portholes. Just several hundred feet away, the charred, decayed remains of the USS Papillon lay smashed into the side of a large asteroid. One nacelle was just identifiable, hanging like a broken limb from the mangled wreckage. Lirik stood from the pilot's chair. "I'm sorry, Commander. There are no survivors." Struckchev swallowed hard, though the crumpled mass of metal said it all. Though a seasoned officer, the thought of his fallen long-time comrades was too painful to hold back. A single tear coursed its way speedily down to his chin, causing Lirik to quiver and frown in emotive response. The Commander stiffened his neck, speaking the words slowly. "Are you absolutely sure? Perhaps other pods were jettisoned in time." Lirik looked down and across to Rebbik, holding each other's gaze for a second before turning back to the Commander. "We don't believe so. We've made a thorough scan of the area and found no signs of life. We've also scanned the ship and identified approximately 135 bodies." "'Approximately'Ö? That's still 85 unaccounted for," Struckchev replied swiftly, "not including us." Lirik didn't want an argument, but he felt bound to point out the obvious. "The secondary hull was practically vaporised, Commander. According to what you told me, there would have been in excess of 80 crew in that area at the time." Struckchev just nodded, abruptly accepting the news without comment, and stared off into middle distance. "I'll inform Cadet Lee. Her cousin was aboard." With that he exited, leaving Lirik staring after him. Rebbik looked out at the crippled hulk of the once gleaming Starfleet vessel. He heard Lirik speak in an unexpectedly angry tone. "You know, Rebbik, this whole situation is really beginning to piss me off." Lirik joined Rebbik at the runabout's controls, noticing the half-Ferengi chuckling to himself, but trying to hide it at the same time. "It's okay, you can laugh in the face of adversity. I'm all for a bit of levity today," Lirik flexed his fingers and activated the narrow band scanners. "Let's scan for any items in the wreck that could prove useful." Rebbik looked nervously over his shoulder toward the narrow starboard corridor. "Shouldn't we check with him first?" Lirik wanted to say 'no', but the thought of a further confrontation with the emotional Commander changed his mind. He nodded and shut down the scanners. "I need another coffee." * * * In the pitch-black, silent coolness of an access shaft between decks, Souveson and Christian stood on a narrow ledge pressed closely together. While the Canadian was clammy and cold-feeling with anticipation and more than a little fear, she could feel the dry heat from the Captain's highly toned body through his uniform. She could also smell him, his breath, stale but not unpleasant, and the musty, sweaty odour coming from beneath his uniform. Because water was a limited supply, and none of the sonic showers in the quarters they'd explored worked as yet, it had been about a week since any of the survivors had managed a decent wash, or a change of clothes. Souveson didn't mind. She'd quite enjoyed a similar experience while on field exercise at the Academy, and the thought reminded her suddenly of home and family. Turning, Souveson's forehead brushed against Christian's coarse chin. "Who do you suppose they are?" she asked in a barely audible whisper. The Captain lowered his head slightly, his lips lapping against the fine strands of hair around her ear as he spoke. "They were dressed similarly to the K'Tani who fired at us in the hangar on Helub, only a lot taller." The feeling of his short, hot breath so closely peppered on her ear caused a shiver that ran to her duty boots. Souveson looked down into the blackness, not a hope of knowing if anyone was down there or not. She turned her head up toward the older man's head, her cheek brushing against his still down-turned mouth and nose. Although she didn't understand why, the Ensign felt a flutter of anticipation, her skin tingling from her cheek and down the side of her body. She banished any further thoughts, though feeling the weakening desire settling into the pit of her belly, just below her belly button. "I don't think they followed us, Sir." She felt Christian move on the ledge, more than she felt comfortable about - it was a drop of about ten metres to the deck below. "I think you're right," he said. "In fact, I was also thinking back to the weapons discharge they fired at us. They seemed to stop shooting as soon as we came into the un- powered darkness." Souveson squirmed, cocking her head to hear for any unusual sound. "Perhaps they're afraid of the dark? Or maybe there's something in the darkness they're frightened of." Inwardly, the Ensign laughed at herself - was she trying to scare the Captain with her suppositions? "Maybe," Christian had served enough years in Starfleet to never discount any possibility, however ridiculous it may seem. "But at least while we remain here we appear to be safe. I wonder how far the un-powered area projects up and down? We might be able to go around them, or find another control area." Souveson suddenly had a flashback to the deck schematics she had observed so far. "Captain! I remember seeing a secondary bridge area indicated on Deck 6, forward of the Command section of the ship. I think it was flush with the separation plane at its apex." Christian gripped the Ensign's wrist. "Are you sure, Ensign?" "Well, yes," she said, "yes I am." "That's only a number of levels directly above us. I think we're okay chancing the light of your torch to guide us." Souveson gladly flicked the small device into life, illuminating the metallic blue of the shaft above. "What's that?" Christian said, then cried out in horror - slamming his hand over his mouth to stop the uncontrollable noise that echoed all around them. Souveson turned the torch toward the Captain and he nodded up into the dark shaft above, still clasping his mouth with embarrassment. The light shone up and there the Ensign saw the curled-up brown-black skeleton of a metre-long spider. It wasn't as big as some species she had seen, but this close it was a bit unnerving. Suspended as it was in the thin gossamer of its death shroud, its near-translucent skin seemed delicate and slender to her. Christian, she observed, had other feelings about the dead spider. "Do you think they heard us?" the Ensign said, wondering whether this creature may have been the reason why their pursuers had not followed them - then asking herself how they would know it was there. Perhaps the K'Tani had been awoken from stasis chambers, she wondered. Souveson had to tell herself to shut up, or she would not hear the Captain's reply. Christian shook his head. "It's too late to worry about that now. Come on, we'd better get moving." In his head, he was forcing himself to confront this fear and squeeze past the large insect corpse that blocked part of his way above. Souveson led, and then made Christian's controlled fears resurface. "Sir, on the commune where I grew up, whenever we found a dead wheat beetle my father used to say 'Where there's one, there's more'." The young woman was already above the hanging creature, and Christian closed his eyes when moving past the thing himself. "A fair folklore to live by, I suspect. Was he always right?" The Ensign paused before answering. "Mostly." "Oh," he felt the unexpectedly light pouch brush against his butt, some of the gossamer webbing applying itself to his tattered trousers, "that's hopeful then." The creature made a slight clicking sound as its bones were slightly nudged in the Captain's passing, causing him to wince and say a silent prayer that there may not be any others. * * * In a not-too-far away part of the Fantasy, Leonard and Hedrik sat opposite each other, crouched in the small confines of a Jeffries Tube junction above the computer core. "I don't understand, what exactly are you trying to say?" Hedrik whispered heavily, frowning at the handsome German as he tried to avoid looking at her body, she noticed. Leonard took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. When he looked up, Hedrik got a prime view of his almost translucent blue eyes. She had never seen the natural like before this close, and was quite taken by their mysterious gleam; she noticed that the white blonde eyelashes, brows and stubbly beard particularly enhanced them. "In order to re-take control of the ship, we should try and knock out main power." "That's crazy," Hedrik butted in, "it took you so long to get it up and running, it seems stupid to just smash it all to pieces again." "True, but for all we know, we could be the only two still alive, though back there it looked like they were going after the Captain and Ensign Souveson - or maybe just one was drawing their fire while the other escaped?" Leonard mused. Hedrik suddenly realised this man was no great soldier, despite his rank and Starfleet Academy training. "Anyway, my point is that without power, they'll need to go to engineering to fix it. I'm sure I can come up with a few nasty surprises for them there." Hedrik waited for the rest, but there was no more. "What? That's it? It's not much of a plan, Starfleet-guy. How do we get control back?" Leonard seemed a little hurt, but relentlessly keen. "I don't see there's much else we can do without weapons." Hedrik was thinking laterally. "Where did they come from? I mean, they came out of nowhere, didn't they? Without any warning." "Maybe the K'Tani have cloaking technology. Or long range transporters?" Leonard suggested. "With our own sensors cockahoop, I'm not surprised that a ship could have crept up on us unnoticed." Hedrik shook her head in surprise. "Cock..? A hoopÖ? But if they are K'Tani, why not just blow us up? Surely this ship's no good to them?" Leonard replaced his glasses. "From what we know, the K'Tani were the ones who obtained the Fantasy somehow and stored it in that facility on Helub, perhaps it is of some value to them? It may have even been them who coated the ship in that black substance - we've not seen it on any other of their ships so far, so maybe it was a one-off prototype they want back?" Hedrik folded her arms, inadvertently pushing her breasts together in a motion that caused Leonard to gag and cough. "Well then, that doesn't make sense either. We know that the substance works like a cloaking device, and yet if the K'Tani knew how to scan it, they would have found us days ago." "Maybe they can't scan it, but they just chanced upon us? Or detected us some other way - picked up some kind of echo, maybe?" Leonard could think of numerous reasons. "That's another thing that doesn't add up for me," Hedrik frowned, "who did we find supposedly hiding aboard the ship in that very same K'Tani facility? And who led us into this area of space?" Leonard's turn to frown. "You suspect the Helan of being involved? Our little trip through the wormhole was hardly their fault." "We got subspace communications back not long ago, they could have sent a signal," Hedrik suggested. "If we think that then we might as well suspect the Andorian Ambassador, or even Murak," Leonard rested back on his hands. "Or you, for that matter." Hedrik paused, looking curiously at Leonard's torso and legs. "Who's Murak?" "The Romulan," Leonard felt Hedrik's insistent gaze upon his body and leant forward again, inhibiting her view. "But he seems like just a typical kid, really. Look, it doesn't matter the whys and wherefores anyway. What matters is that they're here, they're looking for us and it's up to you and me to do something about them." "Square one, German friend," Hedrik smiled coyly, "just what is that something?" * * * The Hudson cleared the densely packed active region of the asteroid field, departing from the USS Papillon's final resting-place. Struckchev had wanted to use the runabout's phasers to destroy whatever was left of her, but Lirik had refused, claiming it might bring unwanted attention. He also stated that seeing as how the K'Tani already had access to other Starfleet vessels, there was little point in trying to destroy any technology now. Struckchev sat in the pilot's seat, Rebbik in the co-pilot seat. "Mister Lirik tells me it was you who navigated us through that rough part of the asteroid field. I wish I could have been awake, that must have been quite something." Rebbik didn't know how to take a compliment yet. "You can watch it on the logs later, if you like." The Commander cracked a smile, then lost it, chastising himself for enjoying himself while grieving at the loss of his shipmates. He looked out the side window to watch the Papillon's silent grave disappear into the distance. Sitting as he did on this small, lonely vessel in enemy space, with only a few centimetres between survival and oblivion, Struckchev felt the gnawing feeling of vulnerability that sometimes came as a precursor to the kinds of psychosis brought on by prolonged periods of living in space. He thought of how their efforts to find a ship that couldn't be scanned in the middle of enemy territory was complete madness. Suddenly he felt the resentment toward Lirik and this nobody pilot build up. He was a commander with citations and years of experience, how could these two half-breeds possibly be acting in his or Cadet Yip's best interests? In a short space of time, the Commander decided to take direct action. Stealthily, Struckchev began to manipulate the computer controls, reprogramming part of the runabout's main navigation systems while appearing to make passive scans, engaging Reb in apparently idle conversation. * * * In the rear of the runabout, Cadet Lee was sitting up at the table, a little pale, surrounded by an array of boxes and pieces of equipment. A small pile of tissues had accompanied her as much from the tears that occasionally came in uncontrollable floods as from the chill that was working itself quickly out of her system. Despite her alternating periods of calm disbelief and unrestrained emotion at the loss of her beloved cousin and newly formed relationships on board the USS Papillon, she felt a little soothed by the steady work of this strange Lirik person. Tunic off, white shirtsleeves rolled up revealing the shield control device on his forearm, he busied himself, arranging the various recovered articles in piles and storing them as efficiently as he could at the very back of the ship. From time to time Yip could see the wafer thin environmental shield that constantly surrounded his body shimmer like backlit glass as he moved. "I'm sure you've been asked this a lot before, but tell me, Sir, how come you are partly Medusan? I didn't think that was possible," the Cadet sniffed and blew her nose, hobbling over to the wall and disposing of the used tissues in the replicator. She ordered a replacement set immediately. Lirik stopped what he was doing and looked up, as if he'd heard something. He frowned, then feeling more certain, hit his commbadge. "Excuse me, gentlemen, would you both please join us?" Lee was rather surprised by his request. "No offence, Cadet, but I have some other things to sort out first," he gave a genuine smile, but Lee felt embarrassed. She flushed even more when Struckchev entered and she locked eyes with him, immediately looking away with discomfort. Quite by chance, Lirik had caught this action between the two, and instantly he was intrigued and thinking back to what they had both said when they came aboard. Things were beginning to fall into place. He wouldn't have guessed it, but this Commander was turning out to be quite complex. Rebbik teetered by the narrow passage. "Shouldn't someone stay up front? Just in case?" Lirik looked up at the ceiling. "Computer, all stop. Extend long range passive scans and inform me of any approaching event." The computer chirped a quick response. "Commander, you pointed out that the Fantasy might have been taken by now. There's every chance you may be right, but I would like to hear why you think we should abandon our search for her?" Struckchev straightened slightly, fresh faced after a quick sonic shave, laughing nervously. "I never said anything about abandoning her. We agreed that we'd go with your decision." "Then why did you steer us off course just now," he said. Rebbik cast the Commander a shocked look - he was unaware of any course change. Struckchev wasn't giving anything away, but Lirik knew the truth. "Humans wouldn't detect such a delicate shift, Commander, but being part Medusan, I have a strong affliction with the stars. I don't just see them, I feel them as well." Struckchev chose to ignore his own revealed deceit and argue the reasoning behind it instead, hoping to prove his actions to be right and so save face in front of Yip. "Strategically it would be more prudent to remain undetected. Seek out allies and stay alive." Cadet Lee chipped in, a weak attempt at supporting her superior officer. "Perhaps some of the Fleet escaped capture and are holding out somewhere nearby. If we could find them-" The Commander ignored her remark. "Your friend here was telling me that this ship you came from is covered in a substance that cloaks it from normal sensors. Just how were you hoping to find it?" "Instinct and logic," Lirik said sharply. "Something you have yet to show an appreciation of, Commander." "I don't have to listen to this-" Struckchev shifted slightly, cut off by Lirik stepping up close to him, the environment shield around him flashing menacingly from the quick movement. "Oh yes you do, Commander! Like I said before. This is a diplomatic vessel and I have jurisdiction here. You had no right to make that course change alone, despite whatever you feel about me or about our situation. In future, all course corrections and command decisions will be made by me alone, got it?" blotches of red bristled around Lirik's neck. Normally he wasn't so moved to anger, but he found deceit amongst Starfleet officers (diplomatic or otherwise) to be contemptuous, regardless of their mental state. "I said do you understand?" Lirik watched the Commander take a step back and turn slightly to Yip. "Answer me dammit!" the Yeoman shook with anger. "Yes," Struckchev was seething, but controlled, "I understand." "Good. Make it stay that way, Commander," Lirik spat. He was a little relieved at the Commander's grudging acceptance of his leadership showed that the man at least respected Starfleet regulations. Rebbik was gaping timidly to one side. He'd not expected an outburst like that - but if Lirik was right about the Commander's subterfuge, he understood why. "Whatever we do, we can't risk being captured," Lirik continued in a more controlled tone, finally lowering his arm. "Oh, I agree with that," Rebbik blurted out. Lirik wanted to laugh at the innocent remark, but held it back, deflated by the return of Struckchev's mocking expression. He tried to ignore it, putting it down to a bad attitude. "What we represent is hope. The runabout, the four of us and these medical and other supplies, will all be of great help to the civilians. In a sense, although they don't know it, they're all counting on us." "Fine," Struckchev snapped, "we've agreed we're looking for this Fantasy of yours." The Commander sniggered - a strange, hateful reaction almost. "Shall we just get on with it and forget the speeches?" Lirik licked his lips. "Rebbik, take Cadet Yip forward and put us back on the course I originally laid in." Rebbik was curious what was going to happen next, perhaps some kind of diplomatic dressing down, but realised he wasn't welcome to hear the exchange. He felt a little hurt at the disclusion, so sulked back to the cockpit with the apprehensive teenager in tow. When alone, Lirik gestured for Struckchev to sit. The big man declined. Lirik walked over to the windows, twisting his way through the heaps of salvage. "Tell me, Commander, why were you two the only survivors from the Papillon?" The Commander glanced over at the Yeoman briefly - Lirik's back was to him, waiting for an answer, and he couldn't quite read where this line of questioning was going. He steadied his voice and slipped into the nearby chair. "We were just lucky, I guess." Lirik shook his head, rolling his tongue. "I don't think so. It doesn't take a genius to work it out, Commander." Lirik turned to face him, perching on the sill. "When we were scavenging for supplies, I scanned over five hundred impact fractures in what was left of the ship's hull. They all had the same rate of degradation, meaning the ship was hit rapidly, in succession, in a very short space of time. The attack took probably no more than ten, maybe twenty seconds in total. That's hardly enough time for the alarm to be raised, let alone for the bridge crew to realise the ship was breaking apart and order the abandon ship, is it?" Lirik sat in silence, waiting for the Commander to reply. Instead, the big man cradled his hands in front of his mouth and looked over at him, his eyes fearful. Lirik finished the evaluation for him. "No, the only way you could have got away in time was if you had been inside the pod at the time of the ambush." Struckchev looked shocked and opened his mouth to speak, but Lirik wouldn't let him start. "No, Commander, no excuses or explanations are needed. You see, I'm thinking - I'm a man, and I know what a man's body can do to him if not properly disciplined. And so I understand how you came to be with the Cadet in a lifepod. But when all is said and done you've both survived a terrible experience. You both exercised poor judgement, but in truth there's no time for blame or punishment in our situation. We need you both, just as you need us." Struckchev dropped his head into his hands and rubbed his eye-sockets with his palms. "You're pretty smart. I take it you're not going to report this?" Lirik pursed his lips. "I'm not surprised at that - to hear that your Starfleet record is more important to you than anything else," Struckchev wanted to explain himself but was cut off. "The truth is both of you will have to live with this sordid experience for the rest of your lives. I think that's punishment enough." The Commander cleared his throat, sounding almost vulnerable. "I keep thinking what might have been had we not been in the pod." "You'd both be dead, that's what," Lirik slapped the man on the arm, rather hard, causing his shield to flicker slightly. "I'll keep this to myself, don't worry. No need to tell the Cadet about this conversation either." Struckchev just nodded in sombre silence as Lirik walked through to the cockpit. As the narrow doorway closed behind Lirik, the Commander looked out of the window, shakily placing his hands over his mouth in shameful horror. ACT 3 Captain Christian heaved the pressure door open, unable to control the weighty hatch from beneath as it passed beyond its apex and slammed with a deep metallic thud against the wall beside it. Reaching up to the next deck's floor he hauled himself into a sitting position on the ledge with his legs dangling into the shaft below. Souveson handed him her torch pen and he flashed it around the warm and humid low-ceilinged octagonal room. Only a few metres in diameter, immediately he saw that the walls were wet and rusty, streaked brown, green and cream and identified the offending overhead pipe that had been seeping for the past five years or so. Despite the damage and slime-coated walls, there was only a thin layer of liquid held on the floor surrounding the access hatch. "This is it," he whispered. "The hatch to the secondary bridge is above us." Careful not to slip on the wet surface, Christian stood, bracing himself against a cold feeling conduit and lent a hand to the security Ensign, pulling her up to join him. "Phew! What's that smell?" she winced. "Effluent?" "This looks like an old style waste reclamation unit," Christian tiptoed over to the rungs beneath the next deck observing the mechanical equipment and piping around the room's skirting. Souveson came up behind the Captain as he began the short climb and couldn't help looking at his muscular butt. "I thought they went out of use decades ago." "Our Engineer told us the ship's history spanned more than a century, I guess this was one of the areas not to be given an upgrade," Christian poised with feet on different rungs, reaching up to the ceiling and sticking his arse out. Souveson had to force herself to look away and she scolded herself for succumbing to such an uncontrolled lusty feeling. During her time at the Academy, the Ensign had not participated in the dating game with her peers, preferring to mix rather with those who enjoyed sport and the excitement of the Academy training than those into personal relationships. She had ridiculed other classmates for fancying the Academy tutors and senior officers, and now here she was - a graduate - doing exactly the same. It made her a little mad and a little more confused with herself. Christian gripped the locking wheel on the hatch above and heaved hard, but it wouldn't budge. Balancing precariously, he took the wheel in both hands and gave an almighty wrench, only to lose his grip and his footing and come crashing down, splashing onto the slimy deck. "Yeoow!" "Captain! Are you okay?" Souveson crouched over him. Christian recoiled from the wet and the smell that had penetrated his uniform and clung to his hair and heaved himself up. "Oh dammit." As he stood, the cool liquid trickled from his hair down his neck, under his collar and down his spine. The Ensign was fussing. "Please, I'm fine, Ensign." Souveson turned to the ladder, smiling to herself privately, and ascended as high as she could. Christian watched as the young woman hunched over, putting her shoulder as close to the wheel as possible and gripping hard yanked it first tighter shut and then once back the other way. The hatch then opened with ease causing Christian to smirk at his own stupidity. "Well done that man," he said, climbing onto the ladder and following his junior. * * * Leonard worked as fast as he could, fiddling with the communication panel in the corridor while Hedrik kept a watch from the farthest corner. "Are you done yet?" Hedrik whispered as loudly as she could. "One more minute," the German's fingers were lacerated from the sharp wire and bits of metal he was using to sabotage the panel. Hedrik turned back to peek around her corner and felt her stomach sink as she saw four K'Tani soldiers approaching. She paused for only a fraction of a second to take in their figure-hugging uniforms. Their hands and even their faces were covered, and the oddly shaped patches of colour on the uniforms were like a camouflage of sorts - but Hedrik couldn't think of the location where such a camouflage would work save for a landscape of multicoloured confection. The head-mounted weapons were bizarre but she guessed extremely accurate and as quickly and quietly as she could, she sidled back, turned and ran on tiptoe to where the Starfleet engineer still had his arms elbow-deep inside the corridor wall. Leonard saw the frightened look on Hedrik's face as she got close, and his hands fumbled as he made the last few adjustments. Hedrik passed him and turned the next corner, quickly popping her head back to shout/whisper "Come on!!" Leonard didn't have time to replace the panel as the Orion woman grabbed his arm and forcefully pulled him round the corner and into a sprint towards the Jeffries tube they had emerged from earlier. Clambering swiftly and silently inside, Leonard whispered: "I've rigged the unit to overload as soon as it detects sounds above a certain decibel." Hedrik suddenly thought that the level of noise the soldiers were making in their controlled march would not be loud enough so she poked her head out of the grill and shouted. "Hey! We're here, you bastards!" Leonard simultaneously pulled on Hedrik with a fierce look on his face and the two broke into a sprinting crawl to get away from the ensuing explosion of sound and wall. The noise of the K'Tani's boots running past caused the commlink to kick in, and the unit emitted an increasingly loud wail, its powerful system creating a sound intense enough to cause Hedrik and Leonard to grasp their ears in pain, even this far away. Leonard hoped that the commpanel circuits would overload and explode before the K'Tani made it past. As the noise reached a crescendo it suddenly died without any further action. Hedrik and Leonard paused, only to hear the pounding feet of more soldiers running around. "Why didn't it explode?" Hedrik asked. "There must be additional safety features I hadn't accounted for," he said dejected. "Well, at least we've got their attention." * * * RUNABOUT HUDSON Lirik perched behind Reb and a still teary-eyed Cadet Yip stood behind Struckchev as the runabout turned into yet another eddy. "This isn't looking hopeful," the Commander commented negatively. "At least we know there are only so many paths the Fantasy could take," Lirik retorted. "The asteroid field is just too dense in certain places for its large bulk to pass through safely." Reb coughed and said: "Actually, that's what's making our search hard - even we cannot continue through at certain points. And there are literally thousands of possible courses the ship may have followed." "I know I've said it already, Yeoman, but we don't even know if the Fantasy made it this far," the burly Kosovan turned in his chair and looked at him defiantly. "They might still be back in Vekarian space - or even have been captured or destroyed by now." Lirik bit his lip. "Maybe we're going about this the wrong way. Maybe we shouldn't be looking for evidence of the ship, but rather at the surrounding space where the ship may have been." Yip stepped aside as the portly Yeoman approached the small science station behind the co-pilot. "I'll scan for any anomalous residue on the asteroids themselves. Perhaps they got bumped by the Fantasy as she passed by." Almost as soon as Lirik had finished his sentence, the computer trilled a response. "You've found something already?" Reb asked eagerly - he didn't relish the thought of kicking around the Outer Zone in a runabout for the rest of his days. Lirik smiled. "Actually, I'm scanning a small wormhole not far from here. It's spewed neutrinos into the surrounding area, indicating something has passed through recently." Reb, thinking laterally, reached for the 2D map of the local area he and Lirik had studied earlier. "I thought the Vekarian wormhole was the only one in this part of space?" "Perhaps it's a way home?" the Cadet spoke nervously. "Interesting," Lirik made several confirmations, "I hypothesise that this wormhole is a bi-product of the exploded Vekarian wormhole. It has the same resonance signature." Commander Struckchev was studying the same data on his own screens. "If the K'Tani created it, then surely it's logical to deduce that they are they ones who passed through it." Reb suddenly had an idea. "Lirik, can you give me an accurate heading from here?" Lirik followed his train of thought and entered the co-ordinates into the navigation station, smiling. "Of course." Calling up a map of the Vekarian territory, Reb then overlaid the Hudson's recorded flight path since the runabout had left the Fantasy and linked it to the previous heading Lirik had given. Suddenly the map changed focus to indicate Vekaria, the estimated course of the Fantasy, and the runabout's own flight path. Lirik then called up the co-ordinates of the Vekarian wormhole and drew a line between it and the location of this newer, smaller wormhole. It was plain for all to see - the line crossed paths with the Fantasy's predicted course, indicating that the Fantasy could have passed through a wormhole further back in order to reach this part of the Outer Zone. "And look, the transmission we detected also coincides with this departure point beyond the wormhole. I'd bet my boots the ship that passed through it WAS the Fantasy," Lirik said. "Bloody well done, Reb." Struckchev interrupted their joyful exchange brusquely, like a harbinger of doom. "Sensors are detecting eight other vessels, approximately four hours away from the signal's co-ordinates on an intercept course." Lirik's face dropped. Reb gripped Lirik by the arm, his skin tingling as it contacted the protective shield around the Yeoman's body. It was a strange move, but one that made Lirik feel warm inside. "Don't tell me we're going to lead them away again?" "Not if we can find the Fantasy quickly, lay in a course and take us there as fast as you can," Lirik ordered. Rebbik saw that if they passed through a thicker and more dangerous part of the local field they could be there a lot sooner: "Hang on, then." The three others stumbled slightly as Rebbik pulled the runabout hard to port and accelerated into the field, rollercoastering them hard. * * * "Okay, try it again," Christian secured the hatchway's control panel as Souveson pumped the manual lock arm. This time the hatch parted. The Ensign could not see any light above and continued to shunt the hatch until it was wide enough for her to poke her head and shoulders through. She took the torch from her Captain and shone it up into the room. The bronze metallic sheen of the overhead support struts bounced light down into the Secondary Bridge. It was clean, formal and deadly quiet, a musty smell hanging in the air. Putting the torch between her teeth, Souveson clambered onto the carpeted deck and pulled on a nearby console to a standing position. Shining the light around the smaller bridge space, she noticed plush cream chairs and several ornate wall lights that lent an almost art deco look to the room. "Secondary Bridge is secure, Captain. I think the air filters are faulty, though - I will look for the plant room," Souveson walked round the helm station and up several wide steps to the rear. Passing by the Captain's Ready Room that overlooked the whole bridge behind smoked glass she entered the utility area at the rear of the small deck. Christian pulled himself onto the Secondary Bridge and as a precaution, he released the hatch holding pins to re-seal the room. As the Ensign disappeared from view, the light also faded, leaving the Captain standing in total darkness. He felt suddenly claustrophobic. A distant mechanical buzz heralded a warm pinkish light from the ornate, gold- effect up-lighters around the bridge. Christian noticed the deck was carpeted wall to wall, the coffee coloured weave blending into stylised teak-effect work stations which fed into the bronze supports and ceiling struts that arced overhead, coming together in a chandelier-effect sensor cluster above the raised centre seat. A hefty gush of icy cold air then poured in from overhead vents, causing the Captain to shudder. In seconds, the bridge was almost at freezing point, spurring the Captain to assist the Ensign in her bumbling ignition protocols. Passing by, Christian noticed the Captain's ready room was almost entirely intact, and included personal artefacts - even colourful old-style datacards were strewn about the antique walnut desk. His instinct was to go in and investigate, but the chill was making his skin tighten and his fingers numb. Walking past a small service bar and an even smaller head, Christian found the small French Canadian squatting behind a grilled wall amid storage crates. The life support units for the deck were exposed mechanisms of seemingly limited capacity, and it appeared the heating elements were not functioning properly. "I don't think we can do anything about the cold, so shut down the blowers," Christian ordered. He then noticed the bridge power grid command on the wall in front of him and studied it carefully. As he had hoped, there was a sequence for isolation mode, so that the bridge could operate without detection or interference from the rest of the ship. He had come to realise that the SS Fantasy had been organised to handle any situation, from external phaser attack to internal terrorist activities, the command functions having backups for the backups and redundant and emergency systems for all eventualities. Switching the 'stealth' mode sequence into activation, the heaters suddenly fired, and Ensign Souveson beamed. "Normally I don't mind the cold, being from Quebec." The Captain smiled back. "Where are you from, Captain? Your accent sounds West Coast." "Yes, Ensign" Christian mused, checking out the empty crates in the maintenance bay, "that would be West Coast of just about everywhere. In fact, I was born on stage aboard a sea-going vessel in the Pacific Ocean." Christian walked away, entering the bridge area, now alive with flashing lights and computer murmurings. "On stage?" Souveson trotted a few paces behind. As she was about to quiz him further, the main viewscreen jumped into life, showing the normal 'ahead' view of the swirling asteroid field giving way here and there to star studded blackness of open space beyond. Christian located the tactical display on what looked like a science configured station. Slipping into the chair, he was surprised at the luxuriant softness of the padding. He made himself more comfortable, feeling the chair moulding to his body type, and called up the navigational grid. The sharp intake of breath from Souveson behind him jerked Christian's head up to see the main viewscreen presenting a starmap of their 'local' position with the SS Fantasy in the centre. The asteroid field ended not several hours away at current speed. However, nearby, a small blip was weaving its way through the asteroid field toward them. Further off in the bottom left corner, eight blips and behind them two more sets of four blips were also on a direct heading for their position. "Doesn't look good," the Captain pursed his lips, working out the station's command configuration. Finding the logic centre, he called up an interactive program and slowly fed the computer all the data it needed to analyse the detected craft. Unfortunately, the response was to blank all screens bar the phrase 'Main Sensors Off Line'. "Computer!" Christian bellowed, but the spoken words fell on no mechanical ears. "It must be screen interface only. There's no ship immediately outside, so we can only deduce they were either beamed aboard by that approaching vessel, or that they were already here." "Can we take control of the ship from here?" the Ensign felt sure he would answer yes; most of the bridge stations were active, even though some systems appeared off-line. Christian gave an ironic smirk. "I'm afraid not. While the main computer core has been activated, most of the internal command sequences are not only off-line, they have been completely removed. So if we want to affect the rest of the ship, we'll have to do it manually." Souveson looked around the bridge and found what looked a lot like the station configured for the Purser on the Main Bridge. Here too she hoped to find internal sensors and take a look at their situation on board. "Captain!" Souveson became exited as she scrolled through the command section's decks. Before he could respond, she had posted the image to the main viewscreen. Hundreds of dots were accumulated in the main shuttle bay, only a few others in what must have been the makeshift sick bay, and aside from that just two more dots that were rapidly approaching their own position. "It seems that most of our people are being held in the main shuttle bay, apart from the ones who can't be moved due to injury," Christian said. "We're in isolation mode, so we won't be detected. Can you tell who are the K'Tani and who are our people?" Souveson shook her head. "It's just a basic heart-monitor detection system - doesn't even recognise air movement, heat or weight distribution." Christian studied the read-outs hard. "That's odd; aside from the two main groups it seems the only other K'Tani are these two headed for us." "There's no one even on the bridge - or in engineering. Where are all the other K'Tani then?" Souveson asked. "Those two are only about thirty metres away, though I'm not sure how - there's no plan view, just these side elevation displays." "If they're coming for us, we must have been detected. See if you can seal us off. I have a hunch. I'm going to try and take a closer look at that approaching ship," Christian began to stab frantically at the Lcars panelling around the science station, hoping to realign the deflector system they were using to take a peek at the nearby ship. Souveson felt helpless. She had stupidly left her phaser with the main group, and aside from her small torch cutter she had no weapon. As she searched for an ammo store, she got the feeling that perhaps their own capture was not far away. * * * "Shouldn't we hail them?" Cadet Lee finally said after toying with the question in her head for several minutes. Struckchev left his co-pilot seat and walked to the phaser cupboard. "Not if we want to remain undetected, Cadet. Thankfully the asteroids in this stream are irradiated so should provide sufficient cover from sensors, but communications could cut through that." "How long to the Fantasy?" Lirik asked, leaning against the airlock with his arms folded, frowning - he felt surprisingly tense, perhaps at the back of his mind wondering what to expect from Captain Christian following his insubordination. "About five minutes," Rebbik snapped, intent upon the viewports. With only the occasional glance at the tactical monitor, both hands splayed across the flight controls as he skilfully piloted the vessel through the remaining asteroids. "And the other ships?" Lirik pressed. "YOU look, dammit!" Rebbik cracked, causing the Englishman to cast his eyes skyward and take Struckchev's seat. "They've made good time," Lirik said pushing at the coloured bars on the starboard panel, "they're only about two hours away now. I should be able to get a visual of the Fantasy's position any second." Lirik had served in a whole host of different roles during his Starfleet career. Before (and occasionally after) joining the Diplomatic Corps he had been assigned undercover officer-level operative duties more than a few times, learning on Starfleet Intelligence 'crammer' courses the basics of most ship- board duties. While experience and trial and error had provided the rest of the education he needed, he nevertheless enhanced his abilities while enjoying holodeck time either swatting Starfleet situation procedures or playing the role of a variety of positions in 'normal' Starfleet exercise programs. Not many people knew of this, however, as so few people ever got too close to Lirik. The once-Yeoman's belief was that it kept him sharp, though in reality the game-playing was yet another way of getting out of himself (away from others) and achieving a false though improved sense of self worth. Outwardly, Lirik always stated that if he excelled in as many different areas as he could, he would attain a position of authority among his peers and thus give him a kind of disassociated acceptance. He was both blessed and cursed by an insatiable curiosity and a good imagination that kept him active and yet aloof. Several minutes later, after many scans through varying spectra and having successfully filtering out of the local radiation, Lirik identified a generous displacement wave of space matter following a slow moving eddy within the vast asteroid field ahead. Only a few seconds later, a blob of blocked out stars on the advance monitor gave the first visual sign of the Fantasy. "There she is," Struckchev said in a soft whisper. Lirik turned to see the taller man had equipped himself with a tricorder and phaser. Knowing that he had disabled the dematerialising function of all onboard phasers (perhaps an over-zealous precaution on his part) aside that is from his own which he was carrying concealed in the back of his trousers, Lirik said: "There's no need to arm yourself, Commander. You're among friends now." The Kosovan handed a phaser to his Cadet. "Come now, Mister Lirik, surely you haven't forgotten that Starfleet regulations state that potentially hostile situations require the bearing of arms? You don't know what's happened on board her since you've been away, the vessel may be swarming with these K'Tani soldiers." Lirik swallowed. In a way, it was true. But considering the ship appeared to be heading along the same trajectory and no other ship was near her, he had automatically assumed the ship was much as he and Reb had left it. * * * Souveson finally managed to call up the detailed deck plans surrounding the secondary bridge on the life signs monitor board of the Purser's station. In the process she had found that this - almost unheard of in Starfleet - piece of software was essentially a network of logic units that automatically and independently hooked into most ship's systems to monitor biological life signs. However, while only the communications system seemed to have an operative interface with the software, the Ensign assumed this was only because Hedrik and Narli had managed to get a comm network of sorts up and running. The other systems were largely off line, broken or removed. "I've located the conduit the K'Tani are using to get to us, Captain," Souveson said. Christian was angry. It was the first time the Ensign had seen the Captain lose control, and seemed to come mostly from frustration at not being able to use the ship's limited capability to scan the approaching ships. Moreover, he had already mooted the probability that they would have to take the ship back between just the two of them. Slamming the console hard with his fist, Christian finally gave up. Turning to the Ensign he controlled himself upon seeing her cautious expression - for a security specialist, Souveson was not that good at concealing her emotions. Without talking, the Captain crossed to her station and leant over, studying the displays. Warmed by the life support system, the Captain had removed his jacket and had his sweat-stained red undershirt unzipped to the chest. Turning her head briefly, Souveson could see beneath the cloth at her commanding officer's softly haired torso and flat nipples. "They'll be on us in no time," Christian said, straightening. "There's another access shaft running down the sheering plane forward of this bridge," he said nodding toward the narrow corridor that passed behind the main viewscreen, "we can make our escape that way." "And then?" Souveson said, watching the Captain make his way forward, scooping up his jacket en route. "We look for a way to take the ship back," he said. He noticed the Ensign hadn't moved from her chair. "Something wrong?" Souveson bit her lip, her blue eyes darting from the rear of the bridge toward the Captain. "Begging the Captain's pardon, but shouldn't we try and take out these two K'Tani? They may have weapons or devices that might help us?" "We're unarmed, Ensign," Christian said flatly, "if they take us, the rest of the crew don't have a chance." It wasn't part of a Security officer's training to retreat for the sake of retreat, and while his justification was logical, it was also against her better judgement. Souveson felt that this was the hardest dilemma of protocol to deal with since graduation, even though she had known that there would come a time when she had to follow orders conflicting with all her training and instincts. Strangely, though, the thought was immediately followed by the comfort that at least Christian was in as deep as she, and as her superior, he would ultimately take responsibility for this action. She just hoped that her death wouldn't be the result. * * * "The shuttle bay doors aren't open," Lirik commented peering into the distance. "They don't appear to have seen us," Reb said, able to speak calmly now that they were through the worst of the asteroid field and coming up on the Fantasy fast. "The ship hasn't dropped speed and we must be visible to their sensors." Struckchev stood calmly next to Cadet Yip, trying to get a sensor lock on the ship to no avail. "Bring us up on a parallel course," Lirik instructed, "doesn't matter which side, then bring her close to the upper turret of the command section. We should be able to make ourselves known to those who can see through the windows." Reb accelerated slightly and the runabout soon was within metres of the ship. The Hudson rocked slightly in the Fantasy's sub-light wake. "There appears to be damage to one of the impulse exhausts," Yip noticed, pointing to the nearby engine. Lirik noted her comment, but wondered if it had been there before they left Helub anyway. Slowly taking the runabout up toward the ship's summit, Lirik saw for the first time the windows of the decks on the turret below the deck one bridge. They looked like quarters, and from what he could tell they had been recently occupied, though now were empty. Struckchev exchanged a look with Lirik, having given up on the sensors, and assisted in the visual scan. "Mister Yip, go to the rear and keep an eye out for anything unusual." Yip nodded and skipped off to the back of the runabout. Slowly Reb edged the Hudson even closer to the huge black hulk of the vessel, the passenger section sweeping off into the distance before them. The small ship was now almost parallel with the bridge deck, and the ship inched forward until the observation lounge was in sight. "There!" Struckchev yelped. Lirik and Reb could see nothing. "I could have sworn I saw something move - something small." Lirik didn't discount the possibility, but now knew that something was wrong. "The bridge has overhead ports, can you take us over them?" Lirik asked. Reb's answer was to drop the runabout back by easing off the speed and letting the Fantasy pass underneath them. Once at the rear again, he accelerated the runabout up and above the apex of the turret on the command section. "You'll have to go slightly ahead so we can see out of the rear windows." Lirik and Struckchev leapt off into the back. Clambering over the retrieved equipment and supplies, the two men plus Yip pressed their faces into the cool glass of the rear viewports and peered down into the ship's main bridge via the small skylights. "There's no-one there," Yip said first. Lirik didn't understand. "Why would they have left the bridge?" "Perhaps the area was no longer habitable. We should take a look at the rest of the ship," Commander Struckchev went back to the cockpit ahead of Lirik, who just stared back down on the top of the Fantasy and tried to think of all the possibilities. * * * It hadn't occurred to the Captain or to Ensign Souveson that their way down through the forward access shaft might be blocked. From what it looked like, the plate behind the hatch had been soldered shut, and Souveson was using a discarded rag to hold a now overheating cutter pen to slowly slice through the seal. Christian stood watch in the corridor behind, peering onto the bridge every now and again willing the K'Tani to not arrive too soon. As he turned back to check on the Ensign's progress, he noticed through the skylight slits above something passing overhead. "What the hellÖ?" Christian couldn't believe it, there was another ship. Souveson stopped her own work and stood on tiptoe to look through the skylight just above her own position. "It looks like the Hudson!" Souveson almost squeaked excitedly. Christian had an eerie feeling and ran back onto the bridge to the science station. Sure enough, the blip that had been closing on them was now directly on them. He flipped the viewscreen to forward view and saw the Starfleet runabout coasting slowly above the entire length of the Fantasy, checking her out. "It must have been Lirik and Rebbik all along," Christian smiled. He wondered about transmitting a message, but decided against it when he heard the access panel to the rear of the bridge being shunted open. Silently he ran back to join the Ensign who had cut through two thirds of the seal. Taking her arm, he pulled her roughly to one side and raised his right leg. Aiming his foot he kicked the panel with the ball of his foot. The metal nudged slightly and Souveson moved in tight to join him. Together, two strong kicks later, the panel behind snapped, falling into the shaft below. * * * Just as Christian followed Souveson into the shaft, Lieutenant Commander Leonard and Hedrik came through the shaft to the rear of the Secondary Bridge. "You were right, there is power here," Hedrik smiled, thankful that the deck appeared warm and empty. Leonard steadied himself on her firm arms as he pulled himself up, repositioning his glasses and running his big dirty hands through thick blonde hair. Holding her back, he heroically led the way forward while Hedrik reclosed the shaft behind. Leonard observed the power panel in the utility room. "The Secondary Bridge is running on stealth mode," Leonard whispered. "It must have been where the K'Tani were hiding." Hedrik's eyes skipped around, looking to see if there were any K'Tani still present, and as she moved forward she saw the image on the main viewscreen ahead of her. "Oh my God, look!" she said. Leonard didn't know what to expect to see, but was pleasantly surprised to see it was the familiar shape of the diplomatic runabout Hudson. Trotting down into the main bridge, Leonard looked around, then found the Operations station. Trying to click on the hail, the system returned an on-screen fault message. "Go into the power room, flick the power on to main system," he asked of Hedrik who nodded excitedly. The Orion woman studied the power grid configuration, then flicked the two switches and selected the appropriate mode. Instantly, a 'fszssshp!' sound could be heard from the main bridge area. "No!" she heard Leonard shout, and peered beyond the grill wall to see several K'Tani soldiers, clad head to foot, surrounding the Lieutenant Commander. Hedrik frowned, wondering how the hell they could have appeared so suddenly. Before she could react, one of the soldiers belted Leonard across the jaw with the back of her hand. Hedrik watched as the Starfleet officer fell unmoving to the deck and she wondered what her next move should be. It only took her a couple of seconds to work it out. Realisation of her own stupidity flushing over her face, Hedrik turned back to the power grid and reached up, only to have the wind knocked out of her from behind. She slammed into the wall in front, the power console digging into her head as she fell. Weak and bleeding, she turned to see the K'Tani soldier raise a hand before everything went black.