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Star Trek Challenger - "Underworld"

I had fun creating the characters, and they continue to evolve as I'm writing chapters and scenes. I managed to get some of the talented artists on Star Trek Photo Manipulations Archives to make some images of the crew.

These are the senior officers (minus Hayne, but rather my original character concept, a Human-Rigelian hybrid. Please note that Ziyi Zhang is the real Dr Aeden): http://stpma.net/viewtopic.php?t=3374&highlight=

And here are the secondary characters (and Hayne as I re-envisioned him, now as an orphaned alien): http://stpma.net/viewtopic.php?t=3433&postdays=0&postorder=asc&start=0

More chapters (from my precious memory stick) to follow.

-B
 
Commentary on Chapter 3

You've really concentrated on rounding out the crew in these three Chapter 3 installments. Though brief, each segment gives us some terrific insights into each of these characters who will become part of Challenger's contingent.

First and foremost is the assigning of a new XO not of Deacon's choosing, specifically selected by an admiral out to prove the newly minted starship commander wanting. That's got to make for a real cozy working relationship with your First Officer. :rolleyes:

I'm liking all the people you've introduced to us here, well done!
 
Hello Gibraltar,

Thank you for the feedback. I have to confess I started working on this after I read the Gibraltar and Bluefin series', and thought I'd finally give it a go myself after years of starting but never getting anywhere with any project.
-B
Well, you've jumped in with both feet, and if this is your freshman fanfic effort, I have to say you've arrived on the scene with a roar! :techman:
 
Well, you've jumped in with both feet, and if this is your freshman fanfic effort, I have to say you've arrived on the scene with a roar! :techman:

Thank you for that Gibraltar. It never hurts to have ones ego boosted every once in a while :). I will try and get more on here as soon as I am able, the next chapter has a piece I'm not overly happy with so having to go back and rewrite it (whilst also trying to decide how to actually end the first installment). It will be up soon (hopefully).

As for your comments of Chapter 3, I wasn't sure about including all of them (maybe putting them up separately as short stories), but I just wanted a way to give each character the spotlight for a moment, and work on them in later stories (which I will hopefully get started soon, though I do have a few ideas of where the characters will go).

I really enjoyed creating this crew of rookies and misfits, and am glad that others seem to be enjoying them too. Like I said, more to follow shortly.

Any and all feedback is appreciated.

Cheers,
-Bry
 
Chapter 8 (part 1)


U.S.S. Challenger NCC-1451
In orbit of Prairie Colony, DePaul System, Sector 172-Delta

In the shuttlebay, the assembled officers and crew darted from place to place as they readied medical supplies, repair material, food stuffs. Reynolds moved through the chaos, checking off every container before it was loaded onto one of the four shuttles that sat on the flight deck. The McNair was designated for the security detachment that was being sent down to the planet surface, the Jarvis was for the engineering crew, the McAuliffe was for the medical team, whilst the Onizuka was for the bulk of the equipment and gear they were taking down.

The communicator he wore at the small of his bark vibrated. Removing the device he flipped it open. “Reynolds.”

“XO, I’ve just beamed back aboard to meet with Ensign Shumar,” Deacon’s voice filtered through the grill. “Just wanted to check in on the relief operation.”

“The shuttles are being loaded as we speak sir. We’ll be ready to launch in ten minutes.” He handed off another datapad to one of the crewmen that were securing the supplies into the shuttles. “What about the SAR-Op?”

“That’s why I’m meeting with Shumar. We need more sensor data on the tunnel system than the colonies scanners can provide. Once I’ve got that, we’ll be heading out. In the meantime, Seyra is working with the local constabulary to corral all the colonists into more secure areas. Aeden was in the makeshift infirmary assessing injured. I believe that Jerry was going over the proposed reinforcements and repairs with Maintenance Chief Cho. I’ve also left Yeoman Yates in the operations centre to help co-ordinate between the colony and the Challenger. The sooner you’re down there the better XO.”

“Confirmed Commander. We’ll launch as soon as we’re loaded. Who will be accompanying you on the SAR-Op?”

“Seyra, Dr. Aeden and three other security guards.”

“Acknowledged. I’ll report in as we depart sir. Good luck on your search.”

“Good luck to all of us XO. Deacon out.”

Reynolds nodded to himself, surprised at just how cool and collected Deacon was. He’d seen situations similar where officers twice the Commander’s age had lost it. Although he was concerned about leaving a junior lieutenant in command on the bridge, Deacon had chosen to lead the search and rescue mission and of course sh’Tarris would be by his side. Reynolds’ strong suit was organisation and the mission to the colony would involve a considerable amount of logistics, and would need someone to focus on the big picture, as the engineers and medics saw to their specialities. All of which left Xahl in command on shift. Admiral McKinnon wouldn’t like that fact. For the briefest of seconds, he could just picture the deep shade of crimson his face would turn when Reynolds reported in. For the briefest second he pitied the Admiral’s newest aide, but he quickly shook the thought from his mind and went to check on one of the final containers still on the deck of the hanger bay.

***

Elizabeth Shumar stood in the geology laboratory on deck two, looking into the sensor hood. Ensign Otto Weir, a planetary sciences specialist, who’d been in several of her classes at the Academy, stood at one of the other sensor consoles collecting data on the superstructure of the tunnels and caverns. Labtech Rosa Oviedo manned the topographic mapping system, which assembled all the sensor data the Challenger collected and compiled it into a three-dimensional map.

Shumar had to admit, that despite the age of the ship, and the fact that her explorer days were more than likely far behind her, the scientific systems onboard the Challenger were top notch. Obviously Shumar’s predecessor as science officer had taken great care to keep the systems updated and modernised as often as possible. She made a mental note to continue that tradition until the ship returned to spacedock to be decommissioned.

“Um…sir,” Weir spoke up, his German accent strong. She turned to look at him and smiled.

“Otto, it’s only me. Lise will do just fine.”

He smiled nervously. “That is just bizarre, calling the chief science officer by name. Not what they taught at the Academy at all.”

“You forget Otto; I sat in those exact same lectures.” She stepped over to his console. “What have you got?”

He turned back to the sensor display. “I began extending my scans further out from the original location and found additional caves and passages.”

“Another network of tunnels?”

Weir shook his head. “I don’t believe so. They are of the same depth and composition.” He pointed at the blank areas in between the two clusters of tunnels. “It looks like the rock in the area contains heavy metal deposits that our sensors are unable to penetrate.”

“That would interfere with communications and transporter lock as well.”

“Yes Lise,” he replied, continuing to look up at the display.

Shumar turned to Oviedo. “Rosa, any way to determine how extensive this subterranean system is?”

The labtech, who was in late twenties, with onyx-black hair piled up high on her head, studied the topographic readings. Oviedo was one of the science staff that didn’t seem to mind that the new chief was an ensign, fresh from the Academy, and several years younger. The same could not be said of some of the others under Shumar’s charge, most notably the A&A Officer, Lieutenant Commander George Townsend, who took every opportunity he got to comment on her inexperience and rank. Nothing insubordinate, but enough to get under her skin on an off day.

Oviedo looked up at her and shook her head. “I’m afraid not sir. We’ve only been able to map a small portion of the tunnels. The heavy metals and solar flares are making it difficult to get any accurate readings.”

“Understood. Do what you can.”

“Of course sir.”

Just then the doors opened, and for a brief moment of horror, Shumar expected to see Townsend stroll through. Instead it was Commander Deacon. She stiffened her posture, whilst Weir and Oviedo came to attention. “Why does everyone do that when I enter the room?” he asked rhetorically. “If I wanted you to stop working, I’d tell you. Right now, I need you to get as much data on those tunnels as possible. Understood?”

“Yes sir,” the geologist and labtech replied promptly, before getting back to their duties.

Shumar noted the faintest of smiles ghost over Deacon’s handsome face, but it was gone as quickly as it came. They stepped to one side of the laboratory. “What have you got Ensign?”

“Not as much as I’d hoped sir. The solar flares and dense metals in the rock are hampering our sensors. The rock will also prevent communications and transporters in some areas.”

He nodded taking in her report. “Download whatever you have into the SAR teams’ tricorders.”

She nodded and stepped to another console and transmitted all the collated data into the six scanning devices the team would be using. She also set up a programme to periodically transmit any new information regarding the layout and composition of the tunnels to the team. When she was finished she turned back to Deacon. “Done sir.”

“Good. We’ll just have to hope that Tarov and the other—”

“Tarov!” she yelped, louder than she’d intended, drawing looks for her staff in the lab. Composing herself quickly, she asked, “Doctor Tarov? Of the Vulcan Science Academy?”

Realisation dawned on Deacon’s face. “Damn. I forgot you’d worked with him. The name was familiar but I couldn’t place it. I’m sorry ensign. Doctor Tarov was the science advisor to the colony,” he explained. “He’s the one that led the team out to the caves. A junior researcher and four local security specialists were with him.”

“Commander,” she said drawing herself up to her full height, which allowed her to look squarely at his chest. “I request permission to join the search and rescue team.”

“I have a full team ensign. I understand that he’s a friend of yours, but I need clear heads on this mission.”

“Sir, with all due respect. You need someone who will be able to gather as much first hand information on those tunnels as possible, which may just help to save the missing colonists. Someone who knows how Doctor Tarov thinks, and what he’d do in order to keep his team safe,” she told him, feeling an unfamiliar fire in her belly. “And I assure you Commander, I am more than capable of performing my duties without letting my feelings cloud my judgement.”

Deacon still didn’t look convinced. And with time a critical factor on the mission, she needed to sway him quickly.

Dropping her voice low so only he could hear, she added, “Please Commander. When I was on Vulcan, he was the only instructor I had that believed I should be at the Science Academy. If it wasn’t for him, I wouldn’t be here now. I need to do this sir. I owe him at least that.”

Taking a few seconds to think, Deacon slowly nodded. “Alright. You’re on the team. Just make sure I don’t regret that decision.”

“You won’t sir.”

“Good. Let’s get going,” he said, before heading for the exit. Shumar had just enough time to grab her tricorder and tell Weir to keep at his scans, before she darted after him.

***

Comfy chair, Xahl thought as he leaned back in the Command Chair. He’d been informed of the Commander’s return to the ship and had half expected him to return to the bridge. But he’d called in from the transporter room, saying that he and Shumar were beaming back down and that he was to keep the teams on the surface up to speed on any development from orbit.

The intercom chirped. Tapping the stud on the chairs armrest, he said, “Bridge.”

“Lieutenant,” it was Reynolds, “all the shuttles are loaded and we are ready to depart.”

“Understood lieutenant commander. Everything’s status quo up here. You are clear to proceed.”

“Acknowledged lieutenant. If anything changes—”

“You’ll be the first to hear about it sir.”

“Good. Shuttle McNair out.”

Xahl stood up and stepped down to the flight control console. Drake sat at the helm, and Chief Hoskins filled in for Xahl. “Drake, keep a close eye on their descent. Anything on sensors chief?”

“Negative lieutenant. It’s quiet out there.”

“Even so,” he muttered softly to himself. “Chief, schedule a series of combat readiness drills for the ordnance crew. Let’s make sure the boys and girls down there are keeping on their toes.”

“Yes sir.”

With that seen to, Xahl moved to the upper level. With Shumar on the SAR team, Lieutenant JG Miranda Joplin was filling in at the science console. “How are things going?” he asked the computer science officer.

“Slowly lieutenant,” she replied. “According to Weir, the heavy metals have slowed them right down. I’m trying to boost our sensor resolution, but it’s having little effect.”

He nodded. “Keep at it.” He strolled over to Communications, and the Napean seated at the controls. “If things go wrong with the search and rescue team, how likely will is it that we can beam them back up?”

N’Qua looked up and rubbed the bridge of her nose, it had been a long shift for everyone, and it still wasn’t over. “Hit and miss according to Senior Chief McCall. If they’re in a clear section, no problem. But if they go into a region that’s high in metal content, then there’s nothing he can do. We’ll lose them from sensors and their communicators will be useless.” She sighed heavily and sat back in her chair. “For all the sections we can detect, there could be five or ten times the amount that we can’t.”

“Great,” he said sarcastically. He shook his head and glanced back at the viewscreen, half of which was dominated by the planet, then back to N’Qua. “Keep a close eye on them.”

“You can count on it,” she told him with an encouraging look.

Xahl stepped back to the big chair and sat down again. His first time in the chair was giving him one hell of a headache.

***
 
Chapter 8 (part 2)


Shuttle McAuliffe
Orbital decent to Prairie Colony

Due to the seriousness of the situation on Prairie, and the fact that the Challenger only had a crew of two hundred and sixty-three, the relief teams had been drawn up from across all three shifts, so as to keep the ship well crewed whilst also giving the colony the help it needed. Head Nurse Athan J’Laan looked around at the nine other medical staff that filled the shuttle McAuliffe. They were all ready, despite a yawn or two from those that had been roused from their beds. The team comprised of two doctors, the ship’s intern, J’Laan and three of his nurses, and three corpsmen. Doctor Aeden was already on the surface, but she would be with the SAR team.

It was their first real test, and the shuttle was full of nervous energy because of it. J’Laan looked around at the assembled officers and crewmen. Doctor Horowitz was up front speaking with Doctor Carlton and Doctor Davies, their intern, as Lieutenant JG Sinclair eased the shuttle through the atmosphere in formation with the other three craft. Corpsmen O’Shea, Om-Chii and Ganz were at the back of the shuttle, checking up on what equipment and supplies they’d brought with them. J’Laan and his nurses—Okonedo, Ris’anis and Pierce—sat in between the doctors and the non-coms. Okonedo and Ris’anis both had a few years service behind them; they had proven themselves to be highly capable and adaptable, both necessary qualities when going into an emergency situation. Ensign Pierce on the other hand, was fresh out of the Academy. But what Pierce lacked in experience he made up for in enthusiasm. If there was something the younger man didn’t know, he said so, and only needed to be shown once what to do.

McNair to all shuttles,” J’Laan heard Reynolds voice through the open comlink between the shuttles. “Maintain heading. We’ll put down in five minutes. Prepare for immediate offload and refuel. Pilots remain on station for further instruction.”

“Shuttle McAuliffe. Confirmed lieutenant commander,” Sinclair stated from the helm. He looked back at the medical team. “Better take your seats. We’ll be down in a few minutes.”

Nurse Pierce glanced over at him, his nerves very obvious. J’Laan offered him a reassuring smile. “Jamie, just remember your training and focus on the work. You’ll do fine.” The younger man nodded. J’Laan looked back at the other two nurses. Ris’anis’ purple-scaled reptilian face was unreadable, nothing new there for the Saurian. Okonedo had her eyes closed for a moment, before she opened them again and looked at him and giving a thumbs-up. He looked back at the corpsmen as they took a seat, all of them their faces set and ready to get to work.

The shuttle landed a few minutes later, and as the engines powered down, the medical team quickly disembarked. The hanger bay contained the four Challenger shuttles, as well as several belonging to the colony, numerous cargo containers and a veritable army of colonists. There were a mixture of civilian clothing, navy law enforcement uniforms, and the green jumpsuits used by the civilian administration and technical staff on Federation colonies. Peppered amongst the throngs of people, J’Laan noticed an increasing number of red uniform tunics, as the engineers and security guards stepped down from their respective shuttles.

As the collection of doctors, nurses and corpsmen slipped satchels and medkits over their shoulders, collected cases full of medicines and gear from the Onizuka, J’Laan spotted a navy uniformed police officer approach them. He looked flushed and exhausted, as did the rest of the civilians, but relieved as he made his way towards them.

“Which one of you is Doctor Horowitz?” the young man asked, looking at the human staff. Horowitz stepped forward. “I’m Officer Jenkins of the LEO’s. Doctor Aeden asked me to escort you to the makeshift infirmary,” he said gesturing to the exit.

Assistant Chief Medical Officer Horowitz led the way, and the rest of the team fell into step behind him. J’Laan had a medkit over each shoulder, the straps crossing over his chest and back, a large case of drugs in his right hand, and his left hand resting on the small black satchel fastened securely to his left thigh. The others in the group were equally laden, though nothing was too heavy or cumbersome—something they had made sure of before leaving the Challenger.

Before they’d left the ship, Horowitz had spoken with Aeden and found out the full situation on the planet. They all knew that the hospital had been damaged, and the temporary infirmary that had been set up in a warehouse was basic. They had brought enough equipment to turn the makeshift treatment centre into a respectable field ward.

It took them only eight minutes to reach the infirmary from the hanger. But before they arrived, they could hear the steady hum of the emergency batteries that supplied the once empty storage facility with power to support the medical equipment needed. The building itself was non-descript, a small grey metallic building which could have held a couple of shuttles. From inside, he could hear moaning and voices, chirps and beeps from medical devices applied to the injured to repair damaged tissue and bone.

Briskly, they entered the room. J’Laan had half expected to find chaos. But instead, the room was partitioned off with white linen screens and a few makeshift walls dividing the open space into treatment rooms, a couple of surgical suites, a recovery ward, a small lab, and a storage area. White-clad medical practitioners moved quickly throughout the “rooms”, some wearing masks and gloves, with red, blue and green blood on their surgical gowns. In the mix, it was easy to spot Aeden, in her blue tunic and black pants. Likewise she noticed them.

She headed over to her team, each of whom was taking in the surroundings. None of the colony’s medics had acknowledged their existence. The CMO surveyed her staff, a faint smile touching her small but full lips when she saw J’Laan, which made his heart flutter ever so slightly. “All of the supplies can go to the store,” she said immediately when she reached the team. “Once, you’ve offloaded, begin assessing injuries. There was a quake an hour before we arrived, so there are still several injured colonists. Mostly bruising and contusions, a few broken bones from falls. The surgical facilities here are minimal, and for non-critical operations. Anything serious is to be beamed up to the ship immediately.

“Most of the injured are coming in to be patched up and released, there are a few more serious cases in for observation or further treatment,” she explained. “The staff have been on the go for some time, and will need to be relieved. Once you’re up to speed, we will begin providing cover for the colony’s personnel. I have been informed that the next quake will hit in approximately sixteen hours. I want this ward cleared of all light injuries and prepped for the next tremor. Understood?”

“Yes doctor,” the Starfleet medical staff replied in unison.

“Good. Get to work!” she ordered, and the staff headed off to begin their work. J’Laan had served under Aeden for four years when she was Head Nurse on the Ranger, and he had always been amazed by her ability to take charge of any situation and direct focus exactly where it needed to be. Her calm under pressure was what he most admired about her, and he was glad to see that that composure and her compassion for others hadn’t diminished in the time they’d been separated.

He dropped off his cases with an Andorian orderly in the storage area, and stepped to the side with his three nurses. Ris’anis, who had the most surgical experience, he ordered to assist the surgery nurses already at work. He then had Okonedo help in the recovery ward, and begin getting full reports on the dozen or so casualties. He had Pierce follow him to the treatment area, where all the injured were brought to, and where there were still several waiting to be seen. They would begin with assessing the injured, getting details from them and conducting the initial exams, ready for one of the doctors to conduct a more thorough evaluation and prepare a regime of treatment, which they would then see to. It was an effective and efficient system, which J’Laan had become very accustomed to on Utopia Planitia. Although he would have preferred a larger staff to assist with the procedure, he would make do with what he had, and once Ris’anis and Okonedo were finished with their tasks, he would set them about on the same duty.

As he worked however, he couldn’t help but wonder as to what was happening with the planet. From what he’d read up on about Prairie, the lush green world should have been close to paradise. He shook his head, trying to clear the distracting thoughts from his mind. What was going on he would leave to others more qualified than himself to figure out, what J’Laan needed focus on was the results of that mystery.

***

Geo-Sciences Laboratory
Colonial Operations Building, Prairie Colony


Deacon and Shumar stepped through the wide double doors into the lab, and found Seyra, Harris, and a massive Rigelian Chelon clustered around one of the consoles. Seyra and Harris looked over at their entrance, but the Chelon remained bent over the console. Deacon had been at the Academy with a Chelon, who had adopted the nickname “Shelley” as its name had been nearly impossible for a human to pronounce, and also due to the thick armoured-like nature of its epidermis.

“Sit-Rep?” he asked as he walked over to the console, Shumar stepping closer to the controls to studying the quickly scrolling sensor telemetry.

“We’re going over our combined scans, trying to formulate the best search pattern,” Seyra stated, turning back to the console. “However, it’s proving…problematic at best.”

The Chelon made a sharp clucking noise with its sharp beak. “Our sensors are at peak efficiency,” it stated in a somewhat shrill voice, sounding annoyed. “Even your sensors can’t do any better.”

Seyra glowered at the towering reptilian alien. “I didn’t say that they were! Only that we were having difficulties.”

“Doctor Yonzak’chu,” Harris stated, stepping between the two—obviously not for the first time. “No one is questioning your abilities. But time is short, and we need more information if we are to find Doctor Tarov and his team.”

Deacon looked from the Chelon scientist to his own Security Chief and back again. The colonist had at least half-a-meter’s height and probably twice the weight of the Andorian, but he would put his money on Seyra if the briefing fell into a brawl. Under different circumstances he would’ve smiled at the terse relationship between the two, but now definitely was not the time for posturing and bickering.

“So what have you decided?” he asked, refocusing the discussion on the mission.

Seyra sized up to the Rigelian for a moment longer and then turned to face Deacon. “Going with our findings to date, I’d have to surmise that we won’t be able to gather much more in the way of usable information from either here or in orbit,” she explained, her voice empty of infliction. “I’d recommend beaming to the site of the skimmer and making our way into the tunnels from there.”

Shumar looked up at that. “Sir, without more data, we could wind up needing to be rescued ourselves.”

“Noted ensign. But I’d have to agree with the lieutenant commander on this. Time is short. We could spend the next week here running scans, but I doubt they’ll tell us any more that what we know already,” he said, giving the young scientist a firm but understanding look. He looked back at Seyra. “Do you have the co-ordinates?”

“Yes Commander.”

“Send them up to McCall, and inform him that we’ll be beaming out in an hour. Then get your people together and contact Doctor Aeden, make sure they’re all ready,” he ordered his friend. Seyra nodded at her instructions and quickly left the lab to do as she’d been instructed. Deacon looked back at the Chelon.

“How long until the next quake?” he asked.

A quick check on its control panel and the scientist looked back at him. “Fifteen hours, forty-three minutes, twenty seconds.”

***

Administrations Centre
Colonial Operations Building, Prairie Colony


Deacon and Harris returned to the Ops centre, which was buzzing with activity. Amongst the sea of green jumpsuits it was easy to spot the two in Starfleet gold. Reynolds noticed them immediately as they entered, and finished up his conversation with one of the centres techs. He approached with his customary deadpan expression, looking calm in the midst of the hustle and bustle.

“XO, this is Administrator Louisa Harris. Administrator, my XO, Lieutenant Commander Spencer Reynolds,” Deacon introduced the pair, who quickly shook hands. “The Lieutenant Commander will supervise our teams at the colony and will coordinate between yourselves and the Challenger.”

Harris gave Reynolds an intense look for a moment, before saying, “Glad to have you Lieutenant Commander.” Deacon didn’t quite know what the look was about, and he didn’t have the time to ask, so he let it slide for now. “I trust that your teams are doing well.”

“A full contingent from our medical department is at the infirmary assisting with the wounded from the last quake. So far seventeen have been beamed back to the ship for further treatment. Our engineers are installing the structural integrity field generators, and seeing to repairs. And security is working with your police service to move all the inhabitants to within the SIF perimeter. All teams report they will be ready before the next quake.”

“Excellent XO. Anything else to report?”

“Not at this time Commander.”

“Good. The SAR team will be departing in just under an hour, once all final preparations have been made. We’ve had a last minute change to the team,” he stated, raising an eyebrow from the first officer. “Ensign Shumar has come on instead of Lieutenant Ansil. We could use her scientific expertise down there.”

Reynolds nodded. “Understood sir.” Just then his communicator chirped and he excused himself to answer the call, at which point Yates approached them at the central table.

“Commander, Governor Millburn’s aide has been on the comm. twice looking for you.”

Groaning softly, Deacon pinched the bridge of his nose to try and ease the headache that threatened to begin. “Let me guess, he’s getting tired of being brushed off.”

Yates nodded. “Yes sir. I’ve tried explaining the situation to Mr. Paulson, but he’s not accepting it.”

“Thank you Sabrina. I’ll deal with it before I go. Carry on.” The young auburn haired girl nodded and headed off to continue with the duties she’d been assigned in the administrations building. Deacon had to admire her organisational abilities, especially in one so young, and felt grateful to have her on his crew.

Looking at Harris he lowered his voice and asked, “So what should I know about the Governor?”

Harris glanced around the centre, and apparently glad that no one was listening in on their conversation, she dropped her voice low as well, so that only he could hear. “A low level politician with ideals and aspirations well above him.”

“So you really don’t get along.”

“After kicking him out of here a few days ago, I haven’t seen or heard anything from him. But I do know that when we get subspace communications back online then I won’t be in this job for much longer. He’ll make sure of that.”

“Noted. If he does manage in ending your career here, I’d think that you’d be a welcome addition to Starfleet,” he told her in a serious manner, but with a friendly smile on his face.

She shook her head. “I don’t think I could handle all that paperwork. Besides, those uniforms don’t look very comfortable.”

“Think about it,” he said, heading for the exit.

***
 
Chapter 8 (part 3)


The Marketplace, Prairie Colony

Deacon had left the Administrations Centre and trotted through the bustling Marketplace, as it was slowly filling up with colonists from the township and the outlying farms. He saw his security staff directing the colonists and helping those that needed it, each one displaying a calm efficiency that would have made Seyra proud. Among the security guards and the colonists he spotted one of the engineering crews working on the SIF generators. He smiled to himself when he saw that Jerry was in charge of the team, and made a detour.

“How goes it?” he asked when he was close enough.

Hayne finished hooking up the graviton stabiliser to the main control interface and looked over his shoulder. His purple eyes were filled with concentration and irritation at being interrupted, but at seeing Deacon the look softened to mild annoyance. Asking one of the junior techs to run a check, he stepped over to join Deacon, wiping his greased hands on the red coveralls he was wearing.

“We’re on schedule for now. The colonies techs are good, and my people are pulling out all the stops to get the work done quickly. Barring any unforeseen problems, we should be finished well before the next quake hits.”

Nodding, Deacon looked over the generator. “How well will this work Jerry?”

“It’ll depend on how strong the next quake is, the integrity of the area and the buildings. I’ll run every stress test I can think of once the generators are in place and we have the emitter field calibrated. But we won’t know how effective it’ll be until the next quake hits,” he said, sounding apologetic.

Deacon rested a supportive hand on the engineer’s shoulder. “Jerry, I’d take your best guess over someone else’s hard facts any day of the week.”

“Thanks Toby.” He looked around and not seeing any entourage, asked, “Where are you headed?”

“To meet with the governor. He’s been after me for a few hours now.”

“You dog!”

Deacon couldn’t help but laugh. “Please, give me some credit. I do have standards.”

“Unless you have a few too many Tellarite ales. You forget Commander, I’ve seen you in some very compromising situations.”

“The same could be said of you Lieutenant. Besides, one order from me could see you busted down to able crewman and cleaning out the waste recyclers.”

Hayne held up his hands in mock surrender. “Okay, okay. I won’t post those photos on the bulletin board…yet.”

They laughed together for a brief time. But Deacon had to get going, there was only so long he could ask Yates to cover for him. He made his excuses and left Hayne to get back to the job at hand, knowing full well that the man would have the work done and tested with time to spare, and then spend as long as he could ensuring that the plan would succeed. Deacon would have rather been helping out in the Ops Centre or with getting people into the temporary housing in the Marketplace, or anything other than meeting with the governor. He’d managed to read a quick bio on the political leader of the colony, and had come to agree with Harris’ assessment of him. But part of being the CO meant having to deal with political leaders, even if you didn’t agree with their ideology or demeanour or personal hygiene.

When he’d served under Captain Alicia Thomson over ten years ago she’d told him on his very first diplomatic mission, the key to success was patience and tact. He would undoubtedly face people and situations we wouldn’t agree with, based on his own ethics and beliefs, but in order to succeed as a representative of Starfleet and the Federation, he would have to bury his preconceptions and be open minded. It was advice he’d taken to heart and had tried hard to follow, and he would do the same again now.

Approaching the Town Hall, he was surprised to see that the building was a simple single storey construct, similar to all the rest around it. Deacon had expected it to be a much grander and more decadent. Maybe I’ve misjudged Governor Milburn, he pondered as he darted up the six steps to the double doors. Pushing them open he found himself stepping into a rather opulent entry hall, decorated with rich red walls, a white stone floor, matching rugs and curtains in reds and golds, and what furniture was in the room—which was almost the size of the Challenger’s bridge, with several doors leading off to other rooms—was all antique from Earth. In the centre sat human woman in her late thirties, smartly dressed and working on a computer terminal, the only piece of modern technology in the hall. She looked up at him, with a look that pierced through him, just like the head librarian at the Academy, who had scared the life out of him for four years every time he’d entered the research library.

“Can I help you?”

“Commander Deacon of the Challenger. I’m here to meet the governor.”

“Is he expecting you?” the receptionist asked, looking him up and down.

“Well he has left numerous messages for me, so I would that he is.”

“One moment,” she said, turning to her computer and slipping her earpiece on and speaking quietly to someone elsewhere in the building.

Deacon looked around at the room, surprised that there were no paintings, statues or decorations in the room. Perhaps Milburn hadn’t gotten round to the finishing touches just yet, or had had everything taken down following the quakes. Deacon suspected the latter theory to be the correct one.

Just then one of the doors opened and a tall, gangly man stepped into the entry hall, his footsteps echoing around the rood. He was a few years younger than Deacon, so he doubted that this was Milburn.

“Commander Beacon?”

“Deacon,” he corrected. “And you are?”

“Ike Paulson, executive assistant to Governor Milburn. If you’ll follow me,” he said, gesturing to the door he’d emerged from. Deacon followed behind Paulson, through a small anteroom that he suspected was Paulson’s own office, and waited as the aide knocked on the double doors opposite then entrance. A voice called for them to enter.

As Paulson opened the doors, Deacon took a deep breath, and stepped forward. George Milburn sat behind a large desk, in front of a large window that looked out onto the Marketplace, studying a data tablet. The room was decorated in an identical manner to the entry hall and the anteroom, and was likewise devoid of finishing touches. Paulson stayed by the doors as Deacon approached the desk. Milburn didn’t look up.

Deacon knew mind games when he saw them. Milburn was pretending to be busy, so as to show Deacon that he was in charge, and that he would dictate the pace of their meeting. Deacon had no time for such petty games at the best of times, and this situation fell very short of that criteria.

“Mr Milburn, I believe you wanted to talk to me?”

Irritated, Milburn finally looked up at him. “I prefer Governor.”

“My apologies Governor, but my time is very limited. I am in the midst of organising a search-and-rescue team to look for the missing colonists, whilst also trying to ensure that the township is ready for the next quake.”

“I understand that Mr Deacon. But due to the unprofessional manner of Administrator Harris, I have been unable to direct the emergency efforts. I believe that she is trying to usurp my position here, and doesn’t have the benefit of the colony at heart. But with admin technicians, that’s to be expected. This is only a job to her, whilst to me, this is home.”

Deacon raised his hand, cutting the politician off midway through his speech. “Governor, I’m not here to get involved with the internal political matters here on Prairie Colony. Quite frankly, I don’t particularly care who’s in charge here, just so long as they are going to work with us to safeguard the twenty-one thousand people on this planet. So far, the Administrator has proven to have a clear view of what is happening and what needs to be done to achieve that goal. If you have anything you want to contribute to the efforts then myself or my XO will be happy to hear it. But if all you’re hoping for is someone to help you consolidate your power, then I’m afraid you’ve got the wrong man,” Deacon said, his voice calm and businesslike throughout. Milburn’s face was flushed red, almost matching the colour of the walls. But Deacon didn’t give him a chance to protest. He glanced at the chronometer on Milburn’s desk. “Now, if you’ll excuse me Governor, I have a team to lead.”

With that he turned on his heel and left. He’d been willing to give the politician a chance, but seeing where the meeting was going he’d known that the older man was going to be nothing more than a hindrance given the current crisis. He knew that the Governor would report him for his insolence, but at that moment Tobias Deacon didn’t particularly care. This mission is what matters, he remembered his former CO and mentor tell him on more than one occasion.

In this case, truer words had never been spoken.
 
Chapter 9 (part 1)


Shuttle Maintenance and Storage Bay, U.S.S. Challenger NCC-1451
In orbit of Prairie Colony, DePaul System, Sector 172-Delta

With the relief mission in full swing there was little for Skyler Drake to do on the bridge, so he’d asked Lieutenant Xahl if he could run systems checks and readiness drills on the shuttlecraft that remained aboard the Challenger. Xahl had agreed, and leaving his relief specialist at the helm station on the bridge, Drake had gone down to the cavernous hanger.

The Challenger was loaded with seven shuttles, all named after the crew of the Space Shuttle Challenger. The shuttles may have changed over the years the starship had been in service, but the names never had, a tribute paid to them, three hundred years after that tragic accident. The Onizuka, Resnik, McNair and McAuliffe were all on the surface having ferried the relief teams and their gear down to the surface, and would remain on station until the team needed to return or the colony had to be evacuated. That left the two standard shuttles Smith and Jarvis, and the long-range Jefferies-Class shuttle Scobee still aboard.

Part of Drake wished he’d been one of the pilots selected for the mission, at least then he’d be making a more sizable contribution. But with his temporary assignment to the bay, he could at least feel a little useful. It was bad enough that he was on an ancient ship, which would no doubt be relegated to every minor assignment in the sector, but to be sitting on his hands was pushing him just too far.

He’d met with Supervisor Phillips and gone over what he wanted done, and the senior non-com had assembled his crew and they’d been briefed on the operation. The flight deck was kept clear, in case of an emergency and they needed to take on one of their own of the colony’s shuttles, so they were working from the maintenance bay on the deck below. The Scobee dominated the space, with her larger crew compartment, sweptback design and larger more powerful nacelles on either side of the hull. The Smith and Jarvis flanked the Scobee. Whilst on the opposite side of the workshop was the craft from the colony.

Drake had made a concentrated effort not to look at the vessel that had become a tomb. Coming from a large Starfleet family he knew all about the dangers involved when in the uniform. He’d lost his maternal grandfather, his father’s sister, and three cousins from both sides of the family in the line of duty. But they, like himself, had known the risks and had accepted them. He wasn’t the only one avoiding the shuttle; every member of the maintenance crew and the pilots gave the ship a wide berth.

He found himself staring at the boxy shuttlecraft. They didn’t even know the names of the two pilots who had sacrificed themselves for the colony, didn’t know if they had family on the surface, didn’t know who their friends were who would miss them. Drake had always been interested in humanities development into space, from the launch of Sputnik to the foundation of the Earth Starfleet. All that had been accomplished in two hundred years by sheer determination and resolve, and the sacrifices made by all those in the process—of which the starship he stood on was a testament too. Would the two men who had died in the shuttle be remembered in the same way? Or would they be just a footnote in the history books for the colony?

“Ensign Drake,” one of the bay technicians called, breaking him out of his reverie. “Could you have a look at this?”

Shaking off his previous thoughts, he headed for the Scobee.

***

Search & Rescue Operation, Tunnels
Prairie Colony, DePaul System, Sector 172-Delta

As the transporter beam released him, Deacon found himself standing beside one of the colony’s sleek silver skimmers. He took a moment to take in the flat Plaines of lush green grass, the clear blue sky and the bright yellow sun. Aside from the skimmer there were no signs that the planet was inhabited. Birds called overheard. He shielded his eyes to look up at them, and saw the magnificent animals with their purple plumage.

He smiled to himself slightly, understanding why the colonists and farmers had chosen to settle on DePaul four. Resuming his poker face, he turned back to his assembled team: Seyra, Aeden, Shumar, Chan and R’Kohr. The three security guards had their phasers out and ready, scouring the vista suspiciously. Aeden and Shumar had their tricorders open and scanning. He gave each of them time to assess the area. Seyra gestured for Chan to check the skimmer.

“No humanoid lifesigns. Although there is plenty of animal life, the planet does not have any large carnivores,” Aeden stated, looking up from her scanner, and taking in the view for the first time.

“I have an entrance to the cave system,” added Shumar. She pointed in the opposite direction of the skimmer. “Fifteen meters that way. It looks to be a pretty steep gradient to get down.”

Deacon nodded, feeling the weight of the equipment pack on his back, which held ropes and harnesses for rappelling, as well as an emergency first aid kit, ration bars, canteens of water and a blanket. All the team had similar packs, although Aeden had a full medkit, Shumar also carried some sample containers, and the three security guards had a small stock of grenades.

Chan emerged from the skimmer. “No signs of them. The engines and computers haven’t been active for days.”

“Alright, we’ll head in. Once we’re down, we’ll split into three teams; cover as much ground as possible. Elizabeth, you’re with Chan. Seyra and Aeden. Ensign R’Kohr, you’re with me.” As soon as he issued the teams, he could see that Seyra wasn’t happy. No doubt she would have wanted to cover him herself. But she kept quiet, following her orders without question, as she’d been trained to in Starfleet and the Andorian Imperial Guard. “Let’s get going.”

He led the team towards the opening, though did notice that Seyra stopped R’Kohr for a brief moment and have a quick word with the Caitian ensign, before bringing up the rear. The entry to the caves was a large round hole in the ground, with rock and rubble going down at an angle into the darkness. The access was steep, but it looked easy enough for them to go down without their climbing gear.

Taking care and easing down, Deacon led his party down the embankment. They all made it to the floor of the tunnel without incident, and dusted themselves off. Deacon activated the light that was on the left should strap of his backpack, and shivered at the noticeable drop in temperature, glad that he’d ordered the team into the thermally-insulated field uniforms they now wore. The uniforms were dark grey in colour, with a vertical strip of their department colour down the right side, and the Challenger’s insignia on the left breast. The uniforms came with a pair of sturdy boots and gloves, and plenty of pockets—something Deacon always though the standard duty uniform could do with.

He unclipped the flashlight from his belt and added its beam of light to that of his shoulder torch. The others did the same and twelve beacons of white light cut through the darkness. From behind, he heard the chirps, beeps and pings of tricorders as they began scanning. He flipped open his own device but kept it hanging by his side, as he drew his phaser. Leading the team down the single passageway, they moved quietly in their teams.

After fifteen meters they hit a T-juncture. “Shumar, take the left tunnel. We’ll go right. At the next junction we’ll split up as well. Use comm. channel alpha. Report in every ten minutes. If you find anything signal.”

“What about the blind spots?” Chan asked.

“Our scanners should be able to detect the dense-metal areas of the tunnels,” stated Shumar.

“Okay. If you’re about to head into a shielded area, call in before and afterwards,” Deacon said. “If you get into any major trouble, call for beam out. The ship will be able to keep a transporter lock on us when we’re in the clear regions.”

The team acknowledged, and when they reached the intersection, Shumar and Chan headed in the opposite direction. Deacon didn’t particularly like the idea of splitting the team up, but they needed to find the missing colonists in very little time. He understood their priorities and the need to split up, but he was still getting to know his crew, and they were still getting to know him and each other. He couldn’t help but feel that he was putting too much on their shoulders—especially Ensign Shumar, two weeks out of the Academy and she’d learned that one of her old instructors was missing on a planet that had gone to hell. The last thing he wanted to do was to inform a family as to the loss of one of their own whilst under his command.

So focus on the job, find the colonists, so that everyone can get home safely, he told himself, shaking off his apprehension—or at least pushing it to one side.

Leading the four other members of the team down the long tunnel, they approached another dark tunnel. He gestured for Seyra and Aeden to take the new passage, as he and M’Kohr continued. The beams of light from the other two officers vanished as they turned into their tunnel. It became darker than he’d expected, even with their flashlights. He rested a hand on the handle of his phaser, as his tricorder continued to chirp and beep, on active scan. Deacon started to get a very bad feeling.

***

Seyra didn’t like not being teamed with Deacon. As security chief, it was her responsibility to keep her CO safe. The fact that he was a good friend only made it harder for her not to be covering his back. Not that she doubted Ensign Kharrah M’Kohr; the tall, powerfully built Caitian was a good officer. He had a couple year’s service under his belt, had two commendations for bravery, was the third best marksman on the team (after herself and Lieutenant Powell), held mastery over four separate forms of martial arts, and excelled through even her hardest drills. He’d be an excellent guard for Deacon, but she’d still have preferred to do the job herself.

From behind her, she could hear the doctor’s tricorder whir as she scanned for the missing colonists. She remained quiet as she scanned, focused on the device, as Seyra kept her eyes, ears and antennae open. She appreciated the peace, as it allowed her to focus on the unknown darkness they cut through, her phaser gripped firmly in her left hand.

Her communicator beeped. She paused, took it from her belt and flipped it open. “This is Shumar. We’ve approached a shielded area. I can’t get an accurate scan of how far it extends. We could be out of contact for a while.” Seyra scowled in the dark. She disliked the idea of losing contact with the two young officers.

“Understood ensign,” Deacon said over the channel. “Report in when you’re clear.”

“Acknowledged sir. Shumar out.”

Seyra switched to another frequency. “Seyra to Chan.”

It took a moment for her subordinate to switch to the secure channel. “Chan here.”

“Lieutenant, stay close to Ensign Shumar. If the tahka hits the fan then you are to get her out of there and gate back to the ship ASAP. Clear?”

“As Tiburon crystal sir.”

“Good. Stay focused. Seyra out.” She continued back down the slowly curving tunnel. Chan was good—he wouldn’t be on her team if he weren’t—but he had a habit of cracking jokes. It was an admirable trait, a good way of breaking tension and boosting morale, but right now she needed him focused, and joking around could distract him from his duties.

She turned back towards the direction they needed to go and found Doctor Aeden standing perfectly still, watching her. “Weren’t you a little harsh Lieutenant Commander?”

“I prefer to think of myself as strict rather than harsh,” she said, adjusting the shoulder strap on her rifle and going over the settings for the twenty-second time. “We’re in an unknown—potentially dangerous—situation, and I need my people ready for anything. You may not like it Doctor, but those of us in red shirts are canon fodder. We have to be ready, willing and able to do all that we must in order to save the lives of others.”

A frown crossed the stunningly beautiful Deltan’s face, and a look of concern entered her wide almond-shaped eyes. “Is that really how you see yourself?”

“It’s one of those hard truths in life. You look at the casualty list from any ship in the fleet, and at least seventy percent are in red. I just want to make sure that my people put up one hell of a fight before they become another statistic.”

“Have you ever considered seeking help for this fatalist perspective on your life?”

“What? Like a psychiatrist?” Aeden nodded.

Seyra laughed.

“I was being serious Commander,” the physician stated, her voice firm.

Calmly herself, Seyra looked the other woman squarely in the eye. “Doctor, I was raised into the Imperial Guard. I even served for a few years before…” she heard her voice choke slightly, “before I entered Starfleet. I was raised a soldier. It’s how I think and it’s how I live my life, and no amount of therapy will ever fix that. So I push my crew hard, its because I know they can achieve whatever standards I set—they wouldn’t be on my team if they couldn’t.”

“And what of yourself? If you keep going as hard as you are right now, you will burn out someday, and then who will you be able to help?”

Seyra gave her a sly smile. “Sneaky doc. I never realised that Deltan’s were quite so devious.”

Aeden returned the smile. “I’m just very observant, and sensitive to others.”

“I work hard and I play hard too. Trust me, when we get shore leave, you will see just how well I can unwind.”

“Perhaps,” Aeden stated, not sounding entirely convinced.

“Shall we continue?” Seyra asked, gesturing towards the gaping black maw that was the tunnel before them. Aeden assessed her for a moment longer and then nodded. The security chief stepped ahead and plunged into the darkness, hearing the doctor following close behind.

***
 
Chapter 9 (part 2)


Structural Integrity Field Generator Site 3
Prairie Colony, DePaul System, Sector 172-Delta

Hayne had to admit that the colonies maintenance crews were good, especially given all they’d been through since the crisis had started. The crew was a small one, but they all knew what they were doing and did it efficiently. He had dispatched his engineering teams to assist with repairing the geothermal energy collectors and the reactor core, reinforcing the damaged buildings and patching them up so they didn’t take further damage, and finally installing the SIF generators. He was overseeing the latter teams, going between the three sites to help out and check on progress and whatever additional upgrades they could give the three large units. He was pleased with the progress they were making. The two spare SIF units were in place and being set up without any problems, were connected to the power grid and undergoing level one diagnostic, leaving just the unit that had been removed from the Challenger.

The sun was high in the sky now and beating down on them as they worked. He’d never liked excessive heat it always made him feel irritable and lethargic. As with a lot of things during his life, he had to wonder if this was a feature of his species or if it was just a personal quirk he’d developed. But like other things he’d discovered over time about himself, he doubted he would ever have a solid answer.

Sweat ran down his brow and he wiped it away from the cranial ridge that bisected his forehead. It was the most prominent feature of his alien heritage, and was one of only two that was seen whilst he was dressed, the second being his violet eyes. He has a similar ridge running down the length of his spine and also down his chest, stopping at the top of his ribcage. His navel wasn’t where a humans’ was, but rather he had two, one on either side of his spine just above his pelvis. His internal organs were all unusual as well, from a human standpoint. Growing up, the only one of his kind encountered, he was scanned and examined frequently as he’d matured and developed. His adoptive parents had made sure to shield him from any invasive procedures and had made sure that as he grew up he had input on what he’d allow.

For a time, he had considered going into medicine, after seeing firsthand the work doctors did from an early age. But when he hit his teenage years, he’d developed an intense curiosity for technical devices, often taking apart PADDs, tricorders, comm. devices, even the protein resequencer in the kitchen. But as good as he was at taking things apart, he was better at putting them back together, never once needing a system diagram, but able to do the work from memory. Every time he streamlined the designs, taking out what wasn’t really needed and improving what was already in place. Once he was finished with a device in the family home it was left in better working order than ever before. His adoptive parents had started to collect every technical manual they could for him, and he tore through all of them with ease, even using his new knowledge to build machines from spare parts or junk.

This trait had followed him into Starfleet and had gotten him a position at the Jupiter Station R&D facility, where he’d worked with some of the finest engineering minds in Starfleet. The five years he’d spent there had been some of the most liberating of his life, where he could spew forth all the techno-babble he wanted safe in the knowledge that those he worked with would be able to keep up. But the lure of active service in the fleet was too much for him, and so he’d taken the posting to the Capricorn, where he had his own engine room and was never far from the outer fringes of unknown space.

“Don’t you Starfleeters ever take a break?” came the instantly recognisable gruff voice of Cho Hwan. Hayne looked down at his contemporary from the colony, from where he was perched at the upper control panel. “It gets hot as hell this time of day, so you better not push yourself too hard, or you’ll be needing to go to the infirmary.”

Feeling a little light-headed, Hayne had to agree with the older man. Climbing down the ladder, he told the two non-coms he’d been working with to take a break and they both enthusiastically took him up on the offer. Cho tossed him a bottle of water when he was back on solid ground, and Hayne gulped down the cool slightly sweet liquid. His thirst quenched he smiled at the other engineer.

“Thanks. I guess I never realised just how thirsty I was.”

“Don’t sweat it Lieutenant. We were all like that when we first arrived, before we got to know Prairie a little better, and knew when to take it easier—not that we’ve been doing much of that for the last few weeks!”

“Chief, I assure you, it those caves have anything to do with what is happening on this planet, Toby Deacon will find out what and put a stop to it.”

A thoughtful look crossed Cho’s face. “You know him pretty well I take it.”

“Toby? Yeah. We were roommates for four years back at the Academy. He has a knack for getting out of tough situations, as well as getting himself into them as well.” Cho gave a single laugh at the statement—the most Hayne had seen in the brief time he’d been working with the maintenance chief.

“Well I don’t know him, but if a good mechanic like you vouches for him, then I’ll give him a chance too.”

“Thank you for the complement Chief.”

“Good that is for a pompous and big-headed Starfleeter, mind you.”

Hayne chuckled to himself. He’d come to appreciate the other man’s subtle sense of humour, which most others didn’t seem to pick up on. “Of course.” He looked back up at the generator. “We should be finished here in about an half an hour, then we’ll need to see if the reactor can handle the necessary output to make this plan work.”

“I know that reactor Lieutenant, it’ll work.” They paused for a moment, watching as the local police and occasional Starfleet security guard moved the people into the town centre. Hayne hadn’t been keeping up with the rest of the relief effort or relocations, but from what he could see, everything was going smoothly. He only hoped that it would continue, and that Deacon would find out what was going on and keep the colony in one piece.

Cho looked back at the generator. “You feeling up to finishing now?”

“Much better Chief,” he replied, taking another drink.

“Then lets get this hooked up and we can get the reactor ready for the power transfer.”

Giving him a mock salute, Hayne replied, “Sir, yes sir.”

***

Colony Operations Centre
Prairie Colony, DePaul System, Sector 172-Delta

“Let me guess, it’s the Tellarite again,” Reynolds heard Harris say, the irritation and exhaustion evident in her voice. The human tech she was addressing nodded, and she groaned.

Reynolds approached. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

Harris and the tech, whose name escaped Reynolds, both looked at him. “There are a group of about thirty Tellarite that came with the colony ships, but since we set down they have been determined to go out on their own. We’ve kept in sporadic contact with them since this all started, and have told them about the temporary resettlement but they refuse to co-operate.”

“Have they given a reason?”

“Only that they don’t want anything to do with the township, that they’ll be perfectly alright on their farm.”

Moving over to the central table, with its map of the peninsula that the colony was situated, he tapped up a bio scan and quickly found a group of thirty-four humanoids about ten kilometres from the township and the surrounding farms. I should have known something like this was going to happen, he commented to himself. The whole operation had been going too smoothly. He was actually surprised it had taken this long for their first major problem to crop up.

Harris and the tech had moved over to join him at the table, and looked at the display.

“Couldn’t you just beam them into the Marketplace,” suggested the dark-haired human man, whose stubble showed that he hadn’t shaved for at least the last five days.

“That would be tantamount to kidnapping,” said Reynolds. “They are still Federation citizens and are free to choose where they live and to heed whatever public information and safety announcements are made, or not in this case.”

“I will not leave them out there to die,” Harris said, her conviction strong.

“Nor do I intend to Administrator. I’ll need a skimmer and will have to reassign some of my people off of their current duties.”

“Give the names to Becker and he’ll get things organised.” Reynolds relayed the names of four members of the relief team and Mr Becker headed back to his console. Still studying the display, Reynolds was oblivious to the thoughtful look that Harris was giving him. “Commander Reynolds,” she began, making him look up from the mental plan he was drawing up. “You’re not related to Councillor Caroline Reynolds are you?”

Quickly, he looked around the room and saw that they were out of earshot of the rest of the staff. Looking back at the Administrator, he dropped his voice and said, “She’s my mother. How do you know her?”

Confused at his reaction, she stepped in closer and also spoke quietly. “I met her at a conference last year, before I was assigned to Prairie. She’s a formidable woman, and I can understand why she was made the head of the Trade and Commerce Ministry.” She looked around the Ops Centre. “I take it by your reaction that no one from the Challenger knows that fact.”

“It’s not something I broadcast. My parents are who they are and I am who I am. I’ve never wanted their careers to influence my own. They have kept that request. Luckily, Reynolds is a common enough name that few people have ever made that connection,” he scrutinised her. “How did you?”

She smiled faintly. “You have her eyes. The same focused intensity when you’re thinking and problem solving. But you don’t need to worry Commander, your secret is safe with me.”

“Administrator,” Becker called. “There is a skimmer prepped and ready, and the Commander’s team is assembling.”

“Thank you Darren,” she replied and looked back at Reynolds. “You’d better get going. You may need all the time you can get to convince the Tellarites to save their own bacon.”
 
Elsewhere…

There were more above. Two perhaps three dozen more. And beyond them, high above them all was something far more interesting. A matter/antimatter reactor! Such power! The planets geo-thermal wasn’t enough, nor was the battery the first once used, and the star was just too far away. But a warp core could provide all the power that was needed and then some. But it would take time to harness it, to redirected the drain into orbit and concentrate on the ship that was going to provide the key.

Retribution and revenge. So very soon, they would be achievable. The vanguard would need to be readied, having successfully completed their test by defending the facility; they would have to be tried on the battlefield.

The facility! More were wandering the tunnels. Sloppy. Focus! Remain focused. Nothing could stand in the way of the overall objective. That couldn’t be allowed. They were divided, some very close by. They would fall. Separated, they would be vanquished. Soon. Very soon. The enemy would finally be made to pay. They would be made to suffer, just as they had done.

The objective was close at hand. Nothing could stop it from being achieve. That would be unacceptable.
 
Chapter 10 may take a bit of time. Right now I'm working on whatever computer I can get my hands on whilst my laptop is in for repairs (praying to the deities that the hard drive is still intact). Part of what is going to go into C10 is on the laptop, so I'll have to wait to get it back before its finished. Currently working on the rest (so happy I have my memory stick), and will get the rest posted up as soon as I can.

Note on Chapter 9: Yes, I know Harris' last line is a little cheesy, but it just had to be done. Besides, my fanfic, my rules :)!!

-Bry
 
Commentary on Chapter 4

A Federation colony under siege by some unknown phenomena, and unable to call for help. Clearly a desperate situation, and one potentially suited to your newly assembled crew.

You’ve shown rendered the colonist’s plight in stark relief, and I imagine the situation will only get much worse before it gets better… :eek:
 
Still don't have my laptop back, but have been working on Chapter 10 as best I could and decided to post what I have so far. As such there may be a few changes once I get my previous work added to it.

-B
 
Chapter 10 (part 1)


Underground Tunnels
Prairie Colony, DePaul System, Sector 172-Delta

Lieutenant JG Winston Chan hated the idea of being underground. Surrounded on all sides by dirt and rock, with no light and no means of escape, was like his own personal version of hell. He wasn’t claustrophobic; he just didn’t like being somewhere where he didn’t have a clear exit. Growing up on Deneva, he was used to wide open spaces and blue skies. When he was eight his parents had taken him to visit family in New York City on Earth. As they’d been in the subway, he’d wandered off and gotten lost. He was only alone for ten minutes at the most, but as soon as his parents had found him again he’d refused to travel on the trains again.

Maybe I should’ve said something to the chief, he mused, as he followed Ensign Shumar through the tunnels. He scoffed at the idea. She would have most likely pulled him off the team and transferred him out. What use was a security officer who was afraid of tight spaces? Best to keep his mouth shut and focus on keeping the kid safe. The ‘kid’? She’s what? Twenty-two? Only three years younger than me, and I’m calling her a kid!

He looked at the science officer, dressed in the grey jumpsuit with its blue slash down the right side, a small backpack secured over her shoulders, tricorder in hand as she tried to scan their surroundings, her dark hair piled high on top of her head. She was very pretty, though apparently a genius if the rumours were to be believed.

“Damn,” she muttered, coming to a sudden stop.

“Problem?” he asked, flexing his grip on his phaser.

“My readings have gone completely blank,” she said, looking around at the tunnels. “The metal content and density must be higher here than any of the previous tunnels.” She closed the flap and let the scanner hang by her side, as she pulled a tube and a small metal stick from a side pouch on her backpack. She stepped up to the rough dark grey wall, which glittered under their flashlights. Holding the tube to the wall, she used the stick to scrape off some of the dust and grit into the tube. After a few moments she held the tube up and shook the contents, studying them intensely. Chan stood and watched the action, an eyebrow raised.

Shumar looked over at him and gave him a faint smile. “I can’t scan it here, but if I get it back to the ship, the planetary science lab should be able to analyse it and maybe come up with a way to circumvent the interference,” she explained, putting the stopper back on the tube and slipping it into her backpack once again.

“Now we just need to get to a place where they can beam it up to the ship,” he commented. “How much longer have we got to go until we’re clear of this interference?”

She shook her head. “Impossible to tell. The rock was doing a fantastic job of blinding our sensors. We might have a few metres, or a few kilometres to go. We could go back?”

Chan thought about it for a while, but then discounted the option. “We need to find those colonists. They’re not behind us, so we might as well carry on the way we’re going. Its bound to clear up sooner or later.”

A look of relief passed over Shumar’s delicate features and she gave him another soft smile. “Sounds like a plan lieutenant.”

He returned her smile with one of his own. “Lead on ensign.”

She opened her tricorder again, and set it to continuously scan, and let it hang by her side, as she walked forward, using her torch to guide the way. Chan followed on behind, keeping his phaser in hand and looking over his shoulder every few meters. Though he hated the feeling of being trapped, he began to feel as though he was being watched. Great, now I’m paranoid and claustrophobic! he realised, just seconds before the high pitched whine of an alien transporter filled the tunnel.

***

Tellarite Communion
Prairie Colony, DePaul System, Sector 172-Delta

Lieutenant Commander Spencer Reynolds sat at the controls of the speeder, seated behind him in the passenger area was Nurse J’Laan, Yeoman Yates, Lieutenant JG Ansil and Crewman Cooper from security. En their brief trip from the township to the Tellarite compound, he had briefed them on the situation and their mission objectives.

Nearing the collection of low standard colony issue prefabricated houses and barns, he eased back on the throttle and the speeder slowed, before he came to a quiet stop at the edge of the circle of houses. As he powered down, the rest of the team climbed out, and the Tellarite colonists emerged from their homes or workshops. None of them looked too happy to see the speeder and even less so when they saw the uniforms.

Reynolds, climbed out of the speeder, straightened his gold tunic and approached the growing number of colonists. From the back, a tall and lean male made his way forward, and the others let him through. Reynolds may not have followed his parents careers into politics and diplomacy, but they had taught him a great deal about how to understand behaviour and body language, and he immediately classed the approaching man as the leader of the group.

Standing ahead of the Starfleet team, Reynolds was flanked by J’Laan and Yates, with the two guards standing beside them. He waited for the lean Tellarite to make it through the crowd, whilst the others spoke among themselves, scowling at the intruders. When their leader made it to the front, they became quiet. Reynolds couldn’t remember ever seeing anyone ever having such an effect on a group of irritated Tellarites.

“I’m Lieutenant Commander Spencer Reynolds, Executive Officer of the starship Challenger,” he began. “We are here to help the inhabitants of Prairie Colony with this ecological crisis that you are facing.”

“I am Fnor gajin Esok,” the leader of the communion announced. “We had heard that a Starfleet ship had arrived. I’m surprised to see you out here. Did Governor Milburn send you to rope in the ‘wild boars’?” His statement drew angry muttering from the crowd.

“No,” he told them simply. “Administrator Harris told me that you were refusing the advice to be resettled within the township until this crisis has passed. I came out here to ask you to reconsider.”

“The planet is just settling. In time it will return to normal.”

“I’m afraid that is unlikely. The quakes are becoming more frequent, longer and stronger. We have a safe zone for all the colonists to take refuge until we can get to the bottom of what is happening here,” Reynolds kept his eyes solely on Esok. “All we ask is that you return to the township, where you will be safe.”

Esok held his gaze with a stern one of his own, then looked at the two guards, both stood at parade rest, but had their phasers secured to their hips. “And if we don’t come willingly, then will you take us by force?” This drew a few angry shouts from the crowd, people saying they wouldn’t be bullied from their homes, or demanding they get off their land.

Still looking at the communion’s spokesperson, he shook his head. “No, we won’t. You are Federation citizens; you have rights under the Federation charter that allow you to refuse this advice. As a Starfleet officer, it’s my duty to try and ensure your safety and wellbeing. But we will not force you from your homes. All I ask is that you reconsider.” He then glanced at the two crewmembers beside him. “Lieutenant J’Laan is a nurse, and he can see to any injuries you may have, and Yeoman Yates can get whatever additional supplies you may need out here before the next quake hits.”

Looking from the Centaurian medic then to the teenaged yeoman, Esok then looked back at his people for a long moment. He shared a few meaningful looks with some of those in the front of the crowd, before he looked back at Reynolds. “We could use some medical assistance, four of our group have been injured by the quakes.”

J’Laan stepped forward. “Just show me where they are,” he stated.

Esok directed one member of the crowd to show the nurse to their injured. He then looked at Reynolds. “We will discuss this further, that isn’t to say that we won’t change our minds.”

“I understand. I could ask Yeoman Yates to begin an inventory of your supplies and draw up a list of what else you might need.” Esok considered the request and nodded. “Yeoman, set to work. Mr Cooper, give her a hand.” The two non-coms complied and followed another member of the community to their storage facilities.

Esok and a few of the others withdrew to one of the low buildings, asking for the people to return to their homes in the meantime. Many did, but a few of the farmers remained clustered together, eying the two remaining officers suspiciously. That went better than I’d expected, he mused to himself, wondering how long they would take to talk and what their ultimate decision would be.

***
 
Commentary on Chapter 5

Good to see Deacon is settling into a routine. Now the crew has stumbled into a mystery involving the colony... hey, nothing like a trial by fire, right?

Seyra is keeping her cool, despite having been knocked out of the XO's post, and thus far Reynolds remains something of a mystery. He seems professional enough, and hasn't yet tipped his hand as a plant for the admiral, but I think it's only a question of time until we hear the sound of the proverbial 'other shoe' dropping.

And wow, Ensign Drake has one heck of a chip on his shoulder. That kid's in line to enjoy a big ol' helping of humble pie, and I've got a feeling he's going to have a big audience when it happens. :lol:

Wonderful characters and terrific setup as this adventure sets off. Nicely done! :bolian:
 
Chapter 10 (part 2)


Underground Tunnels
Prairie Colony, DePaul System, Sector 172-Delta

“Wow!”

M’Kohr’s voice echoed endlessly in the enormous cavern they had stepped into, the ceiling and opposite walls of which they couldn’t see with their flashlights. Deacon couldn’t agree more with the Caitian’s assessment. Securing his phaser on his hip once again, he brought his tricorder up and began active scans. The metal content in the walls was low and he was able to get accurate readings on the artificial cave. The ceiling was almost a kilometre above their heads, whilst the opposite wall was five hundred meters away. The structure was perfectly circular, and had a tunnel going off at the four compass points. They had come through the tunnel from the east; all of the others disappeared after a few metres as the sensor interfering metals became denser.

He glanced at the tricorders chronometer and noted with concern that he hadn’t heard from Shumar and Chan in almost an hour. He flipped open his communicator. “Deacon to Shumar.” The gentle fuzz of static replied. “Chan, come in.” Again no response. He frowned.

Something’s wrong, a voice in the back of his head snapped. “Deacon to Challenger.”

Challenger, N’Qua here.”

“Lieutenant, have you heard anything from Ensign Shumar or Lieutenant Chan?” he asked, already suspecting what the answer would be.

“Negative sir. We lost sensor contact with them fifty-six minutes ago.”

“Lenelle, check the topographic scans of the tunnels they’d entered. See if the interference clears up anywhere along their projected path.”

“Standby,” she replied. He waited, the bad feeling in his gut getting worse. Something just wasn’t right. Surely they would have found a section of tunnel where they would at least get a signal through and report in their status. The tunnels had already claimed six colonists, and now they were after his people. What would he do if something had happened to Shumar and Chan? Not even out of dock for a month and he already faced the prospect of losing two officers under his command. Chan was a promising young man, with his goofy sense of humour that kept morale high in the security office. Then there was Elizabeth Shumar. The Academy valedictorian could have gone to any ship in the fleet, and had a stellar career as one of Starfleet’s finest scientists. But who had instead chosen a posting to his ship, and proved herself to be every bit as brilliant as her Academy record stated, and had asked him to come on the mission.

And he could be responsible for their deaths.

“Sir,” N’Qua’s voice was unsteady. “Our sensors show that if they’d continued on their previous heading, they should have emerged into a clear section of tunnel fifteen minutes ago.”

“Damn,” he whispered, looking at M’Kohr, and then back down the tunnel they’d come from. To N’Qua he asked, “Any chance of punch through the interference?”

“I’m sorry sir,” she said apologetically. “I’ve tried everything I can think of, but nothing’s worked. I will keep trying sir.”

“If anyone can do it lieutenant, its you,” he told her, pulling the phaser off his belt and heading back into the tunnel for where he’d last seen his two missing officers. The Caitian security officer’s heavy footfalls close behind.

“Do you want further teams dispatched?”

He thought about it for a moment but quickly decided against it. “Negative. I don’t want to risk losing anyone else down here. Maintain scans, and concentrate on getting through that interference. Standby for further orders.”

“Understood Commander. Challenger out.”

Retuning his communicator, he opened a channel to the other SAR team. “Seyra, this is Deacon.”

“What’s wrong Dee?” the Andorian asked, picking up on the slight inflictions in his voice.

“Shumar and Chan have gone missing,” he quickly outlined what N’Qua had relayed to him. “We’re heading back to begin looking for them. I want you two to continue searching these caves. Something’s not right down here, and the sooner we get some answers the better. Keep on your guard, and if you get into trouble call for beam out,” he paused as he thought over his next order. “The use of deadly force to defend yourselves is authorised.”

“Understood Commander,” she replied, her voice flat. “Watch your backs.”

“You too Seyra. Deacon out.” Closing his communicator he put it back on his belt and checking the power settings on the weapon. It was still set to heavy stun. He would keep it there for the time being, but ready to increase it in an instant. Part of him wanted to break out into a sprint down the tunnels, but with the uneven ground and jagged sides, it would be safer to move at a brisk pace as they retraced their steps.

He focused on the tunnel and tried to ignore the gnawing sense of guilt and the doubt that threatened to cloud his judgment.

***

Bridge, U.S.S. Challenger NCC-1451
In orbit of Prairie Colony, DePaul System

Everything was quiet onboard the Challenger. The crew continued to monitor the planet and the system for anything unusual, relaying reports to Commander Reynolds, or the engineering or medical teams on the surface. As all of the bridge staff were contributing something, Xahl sat in the Command Chair, feeling restless and antsy. He wanted to be doing something more than just supervising, at his post he could be monitoring sensors, running checks on the tactical systems or drilling the ordnance crew.

He could tell he wasn’t the only one either. Ensign Drake had seemed more frustrated than usual—which for the younger man was an impressive feat—but he’d asked to get down to the hanger and run checks and drills with the shuttle crews, which Xahl had agreed too. They had to ensure that the ship and her crew were ready for anything. But until either the SAR team found something, or the colony needed to be evacuated, they were left sitting quietly in orbit.

Standing, Xahl moved to the upper level of the bridge and checked in with each officer and non-com. None of them had anything to report—he knew of course that if something were to happen he’d be told immediately. Nearing the science console, Ensign Weir (who had relocated from the geology lab to the bridge, to get greater control of the ships main sensor array) looked up; a flash of worry crossed his young features, which made Xahl smile to himself.

“Anything out of the ordinary Ensign?”

“No sir,” the geologist replied. “All attempts to modify the sensors to penetrate the heavy metals in the rock strata have been unsuccessful. I’ve been trying to identify which fault line could be causing the quakes, but there are none near the colony. I’m also at a loss to explain the drain to the colonies geo-thermal energy supply. But I will keep looking sir,” he added quickly

Xahl gave him a soft smile. “It’s okay Mr Weir, I just wanted to make sure everything was alright.”

“Oh. Um, yes sir.”

Moving away from the science officer, Xahl headed for the aft consoles. N’Qua looked up as he approached. He had to admit that she was a very attractive woman, dark brown eyes, full lips, delicate features, and the leaf-shaped ridge on her forehead that identified all Napeans. They had met up a few times in the mess hall and rec room after their shifts over the last few weeks, and he’d gotten to know her quick wit and optimistic outlook. Of course he had flirted—he was a male after all—to which she’d responded, but had never taken it any further, enjoying the back and forth between them and the innuendo. Lenelle was definitely more a friend than a lover (of course he wouldn’t object to the latter should the opportunity arise), and he’d quickly found himself relaxing around her and enjoying the banter they shared.

She gave him an easy smile, tucking a rogue lock of her mousy brown hair behind her ear as he leaned against one of the small auxiliary consoles that flanked communications. “You’ll wear out the deck plating if you keep pacing like that.”

“Well they can bill me for it,” he retorted with a smile, then looked at the various monitors on her console. “Anything of interest?”

“Nothing more that before. The Commander and Ensign M’Kohr are still en route to the last known position of Chan and Shumar. I’ve gone through all the frequencies and bandwidths but nothing can punch through the metals in the rock. I even tried going through the colonies comm. array to boost our localised signal strength, but its not helping either.”

“What about Lieutenant Commander Seyra?”

She quickly looked at a display. “Both her and Doctor Aeden are coming in loud and clear. Looking at their current heading, they’re clear for several dozen meters.”

Groaning softly in frustration, he folded his arms tightly across his chest. “Anything else you could suggest we try?”

N’Qua gave him a soft smile. “I’m afraid not Xahl. We’re doing all we can, but with the situation down there we are at a loss to contribute anything further than what we’re doing now.”

“I just wish we could help out more.”

“I know,” she rested a supportive hand in his bicep. “We all feel the same way.”

He gave her a wicked grin. “Well there is one way we could pass the time, which would make the earth move and might give us better sensor resolution.”

She laughed loudly, which drew looks from the bridge crew. “Is that all you ever think about?”

“No. I do still need to eat from time to time.”

He found his spirits lifting slightly glad to have her there to pick him up when he needed it. There hadn’t been many people he would count as a real friend during his difficult life, but she was definitely at the top of that short list—despite only their short time together.

“Thanks Lenelle.”

“Anytime Xahl.”

He pushed himself off of the aft consoles and moved back to the Command Chair. If they had to wait out this situation, he would ensure that everyone knew that he was capable of handling it, and what better place to take charge than the big chair? But still, Xahl wished he could have a greater contribution to make. Maybe I should have gone into security when I had the chance. Riskier job, but at least I’d have the chance of being down there now, he mused, watching the blue and green marble beneath them.

***

Underground Tunnels
Prairie Colony, DePaul IV


Ever since the call had come in from Commander Deacon almost thirty minutes earlier, Aeden and Seyra had moved quietly. The security chief moved forward steadily, her right hand with a firm grip on the type-two phaser, resting on top of her left hand in which she held her flashlight, so as to light up any potential target. Aeden favoured the light on the strap of her pack, whilst holding her phaser and running active scans with her tricorder.

Aeden couldn’t help but think of Ensign Shumar and Lieutenant Chan, her natural telepathy made her sensitive to others, and her time as a medical practitioner gave her a great sense of empathy and compassion. She didn’t know either very well, and felt guilty about it. When they were found and returned to the ship, she would make sure that she got to know them, and more of her shipmates; including Rhelaseyra sh’Tarris.

Despite serving on the Repulse together for a year, she had had little interaction with the Andorian, but now working with the other woman; she had to admit she was impressed. Sh’Tarris moved with purpose and grace, her face set, muscles coiled and ready to react, her antennae twitching and curling.

Aeden kept a close eye on her scanner, as well as opening up her mind to her surroundings. Although telepathy was common in over ninety percent of Deltans, Aeden rarely ever found herself using her abilities since she left Delta IV. A few times here and there to help alleviate someone’s pain before medication took effect, or was unavailable. On the one time she had taken a lover during her time onboard the Ranger—her Oath of Celibacy was to protect sexual immature species, and didn’t apply to other Deltans in the fleet. There were also a couple of instances where an alien lifeform had communicated through her mental abilities. But for the rest of the time, she remained in firm control of her telepathic abilities.

Although a little rusty, she was not unskilled, but even her mind scans revealed nothing accept the disciplined mind of her companion.

Seyra stopped, and Aeden followed suit, raising her phaser. She waited as the security chief surveyed the section of tunnel, which looked like the metres of craggy-walled passage they’d come through. The Andorians antenna twitched, and her eyes narrowed briefly. Then she stuck out her tongue for a second, as if she tasted the air, which puzzled Aeden.

“What?” she asked quietly, her voice so soft she could barely hear it herself.

“Ozone,” came the simple reply. “Someone fired a very powerful weapon here.”

Aeden scrutinised the lieutenant commander, then looked down at her tricorder. She quickly adjusted it from its bio-scan to a more intensive general-purpose scan. It took a few moments for the device to sweep the tunnel, analyse the data and display the results. But when it did, she was amazed to see on the small screen the remnants of energy particles associated with high-yield disruptors. She looked back at her teammate in bewilderment.

“How…?”

The Andorian flashed her the briefest of smiles. “They’re not just for decoration,” she said, gesturing to the two sensory organs that extended from the top of her forehead.

“But the readings are barely registering. Whoever fired, did so days ago,” Aeden pointed out. Studying Seyra, she made a mental note to read up more on Andorian physiology.

“The colony’s local security force uses old EM-33’s, so it can’t be them,” said Seyra, looking up and down the tunnel. “Someone else was here, and shooting at them.”

They continued forward again, slower this time. Aeden kept her tricorder on the general scan, collecting as much data as she could on the weapon energy that still lingered, but kept her phaser at the ready. As much as she deplored violence, she understood the need for defence, and so she had always kept up her phaser marksmanship, so that should she ever need to use the weapon, she could do so effectively without delivering a fatal hit. It was one thing she had always demanded of her nurses, never to count on their blue uniforms, or the red crosses on their insignia, to keep them safe. Now as Chief Medical Officer, she would ensure that all of those under her would do the same.

A few metres further down the tunnel the tricorder chirped. Both women stopped as Aeden consulted the readings, then looked up at Seyra. “I’m getting a bio-signature.”

“How far?”

“Fifty metres further on,” she looked at the energy particle readout. “It looks like the weapons fire intensified nearer to that location.”

Seyra nodded and led the way. Aeden closed the flap on her tricorder and let it rest against her hip, gripping her phaser with both hands and following closely behind. They covered the distance quickly, and as they neared the source Aeden could see a thin haze of dust in the air. Some sections of the tunnel walls were scorched black, and chunks of rock were scattered on the floor.

Navigating around the debris, they came to a section where the roof of the tunnel was blackened, causing it to partly collapse. Seyra’s light shone over the mound of rock and dust until it came across a forearm lying in the passage, the elbow, bicep, shoulder and the rest of the body was buried. Aeden flipped open her tricorder and crouched next to the only exposed body part. Setting the device back to bio-scan she slowly took readings, as the light from Seyra’s torch illuminated the grave.

“I’m reading a Rigelian female, approximately thirty years of age. She died over ten days ago.”

“That fits with the timeline.”

Aeden nodded and looked back up at Seyra. “I’d like to beam her back to the ship for a post-mortem.” The second officer nodded in silent agreement. Aeden clipped her phaser back on her belt and took out her communicator. “Aeden to Challenger.”

“N’Qua here, go ahead doctor,” came the prompt response.

“Lieutenant, we’ve found a body from the research team that went missing. I’d like it beamed back to the ship and have Doctor T’Sala examine it.”

There was the briefest of pauses, before the comm officer replied. “Understood doctor. I’ll alert the transporter room and have sickbay standing by.”

“Thank you lieutenant,” she replied softly. She hesitated for a moment before asking, “Any word from Ensign Shumar?”

“Negative. Commander Deacon is still about thirty minutes away from where we last had sensor contact with them.”

“Understood Challenger. You may commence transport when ready. Aeden out.”

They stayed put for a few minutes. Their respectful silence was broken when they heard the familiar sound of the transporter, and they watched as the arm disappeared along with the rest of the body under the rocks, which grated and groaned quietly at the sudden loss of the Rigelian they had once buried, but remained still.

Aeden slowly rose and made her report to Deacon on the discovery of the body. He accepted the news without further comment, and asked to be kept apprised of any further discoveries. After she closed her communicator and put it back on her belt, she couldn’t help but feel for her new Commanding Officer. His first ship, his first mission, and nothing seemed to be going smoothly. She had had about the same contact with Deacon as she had Seyra back on the Repulse, but in the weeks since he’d asked her to join the crew, she had gotten to know him better, and come to discover that for all his bravado and confidence, he was an open, generous and kind-hearted man, who cared a great deal for all those who were now under his command.

“Come on, we have to get going,” Seyra said, stepping around the former burial mound.

Taking a moment to utter a silent prayer to the deceased colonist, Aeden took her phaser back in hand and followed, hoping that the tunnels would claim no more lives.
 
Chapter 11 (part 1)


Tellarite Commune
Prairie Colony, DePaul System, Sector 172-Delta

The four injured Tellarite had included a concussion and broken shoulder, a dislocated kneecap, a broken arm and a rather deep cut to one mans chest. Athan J’Laan had treated all of them as best he could with the field kit he’d taken, and then told the groups medic—a midwife who had been thrown in at the deep end—how to keep the comfortable and continue the treatment. She was very appreciative, unlike the farmer that had led him to the house they were using as a ward. He also took the time to note whatever other medical supplies they would need, and had left.

Back at the speeder, Lieutenant Ansil remained on guard. The Vulcan’s posture immaculate, her muscles poised and ready to move in half a heartbeats notice. Commander Reynolds had sat back in the speeder and was talking into his communicator. Yates and Cooper were nowhere to be seen. The remains of the crowd, stood back but kept watch on them.

Reynolds emerged from the speeder once again, looking displeased about something.

“Sir?” J’Laan asked.

“I’ve been informed by the Challenger that Lieutenant Chan and Ensign Shumar have gone missing in the caves,” he announced.

J’Laan felt his gut tighten. Oh my Goddess no! Aeden? “What…what about the other team members?”

“They’re alright. Commander Deacon and Ensign K’Mohr and going in search of Chan and Shumar. Lieutenant Commander sh’Tarris and Doctor Aeden are continuing the original search for the colonists.”

Breathing a sigh of relief, J’Laan looked back towards the town. “Are further teams being assembled?”

Reynolds shook his head. “The Commander doesn’t want to put anyone else at risk. We’ve been ordered to continue with the relief effort and to await further instructions. What about the injured?” J’Laan gave the XO a brief report on the casualties and his prognosis. Of course, he’d prefer to see them back at the infirmary or on the Challenger, but they would all be fine given time to rest and some additional treatments.

Just then, Yates and Cooper rounded a corner and approached them. The guard eyed the eight Tellarite that loitered close to the speeder, before joining his superior on watch. Yates was engrossed in a datapad, making notes and tapping commands. She looked up at them. “They are doing well considering they have limited contact with the rest of the colony sir. A good stock of food and water, though they could probably do with protein rations just to be safe. Then just bedding, batteries, just what the rest of the colonists needed. Lieutenant, if you took a note of their medical supplies I can add that to the list.”

J’Laan, surprised at the efficient manner of the teenager, handed her the diskette with the information she needed. As she loaded the data into her PADD, Esok and the others he’d gone to speak with returned. Reynolds stepped forward. J’Laan and Yates stayed back, though still able to hear the two.

“Lieutenant Commander Reynolds,” Esok began, “we have discussed the matter further. What proof do you have that the quakes will get worse?”

The XO looked back at Yates, who produced another datapad and handed it to him, which he then gave to Esok. “That is a copy of all the data the colony has gathered since the quakes began. You can see that each time the quake noticeably increases in strength, and the duration extends by the same increment of time. With them getting longer and more powerful, its doubtful that anything outside of our safe zone could survive.”

Esok looked over the data thoroughly, and Reynolds let him do so quietly. The Plaines were still. No wind blew and there were no signs of any other life-forms close by. J’Laan could understand why they were so unwilling to leave the idyllic location; he’d find it hard to go as well. But in the face of such overwhelming evidence, would they follow the Tellarite stereotype and argue, refusing to accept the situation and remain?

With a heavy sigh, Esok handed the tablet back to the others, who began reviewing the information it displayed. “Your evidence is irrefutable Lieutenant Commander.” He looked back at the houses, barns and workshops. “We have already taken damage and injuries due to the quakes. If they are to continue and grow stronger, we may die out here.” The others behind him that had finished their review of the data nodded in silent agreement. “Very well. We will take refuge in your ‘safe zone’. But once this crisis is resolved will we receive the same help as the town in rebuilding?”

“I’ll make sure of it.”

Turning to address the commune, Esok announced, “Pack essentials only. We will be leaving within the hour.” The crowd dispersed quickly to get packed and ready to head for the town. The leader of the small community turned back to Reynolds.

“Thank you Mr Esok.”

The tall and lean porcine colonist bowed slightly. “My primary responsibility is to the safety of these people Lieutenant Commander. I accept that I cannot fulfil that responsibility here, so I am putting a great deal of faith in you. If anything happens to my people, I will hold you personally responsible.”

“I understand sir,” he replied calmly.

Esok returned to the building he’d emerged, leaving the Starfleet team alone of the outskirts of the commune. J’Laan breathed a sigh of relief at having the Tellarite back down and see reason. They would be safer within the township.

The team headed back to the speeder, chat was kept to a minimum as they loaded up what equipment they had brought with them. Once they were finished Reynolds’ communicator chirped. He pulled the device from his belt and flipped it open. “Reynolds here, go ahead.”

“XO, we have reached Shumar’s last position and are about to enter. What’s your status?”

“We’ve had to deal with a small commune who had previously refused to join the rest of the colonists. They’ve agreed to evacuate their settlement for now, and we are about to head back. At last report Lieutenant Hayne said that they would be ready before the next quake, and the evacuation is on schedule. We’ll be ready here Commander.”

“Good to here Lieutenant Commander. I’ve reported in our position to the Challenger and Seyra. We are likely to be out of contact for a while.”

“Understood Commander. Good luck.”

“And to you XO. Deacon out.”

***

Unknown Underground Location
Prairie Colony, DePaul IV

Her head was pounding as she slowly awoke. She cracked open her eyes but immediately shut them against the bright lights and groaned. Lise Shumar’s throat was raw, her body ached, her stomach churned, and she was sure that her head would implode.

Slowly, as the grogginess subsided, and she began to feel more aware and alert, she took stock of her body. Her muscles were cramped and tingling but all her limbs were intact, and a slow flex of each arm and leg revealed that none were broken. She felt nauseated, and her throat was dry. Deep breathing helped to calm her stomach slightly. What she really wanted was a drink of water. It was then she realised that her backpack, with its canteens of water, was gone. She rolled onto her side, and shielding her face, she once again slowly opened her eyes. The light was bright white, and luckily only came from the ceiling. On her side, she looked at the grey craggy rock of the caves.

The caves!

There hadn’t been any light aside from their torches. She suddenly remembered the ear splitting noise of a transporter before blacking out. The transporter whine hadn’t been of Starfleet origin, of that much she was certain. But whose was it? Where was she now? Where was lieutenant Chan?

Gingerly, she rolled onto her stomach and with trembling arms—which felt as though she hadn’t used them in months—she pushed herself of the dirt floor. Rising back onto her haunches, the room spun. Bile rose in her sore throat. She breathed deeply, trying to control the nausea, as the tunnel settled for her once again. It took her a few minutes of breathing in through her nose and out through her mouth to quench the feeling. Afterwards, she slowly looked at her surroundings as best she could, her eyes still adjusting to the brightness.

She was in a small cube. The floor was hard and dusty, but even. Three of the walls and ceiling were of the same grey rock as in the tunnels, which glistened in the light. There was no fourth wall, but she could see the telltale shimmer of a forcefield. Every dimension was approximately four metres. There were no furnishings in the cage.

Licking parched lips, she slowly started to rise to her feet, like a newborn deer, using the nearest wall for stability. She shut her eyes and willed the dizziness to stop, and once again breathed deeply to keep herself from throwing up. Once on her unsteady feet, her aching body wanted nothing more than to collapse back on the ground. But she wouldn’t allow it.

“Elisabeth?”

On hearing her name, spoken by the familiar baritone, her eyes flew open and she looked out the prison door. She focused beyond the forcefield, into the corridor, and then into the cell opposite her own. Sat cross-legged, in a meditation pose, was her former mentor.

Joy and relief flooded her heart, and she could feel tears well in her eyes. “D…doctor Tarov?” Her legs gave way and she fell to the hard floor, yelping in pain as her knees smacked against the rock.

In an instance, the Vulcan scientist was on his feet and standing as close to his forcefield as he could. “Elisabeth, are you alright?”

Tears rolled over her cheeks. She looked up at Tarov, unable to share with him how good it felt to see him, after hearing that he’d gone missing. He had taken a terrified but gifted fourteen year old under his tutelage, and guided her through four intensive years of work at the Vulcan Science Academy, forever pushing her to be better and to think for herself. He had been the greatest influence on her life.

“Elisabeth, are you alright?” he repeated.

Slowly, she nodded. “I’m fine,” she winced, as she once again tried to stand.

“You should not needlessly exhaust yourself,” he advised, and as she had so many times before, she heeded that advice, and remained kneeling on the floor, looking up at him. “What are you doing here?”

“Looking for you,” she said, wiping away the tears. “We picked up the colony’s distress call and responded. It was only when we got here that we found out just how bad things were. What’s happening to the planet?”

“I still do not have a hypothesis,” the Vulcan admitted. “However, I do believe that these tunnels are at the heart of the problem.”

Shumar looked around her once again. “Who captured us?”

“I do not know. I have not seen our captors without their armour and cannot determine their species. They attacked us just before we were due to return to the surface and return to Prairie. They beamed out my assistant and one of the guards, but I managed to reconfigure my tricorder to disperse out lifesigns to prevent further transporter locks,” he explained, his tone at the same level pitch he used when lecturing on planetary geology. “They then came at us in force in the tunnels. Sergeant Fiezel attempted to distract the soldiers and lead them down another tunnel. I have not seen her since. Despite her efforts however, they captured us, and we were led back here.”

From down the corridor, she heard a faint moan. For a moment she feared that their captors were coming. Tarov looked in the direction of the noise, and a faint look of relief crossed his face for a second. He then looked back at her.

“You colleague is regaining consciousness,” he stated. “It would appear that this species’ transporter technology is either not suited for human biology, or purposefully designed to incapacitate other species in the process.”

Once again, she slowly got to her feet, her knees throbbing in pain. She approached the energy barrier that kept her confined and tried to look in the direction Tarov had. She could see a short way down the dark corridor, an empty cell next to her former professor, and couldn’t see in to the one next to it.

“Chan?” she called. Another groan. “Lieutenant Chan, are you alright?”

From the cell next to hers, she heard gagging and then the unmistakable noise of someone vomiting. She winced at the noise and knew just how bad the security officer had to be feeling. She stayed quiet until he was finished. The last thing she wanted to do was make him uncomfortable, but she needed to know if he was alright.

Softer than before she asked again, “Winston? You okay?”

There were a few deep laboured breaths. “Yeah,” he croaked. “I just feel like I’ve been hit by a shuttlecraft though,” he added weakly.

She smiled softly at the attempt of humour. “I know the feeling.”

“Where…where are we?”

She glanced at Tarov, but his face remained stoic and he shook his head slightly. “I don’t know. Still underground somewhere. The last thing I recall was walking through a tunnel and then hearing a transporter, and then I woke up here.”

“Me too.”

“The effects will pass in time,” Tarov told them.

“Who’s that?” Chan asked.

“Doctor Tarov from the colony,” she told him. “He says that they were captured, same as us.”

She heard Chan give a single soft humourless laugh. “Well, looks like we found the missing research team. All we need now is somebody to find us.”

Despite the situation she smiled. “Glad to see you’re recovering quickly lieutenant.” She leaned against the wall and looked back at Tarov. “Where are the rest of your team Doctor?” she asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.

“Officer Young is in the cell next to yours, Officer McMillan is next to him and Teln, my assistant, is next to me,” he said gesturing in the opposite direction to Chan’s cell. “I haven’t seen Officer ch’Myhn in over fifty-seven hours.”

“What’s their routine?” Chan asked, his voice growing in strength. “How often do they patrol? When do they feed us?”

Tarov looked at the cell that contained the security officer as Shumar stood and listened. “I have not seen any patrols in this section. The only time I have seen our captors is when they came to take Officer ch’Myhn. As for feeding us, a nutritional supplement is transported in ever ten hours.”

“So they don’t expect us to either be any kind of threat or to make trouble,” Chan muttered, more to himself than the others. “That gives us an edge. We need to find out how to use it in order to get out of here.” Shumar heard Chan shuffle forward.

“I would not touch the barrier Lieutenant,” Tarov warned. “Officer Young did so not long after he regained consciousness, and was thrown back against the wall and rendered unconscious for approximately twenty hours.”

“Thanks for the heads up doc.”

Shumar looked at the forcefield, studying the emitters that projected the energy barrier, looking for some hint as to the technology they used, but they were imbedded in the rock and inaccessible. Whoever had designed the cells had made sure that they would remain secure. What was this place used for? she pondered. Was it a prison by design? Or were the cell once used for another purpose? Had they been added later by these armoured aliens? Where had the colony police officer been taken too? There were far too many questions and no answers were forthcoming.

She looked across the way at her former mentor and saw him watching her. “I have made a full assessment of the cells and can find no way to shut them down from inside, nor are there any control panels outside. Escape may not be possible without outside assistance.”

“That may be so sir,” stated Chan, “but it doesn’t hurt to keep looking. The rest of the team may not find us, or they might be joining us shortly. So we may have to get out of here ourselves.

“Ensign,” the security officer called to her. “You got any thoughts?”

She looked from the entryway along the walls, floor and ceiling of her cell. All of them looked impenetrable. But she knew that the lieutenant was right, they couldn’t rely on Commander Deacon and the others to free them. It was the job of every prisoner to seek a means of escape.

“Not yet Lieutenant, but if I do, you’ll hear about it,” she told him, her voice level and set, giving away no hint of emotion just as she had learnt whilst studying on Vulcan. Control your emotions so they will not control you. Reining her feelings in, she slowly began to study her cell in greater detail, searching for anything she could use to help them escape.

***
 
Chapter 11 (part 2)


Medical Section, U.S.S. Challenger NCC-1451
In orbit or Prairie Colony, DePaul System, Sector 172-Delta

Xahl passed the double doors to the main sickbay ward, and headed further down the corridor. Nurses, medics and orderlies moved swiftly between the various rooms and facilities that made up the medical section aboard the Challenger as they saw to the injured from the colony that were still onboard. But he hadn’t come to see to the living.

Stopping in front of the door to the morgue he paused for a moment before tapping the entry key. The doors parted silently and he stepped inside. The morgue was climate controlled with the best ventilation system on the ship, so that no smells lingered as the pathologists examined bodies, or as loved ones came to pay their respects. It was a place Xahl had hoped he would never have to enter, but in his role as officer-in-charge, he needed to get the full report from the doctor assigned to study the corpse.

Inside, there was the examination table in the centre of the room, an equipment cupboard on his left and a large display screen on his right. Opposite the entrance were the drawers where the bodies were stored. On the table, covered in a white sheet, lay a prone humanoid form, whilst the doctor he’d come to see stood by the table writing up some of her notes. She looked up as he entered, and after a few more strokes of her stylus on the display screen, she set the PADD down on the equipment trolley.

“Yes Lieutenant?” Doctor Syta asked, her calm voice echoing in the room despite the fact it didn’t seem large enough to produce an echo.

“Do you have a preliminary report yet?”

She glanced down at the datapad. “I have. There are a few test results I am waiting on for final confirmation, but I am confident they will support my initial findings.”

Xahl stared at the shape under the sheet for a moment longer, before nodding. “Go ahead doctor.”

“The subject was a native of Rigel seven. Thirty-six years old and of the ahna gender”—one of the five genders that was equivalent to female—“she was killed by a powerful focused plasma beam. The beam was concentrated on her abdomen and cauterised the skin and organs instantaneously as it went through her. Death was immediate.”

“One shot blasted straight through her?” Xahl asked, his eyes never leaving the body.

“Yes,” Syta confirmed quietly. “It would appear that the weapon was designed to inflict damage as opposed to disintegrate.” She called up an anatomy diagram for Rigelians from the seventh planet of the system. “One thing that I found curious is that the beam was precisely targeted on the body to as to ensure instant death.”

Xahl finally looked back up at her, then at the diagram. “The killer knew Rigelian anatomy?”

“Either that or they have extremely accurate scanning technology.”

“Doctor, I want you to transmit all the data you have on the weapon used to the bridge ASAP. We have to warn our people on the planet about this and try to devise a way to guard against it.”

Syta gave him a singular nod. “Of course Lieutenant. However, going by the power output I have seen here, I doubt that standard body armour would protect against the beam.”

“Than maybe so doc, but we have to give it a shot.” Xahl thanked the Vulcan surgeon and headed out of the morgue and back towards the turbolift. He was just approaching the elevator when all of the lights suddenly went out, followed a second later by the gravity. His feet lifting off the deck, Xahl reached out and grabbed the nearest railing. From further down the deck he heard surprised protests and panicked cries, as the crew suddenly found themselves adrift in the corridor.

Swimming through the air, he reached the lift, but the doors remained closed. He tapped the commpanel next to them. “Xahl to bridge.” No one answered. “Xahl to engineering.” Again nothing. “Auxiliary control, come in. If anyone can hear me, respond.”

Concerned, he was about to force the doors when the lights suddenly returned, blinding him for a moment, before the artificial gravity dropped him hard onto the deck, winding him. He coughed, trying to draw in air, and blink at the sudden glare. Through which he heard the intercom chirp.

“Bridge to Xahl. Respond!”

Hauling himself back to his feet, but keeping a firm grip of the railing by the door, he hit the control panel. “Xahl here,” he croaked.

“Are you alight?” N’Qua asked.

“Fine,” he replied, his breathing hard and voice raspy. “Report.”

“We’ve just experienced a shipwide loss of power. Checking all systems now.”

“Understood, I’m on my way up now. Xahl out.” He tapped the call button for the lift, and in the seconds it took to arrive his breathing had returned to normal.

***

Administrator’s Apartment, Colonial Administrations Building
Prairie Colony, DePaul System, Sector 172-Delta

“Operations to Harris!” the panicked call roused the administrator from the first sleep she’d had in well over a day. Groggy and bleary eyed, she looked around her bedroom, trying to register where the voice had come from. “Administrator Harris, please respond!”

Hearing the alarm in Becker’s voice she fumbled around for the control panel beside her bed, hitting the intercom. “Harris, go ahead.”

“Ma’am,” the relief was clear in the younger mans tone, “We’ve just suffered a colony wide loss of power.”

“What?” she asked, sitting up in her bed. “How long have I been asleep?”

“Only an hour or so,” Becker stated. “The power drain is ahead of schedule by almost ten hours.”

Climbing out of her too warm bed, Harris sat on the edge, pulling her boot back on. “Get me a damage assessment, and I want preliminary sensor readings ready to analyse. I’m on my way up now,” she told the technician, grabbing her jacket and hurrying out of her apartment. As the colony’s technical and administrations supervisor, she was given a small living space in the admin building, a floor below Ops. She bypassed the lift and took the stairs two at a time, arriving on the command deck only a few minutes after the call had come in.

All thoughts of sleep had been banished from her mind, as she tried to go over the situation mentally. What could the advanced drain mean? Had they assumed too much with the apparent pattern? Was the next quake only an hour away? Would Lieutenant Hayne’s plan be ready by then? How many others would be injured, or maybe killed, if they weren’t ready?

When she entered, she found all of the Ops crew hard at work, immediately spotting Doctor Yonzak’chu working with Becker at the main sensor console. “Report,” she barked as she approached them. The massive scientist remained focused on the readouts, as Becker turned to face her.

“No damage has been reported. Chief Cho and Lieutenant Hayne are checking all systems, they both seem confident that the SIF generators will be unaffected by this drain and will be ready to engage in twenty minutes. The Starfleet speeder was on it’s way back to the colony, and we’ve temporarily lost contact with them. Commander Reynolds had said that their mission had been a success.”

Harris breathed a sigh of relief at the news. The Tellarite commune could be at the town in less than fifteen minutes in a speeder, hopefully this latest power drain would expedite their relocation. She was worried for the Starfleeters, but right now she had to worry about the colony first and foremost.

“How long until everyone is inside the field perimeter?”

“At last report, everyone—except the commune—will be inside the projected field area in thirty minutes.”

“Good. Inform Cho that we will activate the field once everyone is inside,” she looked at the Rigelian Chelon, but the hard-shelled scientist was still going over all the sensor readings and making calculations. Harris knew better than to interrupt Yonzak’chu, and instead moved to Surrin at communications. The Tiburon held a receiver firmly in place against his large ear, listening to incoming reports and asking for more information. He looked up at her and quickly finished up his conversation with what sounded like the infirmary.

“The power loss startled the infirmary, but all patients are stable. No new injuries reported,” he informed her.

“Try to raise the commune.”

“Yes ma’am. Standby,” he expertly worked the controls, and a moment later the face of Fnor gajin Esok appeared on one of the small screens.

“What’s going on?” he demanded.

“We’re still trying to work that out. But we have to prepare for the worst. You need to get to the township now.”

“We are still gathering our provisions.”

“I understand that, but going by our previous experience, we have just under an hour until the next quake hits. But if the energy drains have shifted, so to might the quakes. Please Esok, get here as quickly as you can. We have enough supplies for your people.”

He thought for a second and then nodded. “Alright. We’ll be leaving now.”

“Thank you. Harris out.” She turned to Surrin, about to tell him to ready the garage to receive the Tellarite speeders when the comm. system chirped.

“Reynolds to Operations.”

Harris found herself smiling at the Lieutenant Commander’s voice. Starfleet types were made from stern stuff. “Operations. Harris here. It’s good to hear your voice Commander.”

“Thank you Administrator. We suffered a power failure. What’s going on?”

She looked over at the scientist, who was still working furiously. “We’re still working on that. Do you require any assistance?”

“Negative. I managed to land without taking any extensive damage. We’ll be back in about five minutes.”

“Understood. I’ll see you when you get here. Operations out.” She looked at Surrin and told him to prep the garage, and to have a space for the Tellarite assigned, expected them to want to stay together and limit their contact with the other colonists, as they had done since arriving on DePaul four. She then asked him to contact the Challenger.

“I’ve been trying Administrator, but it looks like our long-range communications are out for the moment. I’ve asked Chief Cho to get a team to see to it ASAP.”

“Do what you can,” she told him. Moving back to the sensor station she planted her hands on her hips and looked at Yonzak’chu. “Doctor, I need answers.”

Taking a moment longer to review the data that streamed across the monitors, the scientist finally turned to face her. “From what our sensors were able to record, before going offline, this energy drain is identical to the previous ones. There was the slightest surge in power point-zero-two seconds before the outage began. Afterwards, our power reserves were once again depleted and the local geothermal output was significantly lower.”

“Any idea why the timetables been stepped up?”

“To answer that, we would need to know why the original ‘timetable’ was set to begin with.”

“What about the quakes? Is there any indication that one is on the way?”

“Not at present,” Yonzak’chu said calmly. “However, our sensors have taken damage over the last few weeks. I would recommend running a diagnostic and recalibrating them. Are you assuming that the next quake will follow this drain?”

Harris sighed. “I know people say to never assume, and seeing as how our assumptions have proven that, we really don’t have much else to go on at present.” She looked around Ops. “How long would you need for the work on the sensors?”

“Ideally, an hour. However, seeing as how we may not have an hour, I will attempt to complete the work as quickly as possible.”

“Becker led the doc a hand, and use whoever you need to get it done quickly.”

The senior technician stood up. “Yes ma’am.” Together he and Yonzak’chu headed for the lift, as he tapped on his communicator and called on several members of his staff to help out.

As another junior tech took Becker’s place, Harris was left looking around at the Ops crew as they continued to work furiously. None of them knew what was coming, but they would continue to meet the challenges this crisis had thrown at them with courage and professionalism. She felt a surge of pride for the men and women under her charge, as they would do whatever was needed to keep the colony going. Harris looked around at the people, who over the last eight months, had worked tirelessly to get Prairie up and running smoothly. They were among some of the best technicians she’d worked with, and had proven that fact time and again since the first energy drain.
 
I had liked how this started-but you are developing Scorpio's Disease. You are posting way too much for me to keep up with, way too frequently. I'll try to get back to this but right now...lunch is over. :(
 
^^^ Well now, I don't know that I'd refer to it as a "disease". :rommie:

Though, I have to admit it's taken me awhile to catch up so that I could post something that's hopefully coherent and relevant. The first thing I have to say is a big and enthusiastic :bolian: :bolian: :bolian:

I found this thread, and your work by following my friend, Gibraltar here. He always seems to have a way of finding fun and interesting reading material, and this time is no different. I have thoroughly enjoyed this little romp of yours. I like the era, the characters, the ship, and where you're going with the story. I thought you did a wonderful job of introducing the characters and bringing us up to the point of the story very quickly while still giving us a good deal of knowledge about the main characters' backgrounds and motivations. That part often takes so long that the reader can get a little "distracted" by the time the actual action starts. Not here, though. Very nicely done.

I also think you've done a wonderful job of maintaining a "TOS feel" to the story and the characters. That is, you seem to be keeping it a little simpler -- for want of a better word -- than things got in the TNG era, while adding just enough little tid bits of additional Trek Tech info to keep it fresh. I like that very much!

I guess I don't have a lot more to say that hasn't already been said by others. Probably my biggest criticism would be the typos and such, but I know how easily those gremlins find themselves into something when you're typing furiously to try to get everything in your head down on the electronic paper, and they don't distract over much. Beside, that's what an editor is for. ;)

Mostly, I'm just really looking forward to your next installment and seeing where this tale leads.

Nice work, and keep it coming! :techman:
 
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